Chapter 5
FIVE
JO
I don’t realize how late it’s gotten until we arrive at my hotel and I see most of the guest lights out.
I glance at Cal. “You survived.”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “I did.”
“And nobody died.”
“I wasn’t convinced that would be the case two hours ago.”
Before the valet or I can reach for my handle, Cal is already outside, circling the SUV to offer me his hand.
“I’ve got it,” I say.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to walk me in.”
“I know.”
I smile. “You’re going to anyway.”
He hands his keys to the valet. “I’m going to anyway.”
God. He’s adorable. Whoever invented the phrase gentle giant clearly had someone like Cal in mind.
The valet unloads my suitcase, which contains the “primping” supplies and change of clothes Monica had deemed necessary. Cal takes it before I can.
“I can carry my own bag.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I know.”
I laugh.
“I don’t think you do.”
He smiles—a real smile.
“I like taking care of you.”
Something warm blooms in my chest. Nobody’s ever said that to me before. Not like that.
Not without expecting something in return.
The hotel lobby is quieter than I’d expected. A pianist plays softly near the bar. A few guests linger around the fireplace.
Cal suddenly mutters under his breath.
“What?”
He subtly nods toward the revolving doors. Two men stand outside with cameras slung around their necks.
They’re pretending to check their phones. They’re doing a terrible job.
“Paparazzi?” I ask,
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah.”
I glance between them and Cal. “So...”
“So I’d rather not have pictures of us together before the game on Sunday.”
I nod, though my gut does an unexpected twist. “That’s fair.”
“It’s not because I don’t want people to know about you. I just don’t want them talking about us. Not until we’re ready to talk about us.”
The tension inside of me releases. “That makes sense.”
He looks around the lobby. Then toward a massive decorative planter overflowing with tropical greenery.
I follow his gaze. “No.”
“What?”
“You’re not seriously thinking—“
“We’ll only be there for a second.”
I burst out laughing. “You want us to hide behind a ficus?”
“It looks pretty full.” He tries very hard not to smile. “Come on.”
Before I can protest, he gently takes my hand and leads me behind the enormous planter.
We both crouch. I look over at him. He looks back at me. Then we both start laughing.
Silent, shoulder-shaking laughter.
“This,” I whisper, “is the least cool thing an NFL quarterback has ever done.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
“One of my buddy’s once got stuck inside a mascot costume.”
I blink. “...Excuse me?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“You absolutely will.”
We wait another few seconds.
The bloggers wander toward the restaurant entrance instead.
Cal peeks around the leaves. “I think we’re clear.”
As he turns back... He’s closer than I expected. Much closer.
His hand is still wrapped around mine.
Neither of us lets go. The laughter fades.
Neither of us says anything.
“So...” He searches my face. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you again.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. “I hoped you were.”
His thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles. “May I?”
I don’t answer right away. Not because I’m unsure. Because I want to remember this.
This man. Who asks. Who waits. Who somehow makes me feel like the only person in the world.
I smile. “Please.”
He closes the distance slowly. Giving me every chance to change my mind.
I don’t.
I meet his lips halfway And this kiss is softer than before. Longer. More steady. More sure.
When we finally pull apart to catch our breath, neither of us moves very far.
I rest my forehead against his. “I think we’re supposed to leave the shrubbery now.”
He laughs. “Probably.”
The elevator to my floor is blissfully empty. We stand side by side, hands linked together.
When the doors slide open, we walk down the quiet hallway together. The carpet muffles every footstep.
I slide the keycard into the lock. The light flashes green. Neither of us reaches for the handle.
I glance up at him. “I had a really nice time tonight.”
“So did I.”
“I wasn’t sure we would.”
He winces. “The airport?”
“The airport.”
“I think...” He rubs the back of his neck. “...I forgot how to be a person again.”
I laugh softly. “You remembered eventually.”
“Thanks to you.”
Silence settles between us. Neither one of us seems ready to say goodnight.
I look toward the room. Then back at him.
“Would you...” I suddenly lose every ounce of confidence. He waits patiently. “Would you like to come in for a little while?”
His eyebrows lift. Not because he’s assuming anything.
Because he’s making sure. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m positive.”
“Then...” A shy smile spreads across his face. “I’d like that.”
The door barely closes behind me when I throw myself at him. Gone is any hesitation. Gone are any questions.
Because we already have the answers. This. Us. This desire that has been building between us since we were anonymous texters.
But now, we don’t need words.
We have our fingers. And our lips. And our tongues.
When his large, calloused fingers inch up the skirt of my dress and find the smooth skin of my thighs…
My control breaks.
We’re in the bedroom and naked in record speed.
Once I’m completely bare, Cal eyes me hungrily and pulls me toward the bed. I sit and he pushes me down so I am flat on my back. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I watch him kneel between my legs.
His gaze meets mine as he scrapes the stubble of his midnight shadow along my inner thigh. My fingers dig into his shoulder.
His eyes flash. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about tasting you.”
He gives me a hot, opened-mouthed kisses up my thighs. His tongue trails a path up and down, leaving tingles in his wake. His hand slides up, parting my folds and finding my most tend spot.
His thumb moves slowly at first, then increases its pressure sending immediate pleasure through me.
I call out his name as I fall back against the bed. I feel him grin against me as his tongue joins his fingers.
“Please,” I cry. “Please, please, please.”
The pleasure builds and grows as he slides a finger inside of me, then another. His tongue works my pussy, pushing me closer to the edge.
Until I fall over. Pleasure pulsing through me in wave after wave.
When at least I can breathe, and still in a haze of passion, I pull him up to kiss me. Tasting myself on his lips. It’s oddly intoxicating.
“Condom?” I ask.
He hesitates a moment. “Fuck. I don’t normally carry one with me.”
Before my mind can draw conclusions, he adds, “Because I don’t really do this.”
I blink in surprise. “You don’t?”
“I know football players have a reputation. But I’ve never been one for anonymous hookups.”
My heart swells and I stroke his cheek. “Me neither.”
Then, I add, “Luckily Monica seems to have thought this might happen.”
His eyes widen and I direct him toward one of the shopping bags.
Shaking his head, and growing adorably red in the cheeks, he finds a box of condoms—extra large—and pulls one out.
I reach for it and slide it over his hard cock, savoring the feel of his rigid length. Extra large condoms. I hope they aren’t too snug on him.
Once we’re protected, I pull him back toward me, but he has other ideas. Lifting me up, he helps me kneel on the edge of the bed and comes in behind me. Stroking my pussy again, he spreads the moisture, preparing me to be stretched.
He grips my hips and thrusts inside of me.
I cry out, reaching my hand over my shoulder to grab his hair.
He thrusts in and out, faster, harder, sliding one hand up to cup my breast, giving my nipple a tug to send dueling ebbs of desire through me.
And as I can feel the familiar pangs of pleasure pulse through me, his soft voice whispers in my ear, “I’m so glad your old college friend changed his number.”