Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)

I Guess I’m Sweet

I’m at a loss as to how to handle what comes next.

I don’t want to move. I think she fell asleep. Her head is nestled on my shoulder, and my arm is around her. I want to pull her closer. I never want to let her go.

What the hell is that?

She fits beside me so perfectly, as if she was somehow made to lay in the place where she is right now.

Right place at the right time, I guess.

I’m not used to feeling anything more than pleasure in the afterglow, but there’s something else at play here I can’t quite recognize just yet. It’s emotions, strange and unfamiliar ones.

I want to fuck her again. I want to rail her.

I certainly will.

But I also know she needs time to get used to my…size.

So I’m well-endowed. It hasn’t exactly been a hindrance, but part of the responsibility that comes with having a huge cock is knowing how to use it in a way that won’t hurt my partner.

Lube for the win, usually…but she didn’t need any. That was a mighty wet pussy, as if she was saving it up for me.

She’ll probably be sore for a few days, particularly given how tight she was. But every time she sits, I hope she thinks of me. Every time she feels the sting, I hope she remembers what we just did.

I can’t help but think of her ex. Who was he? I’ll fucking kill the guy, figuratively, of course. There was something so tentative about the way she was acting, as if she hadn’t done this before.

She hasn’t said her age, but I’d guess she’s somewhere in her mid-twenties based on the conversation we had about how long she’s been in Vegas. Surely she’s had sex before. Surely I didn’t just take her virginity. She would’ve said something…right?

But goddamn, that pussy was tight as fuck. Between that and her slight hesitation, I couldn’t help but wonder.

Regardless, it was heaven in there, a vice gripping onto me as I moved slowly into her. It was a feeling I won’t soon forget. A feeling I’ll dream about over and over. A feeling I’ll remember as I’m palming my cock over the next few days until I can see her and get up inside that cunt again.

I drag in a heavy breath, and she shifts a little at the sound. I force myself up because I have to get this condom off, and when I return, she’s sitting up with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and I’m not sure if she’s naked beneath it or if she put clothes back on. I don’t even know where the blanket came from. The closet, maybe.

She clears her throat a little awkwardly. “I should, uh…I should go.”

I pull my jeans back on but leave the shirt off, and I move in beside her, tossing an arm around her shoulder. When I’m sitting next to her, I finally see that she did in fact get dressed in the sixty seconds I took in the bathroom. “You don’t have to.”

She glances over at me a little awkwardly. My head is angled down as I look at her, and she looks away, fixing her gaze out the window.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods. “I’m good. A little sore, I think. And I have to work in the morning.”

“And I have to look at houses then catch a flight back to LA. Stay the night with me.”

She looks surprised, and it’s another clue that tells me she’s never done this before. A one-night stand, anyway. She’s acting like she doesn’t know how to act, and if part of my job is to make sure my partner is enjoying herself, then part of my job is also to make sure she feels comfortable afterward.

“Come with me,” I say, and I grab her hand and pull her to her feet. I push her toward the bathroom first. “Take a minute in there, and then meet me out on the couch.”

She narrows her eyes at me, but she takes the blanket off, tosses it on the bed, and does as she’s told.

I pull my shirt back on. I grab the blanket and toss it on the couch before I head over to the bar, where I fiddle around and find a Keurig and some tea pods. I brew a cup of tea, and I sweeten it with a little honey packet.

She emerges from the bedroom a minute later looking freshly fucked and gorgeous, and she sits on the couch, pulling the blanket up over her legs as she looks out the windows at the Strip. I bring her cup of tea over and hand it to her before I sit on the opposite side of the couch, facing the windows overlooking the skyline as I slide my legs under the opposite side of the blanket and twine them with hers.

“Thanks for this,” she says, and she takes a sip. “No tea for you?”

I shake my head. “I’m not really a tea drinker.”

“How’d you know I needed some?”

“Good guess. You seemed chilly and it’s late for coffee. And I wanted you to feel warm and comfortable with me.” I say the words almost shyly, which isn’t really my MO. I’m more of a confident guy bordering on cocky most of the time.

She tilts her head as a warmth seems to radiate from her, and I get this really strange sensation like I’m looking into the future and we’re at home as a couple of kids sleep soundly upstairs and we’re about to have the kind of deep conversation that will push me even closer to her.

Where the fuck did that come from?

“That’s really sweet,” she says softly.

I offer a polite nod as I press my lips together and look out the window over her shoulder. Did I just make it awkward? I feel like I did. I should say something. “People don’t usually call me sweet.”

She chuckles. “You are to me.”

“You’re different,” I blurt.

She raises her brows. “How?”

“I haven’t quite put my finger on it yet.”

She ducks her head a little and averts her gaze toward the window, and then she takes a little sip of her tea. “Well, you’re different, too.”

“How?”

“I’ve never…um…” She pauses and seems to come to a decision as to what she wants to say. “I’ve never been with a football player before.”

“Good.”

“Why is that good?” she asks.

“Because I’d have to kill him if you had been, and I’d hate to start my time with a new team by killing a teammate.”

She giggles.

“You mentioned an ex,” I say, striding a careful line but also trying to get to the truth of the question I can’t seem to bring myself to ask. “Do I need to kill him?”

She makes a face like she’s contemplating it, but then she shakes her head. “He’s married to his job, and we grew apart long enough ago that he’s a nonissue.”

She dodges mentioning anything about her sex life, not that I’d really thought she would.

“Have you, uh…” had sex before? Come on, Grayson. Just ask her. “You said you haven’t had a one-night stand before?”

Her eyes flick to mine, and I spot a question there. “No.”

“Good. That record still stands since I’ll be back in a few days, and I want to see you again.”

“You do?” she asks, and her voice is filled with incredulity.

“Of course I do. You’re hot, you’re funny, you’re kind, you make cookies for a living, and you look at me like I’m a god.”

“Have you ever had a one-night stand where you wanted to see the woman again?” she asks.

I shake my head slowly. “Not until you. Maybe that’s what it is that makes you different.”

Her eyes soften, and she leans forward, so I do the same. We meet in the middle for a sweet kiss, and there’s just something about this woman that already makes me feel like I’ll never get enough of her.