Page 19 of Big Dix

Check.

Panties growing uncomfortably wet.

Check.

I nod to affirm I am not talking, and he doesn’t get to know my name.

“Maybe we’ll see if I can get you to say a few words later.”

No doubt this man will have me singing the alphabet with a whole lot of extra vowels thrown in.

He leads me down the hall, and I take the opportunity to let my gaze rake over him—a blue button-up shirt, with a couple of the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up over his muscled forearms, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of are encased in perfectly tailored blue jeans. Between the arm porn and perfect ass, it’s like I have googly eyes. I don’t know where to keep my attention trained.

“Here we are.” He slides open the door, and I glide by him. Holy shit, this room is incredible! It’s enormous, and dinner appears to be waiting on the table in front of the windows.

“I didn’t know what you like, so I ordered one of everything from room service.”

Oh my gosh, that’s awfully sweet.

I catch his cheeks flush pink, and I could die. He’s blushing. Somehow, this just makes him all the more real and adorable. I don’t have any idea how to express my thankfulness for this without words, but a blow job seems a bit overkill at the moment. I’m not saying I’m not considering it, but I don’t want to scare the guy.

Though, I need to saysomething. So, I settle on a plan and just go with it.

“Thanks, matey. I appreciate yer thinking of me.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and so do mine. I’m pretty sure my bad Australian accent just turned into a pirate. Jeebus, I cannot do accents. I don’t even know why I just tried.

Atticus busts out laughing uncontrollably. I’m talking, tears streaming down his reddened face as he leans over and holds his stomach, practically rolling on the floor laughter.

“Arr, it wasn’t that bloody funny, matey.”

Totally didn’t help. Atticus is laughing harder now. You know when someone is uncontrollably laughing, and it makes you laugh because they are? Yeah, that’s what is happening now.

“Oh, my god, woman. What in the hell is that accent?” He chuckles as he rises from his bent position and swipes the tears from his eyes. “Please, anything but that accent. I can’t handle it. Come on, let’s eat.”

He wraps an arm around me and tugs me into his side, and we walk over toward the table. My entire body lighting up like the Fourth of July from the contact, but I can barely focus on how delightful this feels because I am mortified. If the floor would just open up and swallow me whole, that would be preferable to this embarrassment. The smart thing to do is just shut up. Can’t screw this up if I keep my big crazy trap shut. He pulls out my seat, and I smile at him as I sit. I watch him walk to the other end of the table and sit down like a tigress stalking her prey.

“Dig in. And since you aren’t talking right now, I’ll talk. How’s that?”

I nod once and dig into the tray with the tacos stacked up beautifully in front of me. I’d like to say I’m one of those demure women who eats like a bird on a date, but that would be a lie. My eyes practically roll back in my head at the delicious flavors dancing along with my tongue, and I moan my pleasure. Taco magic is happening here, folks.

A fork clanking against a plate draws my eyes to the other end of the table where Atticus sits frozen, eyes boring into me.

Shit.I bet he’s disgusted. Probably wondering why he’s having dinner with a taco-eating pirate troll from social media.

“That moan…”

Was weird? Too much for tacos? But has he had these tacos?They are fucking amazing.

He just shakes his head, picks up his fork, and begins to talk. “I was raised by my parents, Henry and Lynn Dixon, in a tiny town on the Tennessee, North Carolina border, about an hour from here. My parents worked at the local high school. My mom was a guidance counselor. My father taught economics and was coach of the varsity football team.”

He smiles at the memory, and of course, his parents are adorable. I can tell by the way he speaks about them. Respectfully, lovingly.

“My life was school, church, and football. Not necessarily in that order.”

I bite the taco, keeping the moan to myself.Seriously, what is this taco magic happening here?

“Once I was in high school, football became my dream. I knew I wanted to play pro, and I worked every moment to make that dream a reality. It wasn’t long after that the recruiters began to show up. It picked up steam my junior year. Our team had made it all the way to the state championships, and we’d won. Suddenly, in my senior year, there were multiple recruiters there for every game. I decided I wanted to stay close to home, though.” He takes a sip of his water, and I watch his firm fingers grip the delicate crystal, mesmerized. “Tennessee state was a great school, with a great team so, I signed up.”

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