Page 95 of Defending her Heart

When I allow myself to let my guard down, I end up enjoying myself. We talk for nearly two hours about nothing. Conversation is easy and flows with Nash. We laugh over our love for stupid, slap-stick comedies, agree summer is the best season (my reasoning is I have school off, his reasoning is he gets to spend all his time with Paisley), and argue over reality television. I think it’s great entertainment, he thinks it’s a waste of time.

He pays the bill and apologizes when he takes out his phone on our way to his car. He opens the door for me at the same time he answers.

“Hey, Sweet Pea. Getting ready for bed?”

He checks that I’m buckled, then closes my door. I don’t hear the rest of the conversation as he walks around the car, staying outside to finish his conversation. A few minutes later, he climbs behind the wheel.

“Sorry about that.”

“No apology necessary. We should have left earlier so you could be home to tuck her in.”

“I didn’t tell her I was out with you. I didn’t want her to be upset.”

“Nash.” I turn in my seat. “You should have stayed home with her.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and cups my face. “She’d only be upset because she’d want to come along. Call me selfish, but I didn’t feel like being the third wheel.”

He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, and when I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me, he pulls away and backs out of the parking space.

Too soon, he’s turning into my driveway. He walks me to the front door and gives me a soft kiss on the lips. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

Nash opens my front door, and it isn’t until I’m inside and he’s backing out of my driveway that I realize this is the first time we didn’t argue or have sex. When we’re together, it’s one of the two. Or at least some serious kissing and touching. Orgasms are a guarantee.

That’s not what he wanted tonight to be.

And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

KENDALL

I don’t see Nash for the rest of the week, but he fills my phone with texts throughout the day. They’re silly and cheesy and bring a smile to my face. At night, they turn flirty and dirty. I don’t respond to all of them, but I can’t help the way my heart races whenever I get a text alert.

Sunday’s game is the last home game for three weeks, and the gang gets together to cheer on the Revs. Rowan, Riley, Jackson, Taylor and I pregame in the VIP lounge, courtesy of Walker. At least it’s another one o’clock game so I shouldn’t be completely useless at school tomorrow.

“So what’s the deal with you and fifty-six?” Riley points at my jersey.

“Nothing.” I tip back my margarita. My third and last. I’ll guzzle water and sober up during the game.

“You ignored our questions all week,” Rowan says. “Where did you two disappear off to after last week’s game?”

“Nash wasn’t up for a big crowd. We went to some hole-in-the-wall place for dinner.”

“And after?” Jackson asks, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Did he take you hard and fast against the wall like you love so much?”

“Such a dirty mind.” I lift my shoulder, flicking him off. “And, no.” Not a lie. Did I want him to? Hell, yes. Instead, he did me dirty by making slow, passionate love to me.

“What’s the deal with you two?” Riley asks. There’s a knowing sparkle in her eye like she’s aware what’s happening is more than a dirty fuckfest, yet she doesn’t show her cards.

“No deal.”

“But you two have fucked. That much is obvious,” Jackson adds. Damn, the man has a one-track mind. There’s no hiding the truth from him.

“Sure. But it’s not a big deal.”

“Says the girl wearing his jersey.” Rowan points out.

“To be fair, I wore Buck’s jersey all last year and never fucked him. But you, my friend, are wearing eight-six. Does that mean you and Miles are getting down and dirty?”

---