Page 100 of Dirty Player

“Hey,” I whispered, running my hands lightly through his shaggy blond hair. He dragged his eyes up to mine. “Careful or you’ll start something you won’t be able to finish.”

“I’ll finish,” he promised. “Later. But I want you to have this.”

He sat back up and held the box out to me. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth.

He was nervous.

It wasn’t a look I saw on him frequently, if ever, and my hands trembled slightly as I took the box from him.

“You always wear Beaux’s jersey at the games,” he said as I set the box in my lap.

I knew instantly what it was and my pulse kicked up a notch.

“The last few days have been crazy with media and everything, and I know it all took you by surprise, but I want you to wear this today.” He cleared his throat and that vulnerable side of him peeked out before he vanquished it with a blink. “I want you to wear my jersey when you cheer for me.”

“Oliver,” I breathed out. I opened the box, and inside it was as he said: his jersey, the blue and teal colors of the Rough Riders, and the number eighty-seven stamped in bright blue right on the front. I held it up and smiled, looking at him. “I feel like you just asked me to go steady.”

He laughed softly, his eyes narrowing with that look I knew so well. “Later, I want to fuck you in only this, my number and my body all over you.”

“Well, that’s something to think about when I’m with your folks today.” I chuckled with him then and pressed the shirt to my chest. “Thank you,” I said, trying to erase the nerves that assaulted me at the mention of his parents. “Of course I’ll wear it to the game.”

“And later?” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

“You’ll have to wait and find out.”

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

SHANNON

Grace Powell pressed her soft, warm hand to my cheek and smiled. “Well, you’re even prettier than the pictures we saw this week, aren’t you?”

Next to me, Oliver groaned. “Ma.”

“Well, she is.” Her kind, hazel eyes, which were exactly like Oliver’s, came to mine. “It’s lovely to meet you, Shannon.”

“You too.” I grinned and held out my hand for Sean to shake. “You too, sir.”

“None of that,” he said and pulled me in for a hug that was tighter but faster than Grace’s when she’d hugged me. “We’re huggers in this family.”

Oliver snorted. “Or you’re just pretty and he likes the ladies.”

Sean pulled back and winked. “That might be it, too. But my son knows how to pick ‘em, that’s for certain.”

I tried and failed to stifle my giggle as Oliver groaned again.

I was obviously meeting his parents. They’d driven from his place to The Mayfield Tower for an early breakfast before Oliver had to be at the stadium. He was dressed in a suit, and that black-and-gray tie he’d tied to my wrists when he’d taken my ass. My eyes had gone hazy and half-lidded when he’d walked out of his closet earlier, him in that suit and tie, and he’d smirked.

“Guess that tells me what we’re doing later,” he murmured, pulling me in for a long and wet andheatedkiss.

I had pushed him away, my cheeks burning with heat, and next to him I still felt ridiculous. I was dressed in frayed skinny jeans and sandals and his jersey like he’d asked. With him in his suit, we didn’t look like we fit.

“Let’s eat some breakfast,” Sean said, patting his small, rounded stomach. “I’m starving after working the horses this morning.”

“You didn’t ride Hulk, did you?” Oliver’s concern was obvious. In the past few weeks, I’d learned that nobody but Lee and him rode Hulk. He was too wild, still—too unpredictable.

Sean flicked a hand in the air, dismissing him. “It was fine. Quit worrying about me.”

Oliver growled at his dad and looked at his mom. “You let him do that?”

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