Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,35

met your match?”

“I think I have.”

“Believe me, Lachlan. You’re no challenge to me.”

“Then I surrender, Red. You can take me now.”

“And what if I get off on the thrill of the chase?”

“Who wouldn’t?” I offered her another glass of wine, filling it to the brim even as she protested. “That thrill is what proves we’re alive. I love that heart-pounding, muscle-rending tension.”

“Why?”

“Easy. The suspense. The fear. The uncertainty.” I leaned closer to her. “It’s all about the intensity. Doesn’t matter if you’re jumping off a bridge, lining up across from a linebacker, or carrying a beautiful woman to your bed. No one knows what will happen. But you pant. You sweat. And you take that leap.”

“And what happens?”

“You get your release. You land on your feet. Score the touchdown. Come inside an orgasming woman. But, for me, it’s not about that moment of relief—I’m after the split-second just before it happens. When only pure instinct surges through your body, your mind, your reflexes. That’s when you find out what kind of person you are.”

“And who are you?”

“Someone who has never feared a challenge in his life.”

Her lips parted, and she breathed a quick sigh. “What if you get hurt?”

“Can’t have a reward without any risks.”

“I…don’t normally take risks.”

“You could take a chance on me right now.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m not just giving you a moment of pleasure…I’m offering you a lifetime of reward.”

Elle’s fingers drifted close to mine, just barely stroking my hand. Every touch hardened my cock, and I stared into her caramel eyes, tasted the coconut-tropical tease of her scent, and waited to hear the sultry promise of her voice.

Instead, a crash echoed from the living room. Sebastian shouted over the noise.

“I didn’t do it!”

Elle pulled her hand away.

God damn it.

I slid from the counter. “It’s past his bedtime anyway. I should tuck him in.”

“Aw, a story and everything?”

“You know it.” I winked. “There’s a laundry room downstairs. You could toss your dress in the dryer if you want.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I’d rather you not wear the dress…but we should play it cautious tonight.”

“Cautious? You?” Elle laughed. “This I gotta see.”

Normally, she’d be right. But when it came to Sebastian, I did what I could to take care of him.

He was a good kid, even if he wasn’t thrilled with bedtime. I wrestled him into his bedroom and tickled him until he smiled. The space wasn’t quite his yet—nothing fun on the walls and none of his toys around—but it’d get there. First, I had to get him settled in with Mom at their new house, then we’d work on mine.

I tossed Bast on the bed half a dozen times WWE style, then finally peeled off his marinara sauce stained shirt. I handed him his PJs. Sponge Bob. I could work with that.

“Get changed, little man. I’ll be back.”

The kid would get stuck in one pant leg in the time it took me to change, but at least that’d keep him busy. I rooted through my drawers until I found my own Sponge Bob pajama bottoms. I changed into the yellow pants and a t-shirt and returned to get him started on the night-time adventure.

“Brush your teeth?” I asked. Sebastian nodded. I knew better. “Open your mouth.”

He did, but the little liar had oregano in his teeth and spaghetti sauce on his neck. I marched him to the bathroom and handed him a spare toothbrush. He groaned as I tackled him with a warm washcloth.

“Let me break this down for you,” I said. “I’m trying to make a good impression with Elle. How about we make a deal? You brush your teeth, I read you a story, you go to sleep, and I’ll get you a donut in the morning on the way to kindergarten. Deal?”

Sebastian spoke with a mouth full of toothpaste, spraying the foam everywhere. “Can’t I stay up with you?”

That wouldn’t help the date go any smoother. “The sooner you sleep, the faster you get a donut.” I mussed his hair. “Besides, the better behaved and cuter you are, the more Elle will like me.”

His eyebrows furrowed. He pointed at me. “Twenty dollars.”

“You’re as bad as a mafia shake down, little man. How about doing this as a favor to me? You like me, right?”

“No.” He faked an attitude. “I love you, Lach.”

Good thing I never had to face him on the field, or he’d bring me to my knees every damn snap.

“Good. Spit out the toothpaste and I’ll read you a story.”

“Two