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Thirty minutes ago, I’d been looking forward to this evening. Now, I just want to make up an excuse and get the hell out of here.
As Poppy moves around the kitchen, helping Anne with dinner, the summery little dress brushes against her bare thighs. Every movement gives me another tantalizing glimpse of sun-kissed legs.
I take another pull from my beer as Coach talks about the new plays he wants the team to learn before our first home game. With a nod, I refocus my attention on the conversation. When he brings up our QB, I grit my teeth until my jaw begins to ache. I’m ashamed to admit that I ran his ass at the last practice. I think he’s used to standing around like a prima donna.
You better believe I put a quick end to that.
By the expression on his face, the kid wasn’t happy.
Unfortunately for him, there’s more where that came from.
A hell of a lot more.
It’s a relief when dinner is served on the deck. We all take our seats before digging into fish tacos, homemade yellow rice, and beans.
The first couple bites have my eyelids feathering shut.
Holy crap is this good.
Better than anything you’d find at a restaurant.
It’s so damn delicious that I devour five tacos and have an extra helping of beans and rice. It’s almost enough to make me forget that Poppy is seated in the chair next to mine.
Almost…
Every once in a while, she’ll shift, and her dress will ride up her thigh. Even though I know I should look away, I can’t bring myself to do it. My hand tightens into a tense ball so I won’t reach out and trail a finger across her bare flesh. I bet it’s silky soft. It’s so damn tempting to find out. I want to stroke my fingertips from the delicate skin behind her knee all the way up to her
Nope.
I’m not going there.
The thoughts circle through my head like hungry sharks. The more I try to shut them down, the hungrier they grow until it feels like they’ll gnaw their way out of my brain.
Every so often, she tries to strike up a conversation or ask me a question. I make it a point to answer in as few words as possible. If I could get away with grunting out a response, I’d do it. After about the fourth attempt, she gives up, allowing Derek and Anne to direct the conversation.
Now…if she’d just stop staring at me with those big blue eyes, I’d probably be able to make it through this dinner without losing it. I can practically feel her gaze licking over me. She doesn’t even try to hide her interest.
Unfortunately, that turns me on even more than I already am.
It takes every ounce of willpower not to reach out and drag her onto my lap before taking her mouth in a punishing kiss.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
By the time dinner ends, I’m a jittery, sweaty mess. I need to get the hell out of here before I self-combust. Anne and Poppy clear away the dishes while Coach discusses a few more ideas he’s thinking about executing over the course of this season. I nod at all the appropriate intervals. Every time the voluptuous blonde walks by, I have to force myself not to stare.
It's not like I’m purposefully trying to be a dick. Although, I’m pretty sure that would be her assumption. The last thing I need is for her to think we’re friends.
We’re not.
And we aren’t going to be.
She needs to understand that now so there aren’t any hurt feelings or misunderstandings in the future. I can’t be anywhere near this girl without the need to take her rushing through my veins.
So, yeah…it’s better for both of us if I steer clear.
