by Zoe Lee
He wasn’t scared to love her. He didn’t think it was too soon or that he was naive to believe that she loved him, too. The fact that it had happened in a couple of months and so gently, just this sweet, slow slide into each other’s lives and hearts, wasn’t freaking him out. They fit together, their big, goofy, generous hearts, their bodies, their cheery dispositions, and how much the whole town loved them.
He wasn’t scared to love her, but he wasn’t ready to say it yet.
A woman had never broken his heart, but he had still suffered from a broken heart when he’d gotten injured so badly that his football career had ended at twenty-one. That had been his only dream: to be a part of a team that worked hard, strategized hard, and won hard. He’d worked towards it since he was ten years old. He’d survived that, and become the MHS football coach so that he could stay in the game as much as would ever be possible for him. But he never could risk finding a new dream to pursue.
Daisy wasn’t a dream or a career goal or an ambition.
She was a sweet, clever, beautiful woman, and he loved her.
But he was scared to tell her that he loved her, because it was a whole new playing field and a whole new set of rules. And she’d done it before, reached this level and then blown past it, straight to the Super Bowl when she’d married Tyler Houston at nineteen.
“Dunk? Where’d you go?” Daisy cut through his thoughts.
He scrambled to snap back into the moment.
“Whoa,” he said, laughing to cover up his embarrassment at being caught zoning out when his girl was right there. “That last beer must’ve gone right to my head.”
She blew out a breath through pouting lips. “You were kind of in the middle of something important. Remember? Asking me if I want to be your girlfriend?”
“I’m not drunk, I didn’t forget anything,” he protested. “I was waiting for you to answer me. Do you want to be my girlfriend? Will you be?”
“Are you going to be a good one?”
It was asked with a teasing lilt, so he grinned down at her. “Let’s be real, darlin’. I’m not experienced at being a boyfriend. I’m practically a virgin.”
Daisy dropped her face into her hands, her shoulders shaking with mirth that came out as muffled snorts. After a minute, she got herself together and met his eyes, hers shining with tears of laughter. “Virgin?”
“There’s no shame in admitting I don’t have experience,” he told her, shaking a finger at her and tsking in admonishment, mostly joking.
Her whole demeanor softened and she stroked her hand over his chest. “No, there’s no shame in it. I like the idea of being your first,” she admitted, her eyes dropping to her hand. “Or your almost-first.”
“Should I be worried? Aren’t girls always trying to train us dumb men into being the perfect boyfriends?” he mumbled.
“If you’re willing to do two-a-day practices just to beat me in a dance-off rematch, I think you’ll be willing to put in the work to be a good boyfriend,” she murmured, her smile so damn bright and genuine.
Nodding enthusiastically, he swept her up and they started dancing again, luckily to music that wasn’t slow or sexy, just fun and raucous.
They got another round, rescuing Jesse from talking about combines or something from a bunch of old guys who were friends with her dad. Daisy tried Jesse’s lemon drop and agreed that it was pretty good, for something other than beer.
Seth was amazing on stage, looking relaxed underneath whatever emotion each song brought out in him. When the band was done for the night, Dunk was so damned proud that he hauled Seth up in a bone-crushing hug and scrubbed one hand over his hair.
“You did me proud, kid,” he praised him, handing him a whiskey.
“Thanks, Coach,” Seth said, red-faced more from the exertion of performing than any embarrassment at Dunk’s hug or praise.
“Oh, Seth,” Daisy gushed, squishing his face between her hands and shaking it, like she absolutely couldn’t contain her excitement, “you were so wonderful! It’s been so long, I almost forgot how talented you are!”
“Now that’s because you never come around here,” Seth said.
“Well, I…” Daisy blushed a little.
Dunk slid an arm around across the back of her shoulders, his fingertips coming around to sooth tiny circle on her upper arm. “Yeah, but we’re dating now and since I’m here a lot, she’ll be here more, too. Right?”
Daisy beamed, matching Dunk’s grin. “Right.”
“Congratulations on making it official,” Seth said, and where someone else might’ve made it a little snide or cynical, Seth was all sincerity. “I really appreciate you staying the whole set, Dunk, but get out of here.”
“Daisy Rhys?” Dunk asked, wanting to make sure she was ready too.
“This has been so much fun,” she said, her eyes moving from Dunk to include Seth, Jesse and Aden behind the bar, “but I am a little tired.”
“Goodnight, y’all,” Dunk said, stepping away from Daisy only long enough to hug his friends and settle up with Aden.
They were quiet during the drive to Daisy’s, Dunk following Daisy’s lead. He kept checking in on her, though, because the second they’d left Wild Harts, she’d dimmed a little, as if she really were exhausted.
By the time he’d walked Daisy to her door, he couldn’t stay quiet any more, though, wondering what was going through her mind.
“Daisy, are you alright? You got real quiet.”
“It’s just been a long time since I had a boyfriend,” she whispered.
“Are you scared?” he whispered back, dipping his head to brush his lips over the curve of her shoulder. “I promise I’ll be careful with you, Daisy.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Her hands came up to card through his hair, the gesture so caring and adoring that he shuddered. “It’s… it’s been a long time since someone wanted to be my boyfriend. Almost a year.”
Dunk pulled in a deep breath, wanting to honor the strength it took Daisy to lay bare her vulnerabilities. “I can’t remember the last time anyone wanted to be my girlfriend,” he admitted, his vulnerability mirroring hers. “I wasn’t lying before, no one’s taken advantage of me. But I’m… fun. Women don’t think I’m boyfriend material. So… thank you.”
Her surprised laugh was a little strangled. “Thank you?”
“Fine, enough mushy stuff,” Dunk said.
“Yeah? What’s it time for now, then?”
Dunk backed Daisy against her front door, bracing his palms above her head in the frame and caging her with his hips pressed into her.
“The last time I heard your voice like that, all raspy and soft,” he said, “we were on the phone and you’d just come all over your hand.”
Daisy whimpered, the blunt, hoarse words entirely unexpected.
“I want to talk to you about how we’re going to take care of each other, even if we’re both rusty at being someone’s significant other,” he promised. “But I’m wound up real tight, and I can’t think right now. I can’t be as attentive as I need to be for that. And I’m too wound up to be mushy.”
Daisy wiggled around so that she could unlock her door and they could trip inside, locking back up as they kicked off their shoes.
Dunk wasted no time, scooping her up against his chest, her bare feet dangling, and kissed her hard. Their tongues thrust and dueled between their mouths as he walked to the futon, her hands locked tight in his hair. He undid his belt and pants, shoving his jeans and briefs off.
Then he pressed his mouth to her belly through her dress, reaching under it to tug down her tights, both laughing breathlessly as she almost lost her balance on the shaky futon. His rough hands scraped up her legs and he lifted the dress enough to get his face between her thighs, nipping at her through her panties. She wailed, her hands scrabbling at his shoulders.
“We need to—make this—a bed,” she panted.
“No,” he said against her panties, then pulled them aside to lick he
r roughly.
He’d never have his fill of her thick, sweet taste, but once she was shaking, her knees weak and her hips rolling against his mouth non-stop, he pulled back. He picked her up and turned her in his arms so her back was to his chest, sat down on the futon, and spread her legs so they were draped over the outsides of his knees.
“You were such a sexy fucking tease, grinding on me like this,” he groaned, working the back of her dress up enough to peel down her panties and then stroke his dick against her.
She jerked out of his hold just enough to twist to get a condom, opening the foil and then passing it back to him. She scooted forward to give him enough space to roll it on, then rocked her ass back against him.
“I couldn’t help it,” she admitted, working back against him just like she had on the dance floor, the tips of her toes just pressed to the floor.
He filled his hands with her generous breasts so that he could pinch her nipples and bit along the column of her neck and the slope of her shoulders. She bucked and wailed again, pushing up in his grip so that she was able to take the head of his dick into her.
“In another life, that would’ve been a lapdance,” he told her.
Her laugh was barely more than breath.
“Daisy, fuck,” he groaned, grabbing her hips to work her up and down to take another inch on every downstroke, until she was fully seated.
“So full,” she sighed. Her hips moved, tight little circles while she rippled around him, not an orgasm but her body relearning to take him.
“So deep,” he countered as he rocked up.
It was more intense because they were both still half-dressed, the soft strength of her ass pressing and easing against the tops of his thighs, the fire of her pussy scorching him even through the layer of latex. The fabric of her dress crinkled and tickled his calves where it draped over them.
Her hands covered his, pushing them into the meat of her inner thighs, his thumbs at the outer edges of her folds. With every jerk and fall of her body, his thumbs were streaked with her wetness.
Low cries tumbled from her mouth, not words, but still clear vocalizations of her pleasure, of her orgasm building stroke by stroke.
“Right there,” she gasped, her arms flying up to tangle around his neck.
He breathed into the bend of her elbow, bit at her bicep. His body surged deeper with every stroke, holding when he was all of the way inside her for a beat. Her belly shook so hard he felt it even with his hand on the outside of her dress, and he pressed the heel of his hand just above her pubic bone.
Her arms locked, forcing his head down so that he was breathing like a bellows right over her ear and the corner of her gaping mouth.
Every stroke shook her now, every withdrawal made her wail in distress, every cry now shaped his name, over and over until she broke.
She’d barely finished when her whimpers sent him crashing into his own orgasm. The pleasure punched through him so hard that he exhaled on a yell and then forgot to breath in again, everything leaving his body so forcefully that he lost himself.
“Dunk,” Daisy whispered, and she found him, brought him back to himself with the way she said his name, the shaky emotion so loud and clear that he wrapped her up in his arms. She wrenched her neck so that their mouths could meet, the angle awkward but the kiss fierce. There was nothing unsure about it, nothing but affection and sweetness and love.
Finally he had to let her go so that they could clean up.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked as he snagged his briefs and pulled them on, since he’d wear them whether they went to sleep or whether he went home. “My mom’s already puppy-sitting.”
“Don’t you want to stay?” she countered.
“Always,” he said, surprised she even had to ask. “But you might—”
“Stay, please,” Daisy said, and took off his shirt.
While he turned the futon into a bed, she got them a glass of water, moving around in her panties and an oversized tee-shirt.
She sucked down half the water in four giant swallows, which was enough to make his dick half-hard again. Her eyebrows raised in smug appreciation at it as she handed the glass to him, one hand going to caress it gently. He smiled, smoothing his fingers down her cheek softly, and then went to put the empty glass in her sink while she took down her hair.
He crawled into the futon next to her and she immediately tucked herself into his body, her ass nestled against his briefs. Her heart beat loudly against his chest, still a little faster than her resting rate, and she squirmed until he squeezed her hip in warning.
“I’m going to find you one of those stripper exercise classes,” Dunk murmured.
“How do you know that’s not how I learned to dance like that?” she teased back in the darkness.
“Mm,” he said into her wild curls, exhausted by his long day and the wonderful love-making, lulled almost to sleep by Daisy’s warmth.
Chapter 11
Daisy
It was a crazy day at the firm.
There was no logical reason for the mayhem; it was the beginning of May, not a big time of year for divorces or whatever else her dad, Shane and Levi did all day. And yet, two major clients each thought they had appointments with Levi at nine-thirty, when he was out at his annual physical. Then the cleaning service had shown up at eleven, convinced the office was closed—for some unfathomable reason—and had insisted on being paid even though they were sent away. The printer was on the fritz, the invoicing system was emailing every invoice three separate times, and the bakery was out of their favorite donut.
And Daisy’s brand new sheer black leggings ripped at her left knee, making her feel like a four-year-old with skinned knees.
She was supposed to be done at five-thirty, but it was six forty-five and she was alone in the office, hunched over her desk. Her headset was pinching like a plastic headband and the invoicing software IT support guy was about to make her cry. She would never understand customer support that treated their callers like they were morons. For sure, they could think it, especially because Daisy knew she was no expert when it came to the software. But did this guy need to be so condescending?
There was a delicious sandwich, chips and a giant pickle at her elbow, which she had only been able to eat a single bite of so far, taunting her. Dunk had run it over for her about half an hour ago, giving her the sweetest, most sympathetic look. But she’d only been able to raise the mic of her headset out of the way, kiss him quickly, and mouth thank you.
He’d backed away from her desk, flashed a wicked grin, and raised his shirt up to his neck to show off his muscles. He’d flexed, making the hashtag between his abs ripple so that it looked like a freaking ice cube tray. Then he’d blown her a kiss and left, texting her a minute later: Call me when you’re done, Daisy. You deserve a backrub and some wine.
“I tried that already,” Daisy repeated patiently to the IT guy.
“Yes, but I reset something remotely,” he replied just as patiently.
If they’d been face to face, Daisy thought they probably would’ve murdered each other by now. He thought she was a moron, and she thought that he wasn’t listening to her and ruining her life.
The firm’s second line lit up, but Daisy ignored it.
“Okay,” Daisy said, trying the thing again, for the fourth time.
Her cell buzzed near her coffee mug.
“Now I’m getting that error message 781,” Daisy said, dropping her forehead to her desk with a muted thud. “What if I just throw the computer out the window and light it on fire?” she muttered in defeat.
That finally got a positive response from the IT guy, who laughed and then told her ruefully, “I’m afraid your warranty won’t cover rage. There is one last thing I can try, but it’s going to be a giant pain for you.”
“As opposed to today…?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. I can send someone onsite to your office first thing tomorrow morning to basically save your records,
delete the program, and then reinstall it. He’ll help you upload your records again.”
Daisy groaned and wanted to cry, while her cell buzzed again.
“Can I put you on hold? I’ll have to run that one by the boss.”
“Of course.”
Putting the call on hold, Daisy automatically glanced at her cell, expecting the missed calls to be from Karen, who was remodeling her kitchen and called and texted about damn tile choices all day long.
Parents House - 6:53
Parents House - 6:55
(2) Voicemails
Daisy frowned and quickly called back.
“Daisy?” her mom shrieked.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Daisy asked, immediately panicked by the unstrung tone of her mom’s usually calm tone.
“Everything is okay, but…” Her mom’s voice broke. “Conor, he… he had an accident, baby. He’s… he broke his right leg, his right lung collapsed, he fractured his left wrist, he has a concussion—”
The words hit Daisy, one after another, and her vision wavered.
“Daisy, are you hearing me?”
“I—I’ll come over right away. I can’t… I don’t understand.”
“Hurry, baby,” her mom begged.
Daisy dropped her cell. It took three tries to pick up the call with the IT guy. “I’m so sorry, but there’s been—there’s been an emergency. Thank you for your help tonight, but I’ll have to call you back. Don’t schedule someone to come tomorrow; I don’t think anyone will be here.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” the IT guy said awkwardly.
“Uh huh,” Daisy said without listening and hung up.
She scrambled around, slamming off the lights and shoving her feet into her shoes and shoveling everything but her cell into her purse.
She’d locked up and was out on the sidewalk before she realized that she didn’t have a way to get to her parent’s house. She could walk, but it would take an hour. She could call and have someone come get her, but if she could barely lock up the office, she didn’t want anyone in her family behind the wheel either.
