Page 50 of A Quarterback for Christmas

She’s not used to this, and she’s already regretting it. She’s already regretting me.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

Placing my hand under her chin, I raise it and pull her bottom lip from under her teeth with a pop. Her eyes search mine, hoping I’ll answer the question without her telling me, but sadly, I’m not a mind reader.

“Come on, B. Say something.”

I keep a straight face, but inside, I prepare myself for the worst. She’s going to tell me this was a mistake and that we can never talk about it again.

“Was it me?” she asks. Her voice is laced with hesitation, matched with the fact that she can’t look me in the eyes.

“Was what you?”

“Was I the girl in high school?” She spits it out like it has been on her mind since I first teased her with the facts of our high school days. Tilting my head, I study her. She’s fiddling with her hands and still gnawing at her bottom lip.

It’s then I realize that Bella Summers will literally be the death of me.

Hot and Cold. Hard and Sweet.

I can’t figure this girl out; yet, for some reason, I keep trying.

And I know I won’t stop. I can’t. I see her. The vulnerable girl who just wants to be loved under her cocky exterior. I see the courage it took to genuinely ask that question, and I know this is her way of opening up to me, even if I have no idea what she’s talking about.

She takes a shaky breath, building herself up again to speak. “The girl you can’t get over from high school. Is it me?” Now it’s my turn to look confused because I have no idea what she’s talking about. “When I was playing on your Xbox, I spoke to Jacob. He thought I was you.” Her cheeks bloom red at the admission, but I let her continue. “He told me you couldn’t get over a girl from high school. I thought it was Sabrina or something, but after…” She trails off with a wave of her hand,expecting me to know where she is going with the sentence. When I only answer her with a raised brow, she finishes, “Everything that just happened. I don’t want to sound conceited, but I think it might be me.”

Smirking, I say, “Sorry to be the one to tell you this, B. But you sound conceited.”

“Am I right, though?”

How the hell am I supposed to answer that without sounding painfully pathetic?

“Even though I’m an ass to you and treat you like crap every chance I get. It’s me, isn’t it?”

I nod and turn back to the dresser because answering that question seems redundant now. She sees through me, and I see through her. There’s no point denying that I’m into her since I just finished fingering her in the bathtub. Although, I guess if anyone asked, I could say I was just helping her relieve an itch from the inside.

Believable.

Instead of answering, I throw on a pair of shorts and a shirt and toss the towel to the side. Bella pushes herself off the bed, and I hear her hobble toward me. It’s clunky and loud, and I’ve no doubt that she’s going to fall over, but I don’t look. I just don’t know what to say. “Turn around, Drew,” she commands, and finally, I do as she says. When she gets close enough, she cups my cheeks in her hands, pushing herself onto the tiptoes of one of her feet.

She plants a gentle, tentative kiss on my lips as though she’s testing a theory, but somehow, she seems to have forgotten that I’m already a willing participant.

Our lips linger for a few seconds until she presses down, kissing me again. This time, a little harder. I still don’t move, letting her take the lead. She needs to initiate this. Not me.

She kisses me again.

And again.

Her kisses turn feverish in a desperate attempt to get me to move.

She’s hobbling against me, and when I hear little mewls of pain coming from her, I decide to pick her up and carry her to the bed.

Dropping her onto the sheets, Bella takes no time to unhook her towel and pull it apart.

Towering over her, I greedily admire her toned body. Curvy in all the right places with just enough muscle tone to know that she’s an athlete.

Flicking my gaze to the apex of her thick thighs, I lick my lips because I’d gladly spend the rest of my life between them if she let me…And it paid enough to warrant a happy lifestyle.

“What are you looking at?” she asks, daringly.

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