Page 114 of Scoring the Player
A doe with ears perked watches me as she lazes with fawns by the river.
I wink at her.
The faint sound of music has my own ears perking. I grab my bags and make my way inside. The handle turns like his text said it would.
Soulful music, a peppery aroma, and an open flying saucer floating above a blazing fire in the middle of the room hit my senses all at once.
I drop my bags, climb out my kicks, and step deeper inside.
I whistle at the full view of the trees.
Who would ever move from here? We’re too early for snow, but damn, it has to be stunning.
And then suddenly I feel him, more stoic than the ancient trunks before me. I breathe with the spastic thumping in my chest. Turning, he’s there, leaning against the wall, basking in a honeyed glow from the setting sun, and watching me. For a second, neither of us moves, and a thrill feathers up my spine.
My coat hits the floor as he pushes off the wall, and we storm toward each other. As soon as our lips crush together, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Thank god he said yes to tonight.
I back him toward the couch.
“Hol’ on,” he breathes against my lips.
“Uh-uh,” I grunt as our tongues compete, and he presses me closer to his body.
“Wait,” he croaks, spinning us around so my back hits the couch before he straddles me.
I reach for his zipper. “I’m still keyed up from the game.”
His tongue traces my collarbone.
I flip him to his back. “Means you gotta work me out.”
His eyes widen at the surprise show of force. “Yeah?”
“Ye—” My breath is trapped as I’m snapped into a headlock. “F-ucker.”
I grasp his forearm and tuck my chin to keep it from sinking in as he tightens his hold. I twist to the side and plant my feet before rocking sideways and crashing into his hips.
He barely budges, but it’s enough momentum to push his elbow upward so I can duck until I’m free.
“Word?” I shuffle back.
“What, you got?—”
I clasp his legs and yank hard. His back hits the rug with a thump. I drag his ass as he scrambles for an anchor, the rug easing the glide across the floor.
“You’re dead,” he threatens, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
I snort as he kicks, trying to break my hold. Crunching his obliques, he dips sideways and locks onto my wrists.
Shit!
With a rotation of his torso, he pulls my wrists across his body, and I’m yanked forward. Tucking my neck, expecting a guillotine choke, I’m caught off guard when his hips slide to the side, and my chest smacks the floor. I buck hard, but he’s too fast. My wrists are pinned, and his knee hits the middle of my shoulder blades.
“Fuckface!” I snarl, tugging on my legs for strength.
I’m gripped by my collar like a fucking puppy and hauled to my feet, my cheek hitting the window.
