Dangerous Exes (Page 22)

Us together.

No.

That was what got us into this situation in the first place. With Jessie probably lusting after some hot cheerleader below, and me touching his penis and talking about hot dogs!

Ugh.

“Guys?” Colin asked again.

“Sure,” I answered for both of us. “Two hot dogs.”

“Load them up with ketchup,” Jessie said without taking his eyes from mine. “Isla loves her ketchup.”

I bit down on my bottom lip as he ran his tongue over his top lip and then tried to adjust himself again.

“Coming right up!” Colin yelled.

I snorted out a laugh while Jessie groaned again like it was the most painful experience of his life.

Colin handed me the food, Jessie grabbed his hot dog and shoved it in his mouth like he had no time for words or chewing.

I knew that type of behavior well.

I called it horny hunger.

Give your sex-deprived body something to chew on, otherwise you gnaw off your own arm or worse, sleep with the first person to hit on you at the bar and wake up to find out that he still lives with his mom and kisses her on the mouth.

Yeah, taking that one to my grave.

That was a long time ago, though.

Now, now I ate.

Poor Jessie.

Poor me.

I stared at my hot dog and wished it away, wished it was a Polish sausage, wished my situation with one of the hottest men alive was different.

With a sigh, I lifted the hot dog to my mouth at about the same time I saw myself on the big screen with a giant splotch of ketchup on my Rams jersey.

Right. Between. My. Breasts.

Granted, my shirt wasn’t low, so it was on my shirt between my breasts, but it was still there.

And obvious.

Jessie turned to me, my mouth was still open. He grinned and took a bite out of the part facing him, then ran his finger down my shirt and licked the ketchup off.

I laughed and shook my head. “Best hot dog of your life?”

“I prefer a different kind of meal . . .” His eyes flickered down, and because I was horny hungry, because I hadn’t yet eaten my hot dog and satisfied all hormonal cravings, I mauled him.

Maybe mauled was the wrong word, but suddenly my hot dog was midair and I was straddling the man and kissing him like I was trying to rescue the bite he’d just taken.

I was an animal.

He was turning me into an animal.

His hands gripped my ass as he deepened the kiss. I felt every part of him straining against me with such force that I wanted to move.

Insanity.

This is what insanity felt like.

Wanting to rub myself against him with a hot dog in my hand and ketchup on my shirt.

In front of the entire world.

“Guys,” Blaire said through a haze of lust and almost dry humping. “Cameras are off you guys, good job. People were cheering and catcalling like crazy, can’t doubt that kinda chemistry. You guys aren’t drunk, are you?”

I pulled away as Jessie locked eyes with me and said in a gravelly voice, “Sober.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

JESSIE

I would never look at a bottle of ketchup again without getting hard. It was a problem, since ketchup was everywhere.

Just like the taste of Isla on my tongue.

My mouth buzzed.

My body was irate.

And I didn’t know where to put my hands.

At all.

Awkwardness washed over me as Isla slowly crawled out of my very disappointed lap and sat next to me, retrieving her hot dog and shoving the whole damn thing so far inside her mouth that I knew I’d be dreaming of the image until my death.

Either that or the image was going to somehow kill me.

I tried to get myself under control. Again. And then she had to go and grab another damn hot dog and do the same thing.

When she got up a third time, I gripped her by the wrist and very slowly said, “Chew.”

“What?”

“Please.” My voice was strained as I released her hand, and when she returned, she took small bites.

I almost wept with relief.

Halftime came and went.

I didn’t move from my spot. I physically couldn’t without showing Blaire and Colin why I was as stiff as a statue.

Isla toyed with the foam finger, and when the cameras dashed to us again, she hit me over the head with it. My reaction was anger and then irritation because I hadn’t really been paying attention to anything but her.

I didn’t even know the score.

I always knew the score.

I was an ex-NFL player.

We were two days in and the woman was already making me insane, changing things about myself I’d always known to be true. I always watched the game. Always. I ripped it apart, I memorized the plays, the routes, the different calls that should have been made by the offensive coordinators. I bled for football.

And I didn’t know the score.

I grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it.

Not for the cameras.

For me.

Something broke free in that moment. Maybe more of the bondage that Vanessa had kept me under was starting to dissipate, but it felt good, it felt like . . . I could breathe easier.

All because I wasn’t keeping score.

All because of a hot-dog-eating maniac who didn’t play by my rules—or force me to play by hers.

“Still hungry?” I asked as I squeezed her hand.

“Starving.” She shrugged like she was uncomfortable and then cleared her throat. “I, um, eat when I’m . . . at games.”

“Most people eat at games.” Was it my imagination or was she blushing?

“Right.” She nodded and then pointed at the field. “It’s too bad Seattle’s beating the Rams.”

“What?” I whipped my head back to the game. “When did they even score?”

“I think they were inspired by our kiss,” Isla teased. “Either that or my hot-dog-eating skills are on point, because they’ve been scoring like crazy.”

“Someone should,” I grumbled and crossed my arms.

Isla leaned over and whispered, “Heard that.”

“Oh, you were meant to,” I fired right back.

And just like that, the tension crackled, increased, and burst in front of my eyes until all I saw was her.

Two and a half quarters of hell down.

One and a half more to go.

Chapter Twenty-Four

ISLA

I watched the game.

But wasn’t paying attention to anything other than Jessie’s movements.

His knee bounced up and down again like he either had to pee or was ready to do something crazy.

I didn’t blame him.

The room felt too small.

The air too hot.

My clothes too tight.

And the food had only made things somehow worse.

“Hey, guys.” Blaire and Colin were still here? Blaire’s voice sounded louder as she made her way toward us. “We’re going to go grab some merchandise, you want anything?”

“No,” we said in unison, like we planned it.

She looked between us with a frown, then shrugged. “Alright, we’ll be back in a bit, the lines are probably crazy, so who knows . . .”

The door shut.

I looked around us.

The staff was gone.

The bartender wasn’t there anymore.

The food was left on the tables.

We were completely alone.

But visible from every angle except against the back wall, thanks to the giant window to the front and sides of our booth.

I slumped back in my seat just as Jessie’s hand crept onto my right thigh and then retreated like he had second thoughts.

My chest heaved as I looked at him from the corner of my eye. His gaze was on the field.