Dangerous Exes (Page 21)

“You can do this.” I found myself looking down at her. “All you have to do is watch the game and try not to slap me too many times in front of everyone.”

“Promises, promises,” she joked in a weak voice.

“Would it make you feel better if I handed you the staff schedules for the gym and a few highlighters? You can highlight the times?” I teased.

Her eyes actually lit up.

“Wow, forget chocolate for Valentine’s Day, I’m sending you to the staff secretary to organize.”

“Dream come true.” Her voice was sad, and then she was smiling again. “And while that would make me feel better, I think people would assume I was ignoring you on purpose, and we don’t want that.”

She reached up and undid a few more buttons of my shirt and pulled it wide.

“Better?” I asked.

With a nod, her hands were back at her sides, and I felt the loss immediately. All it took was her cold fingers near my chest and I was ready to toss her over my shoulder and lock her in my bedroom.

Maybe it had just been too long since I’d had sex.

I was the problem.

Not Isla.

I sighed in frustration, gripped her hand with both of mine, and rubbed back and forth to warm her up. “Let’s go.”

She stared at my hands surrounding hers like she didn’t know how to respond, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain I just liked touching her.

Taking care of her.

Because I’d never really been needed for anything until the charity.

Vanessa only wanted me for my fame, my money, my position.

Not for me.

I was more than all of that.

Colin turned back to us, his arm wrapped around Blaire. They gave us encouraging smiles like everything was going to go smoothly, but I knew that wasn’t always the case.

The press could be relentless.

“Deep breaths,” Isla said. I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit or hers, but we both seemed to inhale at the same time and brace ourselves as we followed Colin and Blaire into the private entrance. We didn’t see any fans or press on our way to the box, but I knew that it wasn’t about the walk to the box, it was about the cameras pointing in our direction between plays.

One of the attendants opened the door and ushered us inside.

It was just the four of us and a full staff, including a bartender, which was a nice touch if we were going to have to be smiling for the cameras.

Isla let out a little gasp. “We’re so high!”

Her excitement was real.

The woman was pumped about how high we were? Imagine how excited she would be once the food came out and the game started.

We were just in time for the players to get announced. Isla’s attention never wavered from the field as she and Blaire yelled with the rest of the crowd like their tiny voices helped.

Colin let out a laugh and then went to the bartender and grabbed us both drinks.

He held out a whiskey to me.

I stared at it, then looked over at Isla. “Why is she dancing in a circle?”

“Blaire told her we were playing the Seahawks, and she has a crush on Richard Sherman.”

“Bullshit!” I shoved the whiskey away and glared at the cornerback already on the field. I wasn’t sure if it was him, but I wanted him to feel my eyes.

“I was kidding!” Colin called.

Making me feel like an idiot.

I stomped back and glared.

He held out the whiskey again.

I hesitated.

Which I never did.

I always drank whiskey in public. Vanessa said it looked more refined, that beer appeared too white trash for our tastes.

So I’d suffered.

Never again.

I shook my head. “Nah, I’m grabbing a beer.”

You’d think I’d just told him I was going vegan.

His mouth dropped open a bit before Blaire rushed over, grabbed the discarded whiskey, and clinked her glass with Colin’s. “You boys ready for this?”

“Yeah.” Colin smiled at me, a genuine smile that almost made me feel like he was proud of me, which was ridiculous. I shrugged it off and grabbed a beer for me and a glass of red for Isla, then found my seat next to her.

“Cheers.” I clinked my bottle with her glass after handing it to her.

She grinned excitedly, then took a deep sip and moaned as she closed her eyes. “You know me well.”

I’m sure she didn’t mean to say it.

Just like my heart didn’t mean to react to the words.

My body felt warm all over as her eyes met mine.

I cleared my throat and looked away while she returned her attention to the game.

I was all too aware of how close we were sitting, of how hard I was just brushing my hands against her body.

It was going to be a hell of a long four quarters.

Chapter Twenty-Two

ISLA

I found myself watching the clock, wondering how many times Jessie would brush his leg against mine. So far I was at seven and we were only two minutes into the game.

Was he doing it on purpose?

His leg bounced up and down, up and down.

I finally gripped his right knee and stopped the bouncing, but kept my hand there. He stared at it. I could feel the heat of his skin against my fingers, my palms. Why did he have to be so sexy? Why did he have to feel so good?

His lips parted as he very slowly placed a hand on top of mine and then squeezed.

There was no release.

No return of my hand.

I wasn’t sure if I liked it or if I wanted to run away screaming. Especially if a simple hand-holding had me wondering what else his hands could do, and his mouth, and his tongue. I shivered. I knew exactly what he was capable of as a kisser.

But those hands.

Those large hands.

I squeezed his fingers harder.

They were promising.

Very promising.

Mouth dry, I picked up my wine and downed it just as the Rams scored their first touchdown and the stadium went wild.

I picked up my foam finger and did a little fist pump, careful to keep my other hand on Jessie’s.

My sudden movement must have caught him off guard because our hands moved, slipped into his lap.

He froze.

My eyebrows rose as my knuckles came into contact with either a freaking bat in his pants.

Or what was probably every woman’s favorite part of Jessie Beckett.

Beckett had a bat.

The bat of Beckett.

Swing, batter, batter.

Oh hell.

Heat. So much heat emanating from his lap.

From . . . it.

I gulped again.

Jessie seemed frozen.

I tried to break the tension. “Football do that to you too?”

He didn’t laugh.

His scowl was more pained than angry.

I stared at his lips, the way they parted, the way my own chest seemed to heave and pant all at once as I leaned in, and then pressed my hand backward. His eyes rolled back.

National television.

Bad idea.

All of it.

“You guys want a hot dog?” Colin yelled.

I jerked my hand away.

Jessie pressed a palm to the front of his pants and cursed.

I snickered behind my hand and whispered, “Jessie already got one.”

“Hilarious.” His lips twitched. “More like Polish sausage.”

I scrunched up my nose. “I always add ketchup to mine and just swirl my tongue around the tip to—”

Jessie clamped a hand over my mouth. “Keep talking and your naked ass is going to be pressed against the glass while I fuck you.”

Nobody had ever spoken to me like that before.

Excitement built up in my chest at the prospect.