Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)

So Smart and So Goddamn Clueless at the Same Time

The Heat win on opening day at home, and we have the best time together. It feels like we’re in a real relationship—we don’t stick only with each other the entire time. I sit with Ellie for a bit, who introduces me to her sister-in-law, Jack Dalton’s wife, Kate. I chat with Victoria and Tessa for a while, too. Grayson chats up his teammates, and I watch him from across the room.

I never feel that awkward sense of loneliness even though we’re not side by side for the entire event. He’s free to do his thing, to get to know his teammates, to have some fun, and the girls chat me up as they try to figure out my secret ingredient in my cookies, but I won’t tell a soul.

Especially not now—after the intimate moment I just shared with Grayson.

He’s such a force, even in this suite with a whole bunch of other forces, too. He still somehow stands above the crowd even though he’s not the tallest man here, or the biggest, or the loudest. He’s magnanimous, and it’s this charismatic energy that he carries that turns him into the center of attention.

The guys on his team all seem to like him already, and I love that for him. I think he was initially worried about fitting in, but I can’t see why he’d have any problem with that at all.

I hang around with Grayson toward the end since he’s the kind of guy who’s the last one standing as he talks to everyone and makes the rounds. As they leave, I hug the girls who feel like friends goodbye. Eventually, it’s just Jack and Kate remaining, and we say our goodbyes before Grayson drives me home.

He’s quiet on the car ride home, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. At times it feels like I know him so well I can read his mind, and other times it feels like I hardly know a damn thing about him. Maybe we’ve known each other for seventeen years, but knowing who somebody is and actually knowing them are two different things.

If Beck’s held onto a friendship with him for this long, though, I think that means I can trust him, too.

“You’re quiet,” I muse.

“So are you,” he counters.

Neither of us asks what the other is thinking. We’re probably both too scared to ask.

What I wouldn’t give for a window into his thoughts right now.

Was that kiss back there genuine? It happened during a moment of emotion, and it didn’t feel like it was just for show. It felt like a sweet moment between us when he just couldn’t help himself.

But sometimes the things he says and the things he does seem to conflict with each other, and all it does is leave me in total confusion.

The thought grates on my nerves the closer and closer we get to my house. Part of me hoped he’d take me back to his hotel room. Part of me wonders if he’ll stay. Part of me thinks a confrontation is the right move here. Part of me doesn’t.

And when I’m confused and conflicted…well, it’s not pretty to be on the receiving end of that.

We get back to my place, and it’s a little before nine. Still early by all accounts, and I don’t have to be at work tomorrow until noon. The house is dark, which makes me think Kelly must’ve gone out—maybe with her teacher friends, whom she’s been avoiding lately.

It should be the right opportunity to invite him in.

“Would you like to come in?” I ask once he has pulled into the driveway and put the truck in park.

He sighs and leans his head back on the headrest. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t look at me. He also doesn’t cut the engine. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.’

“Can I ask you a question?”

He turns his head to look at me, which seems to be the signal to plow ahead.

I clear my throat. “Was the kiss back there…was it just for show like Ellie assumed it was?”

He turns his head back so he’s looking out the windshield rather than at me. He’s quiet a few beats before he finally says, “No.”

My chest tightens and my heart races.

“What was it?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head a little. “It just felt like the right thing to do. It felt like we were on a date, and you admitted something personal, and…” He trails off, leaving me to wonder what the and might have been leading to.

“I think we should talk,” I say softly.

“I think talking might be a bad idea.”

“Fine.” I toss open my door, slam it shut behind me, and head up to the front door without so much as a goodbye or a backward glance.

I fumble around in my purse to try to locate my house key, but I can’t seem to find it through the hands shaking with anger nor the eyes blurring with tears.

I shouldn’t be this affected. This upset.

But I am.

Because this feels big, and I realize for the first time how right he is. He has the power to shatter me completely. He shouldn’t. We’ve really only known each other as adults for the last three weeks. This is still new—really new. We haven’t defined what we are. Not quite friends, not quite something more than that.

But maybe that’s what I wanted to talk about. Why would he kiss me in a personal, emotional moment?

My hands are trembling once I finally locate my key. I try to shove the key into the keyhole in the darkness of my front porch, but between the blurry eyes and the shaking hands, I’m struggling.

That’s when I hear footsteps behind me, and then the light from a phone illuminating the door to help me fight my way in.

He comes in after me, and he shuts the door quietly as I storm through the house to the kitchen. I slam my purse down onto the counter, and I set my hands on my hips to face off when he appears a few beats later.

“What the fuck is your problem, Grayson?” I yell at him.

He looks surprised by my outburst, but he doesn’t answer my question. He just stares at me while my anger boils over.

“One minute you’re kissing me as we talk about my dad’s funeral, and the next minute you’re holding me at arm’s length. You’re leaning into me then pulling back, and I can’t tell if you like me or if you’re disgusted by me, and I just want some goddamn answers, but when I try to talk, you tell me it’s a bad idea. So what is it, Grayson?” I practically spit his name at the end.

His eyes flash at me, and then it’s like something snaps. He takes a few steps toward me until I’m backed up against our pantry door. He pins me there with his hips against mine, and it would be impossible not to feel his rock-hard cock as it settles between us.

He’s…turned on right now?

His eyes fall to mine, and he just stares at me for a hot beat while I try to figure out what he’s thinking.

“I like you, Ava. A lot. Too much, I think.” His voice is a low snarl, and he pushes his hips against me to prove what he means by too much. “The idea that you might think I’m disgusted by you fucking kills me. I’ve never met a woman who’s so smart and so goddamn clueless at the same time. But I’m still not sure I can trust you. And it’s not just that. I made a promise to your brother, and I find myself crossing lines. Getting too close. That’s why I keep pulling back. You’re drawing me in. You’re making me want shit I have no business wanting.” His lips drop to my neck, and he lets out a strangled groan as he tastes my skin. “Fuck it.”

My spine lights with the thrills that zip up it at his words, and then his lips slam to mine.

He’s aggressive as his mouth opens and his tongue assaults mine. He drives his hips toward me like he wants to fuck me, and God, I want it, too. I want him. I’ve always wanted him, and now that I’ve had a single taste, I can’t go back.

Maybe it’s the naiveté talking, the inexperience of never having had sex with another man. Or maybe we made magic that night, and he’s the one I’m supposed to be with.

We won’t know if we never even give this a try.

I kiss him back like my life depends on it—and maybe in a strange way, it does. My future hinges on him accepting who I am. Because I know we can have a beautiful future together if he could just find it in himself to trust me.

We’re good together. This kiss tells me that much.

We’re fire. We’re hot. We’re smoldering.

I link my legs around his waist, and he holds me up with a hand under my ass. I hold his jaw between my hands, and I slide one back to run it through his hair.

My chest quakes with anticipation for where this might be leading.

We make out there for ten seconds or an hour—I’m not sure because I lose track of time as his mouth explores mine. I lose all sense of everything except for this man and the way he makes me feel.

Just as all good things must come to an end, so does this kiss.

He pulls back, and he gently sets me to the floor.

He looks confused, and then he looks…guilty.

“I should go,” he says softly. His lips are red from kissing me, and disappointment lances through me.

“Okay,” I say, the sting of rejection fresh and cold on top of that disappointment.

I want to ask him if he’s going to move in with me. I want to ask him to stay. I want to ask him to kiss me more. I want to ask him to sleep over.

I don’t do any of that.

Instead, I stay right where I am, my back against the pantry door, until I hear him close the front door behind him.