Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,105

nefarious intentions. Lindsey pitched a tantrum upstairs. I figured we had another five minutes before the wedding was called off and she’d swear to donate her wedding dress to blind nuns again.

Mandy crossed her arms. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to ask you to marry me.”

“Be serious.”

Serious was no fun. “I wanted to see you.”

“Nate—”

“Are you really going to deny me a second chance to fuck you?”

Mandy snorted. “Watch me, Romeo.”

Good thing I’d loved the chase so much the first time. Now that I knew what I was hunting, I had all the motivation I needed to catch her again.

“You know we were great together,” I said.

“Oh yeah.” Mandy pulled a ginger ale from the fridge. “We fit together a little too well.”

She poured her drink and licked a bead of soda from the edge of the glass. I couldn’t breathe, and my zipper nearly castrated me.

Was it possible to envy a cup?

This fucking woman had no idea what she did to me.

I grinned. “I know I can be intimidating—”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a little full of yourself.”

“You liked being full of me.”

“For the love of—”

“Five times…if I remember. You loved it five times.”

“Six.” She took no joy in correcting me, probably because she knew it’d become another record for me to break. “You know…there’s more important things in this world than sex?”

“Nothing’s more important than sex.”

“There’s weddings. And family. And responsibilities.”

I shrugged. “I manage my own business.”

“You brew beer.”

She meant it as an insult. At least I was used to that sort of judgment. A few years ago, that regrettable life decision finally made me enough money to justify not going to college or following in Pastor Kensington’s footsteps, no matter what my father wished for me.

“It’s a microbrewery and bar. And it’s a successful one. What’s more fun than that?”

“Exactly. Life is all fun and games to you. You don’t take anything seriously.”

“You don’t begrudge a chef making a sandwich when he’s on the clock.” I held my arms out. “I’m a master craftsman, baby.”

“Is that what they’re calling you these days?” She teased me with the word. “A craftsman?”

Yeah, said the magazine article and two blogger interviews I did for my pub, Arrogance.

I shrugged. “I think it sounds more impressive than entrepreneur.”

“Last I heard, you were known as the man who never calls or that asshole with the big…” She glanced at the bulge in my pants. “Ego.”

“You can say it.” I grinned as she ignored me. “Cock.”

“I wasn’t going to give you the pleasure.”

“You have no idea how much pleasure you gave me.” I lowered my voice. “Still think about it?”

“No.”

“I still think about you.”

“Stop.”

She acted like it was just another pick-up line. If only she knew I was being honest. It’d shock her as much as it surprised me.

I went to sleep dreaming of her—how her gorgeous, honey-colored eyes had stared at me, half-lidded and begging for more. Her full and fuckable lips had parted, and her hips arched for me to take her harder, deeper.

I never treated Mandy like another score. I’d chased her a bit in high-school and when she went to college because it was fun to watch her stammer and squirm. I never expected I’d actually seduce her, and I fully anticipated the mistake we’d made.

But the only thing that changed was me.

Mandy hadn’t approached me again, and I was the one drooling like an idiot over her memory. I never went back for seconds with a girl. Ever. I took a vow to myself. No sense getting greedy when it would threaten me with dates, long-term commitments, and finding those damn hair scrunchies on my bathroom counter.

But for a second night with Mandy? I’d risk falling asleep beside her just to wake up and share a breakfast and sunrise.

I’d never let myself get that close to another woman…so why could I imagine it so clearly with her?

I probably needed a good fuck. Something to take my mind off this unbelievably gorgeous woman who acted like our night together hadn’t completely changed her life.

Mandy’s glass thudded on the table. She leaned over the counter. I felt bad for her. The wedding planning must have exhausted her. No wonder she was cranky, but I couldn’t figure out why she tensed, ready to bolt from the room. I wasn’t that bad of company, and every girl liked to be teased.

Her scowl wasn’t the reaction I wanted. I preferred her gasping in a toe-clenching, spine-shattering orgasm, but at least she was