Page 27 of Date with a Devil
At least she was easy on the eyes. Every time she turned around, Dane couldn’t keep his eyes off her plump, round ass. God, he sort of loved the way she moved. Even the way she simply stood there was kind of nice. Before she threw her bowling ball down the lane, she had a habit of staring at the pins with the ball cradled against her chest and her glutes squeezed tight. It was cute as hell. Dane doubted that she knew she was doing it, let alone that he’d noticed.
Sometimes, after she picked up a spare or made a strike, she’d jump in the air and the hem of her blouse would flutterjustright, giving him the briefest view of her midriff. With every glimpse at Austen’s flat little belly, some animal desire in Dane awoke with an insatiable hunger.
Hell, maybe I’ll invite her back to my place after this is over,he thought.Might have a little fun with her after all.
Before long, ten frames were over, and the two compared their scores.
Dane, 224.
Austen, 141.
“Well, you win,” she said. “But wouldn’t you say I’m still pretty good?”
“I guess you’re not completely awful.” Dane gave her a pat on the back. “But you leave a lot to be desired.”
Austen hid behind a laugh and a big fake smile, but Dane could tell by the way her posture crumpled under his hand that she hadn’t missed his double meaning.
Chapter 11
Austen
The ride over to Kenny’s Wood Fired Grill was quiet. Austen wished she could think of something to say to fill the dead air. She wished she could slip into that smooth, unflappable voice ofAusty Marlowe, host of Date with a Devil,and blurt out the first random question that came to mind.
But the truth was, Austy Marlowe was rattled.
DeHardt was charming one moment, and yet he’d cut her down the very next. The speed at which he flipped between the two extremes was enough to give her whiplash.
It was obvious that DeHardt didn’t respect the job she was doing. If he did, he would’ve taken her questions a little more seriously and stopped giving dumb answers specifically designed to piss her off.
So fuck him,she’d think.
But then, a second later, he’d say something semisweet. And she’d catch him leering at her. She’d purposely worn one of theleastrevealing blouses she owned, and yet DeHardt still couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Every time she stood up to bowl, she could feel his gaze, laser-focused, right on her ass.
Ugh, you’re such a pig,she’d think.
And the worst part was, shewantedto be disgusted—but she wasn’t. Secretly, some part of her loved the desperate thrill that came with the knowledge that Dane DeHardt, captain of the Dallas Devils, couldn’t keep his greedy eyes off her body. She loved that he didn’t evenbotherto hide his desire. He was like an animal in that way. Couldn’t help himself and he didn’t care if you knew it.
Her darkest secret? She hoped the captainwouldtry to extend the date, once the cameras were turned off.
God, I’m hopeless,she thought.And he is completely fucking with my mind.
She looked over, stealing a glance at the muscled hockey player. He stared out his window, seemingly lost in thought.
Either like me or hate me, Dane, so I know how to feel about you.
But why did she need his approval—or hell, disapproval—to know how she should feel about him? What was it about hot guys that gave them such power, anyway?
She studied the athlete discretely, wanting to find somethingwrongwith him, something that would make her hate him.
Sweatpants. He actually wore sweatpants to an interview!
Sure, joggers were very much in-fashion, and especially among the athlete population. And yeah, the key to pulling them off was having an incredible set of legs—which DeHardt obviously did. But seriously, who showed up to do an interview wearing pants that showed the prominentbulgebetween your legs?!
Austen bit her lip to hold back her laughter.I can see your dick-print, dude!
Just then, as if he could hear her thoughts, DeHardt turned. She quickly averted her eyes, but it was too late. He’d caught her staring.
“What?” he asked. “Do I have something on my pants?”
