“You’re a little biased, James, but I’ll take the compliment.” I winked at her, patting her thigh. “Besides, the only thing that matters to me right now is that I get to take you home.”
“Smooth talker.” Bailey let out a soft, husky sigh. In my periphery, she raked a hand through her long waves, breaking into a bashful grin. It was so easy to get her flustered and so damn cute when she was.
Signaling, I made a left onto the main thoroughfare of my neighborhood. My mind circled back to all the things I wanted to do when I got her upstairs, starting with having her soft, perfect lips against mine and moving south from there. She made this little sound the other day—a cross between a whimper and a moan—that I desperately wanted to hear again.
What color were her panties tonight? Whatever they were, I wanted to take them off with my teeth. Then I could kiss my way back up her gorgeous legs and take a nice, long detour between them.
“I think…” Bailey trailed off. She drew in a deep breath. “I mean, speaking of that. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think I’m ready,” she said. “To have sex, I mean—with you.”
At her admission, I nearly drove right off the road.
It took me a good couple of seconds to reboot my brain. Even in the midst of entertaining all sorts of dirty thoughts inside my head, I wasn’t expecting her to say that. But I was sure fucking glad she did.
“Great,” I said. “Do you want me to pull over now, or?”
She giggled, swatting my arm. “No, you perv. I wanted to tell you when it wasn’t in the heat of the moment so you knew I meant it.”
“Well, I’m all yours.”
I really was. In every sense.
Factoring in tonight’s loss, I was still coming out way ahead. Fuck the game. What was hockey, again?
After committing several traffic violations and executing the worst parking job ever, we made it back to my place and went straight to my room. I followed Bailey inside, shutting the door behind me and locking it.
The first thing I wanted to do was ditch all these goddamn layers. I’d taken my suit jacket off in the car, but I was still in my white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to my forearms, plus gray suit pants. And she was in jeans with a red button-up plaid shirt.
Very cute, and yet very much in my way.
The clothes needed to go—now. At least some of them.
As I took a step toward her, the doorbell rang downstairs. Irritation bordering on rage gripped me. Fucking hell, why was this happening? I swear to god, if this was Ward somehow interrupting for the third time, I might kill him—best friend or not.
“Should you…?” Bailey looked up at me, forehead crinkled in question.
Definitely not. Unless the house was literally on fire, I was more than happy to ignore all distractions.
I shook my head, pulling her closer. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
I slid a hand up her neck and grasped her jaw. She looked up at me, gaze soft. I knew in that moment that I was done, a goner. Not just in over my head; I was well past the point of no return.
Falling, fallen, fucked. In the best possible way.
I tilted my head, leaning in to kiss her, and her eyelids fluttered shut as our mouths came together. She parted her lips, letting my tongue slip inside. A soft groan escaped the back of my throat; she tasted better than ever, each and every time.
Her fingertips dug into my shoulders, and I slid my free hand around the curve of her waist, down to squeeze her ass. Somehow, kissing her both satisfied my desire and fueled it.
Then the doorbell rang twice in a row, followed by an insistent banging on the door downstairs. Bailey jumped, startling, and we pulled apart.
“Maybe it’s important,” she said.
At this point, it fucking better be.
“Okay.” I sighed, reluctantly releasing my hold on her. “I’ll go check.”
Sprinting down the stairs, I quickly adjusted myself so I didn’t commit some kind of act of indecent exposure in the process of answering the door.
It wasn’t Ward or anyone we knew, nor was it important. It was a pizza delivery guy with enough food to feed a small village who’d gotten the wrong house.
Despite my attempts to explain otherwise, he remained stubbornly convinced that he did not, in fact, have the incorrect address. What’s more, he argued with me about what my address was. Negotiating nicely to get him the hell off my front step took far longer than it should have and used every ounce of patience I possessed.
After he finally left, I jogged back upstairs and pushed the door to my room open. I stopped on the spot, and my heart bounced off my ribcage like a puck hitting a goalpost. Bailey was perched on the edge of my bed, looking at her phone—wearing my red Falcons T-shirt.
It was everything.
“Sorry.” She set her phone on the nightstand, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I was writing Shiv back. She said they’re going to O’Connor’s for a couple of drinks.”
Good.
I hoped they stayed there. All night.
I shut the door behind me and locked it again. Spinning around, I couldn’t help but slowly scan up and down her body, drinking in the sight of her and growing more intoxicated by the second.
Dark blond hair loose around her shoulders, lush lips parted. My shirt. And tiny gray pajama shorts showing off her slender, endless legs. Legs that might be over my shoulders later, in a different way than last time. Or in both ways, maybe.
Both would be great.
I gave her a crooked grin and finally regained my ability to speak. “Nice shirt.”
“Isn’t it?” Bailey’s mouth tugged into a flirty smile. “I’m a big fan of number nineteen. He’s pretty cute.”
“What did I do to deserve this?” I asked, stepping closer. Whatever it was, I’d repeat it on the daily.
As I reached the bed, she pushed herself to stand and nibbled her bottom lip. “Just being you.”
Her hands landed on my shirt, slowly unbuttoning it from the top down and helping me shrug it off. She slid her fingers down my bare torso, probing. Then she took hold of my belt and unfastened it, followed by my pants. I quickly stepped out of them, pulling my socks off at the same time. Suddenly, I was left standing in front of her in nothing but black boxer briefs.
Her turn. But first…
“Are you nervous?” I brushed the hair out of her face and slid my hands down to her waist, gripping over top of the worn cotton.
Bailey’s eyes drifted shut for a beat before opening again and focusing on mine. “A little.”
“You don’t need to be nervous with me, James.”
“I know.” Her expression softened. “Are you?”
I gave her a small smile. “Maybe a little.”
Brutal honesty strikes again. But she’d told me the truth, so it was only fair. Feeling like this was a first for me, at any rate.
“Really?” she asked quietly, blond brows pulling together. “Why?”
A million reasons came to mind. Because I cared about her, which was uncharted territory for me, sexually or otherwise. Because I wanted it to be good for her. I was usually confident I had that under control, but I suddenly found myself sweating. And because she was so fucking beautiful that it made me ache a little inside.
I tried to capture all the reasons in one sentence. “Because I’m so into you that it’s insane.”
It was. It was like a drug. It might be my undoing.
She hummed a little sigh, smiling. “Same here.”
Not to mention I’d been waiting for this for a long time and had no shortage of built-up sexual frustration. Part of me wanted to bend her over, pull her hair, and fuck her into next Friday, which was definitely not on the table tonight. I was more than okay with that; I just needed to slow my roll a little. Somehow.
I stroked the hem of her T-shirt—my T-shirt—between my finger and thumb. “You know, this is very, very sexy on you,” I said. “Maybe you can put it back on later.”