Page 66 of Irresistibly Risky

Asher sits up. “Answer me,” he demands, his gray eyes consuming the hunger in mine and returning it tenfold. “Have you?”

Mason wiggles against my chest as he starts to wake up from his nap. “I’m going to go change his diaper.”

Because again, there’s nothing sexy about that.

“Wynter.” Asher is on his feet. “Just tell me.”

“No, okay? No. I’ve never done that before.” My voice climbs along with my ire as I hotfoot it toward Mason’s bedroom. “I haven’t done a lot of things. I’ve had boring, vanilla sex with boring, vanilla men. Missionary at its worst. I’ve never had an orgasm during sex. Half the time I hardly had one during foreplay, if there was foreplay at all. The freaking orgasm you gave me in record time in your dining room was the first time anything like that had ever happened to me. No one has ever touched me just to touch me without expecting sex. Happy now?”

I set Mason down on his changing table and get to work on removing his diaper. The diaper is dry, and I curse because, for the first time in my life, I was hoping for something beyond gross to be waiting for me in there.

I make a noise of frustration and then pick him up again, walking him across the hall to his playroom. Asher is still with us, but after I dropped my lovely sex truth bomb on him, he’s thankfully quiet.

That is until Mason starts climbing up the small playscape and sliding down. I didn’t even put him in clothes. That’s how flustered Asher had me. Then he comes in behind me, his mouth on my neck, and I realize that’s his favorite spot to kiss. Every time he’s kissed me, he’s kissed me there.

“I’m not vanilla. I’m far from boring. The orgasm I gave you in the dining room was just a taste of what I can do to your body. The idea of making you come over and over makes me painfully hard.” He pushes into my back, proving his point with every hard inch of himself. “I know you don’t trust me yet. I know there’s a lot about yourself you’re holding in, and I haven’t pushed it because I need to earn your trust before you’ll do that. But Wynter, I am telling you this now so there is no confusion in your head, and then you can sit with it and think it all over. I am crazy about you. It’s more than sex. It’s more than a do-over. It’s more than Mason. It’s you. I want you. No one else. I want to show you how good this can all be because I have no doubt it could be incredible.”

Another kiss, and I hate how his words hit every vulnerable spot inside me. I want to be more than a second chance at getting one night right. I want to matter. I want to be just as important to him as Mason is. I don’t trust him, but I feel things for him, and I can lie and deny that all I want, but there is only so much lying a person can do to themselves, especially when they already know the truth.

Because I’m not sure I’ve ever mattered to anyone beyond my mother and Gary, and then later Mason. I believe I am strong and will never need a man, and that is unchanged. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want someone to stare into my eyes and view me as their world. It doesn’t mean I don’t want a man to make me feel special and loved—truly desired for the first time in my life.

“Think about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

18

Rain comes down in torrents, in heavy sheets of fat water. It’s the kind of rain that seeps into your bones and makes you shiver even when the temperature is sweltering enough to make you sweat on top of the rain. It’s oppressive and miserable, but thankfully I’m wearing rain gear since I’m not playing.

“Settle down, Rookie,” I speak into my mouthpiece that goes directly into his helmet speaker. “Balls are going to drop like panties on prom night in this weather. Focus on the defense. If you’re slow, so is the defense coming at you. Fade right and hand off left. They won’t expect it. We’re six minutes away from tying this game, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to stand out here for fucking overtime. Let’s win this shit now.”

The rookie grunts, but he calls out the play I just suggested in the huddle. There isn’t much of a crowd here tonight. Preseason, mixed with monsoon-like conditions, keeps fans watching from the dry comfort of their sofas. Right now, it feels like a scrimmage or a shitty high school game, but we lost our first preseason game, and as much as it chides my ass to help this kid take over my role, I also want my team to win.

I won’t have a shot to win back my spot for another two months, at the earliest, and when—if—I return to the team as the starting quarterback, I want us to be in a position to make the playoffs and win it all.

The center snaps the ball to the kid, and he drops back into the pocket, tucking the wet ball against his chest. He does the fake to the right only to spin around and hand it off left. The spin was some unnecessary fancy bullshit, and he’s lucky it didn’t cost him because the fake worked. Our running back secures the ball with two hands and shoots straight up the field with hurried, determined strides, his singular focus, the end zone.

One. Two. Three defenders all come chasing, but our running back is fast and books it toward that patch of green turf that will deliver six points our way. No one catches him. No one stands a chance. He stiff-arms the last defender and jumps over a guy sprawling out as he attempts to catch his legs, and there he is in the end zone.

Touchdown Rebels.

I shoot straight in the air, jumping high off the ground—smart enough to remember to not shoot my arms up with my body—and hollering out in a way you’d think we just won the Super Bowl. I might not be playing tonight, but the high still gets me every time. Our kicker nails the extra point, and with just over four minutes left on the clock, I’m feeling good. The game is far from over, but our defense has held Cinci pretty well all night. Not to mention, no one wants to get hurt during the preseason.

Trust me, it sucks balls.

The kid comes racing off the field, a smile on his face that easily matches my own. “Nice move, Rookie.”

“Nice call, old man.”

I roll my eyes, but he sobers quickly. “Hey, listen. I didn’t mean what I said about that girl.”

I stare stunned and then wave him off. “We’re cool, man.”

“No.” He grips my arm. “I’d burn down your world if the roles had been reversed and you were talking about one of my sisters that way. I mean it. I’m sorry. Thank you for your help tonight. I needed it.”

Color me shocked.

I hold out my fist and he gives me a solid pound. The kid’s finally learning. Maybe we have a shot this season after all, though it’s far too soon for that kind of talk.

Time ticks off the clock, and Cincy doesn’t pull much in terms of an offense, and we win our first preseason game. Coach goes into the locker room barking at everyone, and I’m starting to like him less and less.

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