Page 25 of Tumbling the Cornerback

“I’ve never been a shy a day in my life.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded slowly, big brown eyes fixed on my face as he darted his tongue out, licking his lips. “I’m a pretty bold person, nine times out of ten.”

“And what happens on the tenth time?” I asked, my voice rougher and lower than I expected.

“I’m cautious.” He took a step towards me. “Not shy. Not afraid. More... watchful. Mindful.”

“Aware?”

He nodded. Another step. Somewhere down the block, someone let out a loud whoop, and a car beeped as it was unlocked. Neither of us flinched. Neither of us so much as glanced their way.

“Sometimes,” I murmured, “when I’m on the field...” Another tiny step. He was just within arm’s reach now. My fingers twitched at my sides, eager to feel the bare skin of his arms, the warm silk of his hair. “I know there’s thousands of people watching, shouting, chanting. The other players, you all cheering, Coach...”

“But?” One last step and now he was close enough to feel the tickle of his breath on my neck as he looked up at me. The shadows falling over us between the streetlamps made it feel far more private than we truly were.

“But sometimes, everything else disappears except me and whoever I’m blocking.”

“Are you trying to say you’re blocking me, Cooper?” he asked, a small smile teasing the corner of his lips, pressing in the tiniest of dimples there.

I wanted to taste them.

“I’m saying that whenever we’re together, it’s like that for me. Everything else is outside, far away.”

He swayed towards me on a breath, our chests barely brushing. “That doesn’t seem safe. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hurt?”

I nodded slowly. “Very.”

We were kissing on the next breath, his inhale and my exhale. Hesitantly, he brought his hands up to my shoulders. I bent to meet him, my own hands gripping his hips like an anchor. It wasn’t a deep, dirty kiss, but it left me breathless as we pulled apart. My heart jackrabbited against my ribs like I’d just gotten an interception off Tom Wiesner.

“We shouldn’t do that in the street,” he muttered, bouncing down on his heels.

“We should go back to my place,” I offered immediately. “Trade our books?”

He nodded slowly. “We could do that... Or mine?”

“Mine’s closer.” Closer meant faster, faster meant being alone sooner, and that meant more kissing, more touching...

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

Okay...

Lucas drove us back to my place, giving me a sideways look when mentioned I'd walked. "It's really not that far," I laughed. "And I thought maybe I'd be drinking a bit, so I didn't want to chance leaving my baby out there overnight."

"Oh my god," he groaned, turning where I indicated. "You're one of those guys who names his car Lucille and polishes the rims every Sunday and special orders seat covers that match your eyes or something. I should've known!"

"First," I sniffed primly, "my car's name is Molly. Second, I polish the rims on Wednesdays. And my seat covers are Trooper gold with our team logo in blue."

He cackled, almost missing the turn to my building. "Oh my god," he repeated, shaking his head. "I swear, you'd better be kidding, or I'm just dropping you off right here."

"Not about the name," I laughed. "Or... the seat covers."

He snorted. "Of course you're not. I've yet to meet a football player without the team's name all over every damn thing they owned. If I check your socks, will they be from the merch site? Oh my god, are your undies Troopers branded?"

"No," I drawled. "My socks are black, thank you very much."

He pulled into the drive leading to the private parking garage, punching in the code as I recited it for him, then moved into one of the visitor spots near my car. "And the undies?"

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