Either way, it was an invitation to the wide receiver, who was quite capable of running circles around me if I wasn’t careful.
Dustin raised an eyebrow — the universal male signal for ‘I see you and I’m interested.’ Then he turned and walked out the side door to the patio at the back, which was still open but quiet because it was still winter.
Recklessness? Eagerness? Call it what you will, I waited a moment to see if anyone else followed him, and when no one did, I did.
“Hey.” He was leaning against a table, his hands on either side of him, gripping the table lightly, showcasing the stretch of his biceps beautifully.
“Hi.”
And my confidence left me.
I had experience with guys, but nothing like this. Not with someone on Dustin’s level. My earlier ambitious thoughts disappeared. He was closer than expected; the heat from across the bar was something else entirely up close.
The glint in his eye told me he knew that I was floundering, and he took one confident step forward, until suddenly he wasright in front of me.Right in front of me, looking down, that same heat as before, burning in his eyes.
This guy was mesmerizing. He was watching me with a look in his eye that already told me he knew what he wanted. And it wasn’t sleazy, it was warm, it wasinviting. I needed to speak, say something,anything. I couldnotjust stand and stare at him like a fool.
I was ajournalistfor fuck’s sake.
“I—” I didn’t get a chance to say anything else. He kissed me. No preamble, just his head dipping, his mouth claiming, and me melting into his arms. Like a goddamn damsel. Not my finest moment, I knew it even as my arms wound round his neck and I was pressed against the wall and beingthatgirl.
The man could kiss. He was dominant, confident, and irresistible. His hands moved over me, but not in a clumsy or intrusive way. Just a light brush of his palm on my ass. A hand smoothly traced down my back. I bet he could pull off those moves in his sleep. Of course he could. The guy was a player.
I knew that.
But somehow, he made me feel like I was the only person he wanted to kiss. I was the only one he wanted to be here with. He kissed me like he already knew what I liked, which was impossible, and somehow he was doing it anyway. That was a remarkable achievement for someone you’d only said hi to. And that was the most unsettling part.
The thought of probing into the sports program disguised as a playful, flirtatious conversation vanished as soon as he made his move.
The first score of the game went to number eleven of the Lions.
Dustin somehow made the kiss deeper, more intense, more deliberate, and I stopped thinking entirely. My head was spinning, but I wasn’t stopping him.
Should I be stopping him? One hand was now firmly on my ass, squeezing, and I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate it at all.
I’d never had anyone move this fast on me before, but I waskeeping up. My hand skimmed down his arm, over his bicep, and I couldn’t help but squeeze.
Good God, it was like a rock. Anotherrockwas firmly pressing into my lower abdomen, and the evidence of how well this was going made me catch my breath.
His mouth trailed kisses over my jawline, down my neck, ending with a light nip on my collarbone, and I was suddenly grateful for the wall behind me, as it held me up because my knees were like jelly.
What the heck was that about?
And all the while, all I wanted wasmore. So much more.
Dustin pulled back and looked down at me. “You want to split?”
It was the breather I needed. The moment to regain focus.
Sex. He wanted sex.
He didn’t even know my name.
What the fuck was I doing? I was eager to pursue my story; I wasn’t eager tosellmyself for it.
No matter what people thought of journalists, we had morals. I stepped away from him and the wall. I needed the distance. God knew I needed the distance.
“This is a bit fast, no?” I tried for an alluring smile while I tried to pretend my heart wasn’t racing. I think I may have managed a grimace.