“You’re sure you’ll be drafted?”
“Yes.” No false modesty here, only genuine confidence. “Not as high as my friend Masters, but by the second round I think. And once I’m on the team, I’m not giving up my position to anyone.”
“I believe you.”
“Yeah?” He reaches over and grabs my hand.
I squeeze him back. “Yeah.”
“And what about you?”
“Post college?” My hand’s still in his as we sip our drinks. Neither of us is in a hurry to let go.
“I figured you were in pre-law or something and that you wanted to be a lawyer, but you’re doing this public policy thing?”
A little pang plucks at my heart, but I push it aside. What’s done is done. “I thought I wanted to be one, too, but I’m kind of bad at something lawyers need to excel at.”
“What’s that?” He looks confused as if he can’t imagine me being bad at anything.
“I’m not good at thinking on my feet. I tend to freeze up, and that pretty much moves me outside the lawyer framework.”
“You seemed pretty awesome the other night.”
“It’s because all of that was prepared. I have a pretty good memory. I heard it once and I can regurgitate it, but in a competition? No.” Again, the dark cloud creeps in, threatening my good mood. “Anyway, I changed my focus with the help of my advisor. I can still do a lot of reviewing of facts and then rearranging them into consumable bits of information.”
“So you can’t go to law school anymore?”
“Oh no, I could. Pre-law is just a track. You could have any major—even sociology.”
“Law school doesn’t interest me, and if it doesn’t interest you anymore, that’s cool. But for the record, I think you’re pretty damned amazing in your mock trial thingy.”
My cheeks heat up under his praise.
He scoots closer, until one long leg is pressed against mine. I can’t feel the cold anymore. “It occurs to me that I used your risk assessments more often than I realized in the past.”
“How so?”
“I used to think dating was a risk. That it’d either take away from football or I’d end up treating someone badly.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“You. I think the reward of you is worth the risk.”
My heart flips over and then cheers as his mouth descends on mine. We kiss leisurely, as if it’s summer and we’re on the beach and the sun is baking us into the sand. It’s a hot and lazy kiss and heats us better than any summer sun. When we finally part, I’m surprised to see that the snow hasn’t utterly melted around us.
“I’m ready to count the condoms in that box now,” he says huskily.
“Me, too.” Then I jump up and run for the Rover with Matty hot on my heels.
He starts the engine, and then we have to sit for a minute for the car to warm up. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair looks wild and messy—not dissimilar to how he looks when he first wakes up in the morning.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean across the center console. “Why are you so goddamned attractive?”
“I’m sorry?” He smiles, clearly not one bit apologetic.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He’s still smiling when he cups his hand around my skull and pulls me against him. I can feel of the curve of his lips as they soften, part, and then open for me.
This time I’m the one devouring him. He tastes fresh and clean, like freshly fallen snow. His hand drops to my ass and drags me onto his seat so we can get a better, deeper angle for kissing. His tongue and lips force me to open wider for him. He kisses me deep and hard until I feel it everywhere. His kiss is in the throb between my legs, in the tingle on my fingertips, in the tightness of my skin.
I rip at his T-shirt, pulling it up out of his jeans. His skin is warm against the cold of my palms. His little nipples tighten up when I pass over them. I give them a little tweak like he does to me. He chuckles and then his hands glide under my sweater and tank to release my bra strap and grip my aching breasts in his hands.
Straddling him, I grind down to find the right pressure to alleviate the ache between my legs, but it’s difficult because we have so many layers between us. It doesn’t stop me from trying to find relief against his body.
I whimper because my need is so strong.
Matty shushes me. “It’s okay, Goldie, I’ve got you.”
With the hand at my back, he slips under my leggings, my thermals. His callused palm sweeps over the curve of my butt, and his long fingers pierce my aching sex in one driving, satisfying motion. The cold is a shock to my system. I can’t help from crying out.
Matty dips his head and latches on to a nipple. I clutch his head to my chest and ride his fingers. Thank God he has big hands because those thick fingers inside of me are almost as good as his big hot cock.