Page 53 of Falling Offsides

“What?” The innocent tone doesnothingto dull the mischief and heat in her eyes.

“Seven guys…”

“Only one girl,” she annunciates.

“Holy shit.”

“Yup, I’m still confused how on God’s green earth that girl could walk afterwards.”

Silence. That’s all I got right now.

Courtney side-eyes me, plucking the muffin from the dash and picking the top crust off. “Mmm… this is delicious.”

I nod. Still not got any words for her because now I’m wondering if she’s fantasized about multiple dicks. I don’t know if I like it. I want my dick?—

“You know, if you keep baking me breakfast, I’m going to have to start working out more.”

“What? Why? You’re…” I gesture at her because I’m not sure what is acceptable to say. Definitely not that I like her curves and can’t stop thinking about when I grabbed her hips at the pet store yesterday. Definitely not okay to tell her that she’s got the perfect ass to slam from behind… spank and grab and?—

“I’m…?”

“Perfect. The way you are, Court… it’s perfect. Pretty.”

The flush on her cheeks from the multiple dicks conversation deepens and I grip the steering wheel so I don’t stroke my hand over her cheek. I want to. So damn bad that my fingers are buzzing.

“How do you know I baked the muffin?” I ask, changing the conversation.

“Well, the cake tastes as good as yesterday and you added mango and banana like you said your granny did.” Fuck, my chest does some crazy swooping shit that I think I might need Doc to take a look at later. “And where you added the fruit, the moisture has left the middle a little…raw.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Courtney snatches back the muffin I try to take from her. “What are you doing? It’s only a little bit of batter… like licking the bowl, right? Didn’t you do that when you were little?”

“I guess.”

“Same thing, Masterchef.”

“I don’t want you to get sick…”

Courtney ignores me, taking a big-ass bite of the muffin andfollowed by a sip of her coffee. Next thing I know, she’s connecting her bluetooth to the car and taking control of the music.

“Hope you weren’t planning on subjecting me to your nineties pop again,” is her only haughty remark before she starts scrolling through her music app… distracted.

I make my move. Taking my shot at making sure she’s carrying me on her all day.

Reaching back, I grab the aftershave I left at the top of my kitbag. I pop the lid on the black bottle and spray once on my neck.

Then again. In the air between us.

Courtney doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh my God, Broussard, now I’m going to smell like you all day.”

That’s the plan, Princess.I grin. “Good.”

Courtney doesn’t look away. Not until the song starts—Bed Chem.

Is she trying to kill me?

I focus on getting us on the road as she goes from humming along to the verse to singing the chorus barely above a whisper.

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