“Why?”
I meet and hold her gaze. “Do you not want me to?”
“I…don’t know.”
I like this girl. I like her honesty. I definitely like the fact that she’s so damn sweet, almost innocent. It’s a far cry from the women who latch onto me without even knowing my name.
Without thinking, I lift my fingers to her chin and tilt her head back a little more. As I lean in, my breath lodges in my throat, and I swear my heart double thumps in my chest. Hard.
“Savannah,” I whisper, my lips brushing hers. “If you don’t want this, you should say so now.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Once my mouth’s on yours again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.” Not that I’m going to turn back now. Not unless she tells me to.
“I’m not sure I’ll want you to stop,” she whispers back, her lips edging closer to mine.
Damn, this woman is going to make me lose control if she’s not careful.
I allow my lips to press against hers. Her gasp has my heart doing a fucking mule kick against my sternum. And when she kisses me back, her lips parting slightly, I put my hands on her hips while my tongue slides over her bottom lip.
I manage to keep some space between us, despite the fact I want to crush her to me, to feel every inch of her warmth against my body. I don’t give a damn who’s watching.
A soft moan escapes her and that’s all the invitation I need. It takes superhuman strength to keep the kiss slow and gentle when I want nothing more than to devour her. To strip her right here and sate the ever-growing lust that has consumed me since that first night.
When I pull back, we’re both breathing hard, and her hands are clutching my shirt. She drops her forehead to my chest and I automatically wrap my arms around her, sliding my palm over her hair.
If I could hold her right here for the rest of the night, I’d be doing just fine. And that’s not something I tend to think about. Fucking a woman, absolutely. Getting her naked and beneath me…yeah, that’s never far from my mind. However, when it comes to Savannah, I find myself wanting more than merely sex, more than a simple fuck, more than…Put it this way, I find myself wanting a whole hell of a lot more period.
I know what we’ve done is against every rule in the book, but God help me, I can’t resist this woman. I don’t want to. And the truth is, I’m pretty damn good with self-restraint.
Well, I was until I met Savannah Andrews.
I could stand right here for the rest of the night, holding her against me, inhaling her sexy scent, but unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen.
When Savannah pulls back, her bright green eyes lift to meet mine. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you, Jason Stone.”
A smile curves the corner of my mouth. “Anything you want,” I tell her. “Anything at all.”
She shakes her head, but smiles. “I need to go. But I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Saturday?” I’m confused.
“I’m travelin’ with the team, remember.”
I frown. No, I don’t remember that. Not that I’m disappointed by this news, just a little shocked.
“Unless you think it’ll affect your game,” she says quickly, stepping completely out of my arms. “If that’s the case, I’ll tell my father it’s a no-go.”
Her father. Right.
Savannah’s going to provide her PR expertise, keep the reporters in line, although, I’m still not sure I completely understand the end game there. I haven’t been hounded by them yet. Not to the point that I can’t handle things on my own.
“It won’t affect my game,” I tell her, although I’m not entirely sure that’s true. Right now, it’s easy to be in the zone because I know what the end goal is. However, when I think about Savannah, the end goal wavers and changes somewhat, and for once in my life, football isn’t the only thing on my mind. “And I’d like you to be there,” I add.
“Really?” She looks genuinely surprised to hear that.
Leaning down, I press my forehead to hers and rest my hands on her hips again. “What am I gonna do with you?” I ask, using her words.
“This is such a bad idea,” she says softly, but there’s no conviction behind her words.
“Trust me, I know.” I smile and go for complete honesty. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see it through.”
Savannah
Jason Stone is not at all what I expected him to be.
And holy moly can the man kiss. Like a freaking dream. Or a romance novel hero. His lips are so perfect, eager, yet controlled.
In fact, I can now attest to the fact that the first time I kissed him wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t something I made up in my head. It’s as perfect—if not more so—than I remember.
Of course, I know this because I’m kissing him once more, unable to help myself. When he says stuff like that, I can’t resist him. Although I’m one hundred percent certain this is going to get us both in trouble. If for no other reason than it’s going to affect our business relationship.
When his big, warm hand cups my cheek, I sigh against his mouth, but manage to pull back.
“I really should go,” I tell him.
I mean, we are standing out in public, making out like teenagers in the parking lot of a local hangout. At some point, someone is going to recognize him and this is going to be all over the Internet.
Neither one of us needs that.
“Okay.” His voice is deep, gruff. So damn sexy.
“I’ll see you on Saturday,” I tell him. “I’ve already got a seat on the team plane, so I’ll be there if you want to talk…about, you know, work.”
He instantly frowns and I know that’s not what he’s thinking. Truth is, neither am I. However, that is the reason I’m here, the reason he’s here. And at some point, we do have to find a way to turn this back to a business relationship. I seriously don’t think this is what my father had in mind when he came up with this absurd plan. Then again, if my father knew I’d slept with Stone, he damn sure would’ve been laying out an entirely different plan.
“Or, we can talk about other things,” Stone says, his eyes glittering. “Like what you look like in that cheerleading outfit.”
Yep, this man is going to get me in some serious trouble. I can see the heat in his eyes, and I know it’s reflecting in mine as well.
“We’ll talk about everything. Except that.” I manage to extricate myself from his grip. His hands fall to his sides and I smile. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
He nods, then steps back out of the way when I open my car door. Like the gentleman I’ve learned he is, Stone waits until I’m in before closing it. He doesn’t move, so I roll down the window and peer up at him.
When he leans in and presses his lips to mine, I inhale sharply and give in to the overwhelming urge to kiss him senseless. Because there’s a little more privacy in the car, I grab his head and hold him to me as I slide my tongue against his. I don’t pull back until he groans roughly against my mouth.
“You’re dangerous for my sanity,” he whispers. “Very dangerous.”
Ditto.
“Good night,” I tell him, then start the car and put it in reverse. If I sit here any longer, I’m going to do something incredibly stupid.
Like invite him back to my place and although that would sate some vital urges, it’s the last thing either of us needs.
In fact, some separation would do us some good.
“Good night,” he says, then backs away from the car.
I pull out quickly, fearful I’ll change my mind.
By the time I’m on the highway, I’m trying to come up with an excuse not to go to Green Bay with the team. I know I need to be there because I’ve already set up the meeting with
the reporters and I need to be there to oversee them. But if I’m not careful, those few kisses—incredible, mind-blowing kisses—are going to lead to something more and we’re going to be right back where we started from. Since we’ve both admitted that relationships aren’t in our futures, there’s already an expiration date on our…friendship.
“Mixing business with pleasure is wrong,” I repeat over and over as I drive.
My brain seems to get the gist, but my body isn’t listening. In fact, the more I think about that kiss, the hotter my internal temperature gets.
“Ugh. What the hell have you gone and done?”
* * *
—
Two hours later
Stone: What are you wearing?
Savannah: Oh, you know. Nothing.
I know I shouldn’t play this game with him, but for whatever reason, I can’t help myself.
Stone: You should send a picture. Let me assess your hotness factor when you’re naked.
Savannah: You’ve seen me naked.
Stone: Right. I have. So, why not send me a pic to refresh my memory.
Savannah: Can’t send a pic right now, I’m busy sexting with another less attractive guy. He asked for a picture first, so I figure it’s only fair to send them in the order in which the requests were received.
Stone: Funny girl. You better not be sending anyone else naked pictures of you. At least not until I get them first.
Savannah: Is that so?
Stone: Yes. I need to approve them beforehand.
Savannah: What makes you think I want your approval?
Stone: Considering we’re not at all attracted to one another, I figured it was the least I could do. As your friend. You know, it’s completely platonic. I swear.
Savannah: Platonic? I think you got that word confused with perverted.
Stone: Maybe. But in the end, does it really matter?
Savannah: Good night, Stone.
Stone: Good night, Savannah.
* * *
—
Ten minutes later
Stone: Don’t you dare send naked pics to anyone else.
Savannah: I promise, I won’t. If I ever send a naked pic to anyone, I’ll get your permission first. I promise.
Chapter 15
I’ve watched Stone play. I’ve even studied him, I guess you could say. Watching him on the field, you can practically see his brain working, his eyes locking on the end goal before that arm rears back and he launches the ball to his receiver. What gets me every time is how fast he is, how quickly he seems to process the play.
“You’re quite adept at thinking on the fly. Do you make quick decisions in all aspects of your life?”
“Not usually, no. However, once I make a decision, I go with it. And I own it. That’s the only way I know to be.”
—Excerpt from Sports Unlimited’s Bad Boys of Sports edition
Stone
“Momma!” I call out when I walk into my mother’s house the following evening.
“In here!”
I love when she does that. I have no idea where she is, nor can I follow the sound of her voice, but it’s not like the house is that big. I’ll eventually find her.
I peek into her sewing room, but she’s not there, so I continue to the kitchen.
Yep. That’s where I find her.
“What are you doin’?” I ask, glancing around at the countertops which are covered with various types of cookies.
“Baking,” she replies in a tone that says I’m a moron. “What does it look like I’m doin’?”
Now, I love my mother. She’s the most important person in my world. I even come to visit her at least once a week, sometimes more. I talk to her almost every day and twice on game days. And although I think she’s the most perfect mother in the world, the woman cannot bake. At all.
“All right,” I say. “Who pissed you off this time?”
She chuckles. “No one. I thought I’d give it another shot.”
“Another shot? At what?”
My mother’s eyebrow lifts in that way that says, Watch it, buster.
I laugh.
“And you’re just in time to be my taste tester.”
“Oh, no,” I hurry to say. “I’ve got a game on Sunday and I’m travelin’ tomorrow. You remember what happened the last time I did that.”
She laughs.
I don’t.
I still remember. And let’s just say, it’s not something that I’m looking to relive again.
“What brings you by?” she asks, opening the oven and retrieving a baking sheet full of…I don’t even know what those are supposed to be.
She catches me eyeing the baking sheet.
“They’re supposed to be in the shape of the number seven.” She grins up at me. “You know, your number.”
I tilt my head, trying to see them from a different angle. Doesn’t help. They don’t look like the number seven. In fact, they look more like…penises. Not that I’m going to tell her that.
“It’s my first try at it,” she says with a hint of amused defensiveness. “It’ll get better. So, why are you here?”
“Just chillin’. Thought I’d stop by to check on you.”
“Shouldn’t you be out with your friends tonight?”
“Can’t I just come and see my mother?”
“Can’t you just bring home a girlfriend?” she counters. “Give me hope that I’ll eventually have more grandbabies. It took your brother long enough.”
I have nothing to say to that. My mother knows I have no intentions of settling down any time soon. If ever.
My thoughts drift back to dinner with Savannah last night. More specifically, kissing her in the parking lot. If I’d had my way, I would’ve taken her back to my place. This time, I would’ve tied her to the bed so she couldn’t disappear on me.
“Jason Daniel Stone.” Her tone is firm. “Is there a girlfriend I should know about?”
She looks hopeful, and I hate to burst her bubble, but I can’t lie to her. “No, there’s not.”
“You wouldn’t lie to your momma, would you?”
Laughing, I glance at the floor. “Of course not.”
“Who is she?” Her insistent tone makes me laugh.
“There’s no girlfriend. I’m just…” Shit. I really didn’t intend to tell my mother about Savannah. No matter how much I want to talk about her to someone.
“Just what?”
“Nothing. It’s just a business acquaintance.” There. That wasn’t a lie.
She studies me for a moment, and I resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. If something ever does happen between me and Savannah, if there’s even a remote chance things could go further than business or that one amazing night, my mother will be the first person I tell. Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening, so there’s no reason I should get her hopes up.
Or my own.
As for when I started thinking along those lines, I’m not sure. I like Savannah. A lot. She’s the complete opposite of any woman I’ve ever dated. Not that we’re dating. But I do like spending time with her.
“Sit,” my mother orders, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’ll get you some lemonade.”
“Did you make it yourself?” I ask.
She knows I won’t drink anything that doesn’t come from a store-bought carton. She tried that on me too, back when I was a kid. My mother is good at a lot of things, but her place is not in the kitchen. Hence the reason we ate out so much when I was a kid.
“Okay, Mr. Smarty-Pants. Then you can have water.”
“Deal.”
“With lemon in it.” She grins. “And a little sugar.”
I laugh.
How can I not?
Savannah
“I’m in so much trouble,” I tell Allison when she joins me at the bar.
She’s only twenty minutes late, but I’m used to that, so I don’t complain. And because she’s twenty minutes late, I’m already two drinks in. Two really strong drinks.
And that’s the very reason I’m about to confess my problems.
“Do tell,” she says, signaling the bartender over. “Cosmo, please.”
I take another fortifying drink from my green apple martini—one of my favorite cocktails—and wait until Allison gives me her full attention.
“I like him,” I admit.
Her eyes widen. “Who?”
“Jason Stone.”
“Oooh.” Her huge grin falls. “Wait. Who’s he?”
“The new quarterback,” I tell her.
Her brown eyes widen with interest, but still no recognition.
“Oh, well, that explains the green apple martini,” she says, nodding toward my glass. “If you drink somethin’ more than wine, I know you’ve got some inner turmoil.”
“That is so not true.” God, it’s true. She knows me too well.
“What position does this guy play?”
I honestly think this woman doesn’t hear a thing I say. Ever.
“Quarterback. He’s the guy you were makin’ fun of at the club.”
Her face is blank, proof that it isn’t registering.
“Hottie McFootball Man,” I say, hoping that will clear some of the cobwebs.
“Did I meet him?” she asks, a small smile on her face.
“At the club,” I say with a huff. “The guy with Sugar Tits. You know, the redhead.”
Allison shakes her head.
“Lord, you’re ridiculous,” I tell her, laughing.
She smiles and the move makes her eyes scrunch up. “And you’re way too gullible. Of course I remember Hottie McFootball Man. You had sex with him.”
Bad Business Page 13
