Page 34 of Hard Hitter

“I’m not leaving until I’ve tried every flavor.” I licked an escaped bit off my lip, and Noah’s eyes flared with heat. The amount of sexual tension between us was getting ridiculous. Time for a distraction. “Why do you play football?”

He blinked at the abrupt question. “TU gave me a full scholarship.”

“Do you have fun with it?”

His face softened. “Yeah. Your brother is the reason for that.”

I didn’t want to talk about my brother, but if it got Noah to open up, I’d take it. “How so?”

“I had offers from several schools, but when I came to tour TU, D kept popping up everywhere. Talking up the program, inviting me out for meals, making me feel like I was a part of the team even though I hadn’t chosen a school yet.”

“That absolutely sounds like D. He makes every person he meets feel special. If anyone stands still long enough next to him, he’ll turn them into family.”

Noah laughed, low and rumbly, making me momentarily lose my train of thought. “I haven’t had a lot of family in my life, so this one is important to me.”

Right. Family. My brother. “Will you tell me why?”

He studied my face for a long moment. “I think I will.”

But not yet.The unspoken words hovered between us until he crunched into his cone. “When I factored in TU’s excellent post-graduation placement program, nowhere else could measure up.”

I frowned. “You’re not entering the draft?”

“No. Football is fantastic, but it’s not my life.”

Something in the way he said it—maybe the way he couldn’t meet my eyes—made me think he wasn’t telling the whole story. Not a full lie, but a complicated truth.

“What are you doing after college then?” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked before. Very few guys who played college football actually made it to the pros. D thought Noah was good enough to get a rookie contract, so I’d assumed he’d enter the draft with Shaw and Mac after next year.

“Elementary PE teacher.”

My brows shot up. I had a lot of respect for teachers, especially ones dealing with little kids, but playing pro football didn’t stop him from teaching after he retired. I couldn’t imagine passing up on the fame and money associated with playing a sport professionally.

Fame had never been important to Noah, but the money from even a rookie contract would set him up for years to come. Not to mention he’d be doing something he loved. Was he truly not interested or did he not think he was good enough?

“Why?” I blurted out.

“I had a rough childhood, but my teachers made it better. I want to do the same thing. Kids deserve people whowantto help them.”

My insides melted into a puddle of goo at the image of this giant man with the gentle hands helping little kids who were more likely to fall down than play a sport. I remembered his comments about his uncle and desperately wanted to ask for more details.

Noah must have read the intention on my face because his mouth curved up on one side. “You ready to pay the price for asking?”

Suddenly, I wasn’t. Noah was already dangerously close to making me think I could make a relationship work. I didn’t need anything else weighing on his side, so I swallowed down my questions along with a chunk of strawberry.

“Thanks for bringing me here. This really is the best ice cream I’ve ever had.” An intensity I didn’t recognize glittered in his eyes at my strategic retreat.

“You’re welcome.” He dipped his chin toward my cone. “I’ve never had that flavor.”

I took a big bite of creamy fruit deliciousness and spoke with my mouth full. “Wanna taste?”

“Yes.” His big hand wrapped around mine on the cone, but instead of lifting it, Noah lowered his head toward me.

He claimed my mouth in a soul-shattering kiss.

I gasped, giving him access to sweep his tongue inside, while the rest of me freaked the fuck out. His heat countered the cold of the ice cream, and goosebumps raced across my skin. I made a needy little noise in the back of my throat—no regrets, I was a needy bitch—and his free hand slid into my hair.

Noah used his hold to tilt my head back and devour me. Ice cream forgotten, I kissed him back with bare-knuckled desperation. He tasted like the bitter bite of espresso mixed with spiced vanilla, and I knew I’d never be able to drink coffee again without remembering this moment.

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