Page 59 of Defending her Heart

Since Nash made a game saving interception with seconds to spare, he’ll have to stick around longer to talk to the media. I don’t wait to see if he’s joining us at Whiskey Buckle and Rowan and I take off as soon as the group starts to disperse.

I’m two drinks in—very unlike me on a Sunday night—when my bladder decides to break the seal. I have successfully kept my back to the group of Revolutions players congregated around three tables for the past hour and have remained focused solely on Rowan and Mindy, Darius’s wife.

Riley’s been bouncing between girl chat and being by her husband’s side.

“I gotta pee. Anyone need a refill? I’ll stop at the bar on my way back.”

They all shake their heads. “I remember when nine o’clock on a Sunday was early.”

Mindy laughs. “Kids sure do age you fast.”

“What’s our excuse then?” Riley giggles.

“You’re in that disgusting honeymoon stage and want to be sober while you shag your husband twenty times a day,” I grumble.

“Even though my best friend is right...” Riley gives me a knowing smile. “I still have a ways to go before I catch up to Kendall’s level of sex.”

“Easy, girl,” I bite back my teasing snarl.

To be fair, Riley and I met during my ho-bag stage. Pre-Jason, I dressed more provocatively and fooled around with more guys than I could count. While we were together, I was one hundred percent faithful to Jason, then I returned to my ho-bag stage for a few months before I realized I had too much self-respect to cheapen myself simply because I was betrayed by an asshole.

Granted, my ho-bag stage was mild compared to most people’s. I’m mostly talk. Lots of flirting, some serious groping, and more blow jobs than I’m proud of, but I didn’t spread my legs for anyone and everyone like most assumed.

Including Nash.

I flip Riley off with a smile and work my way through the crowd to the bathroom. Whiskey Buckle isn’t a high-end bar but it’s not a hole-in-the-wall either. The bigger bathrooms are full, so I work my way to the back where there are three private bathrooms. A perk of hanging with the team is having bathroom connections.

I do my business and check out my reflection while I wash my hands. My cheeks are pink from the two cranberry vodkas I’ve had and I run my fingers through my hair and tame the frizz around my face.

The bold, bluefifty-sixon my torso pops out against the white jersey, and I turn to check out my ass, but my eyes lift to the name across my shoulder blades.Humphries.

It was obvious when Nash arrived twenty minutes ago. Rowan has the worst poker face in the history of the world. Being a bad liar is a good trait though, especially since I was hosed for two years by the best liar in the history of the world.

I take my tinted lip gloss out of my back pocket and apply a coat to my lips. Not that anyone but the girls have looked at me all night. We’re shielded in a corner to avoid losers trying to pick us up. Not that Darius or Walker would allow any man in a ten foot radius of their wives.

Nash hasn’t come over to us, nor has he texted me since the three orgasms. It’s time I accept what happened was once-and-done. I’m okay with that. It’s not like I’m looking for arelationship or even half-interested in going out on a date. But sex? Damn. I miss sex.

I miss sex with Nash even more. With a heavy sigh, I unlock the door and pull. It only opens a crack before someone pushes their way through, and I stumble back.

Nash fills the doorway, then slams and locks the door behind him.

“Took you long enough.” He cups my face in his hands and devours my mouth.

I’m so taken aback by his actions that I stumble backwards. He frees one hand from my face and cups my ass, pulling me into his hard chest.

My mouth opens for him, and I eagerly invite his tongue inside. He tastes like mint and sweetness. His soap and pine scent surrounds me, and I moan into his kiss as my hands find their way up his back and clutch at his shirt.

“Tell me you’re wet for me,” he murmurs into my mouth.

“I was kind of blindsided here,” I moan again as he trails kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “I didn’t even get a good look at who stormed in here.”

Nash pauses, then bites the side of my neck. “Admit it. You’ve been wet for me since I got here.”

Correction: I’ve been wet for him since he stepped onto the field in those tight white pants. I don’t tell him that though.

“Oh, are you Nash Humphries?”

He slowly lifts his head and pierces me with his dark eyes. Riling him up is too fun. Too sexy. He lowers his hand down my front and unbuttons my jeans without taking his eyes off me. One fat finger slips between my lace thong and finds my wetness. My eyes threaten to roll back, but I don’t take them off Nash’s beautiful, stormy face.

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