Dating the Player, page 4
She didn’t look like she believed me.
When she moved away down the aisle, Dak laughed. “Fuck, that was funny.”
“Are you crazy?” I whispered, smacking his arm. I unscrewed the top on my wine bottle with desperation. “That is so… inappropriate.” I didn’t have strong enough words for it.
“You’re the one who couldn’t let me take a leak in peace. Don’t blame me.”
He had a point. I poured, then took a huge sip of wine and groaned. “It’s not just your phone that’s the problem. It’s your mouth. I’m not prepared to handle this job.” I took another drink. “I’m not prepared to handle you.”
“I can think of all kinds of ways you can keep my mouth busy.”
I looked at him. His long hair, his strong jaw. His straight nose, ridiculously perfect for a football player who took hits on the regular. His green eyes, filled with smug mischief and a hint of lust. His shoulders took up the entire seat and then some. I thought about that glimpse of him I’d gotten in the restroom.
I wondered if I could update my resume on my phone this weekend, because there was just no doubt in my mind I was going to get fired.
I was no match for Dakota North and his raw masculinity.
* * *
Dak
* * *
It was a two-hour drive from the airport in Knoxville to my parents’ house in the mountains. There was a pre-ordered rental car waiting for me, thanks to my real assistant, Gregory, who kept me on track, for the most part. The thing about me and Gregory was he had no opinions, and didn’t try to talk me out of or into anything. He just did what I asked him to do.
Unlike Eloise, who couldn’t seem to stop herself from overreacting.
And if she couldn’t stop herself from overreacting, I couldn’t stop myself from baiting her.
She hadn’t figured out yet that every time she pushed me, I created a situation in person that was just as bad as anything I’d ever posted online. Nothing controversial or political, that was never my style. But dirty? Yeah, I had the market cornered on sexually inappropriate behavior.
As we loaded our bags into the rental SUV, I pictured the flight attendant texting all her friends that Dak North had a girlfriend who was penis possessive. The thought cracked me up. As did the visual of Eloise holding my dick while I pissed. She would probably take that job equally seriously.
She didn’t think any of it was nearly as funny as I did.
She was also, if not drunk, buzzing hard.
Rattled, she had ended up drinking three glasses of wine in the remaining hour of the flight and now her cheeks were flushed and her eyes a little glassy behind her glasses. She also kept snorting in contempt to anything I said.
I had bought her a bottled water and unscrewed the top off of it for her. “Drink this,” I had told her.
Snort. That was her response.
But she’d taken it, and as we headed southeast, she sipped more of it. “I’m going to lose my job,” she said, sounding glum but accepting.
“No, you’re not.” I would argue that with Jeff. Eloise was doing what he asked of her. “I promise.”
She sighed.
“So, tell me about yourself, Kitty,” I said, turning the radio on to classic rock, but at a low volume. “I know you said you have cats, which isn’t a shocker. How many do you have?”
“Two. Eli and Peyton. Males, obviously.”
Interesting. “Eli and Peyton, huh? You’re a football fan, clearly. Fond of quarterbacks?” I gave her a grin.
“Yes, I love football.” She ignored my quarterback comment. “My dad was a huge football fan. It was the one thing we could really share together. He taught me everything about the sport.”
I noticed the past tense. “What happened to your dad?”
“He died when I was nine. Cancer.” She sighed again.
My heart clenched. “I’m sorry. That really sucks. I lost my little brother to cancer when I was sixteen. He was only six.” It was never easy to talk about Jackson. But Eloise seemed like someone I could trust to understand how I felt and not turn it into a soundbite.
She looked over at me with big, luminous eyes that were filled with compassion. “I know. I’m sorry. That must have been terrible to lose a brother who was so young.”
“It was,” I said gruffly. “Football was our thing, like with you and your dad. Jackson couldn’t play, obviously, but he came to every one of my games, when he wasn’t at the hospital. He had a Tom Brady kid-size jersey that he slept in night and day.” I hadn’t thought about that jersey in a long time. The thought of it made me smile now, instead of feeling sad, which surprised me. “I think it’s stuffed in a box somewhere at my parents’ house, but man, he loved that jersey. We watched NFL games together in his hospital room and he always told me I was going to go pro. I vowed to do that for him, you know?”
I stopped talking. I never told anyone about my relationship with Jackson. That was private, something separate from the public persona of star quarterback. Whenever I was asked about him in interviews, I declined to speak about him. My memories of Jackson were sacred.
Eloise reached over and placed her hand on my thigh. She gently squeezed. “You’re a good man. And I’m sure Jackson is watching you still, very proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
That made my throat tighten. “I’m sure the same can be said for your father, Kitty. Look at you. Working at headquarters for a pro team. Got a fancy degree. And you’re obviously a woman who has her shit together. Not to mention you’re adorable.”
I expected her to snort or protest, but she merely said in a soft voice, “Thanks, Dak. I appreciate that.”
“What about your mom?” I asked. “Is she a football fan? I can get her some tickets to the next game.”
“That’s an awesome offer, but my mother doesn’t understand a single thing about football. She’s a biology professor at Rutgers, dating another professor. They’ve been together for about ten years, and they live together in academic chaos and theory. Their thoughts run on a microscopic level, if that makes sense.”
“Not really, but I’ll take your word for it. Are you an only child?”
“Yes. One and done. You have other siblings, right?”
“Yep. Georgia is thirteen and Jagger is eleven. My parents had me at sixteen, you know. A little too much beer after homecoming.” It had never bothered me that I was an oops, because my parents had stayed together. Now the way my father told the story was just entertaining, and ironic, given that my mother liked to pretend it had happened to someone else. “My mother actually denies all of it. She will flat-out say she was eighteen, when the math makes no sense. But that’s my mother. She’s even said it in interviews. She will say anything and back it up to the death.”
“So you’re like your mother?”
That made me laugh. “Maybe.”
“I wish I had that kind of confidence.”
Now I knew she was buzzed, because I doubted she would admit that otherwise. “What do you mean? You seem pretty ballsy to me. I mean, you purposely opened the door on me when I was taking a leak.”
“That’s different. That was for my job. I can be tenacious when it comes to getting an A in school or doing my best at work. It’s my social life that I suck at.”
“Are we talking about guys here or like you’re awkward at a party filled with strangers?”
“Both.”
I glanced over at her and she was playing with the button on her sweater. Jim thought she dressed like a toddler, but the truth was, she was actually very stylish. It was a specific style, but it was always coordinated and put together and what I figured you’d see on a retro blog or something. But while it was trendy and adorable, it was never sexy. She definitely didn’t have her sexuality on full display. I saw it, but she hid it.
“It gets easier with practice,” I told her. “I used to hate doing interviews but I’m used to it now.”
She made a noncommittal sound. “And sex? Does that get easier with practice?”
That had me taking my eyes off the road to gape at her. What the fuck did that mean? She was having bad sex? She didn’t like sex? I knew some women weren’t as into it as others, but I always assumed that was the guy’s fault. User error.
“Kitty, do you have a boyfriend who doesn’t know how to please you? Sex doesn’t come with an instruction manual. Sometimes you have to give directions.”
“No, no boyfriend. And I’m actually a virgin.”
I almost drove off the fucking road I was so shocked. She was what, twenty-five? How was that possible? And could it be any hotter? Me, showing Kitty the ropes. Damn, the thought flooded my brain.
“I didn’t expect you to say that,” I said. I knew she wouldn’t have either if she hadn’t had three glasses of wine. “So, this was a conscious choice? Are you saving yourself for marriage?” I could respect that. I would hate it, but it would mean I’d keep my hands off of her. I wasn’t going to shatter her moral code for my own pleasure.
“No. I want to. I mean, I really want to.”
Fuck. My dick went hard in my jeans. Eloise sounded ready and eager and I never regretted anything more than the fact that I was taking her to my parents’ instead of a five-star hotel with a giant bed.
“It just never happened.”
That just made no sense to me. “What do you mean? Why? And don’t say there hasn’t been an opportunity. We all know if a woman wants to have sex, she just has to let that be known and guys will come running.”
“My vagina isn’t the Lincoln Tunnel! There isn’t a line fifty deep waiting to enter it.”
I laughed. “Put up a sign and you never know.”
“I’m serious. When I was younger I had a couple of boyfriends who wanted to, but I wasn’t ready. And now that I’m ready, there are no candidates unless I want to go on Tinder and find some random fuck boy.”
That idea made rage course through my veins. “Please don’t do that. Seriously.” I envisioned some douchey asshole climbing on Eloise and taking five minutes of pleasure while doing nothing to make sure she enjoyed herself.
I had female friends from college who told me all about the shit-show that was online hookups. And they were experienced women who had dated a lot and could hold their own with some tool trying to get a quick piece of ass. Eloise couldn’t handle that. She’d be vulnerable to the worst of the worst.
The more I thought about it, the more my blood pressure increased. I wanted to punch imaginary guys who I had already decided would be dicks to her.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t date someone from work. That’s a bad idea.”
I pictured Eloise naked, delicious curves all exposed for me to enjoy. I thought about helping her achieve full and total pleasure, shattering beneath my tongue.
My big mouth opened. And I said the thing I probably shouldn’t say.
But that had never stopped me before and it didn’t now.
“What about me?”
Chapter Four
Eloise
I turned to look at Dak, shocked. What the heck was he even saying? “No, thank you. I don’t need charity sex from you. But I appreciate the offer.”
“What? No! You totally are misunderstanding me. I want to. I want you.” He gestured to his crotch. “Look at how hard my cock is just thinking about having sex with you.”
Obediently I glanced at his lap. He had a clear erection but I was confused and wasn’t sure what to believe. “You told me you’re a shower, not a grower.”
“No, that’s different.”
“How?” I was buzzed from the wine, but I wasn’t an idiot. I could smell a con, though I didn’t understand the endgame.
“It just is.”
“Whatever you say. But no, we’re not having sex. It would be weird and I would get fired.”
“Why would you get fired? I’m not going to walk into headquarters on Monday and announce that I fucked you. How would anyone know?”
“I don’t know!” I said, flustered. This wasn’t fair. Here I was being offered the sexiest opportunity I would ever be presented with and I couldn’t take it because it was all based on pity. Or the challenge of me being a virgin. Or whatever.
But I couldn’t do it, because for Dak, it would be a moment in time. One night in a lifetime of casual nights with women. It wouldn’t mean anything other than maybe some kind of smug satisfaction that he had taken my V card. In five years, he wouldn’t even remember me.
Yet it would mean everything to me. It would destroy me.
There was no way I would be able to go back to the office knowing that I was just like Nicole in accounting and Jesse in purchasing. He’d had sex with them and now he never spoke to them. I couldn’t do that. Sit there across from Will and his “I told you so” face while Dak no longer came over and called me Kitty.
“You don’t understand,” I said.
“No, I don’t. You’re talking about going on fucking Tinder when I’m right here, saying I would love to have sex with you.”
Oh, God, he sounded so sincere. I almost crumpled and had him pull over so we could climb in the back seat and paw at each other. “Stop it!” I said. “Stop being weird! This isn’t reality. This isn’t real life.”
“It feels pretty damn real to me.”
It felt surreal to me. “Can we talk about something else? Like how much longer do we have to drive?”
“An hour. And I’m serious. Why are you rejecting me?”
He actually sounded insulted. Even a little wounded. Which was ridiculous.
“I’m not rejecting you. I’m protecting myself.”
“From me? I would never hurt you.”
Why was he being so stubborn? Why did it even matter to him? “Not intentionally. But I don’t think I could have a night with you and then not be hurt when you stop talking to me at work.”
“Why would I stop talking to you?” Dak sounded bewildered.
“Because that’s what men do. They have sex with a woman and then they are worried she’ll attach, so they go cold-shoulder. I may not be much of a participant but I am an observer of dating behavior. Do you talk to Nicole in accounting anymore?”
Dak didn’t answer.
Yeah. That’s what I thought.
I reached out and touched his thigh. “I like this little thing we have, no matter how surface it may be… I like you. I don’t want it to be awkward between us.”
It took a lot for me to admit that. I thought he would be understanding. Instead he ignored my hand and shook his head a little, like he couldn’t believe it.
“You don’t think very much of me, do you? I mean, I get it, you don’t have a lot of reasons to respect me, but I’m more than my big mouth, Eloise, and I’m not a dick.”
That stunned me. “I never said you were a dick. I just said I like you. What are you talking about?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else, like you suggested. Okay, football fan. Who are your picks for this week?”
For a second, I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to go backwards, and make whatever had just happened between us go away. I had insulted him without meaning to and now he had retreated. But how could he not get that I was a minnow and he was a shark? He could open his mouth and I’d be gone, eaten alive. I couldn’t play the game with someone on his level.
Hell, I didn’t even know what the game was.
Why on earth would Dak North want to have sex with me, the virgin nerd?
Confused and rattled, I decided the only thing to do was to follow his lead and turn the conversation. “Did I tell you I play fantasy football? Who do you think I should play Sunday for my quarterback—Jared Williams or Tony Sincero?”
“Wait, why aren’t I your quarterback? That’s cold, Kitty.”
He sounded like his usual self. Casual, teasing. I released my shoulders, which had tensed up. I wasn’t sure how I could handle a whole weekend with him if things were tense between us. It was my fault for bringing up being a virgin in the first place. So stupid.
“Clearly you’ve never played fantasy football. There’s a draft, Dak. I can’t just pick you. We draw in rounds and there are different monetary amounts attached to each player and I have a certain amount of funds. You were one, too pricey for me because I also needed a receiver, and two, I ranked too high in the standings last year to get an early pick.” I was kind of proud of that fact, let’s be honest.
“Damn. You’re forgiven, then. Play Sincero. Williams is questionable with his elbow.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” I pulled out my phone and opened my fantasy football app. “I have to lock in before kick-off tonight.”
“You have an app? Let me see that.”
“You’re driving, no! You can look at it later.”
Dak grinned. “Such a rule follower.”
“I just don’t want to die in the middle of nowhere Tennessee because you were curious about my fantasy league.” Just in case he was tempted, I closed the app and put my phone back into my purse.
“You continually underestimate me.”
“I’m cautious. About everything.” Somehow, I felt like we were talking about sex again.
“And I’m reckless, according to some people. But I don’t see it that way. I just go with my gut.”
I wanted to point out that his gut, or rather his mouth, got him in trouble as much as it was “right.” But that was just circling us back to our earlier position.
“So what is your gut telling you right now? That it’s more important to glimpse at my fantasy football stats than it is to drive safely on this winding country road?” I pushed my glasses up and took a sip of the water he’d bought for me.
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I was actually starting to get a headache. Too much stress and too much sexual tension and too much wine.
