Page 50 of The Hot Shot
“But every time I want to bitch about the suits,” I say to Dex, “I think about what women wear and shut the fuck up.”
Dex grins, which makes him look downright mercenary with that thick beard of his. “Yeah. The heels are for shit. I don’t know how they do it. Although, I think I might straight-up cry if they stopped wearing those pretty bras and panties.”
There’s a slight flush on his cheeks that makes me think he’s got certain sets in mind.
“You thinking about your girl, Dexter?” I grin, giving him a nudge.
Dex leans his head back and closes his eyes as if in pain. “I try not to. Makes it worse, you know?”
I almost tell him that I do know, the response so immediate that I gurgle.
Because, what the fuck? I don’t have a girl.
Then who the fuck have you been thinking about all week? Why is it that your empty apartment now feels like a tomb instead of a refuge?
Facts must be stated.
I miss Chess. I miss her like I’m being denied air.
Running a hand over my face, I stifle a groan. Doesn’t do any good. My mind is still filled with Chess. God, I actually sent her a care package of gelato. I got giddy as a preteen, wondering if she’d like it and which flavors she’d try first.
“Your girl,” I say to Dex. “She’s Ivy Mackenzie’s sister?” Ivy Mac, as our world knows her, is an up-and-coming sports agent and the wife of Gray Grayson, a brilliant tight end who, unfortunately, does not play for us.
“She is.” Dex’s expression can only be described as moony. I wonder if I’ll soon be wearing that same face. Maybe I’ve worn it already.Shit.
Dex stretches his massive hands wide, then curls his fingers into a fist. “First saw her in college. At Ivy’s house. Knew she was it for me right then.”
“But you’re just hooking up now?”
Dex slides me a glance. I get it. We don’t usually talk relationships. Hell, Dex doesn’t usuallytalk.But he doesn’t ask me why I’m so interested, for which I am grateful. Instead, he shrugs one massive shoulder. “Timing wasn’t right. I told myself it was for the best, that I wasn’t ready, all that shit.”
Quietly, I nod.
“Now that I’ve... That we’ve...” Dex flushes and clears his throat. “There’s zero hesitation on the field. Seems fucking stupid to hesitate in life.”
He’s right. I’ve never hesitated in football.
Staring at the seat back in front of me, I feel as if I’ve been suddenly caught doing something wrong. I shift in the narrow confines of my seat, trying to find room that isn’t there. “What if...” I lick my dry lips, too aware that Dex is quietly watching me. I huff out an uncomfortable laugh. “What if you don’t know what you want? Only that you want something more than what you have?”
“You talking about Chess?” When I shoot Dex a look, he quirks a brow. “I guess you’re not aware of how much you mention her.”
The heat on my cheeks is because it’s hot as fuck in the plane and I’m wearing my stupid suit jacket. Nothing else.
Dex has the stare of an agent on draft day.
“Okay, yeah,” I blurt, then sigh. “I think about her. A lot.”Always.“We’re friends but—”
“You want more,” Dex cuts in with a solemn nod that I’m pretty sure is his version of “duh.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” I rub my tight neck. “Chess is looking for a relationship with someone. God knows she deserves it. Yes, I want her.”Understatement.“And I know a one-off isn’t going to cut it.”
I’m not deluded, nor am I ignorant of my dick’s needs. You don’t lust over someone to this level and think it’s going to die out with one fuck.
“But...?” Dex prompts.
“When I try to imagine past that, my mind goes blank. And I can’t breathe.” I’m not proud of this, but it’s the truth.
I force myself to look at Dex, and find him watching me with a small frown. He doesn’t say anything, and I swear the bastard does it to make me sweat. I’m about to tell him to forget the whole conversation when he finally speaks.
