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“We’ll start easy,” he says. “What do you want to do with your degree?”
“How do you know I’m not going to play football?” I counter.
He arches a brow. “Turning down an NFL offer doesn’t exactly screamthis guy wants to play footballto me.”
“How’d you know about that?” I kept it very private, and by the skin of my teeth, kept it out of the news.
“Coach Matthews and I are friends,” he says simply. “When your star kicker turns down a second round draft pick contract, you tend to rant to discrete ears.”
“Understandable,” I mutter. “Football just stopped being something I loved when it felt like work. I don’t even like watching it anymore, and I want to enjoy it again someday. I’d rather be off the field, but… still around it, I guess.”
“So your degree was quite a smart pick, then.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Sports management leaves me a few options. I have some interviews coming up. I’d like to work with college athletes, I think. Help the ones that want it to become professional, and the ones who don’t. It sometimes feels like the only time anyone cares about you playing is if you’re going to make it big. Being small-time is cool too.”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” he says as if reading my mind. Not everyone understands the idea that turning your passion into a profession can burn out the flame you have for it. “Where are you parents?”
I shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. They were always addicts, growing up. I only took the football scholarship to get away from them before I became them.”
“I’m sorry,” he offers.
“Doesn’t bother me really,” I admit. “I’m content only making space for people who make space for me. Life is easier that way.”
“And Samantha makes space for you?”
Thinking of it, I decide against answering and reach for the bottle. I’ve never had this brand before, and it is dangerously smooth.
We go back and forth, learning stuff about each other, and I’ve started answering harder and harder questions. Because with each drink, I notice more and more about him. Not his personality, but his body and his face. I’m attracted to him. That much is obvious. I can’t keep my eyes off of the man.
He’s forty-four, as I’ve learned. So twenty-two years my senior, and yet I’m looking at him like he’s some twenty-something cover model.
“Past relationships,” he says, interrupting my ogling. “Let’s talk about those.”
So we do, though there isn’t much to tell on my end and I already know about Samantha’s mom running off years ago.
He licks some tequila from his lips. “So, only women for you?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, feeling the sudden urge to change my answer tonot yet.
“No men at all? Not even a blowjob from a friend?”
I snort. “Are bro-jobs really a thing?”
“Absolutely,” he tells me, shrugging. “Men experiment just as much as women do, especially in college. I’m surprised you didn’t.”
“No one really caught my eye before.”
“Before?” Suddenly he’s leaning closer. “Before who, Noah?”
There’s enough tequila burning through my system to make me tell the truth. I’m not drunk, but apparently I’m honest. “You. Before you.”
“Thought so,” he teases and then molds our mouths together.
His kiss is firm and warm, and he smells like an intoxicating combination of cologne and dessert. Henry’s lips taste like the alcohol we’ve been drinking as he presses them to mine harder, coaxing mine to part for him. His hands frame my face as he slips his tongue into my mouth.Oh god, it’s too good.
I moan into the kiss, vibrating our lips. “We shouldn’t,” I rasp, barely pulling back.
His eyes darken and his hands tighten around my face. “But we are, aren’t we?” I don’t stop him from fusing our mouths back together.
