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This was all I needed—a chance. A sliver of an opening in that barrier around her heart to slip in and prove this was worth a shot.

We were worth a shot.

The drive home after we snuck out of the stadium separately was filled with anticipation and anxiety, the same mixture that bubbled in my chest before a game. And more than once, I thanked the universe that Itzel had driven herself to the game.

I kept my hand on her thigh the entire time, fingers curled into her warm skin, half convinced that if I let go, I’d wake up and none of this would have happened. That she’d still be on the other side of that invisible line we’d been dancing around for weeks.

My thumb traced an absent-minded circle against her leg.

Nerves coiled beneath my skin as we pulled into the garage.

The door groaned shut behind us, sealing us in the dim yellow light, and I cut the engine. Silence settled over the cab, nothing more than our labored breathing.

I gripped Graciella’s thigh, fascinated with how her tanned skin dimpled under the pressure. There were so many other parts of her body I’d love to dig my fingers into. My dick jumped.

I didn’t want to take my hands off her—not even to go open her door.

Actually…

“What the hell, Monroe,” Graciella yelped when I flipped the center console up, slipping my arms under her thighs and dragging her into my lap bridal style.

“I don’t want to stop touchin’ you,” I answered truthfully, grunting when her ass grazed my cock. The sensation nearly sent my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

Fuck. I didn’t think this all the way through.

I was half-hard already.

She blinked in surprise at my honesty, but it shifted to a smirk. “You happy to see me, or is that a hockey stick in your pocket?” she asked, looping an arm around my neck as I shuffled us out the driver’s side.

“You’re hilarious.”

My voice was strained. Getting out of a truck with a hard-on was straight torture.

“I think I’m offended by all the grunting you’re doing, Monroe,” she teased. “Are all those noises because you think I’m heavy?”

“No,” I gritted, keeping to myself that my cock ached to sink into her—to fuck her on every surface of my home.

But I didn’t want it to be a one-time thing.

The tension in the truck’s cab had nothing on what it ratcheted up to once we crossed the threshold.

“You going to put me down or carry me through the house?” she asked when I’d yet to move.

“Not sure yet.”

The long line of her tanned throat bobbed, lashes fluttering open and closed.

“We should probably do something other than just stand in the kitchen all night,” she said, voice quiet despite the fact that we were the only ones home.

“You’re right, we should do somethin’,” I said, keeping a tight hold on her upper body, releasing her legs so they slid down mine.

She shuddered when her hip rubbed against where my jeans were tented. Adrenaline coursed through my body, hitting my chest when she dipped her eyes to my cock. Graciella’s sharp inhale was embarrassingly good for my ego, and the curve of her bottom lip practically begged for my attention.

Fuck, did I want her.

But not only in the way she thought.

Maybe that was what prompted me to say, “Go on a date with me?”