about my place, and we walked around with wine in hand, me completely enamored as she spilled out the vision she had for each room.
She was brilliant.
And I was a smitten fool already.
What I loved most was when the conversation shifted to me, football didn’t come up once. We talked about Broadway, about movies, about music, about what it was like growing up in Hawai’i. We even talked a little about how I liked to dabble in woodworking — which gave Belle inspiration for how I could help with the condo design — and for the first time in my entire life, the conversation didn’t center around when I first fell in love with football, how long I’d been playing, what my career goals were, or what my plan was if I got hurt.
And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk about all of that with Belle. I did, someday.
But for now, I just wanted to be me.
The night slipped by easily as we talked, and the candles burned down, working with the glow from the city lights to showcase every edge and curve of Belle’s face.
“What do these mean,” she asked when we’d made our way back into the kitchen. Her fingers traced the black ink on my right arm, the light scratch of her nails sending chills down my spine.
I rolled my sleeve up a little farther to reveal more of my tattoos. “That’s a very long story with a very complicated answer.”
Her fingers traced up and over each marking. “Give me the abbreviated version.”
“Ever heard of Kākau?”
Her arched brow was my answer.
I chuckled. “It’s the traditional art of tattooing in Hawai’i. Polynesian tattoos are sacred. It’s all done by hand, not with a gun, and every symbol has meaning.” I shrugged. “It’s an honor where I’m from, to tell your story on your flesh, to bear the pain that comes with telling that story.”
Belle smiled in awe, tracing over the lines that made up the ocean, the tail of the lizard that wrapped up my biceps. When her eyes met mine, they were heated, her finger sliding under the sleeve of my button-up. “Can I see the rest?”
My next swallow was like trying to gulp down a mouthful of peanut butter, and Belle didn’t wait for me to respond before her fingers were working at the buttons of my shirt. She popped the first one, stepping into me, the scent of her invading every sense. When she unfastened the second button, her fingers brushed my chest, and my heart tripled its pace, my cock responding to the touch like a well-trained dog.
Her mouth was on a track for mine, and God, I’d never been so close to throwing every rule out the window as I was in that moment. All it would take was one slight pressure increase where I held her for her to know I was all in. One squeeze, one breath, one little move and I could have my lips on hers, her ass in my hands, her legs wrapped around my waist. My dick throbbed at the possibility.
But somehow, I managed to keep the game plan in place. I wrapped my hands around her arms to stop her advance, putting some much-needed space between us.
“I have cheesecake for dessert,” I said.
But Belle was persistent, and she closed the space between us again, her lips pressing against the hollow part of my neck.
“I think dessert is right here,” she whispered, nipping at my earlobe.
Dear God.
I inhaled a searing breath, grabbing her arms more firmly and putting two feet between us.
Belle’s pouty lip and wrinkled brow nearly had me throwing in the towel, but I cleared my throat, mentally reminding myself that it would be worth the wait.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, chest heaving, tongue skating out to lick her lips as her eyes fell to mine.
Fuck me.
“No, not at all… It’s just… I’m kind of old-fashioned,” I said with a grimace, rubbing my thumbs along her arms before I released her. My hand grabbed for the back of my neck next, and I kept it there, watching the confusion wash over Belle’s face.
“I don’t understand.”
God, she’s really going to make me say it.
“I don’t want to have sex tonight.”
She blinked — once, twice, then a flurry of blinks like she was sure she misheard me.
“I know it’s kind of dated,” I admitted. “I just… I want to get to know you, Belle.” I was already regretting my next words before I said them.