Chapter 24 #2
Dear God, I suddenly didn’t need a shower because every part of my body that’d been cold a moment ago was on fire, every cell in my body warming as his mouth worked confidently and feverishly, like he was trying to convince me of something.
I dropped the towels and reached for him, sliding my hands around his shoulders, needing to hold him in place so this moment could last forever.
It was too perfect.
It was white-hot and ravenous, like we were both feral and rabid and desperate for more, but at the same time, I was cocooned in sweet feelings for this man who had dry clothing for me and knelt in the mud so he could look tiny footballers in the eye when he spoke to them.
“Distefano,” he murmured, taking my bottom lip between his teeth in a way that made me squeak and melt, all at the same time.
“Mmmm…Cunningham,” I managed to reply, uttering his name on a sigh as he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin on my neck.
“Say that again,” he growled against my throat, “in the exact same way, Duff.”
“Why?” I teased, lost in the sensation of his tongue on my skin as I let my head fall to the side.
“Just fucking do it, honey,” he said, nipping at my neck in the most delightful way. “I’m begging.”
“Mmmm…Connor,” I said, and he rewarded me by bringing his mouth back to mine and kissing me deeper and hotter than I’d ever been kissed.
All I could do was hold on tight and let myself feel as his mouth destroyed me and his strong hands lifted me, setting me on the countertop where I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him and pull him in even closer.
Dear God.
The man made me feel like the world might end if I couldn’t have more.
Gimme more.
I almost didn’t hear the beeping—I was too lost in the magic of what his mouth was doing to mine—but Connor did. He cursed against my lips before pulling back and silencing his watch alarm.
“Dammit, I don’t want to go pack,” he said, his eyes still hot and glazed with desire as he looked down at me. “But I have to.”
“So pack already,” I said, feeling drunk on him as he looked at me like that, like he was struggling to pull away from me. “You don’t want to miss the flight, and I don’t want to miss my opportunity to use your fancy shower. Get out of this bathroom right now, Cunningham.”
“My Duff,” he murmured, his mouth coming back to nip at my bottom lip. “So bossy.”
My Duff.
There was no way I was going to survive him.
I showered quickly, which was difficult when his shower was the size of my bedroom. I wanted to linger, to languish under the hot steam, but we were on a timer. I slid into the sweats he’d left me, and by the time I wandered into the living room, he was ready to go.
He dropped me off at my house—not without another lingering kiss—and as soon as I closed the front door, I became a ridiculously giggly version of myself, like I was transported back to middle school.
After feeding Dale, I drove to United and spent the rest of the afternoon in my dad’s hospital room, watching college football with him, but my brain was stuck on Connor’s kiss.
Because if we hadn’t been on a timer, I knew we wouldn’t have stopped.
I knew, without a doubt, that we would’ve ended up together in his enormous bed.
And even though I was terrified of my feelings and getting my hopes up, it really felt like we were becoming something, date or no date.
He’d warned me he wouldn’t be able to text me that night because they had a team dinner and then he had a pregame ritual where he kept focused by watching game film in his room and listening to music, so I hung out with Dale and studied.
On Sunday morning my dad was released, which was perfect timing for us to watch the game together at home. We both screamed our heads off despite his health condition because it went down to overtime, but once again, the team got it done.
The defense double-teamed Connor, so he didn’t have any opportunity to score, but a win was a win. I told myself not to bother him, not to reach out because I didn’t want to seem too eager, so it made me absurdly giddy when he texted an hour after the game ended.
Connor: Notes?
Me: Don’t let them double-team you.
Connor: Remind me again how to make that happen.
I smiled as I read his message. Me: Okay, fine, you guys looked really good. Does it drive you crazy when you can’t get open?
Connor: Hell, yes, it makes me fucking nuts.
I started typing out a reply, but my phone rang. Connor was calling me.
Which he didn’t usually do.
I’d only talked to him a few times on the phone; the first was via the house phone back when he first asked me out. That felt like forever ago now.
“Hello?” I said, raising the phone to my ear as I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“Okay, so you don’t consider me unhinged, do you?”
“Ooh, this feels like a trap,” I said as I opened the meat drawer.
“Not a trap, but if I throw something that’s a little…out there at you, you know I’m sane, right? That it’s just an unconventional idea and not—”
“Spit it out, Cunningham,” I interrupted, dying to know where this was going. “What’s up?”
“So I just found out we have tomorrow off, and since I’m not far from my hometown, I think I’m going to spend the day with my grandpa and fly back tomorrow night.”
“Okay,” I said. “Does this have to do with your car? Do you need me to go pick it up and drive it—”
“I will never let you drive my car, for the record, and no, it has to do with you,” he said, cutting me off.
“This is the part that might sound unhinged. I know we still haven’t had a proper second date and I promise this isn’t a big thing, but I was wondering if you might want to fly out and hang here with me for a few hours tomorrow. ”
My hand froze on the package of bologna I’d been reaching for.
He wanted me to fly out to see him?
What was I missing?
“Wow, is this your attempt at the second date? Flying me somewhere—that is a bit over the top,” I said lightly in an effort to sound calm and amused and not frazzled at all.
“But it’s not, I promise. I just kind of want my grandpa to meet you,” he said, his voice carrying a different tone than usual—Was he…nervous?
And he wanted me to meet his grandfather? I knew how much he meant to Connor.
“Even if we never have a second date and just stay friends, I feel like he’d like you and I don’t know why, but I like the idea of him meeting you before he can’t.
Maybe I am unhinged, I don’t know, but…shit, I guess that’s it.
I like him and I like you and…hell, now I sound like a moron, don’t I?
I think I just said ‘like’ at least five times. ”
“No,” I said, unsure of what else to say because I was reeling. This felt huge and meaningful and not unhinged, because every time he was around my family, I was aware that it felt right that he knew them.
Even though we’d never been on a second date and I truly didn’t know where we actually stood, I liked that he knew my family.
We definitely had some strange connection, even if it was just at a friend level (please, God, don’t be just at a friend level), that was deeper and more comfortable than most I’d had.
“I guess I just wanted to throw it out there that if for some reason you feel like flying to California tomorrow morning to spend a couple hours in a nursing home for no good reason, I’ll give you the hookup.
Then I’ll buy you a meal and upgrade your seat so you’re not sandwiched in between two pool salesmen from Wisconsin on the way back. ”
“You had me at nursing home,” I said, clueless as to why this sounded like a good idea. I didn’t need to miss work, I didn’t need to leave my dad alone, and there was no reason I needed to be meeting Connor Cunningham’s ailing grandfather at a nursing home in California.
Dropping everything to spend a few hours with him was definitely not “elusive” or “coy.”
But in spite of all of that, it was the only thing I wanted to do at the moment.
“If you can handle the logistics and the reality that your grandfather might actually hate me, I am down for this adventure.”