Page 87 of Wild Card
“I told him what he was in for, and he chose to do it anyway. If he gets a little cock tease in the process, seems like fair punishment.” He shrugs.
“You seriously warned him? I thought you were kidding.”
“Just a few words on the field.”
“Your sister is still out in the bar. You want to warn off her suitors you can try that old-fashioned stuff and see if she doesn’t kick you in the balls for it. But you don’t do that to me. What did you say to him?”
“Not much. But enough. One being that he not touch you, and he broke that rule. So…”
“Tobias! I’m going to fucking throttle you!” I reach up to grab his neck and he grabs my wrists and pins them behind my back, pushing me back on the desk in the process.
He looks over me in amusement and leans down to kiss me. I nip his lower lip. He lets go of one of my wrists and runs his thumb over the damage.
“Fuck, I think you drew blood, Spitfire.”
“Good!”
He pulls out the remote, a glimmer in his eyes. “You want it again?”
“Sure. I’ll go back out and sit in Nick’s lap, and we can both come that way.”
“He doesn’t touch you again.”
“Maybe I want him to touch me.”
“He doesn’t deserve to touch you. And there’s no way he gets you off, let alone as many times as I do. You’ll have to slide your hand between those pretty fucking thighs and finish yourself off anyway. We both know who you’ll be thinking of then—whose name will be on your lips when you come. So I’m just doing us all a favor.”
He’s not entirely wrong. Nick is nice—a lot of fun and it seems like we do have some things in common. But I’m not exactly thinking about taking him home with me—now or ever. It’s why I’m so mortified that we had that awkward little scene out there.
Except he’d probably be better for me than Tobias. Grounded. Self-effacing. Lacking the massive ego that Tobias has. Not nearly as rich or as famous. The kind of guy who would probably retire to a semi-normal life in the suburbs after football with all the things that come along with it.
“He’s a good guy,” I argue as much with myself as with anyone.
“Good for someone else.” Tobias sets the remote down, and his hand slides up my inner thigh as he watches me. “You’re only good for me.”
“Bad for you. Bad for me. A downward spiral that makes me think you’ll change for me—”
His hand slides along my jaw, his fingers anchoring in my hair, and he cuts me off with a kiss. One that feels like the end of all the others we’ve had before it. It’s long and slow, like he’s taking his time and proving a point.
“I have changed for you. I haven’t even looked at another woman since you. Because you’re the only one I want. I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to be some broken has-been with no career and no future first.”
“I didn’t care about any of that.”
“The jersey in your closet says otherwise.”
“I like watching you play, but I fell in l—” I stop talking immediately when I realize what I’m about to admit. I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment, and I sit up, pulling away from his touch. “See this is what I mean.”
He smiles at me though, his eyes warm and thoughtful as he looks at me.
“I know you’re in love with me. If you think I would have let you go on a date with someone else if I wasn’t fucking positive about that… Nah, Spitfire. Not a fucking chance.”
“That was a slip of the tongue. I don’t mean I’m in love with you. I mean I love you… you’re my friend. I care a lot about you and—”
He cuts me off by slipping his thumb over my lips, and the look in his eyes nearly melts me in place. Some combination of heat and adoration that I’ve never seen on him before.
“I love you, Scarlett. A maddening fucking amount if we’re being honest. Have for a while which is why I had this made.” His hand drops down to my neck and his finger slips under the necklace I’m wearing, the one he gave me for Christmas. I glance down at it and back up at him.
“I mean, I love it, but I don’t understand what it has to do with anything?”
