Irresistibly Risky (Irresistibly Yours #4)

Chapter 1

M y forehead lands with a muted thud, smashing against my forearm that’s pressed into the tile wall of the bathroom.

Everything spins and I need a second to get my bearings as the room slows a little, bringing a buzzed, tingly warm smile to my lips.

I can’t remember the last time I got drunk, and I wonder if I shouldn’t have taken the second muscle relaxant after taking that last shot.

Inhaling a deep breath, I force myself to stand upright, unzip my jeans, and do my thing, humming a song that’s been going through my head on repeat all night.

My best friend, Greyson Monroe, a world-famous rock star, wrote it for our team when we made it to the playoffs.

It’s been our anthem since, and tonight, I like to think it helped lead us to a Super Bowl victory.

It’s also one of those songs you can’t get out of your head no matter what you do.

Absently, the fingers not wrapped around my favorite guy tap out the rhythm against my thigh.

My head joins in, moving along to a mixture of the song and the heavy house beat just outside the bathroom door.

Once I’m done, I zip myself back up, unlock the stall door, and head to the sink, groaning when I get a look at myself in the mirror against the blue-tinted light of the bathroom.

My hair is scraggly and long, and my beard is itchy as fuck. I can’t wait to get rid of both of them tomorrow. Then again, they represent the weeks and months that got me here, and I practically whoop into the air as a total shit-eating grin spreads across my face.

I won the fucking Super Bowl tonight.

Me. The guy who everyone counted out because instead of living, breathing, and dying football for all four years of college, I toured the world with my best friends as part of the hugely successful rock band, Central Square.

I didn’t make it to in-person college until my junior year, and then I had to go as a walk-on at the University of Alabama despite my family legacy both there and on the field.

But fuck all the assholes who bet against me and said it could never be done. Drafted in the sixth round, I showed them all.

I snicker a bit drunkenly to myself and then wash my hands. Just as I dry off on the cloth napkins they have in this club, a woman comes stumbling into the bathroom. Her eyes catch mine, first in the reflection in the mirror, and then snap over to face me directly.

And once I get a good look at her…

Hell .

I’m shocked my tongue isn’t hanging out of my mouth.

She’s tall, with long , toned legs on full display beneath the short hem of her dress.

Her large tits, curvy hips, and ass I can’t fully see but can already tell would fill up my hands perfectly, have me doing a double and then a triple blink.

Her short, white, tight-as-all-sin dress has a few spots of something pink trickling down it.

Could be her drink, could be part of the couture—no way to know for sure.

Her ink-black hair flows down her back in thick, bouncy waves, and her eyes are a vibrant green that only appears to be accentuated by the pink of her pillowy lips.

She looks like that hot Victoria’s Secret model whose name is eluding me because, who cares when this woman is standing before me?

“H-hi,” I stutter, amused that she has me tripping over my words. Well, that’s a new one.

“Hi,” she squawks, startled to find me here. “Um—” She shifts to her other foot. Looks around. And when she realizes we’re completely alone in here, she says, “I thought this was the ladies’ room.”

I grin, tossing the used towel in the bin but making no move to leave. “It is. The men’s room had a line.”

She snorts, shuffling three steps in my direction in her five-inch black platform heels that nearly put her at eye level with me. “That’s a first.”

“I have no doubt it is. Your bathrooms are nicer than ours.”

“That I definitely believe.” She cocks her head playfully. “First time in the ladies’ room then?”

“First time. I’m a ladies’ room virgin.”

She emits a breathy laugh. “Glad I could be here for your cherry popping. I did notice it was mostly a sausage fest up here.” She holds up a hand, redirecting herself. “Not that I’m complaining. The only men I see are the ones I work with, and no

thank you there. Is this some sort of work or corporate event?”

“Something like that.” I don’t bother following up that this floor is filled with Boston Rebels’ team members only.

That means players, coaches, trainers, staff, their families, and my friends.

That’s it, and about eighty-five percent of us are dudes, hence the line for the men’s room and none for the ladies.

It’s also a private event, which means if she doesn’t know that, she snuck up here, which makes me curious if she’s trying to play me or if she truly doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Do you plan to stay in here while I pee?” she challenges, folding her arms and giving me a raised eyebrow.

I wipe my smirk with my fingertips. “Someone has to make sure you’re safe in here. It’s an empty bathroom in a club. That has risky written all over it.”

Another step and her eyes do that slow, sexy sweep thing women do when they’re interested. My cock gives a languid jerk in my jeans.

“Risky?” She tests the word on her tongue. “I don’t know about that. If anything, I think a solo guy in a ladies’ room while I pee is far sketchier.”

She might have a point. Except this is my party. Something I don’t think she’s aware of. In fact, judging by the lack of recognition in her eyes, I’d say she has no clue who I am.

“How’d you get up onto this floor, beautiful?”

She laughs, the sound genuine and sweet, as she passes right by me, entering the stall and locking the door behind her. “Are you the club police?”

I grin, glad that she’s not uncomfortable that I’m still here and relieved that she didn’t ask me to leave. “Definitely not. I like you up here and think you should stay. I was simply curious since I hadn’t seen you earlier.”

“It’s my birthday,” she declares as I hear clothes being shifted this way and that, and I can’t stop the mental image that comes with that. “Are you still with me, muscles, or did you flee?” she asks when I don’t immediately respond.

I lean against the counter. “I’m still here.”

“Good stuff. Cover your ears for a minute, would ya?”

I can’t fight my laughter. “Sure. You need privacy.”

“You’re the one in the wrong room, but I kind of like talking with you, so give me a minute.”

“Done.” I cover my ears and even close my eyes, ignoring how that makes the room spin ever so slightly. A minute or so later, I hear the automatic toilet flush and drop my hands, shoving them into the pockets of my jeans.

“I’m done. You can listen now,” she calls out. “So, it’s my birthday, as I said,” she continues without waiting on me. “But it’s also my goodbye party. I’m leaving Miami tomorrow.”

“Funny. I am too.”

“How adorable. We both have something in common.” A moment later, she’s out of the stall, stumbling and staggering a bit until she’s beside me at the sink, washing her hands.

I spin around, and my eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“My work friend dared me to sneak onto the VIP floor, so I did it. After I had a few drinks and a birthday shot or two. I’m never daring, but she pushed me a bit by reminding me you only live once—”

“So live every day to the fullest,” I finish for her, and her face lights up.

She blinks at me, dumbfounded. “Yes. Exactly that. How did you know?”

I chuckle lightly. She’s adorable. And sexy. And a bit quirky, which I like in my women.

I fall in behind her, and my hands somehow decide to make their way to her hips over her dress. I pause. I wait. Her gaze snags on my hands on her body, and she drags in a heavy breath before her gaze meets mine once more.

“Because that’s precisely how I live my life,” I tell her. “This okay?” I check, my eyes flickering down to my hands and then back up to hers.

“I… um. Yes. I think so.” She licks her lips nervously and then laughs in a self-deprecating way.

“Yes, it’s fine. I like it.” She flushes lightly.

“It’s new for me. The most adventurous thing I’ve ever done is…

” She pauses and scrunches up her face as she thinks about it.

Then she sighs. A deep, heavy one. “You’re going to think I’m so lame. ”

“Not even a little. Try me.” My hands slide forward and then up a little into the dip of her waist, and I can’t believe she’s letting me touch her like this, but I can’t stop it either. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been so instantly and consumingly attracted to someone as I am to her.

“Okay. This. Sneaking up here tonight.”

“That’s…” I trail off.

“Lame, right? Totally, pathetically lame.”

I laugh at her horrified expression. “Maybe a bit, yeah. But hell, you’re here. You did the crazy thing. So let’s keep it going.”

She smiles a sassy, taunting smile that makes my heart smash against my ribcage and my cock ache in my jeans. “Keep it going, how?”

Oh, I can think of at least a hundred ways, and all of them involve her being naked.

Leaning in, my lips meet the soft skin beneath her ear, inhaling her intoxicating fragrance.

She trembles, her breath catching in her lungs, and I smirk, feeling like Hades stealing sweet Persephone or the serpent tempting a curious Eve to eat the apple.

“Wanna go out there and dance with me?”

She twists in my arms and peers up at me through her lashes. Her hands plant themselves on my chest, the warmth of her touch seeping through the cotton of my shirt. “l love to dance, but I’ll break an ankle in these shoes. I don’t even know why I wore them here. They’re terrible.”

I’m not the least bit disappointed by that. Every muscle in my body aches, and I’m covered in bruises from all the rough hits I took tonight. “Your shoes aren’t terrible. They’re sexy as fuck. But if it makes you feel better, I’m a terrible Scrabble player.”