Page 44 of Delayed Offsides

I shake my head, leaning against the counter and losing interest. “No fuckin’ way.”

Besides that, this is my time to get even with Mase. If I can get them to go somewhere, I can sneak in their room.

I wave my hand to the restaurant in the lobby behind us. “You guys should go out to eat or something. Be alone, have some Mexicans serenade you.”

Mase rolls his eyes, only because he knows exactly what Ami wants. Her vision of going to Cabo is thinking it’s something like Spain. Which it isn’t. Two completely different countries and cultures. Though I’m sure you can get serenaded in both, you’re more than likely to get shanked in Mexico.

“Hello, I’m Rita,” the lady behind the counter says, sliding key cards across the granite toward us. “Here are your room keys.”

Callie and I have separate rooms, while Mase and Ami share, naturally, and when Remy gets here later tonight, he’s staying with me.

Callie reaches for her room card and struts off with her purse against her chest and the suitcase rolling behind her. I watch her ass as she walks away. Such a shame she’s not talking to me.

Mase slaps his hand to my back and then strolls past me, leaving me standing there alone. “You’re pathetic,” he says over his shoulder.

I am.

When I get to my room, I glance around. It overlooks the pool Callie had been staring at. I caught a glimpse of her room number and know she’s only four doors down from me and has this same view.

What is she thinking right now? Does she know I’d give anything to be in her room, in her bed, under her sheets, her under me? I’m going out of my mind trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong after we had sex. I’d covered every angle. Was I too rough, too soon? Was it not enough? I can’t wrap my head—and I do mean the head on my shoulders—around what happened and what the hell to do to fix it. This woman is going to drive me to fucking drink.

Drink. Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.

I meet Evan and Ami downstairs for dinner. Callie shows up too.

I think clothing designers of women’s apparel get together and think to themselves, how can we make a dress so sexy that men will want to rip it off her?

I’ll tell you how. Have Callie Pratt wear it.

When Callie appears that night for dinner at La Botella, she’s wearing one of those dresses I’m sure was designed to be ripped off. I’ve never seen her wear something like this before, and I’ve seen her naked and wearing lace with nothing left to the imagination.

Probably with drool coming out of my mouth, I stare at her approaching the table. The dress is black, cut just above her knees and loose-fitting at the top where a slit between her tits opens up like the Grand Canyon, revealing the slightest bit of cleavage and hints of where my mind is already taking me. I gawk at her. The arms are cut so I can see the sides of her tits, and the back, God, the back is so low I can almost see the crack of her ass.

Once I recover from the shock, I’m turned on. She looks amazing in the dress. No doubt by design to keep my dick in a constant state of pain. Hard. Uncomfortably so. I bet she packed everything for this trip with the idea that she was going to flaunt around and torture me to fucking death.

As she walks past me, I snake my arm around her waist and pull her back against my chest. I hear her sudden intake of breath when she feels my dick against her lower back. Bringing my mouth to her ear, I let my breath blow over her neck. “Are you trying to fuckin’ kill me with that dress? Because it’s working.”

“The way I dress has everything to do with making me feel good and nothing to do with you,” she whispers.

I chuckle at her sass. “Don’t lie, baby. You wore this dress for me. You want me to take you back to my room and give you my stick. Fuck that wet pussy of yours.” At the word fuck, her stomach quivers in response under my splayed hand. “This dress makes me want to take you right here. Against that table in front of everyone. I can bend you over and let everyone in this restaurant know that you’re mine.”

She scoffs, but it’s shaky. I’m getting to her. “Do you actually say those things to people?”

She breaks free of my arms, but I snatch her back before she can get away from me.

My hands rest on her forearm. She twists, and that’s when I catch a hint of her smell. Calliealwayssmells amazing. Probably because she works for a company that manufactured sex in bottles, as far as I’m concerned. I want to fall at her feet, run my hands up her thighs and bury my head in her pussy. “Evidently I do say those things. To you.”

Her dark eyes catch mine. “Jerk,” she utters, pushing past me to take a seat at the table.

“You love me,” I add, sitting next.

“Is Remy here yet?” Mase asks me.

I shake my head, my eyes on Callie. Leaning into her ear, I whisper, “By the way, you look really pretty.”

“I know.” She smiles, refusing to look at me, instead looking at Mase. “Anything good to drink here?”

He gives her a look I can’t place, maybe shock, or confusion and then pushes the drink menu at her. Ami, who sits on the other side of her, leans in and whispers something to her but stops when Callie shakes her head at the question.

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