Page 58 of Striking Heat
I can see the shift in him. His eyes are still kind but not as carefree. He’s in reporting mode, where he’s picking up information and asking the questions in a gentle voice to keep me at ease. I don’t call him on it, though. It seems like tonight; we’re in a bubble of niceness—no jabs or arguing. I want that. Ineedthat.
“No, they don’t. My mom works as a paralegal and my dad is a teacher. So, they do get busy with work, but they could have easily taken a vacation day to come and see me. But…”
He nods. “Yeah, my dad only came around when it was the Olympics. The old man was poolside because it was good for the press, but when it came to my surgery or in the recovery room, it was only my mother.”
I swallow and sheepishly admit, “I’m sure neither one of mine would come here if I were to ever get injured.”
“Don’t put that juju out there. You don’t want to say, ‘if I get injured.’”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be careful.”
“I’m sure you will.” He winks at me. “So, I’m assuming they’ll never come to Tampa?”
I shake my head, taking a bite of my pizza. “No, they’ll probably stay in Washington. My dad has MS.” I finally let that detail slip out. “The heat isn’t the best for him. They were mad I got drafted to the Blaze because then they couldn’t come because of how the heat would impact him. But honestly, they wouldn’t have come anyway. I pointed that out, and instead of celebrating on draft night, I was arguing with them. Which put me in a foul mood. Even though they left, I still stayed in my hotel instead of hitting the bar with the rest of the players who were drafted.”
He gets up and walks over to where I’m sitting. He sits beside me, pulling me into this lap.
“Don’t make me drop my pizza,” I whine.
“Brat,” he says, kissing my temple.
I just laugh and keep eating.
“I’m sorry they’re like that. You don’t deserve that,” he says in a low voice.
My eyes water. “Please stop talking.”
“Why?”
“Because if you keep talking like this, I’m going to start crying, and the last thing I want is to start crying.”
“I won’t. But if it helps you, my dad is shit too. He’s cheated on my mom so many times. It’s unreal how wonderful the world thinks he is. Everyone gets all excited when they find out I’m related to him, but all I can think of is how he’s the asshole who cheated on Mom and had her crying every time he went away. She knew that different nights in different cities meant time alone with strange women. Because that’s what happens when you’re in the NFL. There’s always a willing woman.”
“I think that’s just what happens when you’re a man. There’s always a willing woman somewhere.”
He looks at me for a moment. “Who cheated on you?”
I study those brown eyes, so full of concern. His strong jawline. He’s really a beautiful man. I don’t say that, because it feels too intimate. Which is a weird thought because he was just inside me. And because men probably don’t like to be told they’re beautiful.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
“Matters to me,” he tells me.
“Why don’t you date? My Google search didn’t show you with any women, only teammates.”
He shrugs. “Well, I’ve had relationships. I’m just really good at keeping them out of the media.”
“For that long, huh?” I tease him.
He rests his forehead against mine. “Fine, I’m not good at them. I never have been. Sometimes it’s a stupid fight and I just assume the girl is with me for all of the wrong reasons. I start the fight, and I cause the breakup. Or sometimes she’s just not a nice person, and we end it there.”
He might be trying to warn me off, but I don’t let it bother me. “Well, if it helps you, I’m married to soccer, so no one really wants to be with me. It doesn’t help relationships last for very long.”
“It’s a good thing this isn’t a relationship,” Danny teases, kissing me on the nose. “We don’t have to worry about all those past mistakes.”
“Yes, that is a very good thing.” I drop my pizza into the open box, then our lips meet, and I slowly guide him backward so that he’s lying on the floor.
I lick at his bottom lip, asking for entrance, and he grants it. Sliding inside, I massage my tongue with his. He moans and I deepen the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. His hands come up and cup my ass. Grinding my bare pussy against his shorts, he circles his hips. Hestarts to come alive as we kiss. My hands are on the back of his neck, and I pull at his hair, trying desperately to get him closer to me.
