Out of Bounds (3 page)

She drops her hand and folds both in her lap.

Then it hits me, what she just said—
the goose egg is gone
. The bump on my head has vanished. She might only have come along for a drink to make sure I wasn’t wounded. But I don’t want this time with her to end. I sit up straighter. “Does that mean you need to cash out, or can you have another?”

She smiles and tips her forehead in the direction of the street. “Since I live just a few blocks away I can absolutely have another drink. But what about you? Do you need to drive somewhere? I can’t let you get into a car if you’re tipsy,” she says in a tone that tells me she’s looking out for me. I’d be willing to bet Dani is a big sister. She’s got “worried older sibling” written all over her.

But I can handle a drink just fine, thanks to my size. I laugh as I point at my chest. “I’m two hundred and fifty pounds. I can have two beers and drive safely.” I take a beat, then inch
closer.
“But I do like your concern,” I say, as I lift my hand and a tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Just don’t want anything to happen to you,” she says, her eyes never straying from mine, as I run my fingers down the strand.

“I’m not going anywhere right now, Dani.”

She licks her lips, and a bolt of lust crashes down my spine. Just from the flirting. Damn, if touching her hair feels this good, I can only imagine what it would be like to do a whole lot more. Kiss her. Push her up against the wall. Mold her body against mine.

“Let’s get those drinks,” I say before my mind and body stray too far in the dirty direction.

We chat through another round, shooting the breeze about surfing and sunsets, the merits of cereal versus eggs for breakfast, and the pros and cons of driving with or without a traffic app in Los Angeles. Wonderfully, nothing about football or my career has come up. The conversation is casual and comfortable. Considering the last year has been bumpy and tense, I’ll take this kind of night, especially with the way the preseason has been a big old mess of uncertainty.

When it’s time to go, I offer to walk her home.

She gazes at me, like she’s sizing up my offer. “Yes, but just home. To the porch.” She holds up her hands, almost in apology.

“I’m simply being a gentleman, Dani,” I say, with a smile, and then we walk along the boardwalk and cut into the neighborhood. “Will you come back tomorrow to get your board?”

“Daisy at the surf shop will take good care of Betty.”

I laugh. “You really named your surfboard?”

She
nods. “Daisy insisted on it. She said all boards should be humanized. So mine’s Betty, and she’s a girl.”

“Obviously,” I say. “And mine’s a dude. His name is Randy. He’s one of the wild humping surfboards.”

She winks as she laughs.

I pat the back of my head. “See? The brain’s working just fine after the whacking.”

“Indeed it is.”

When we reach her home, a cute little white bungalow, she gestures to the porch. It’s teeming with potted plants and flowers, as well as pizza coupons and takeout menus stuffed behind the mailbox next to the doorway. “Thank you, Andrew. For the drinks and the escort service.”

I wiggle my eyebrows because she says
escort
in kind of a naughty way. “And thank you for the surf angel-slash-nurse work.”

“My pleasure. I was happy to save a guy in distress.”

I narrow my eyes and protest her description. “Hey now. I’m not a dude in distress.”

She whispers “just kidding” as she leans against her porch railing. I don’t think it’s intentional, but that pose shows off all her assets. The swell of her breasts in her tank dress, her curvy hips, her strong legs. This woman just fucking does something to me. Turns me on, that’s what she does. Makes me hard as hell. Though she’s made it clear that the night ends right here, I intend to make the most of this good-bye.

I move closer to her and run my hand down her arm. I watch as goose bumps rise in its wake. My voice goes low. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about?”

She tilts her head to the side. “What would that be, Andrew?”

It
still sounds funny to hear her call me that. But next time I see her I’ll tell her that everyone calls me Drew. With my other hand, I brush her hair off her shoulder, cataloging her reaction to my touch. The way she shivers. How she sways closer. The rush of breath on her lips. I bring my mouth to her ear, and whisper. “What it would be like to kiss you.”

I pull back, wanting to look at her. Her lips are parted, then she licks them and swallows. It’s like she’s taking a step closer, saying go for it. “You should absolutely find out then,” she says, soft and inviting.

My fingers travel from her shoulder, up to her hair, and I rope my hand through those blond locks. I pull her close, savoring the warm feel of her sun-kissed skin and the smell of sand, surf, and sunshine in her hair.

I dip my mouth to hers, clasping her face in my hands. When I nip her bottom lip, she gasps. It’s such an alluring sound, and it turns me the fuck on even more. My dick would very much like to go inside her house tonight, but kissing is all that’s on the menu, so I kiss her in a way that’ll leave her wanting more. Because I want so much more of her, and I also want her to know that.

I’m not sure how I went from leaving the field when practice ended this morning, to spending the afternoon surfing to get my mind off all the changes I’m sure are coming, to kissing this beautiful stranger outside her Venice Beach home. But hell if I want to analyze this moment.

I spend my working hours making decisions, analyzing, choosing. Then executing.

Right now, I want to get lost in something that no one else controls but this woman and me.

Dani presses her sexy body to mine as I claim her lips in a deeper, more consuming kiss. A jolt of pleasure surges down my spine. The kiss picks up speed and intensifies, and soon I’m
devouring
her lips, and she likes it. She moans and murmurs, and loops her hands around my neck, tugging me closer. Switching up my location, I leave a path of kisses along her jaw, her cheek, over her neck. Her skin tastes so good, I could spend hours here, nibbling, nipping, biting. And so I do, nipping her earlobe.

She murmurs, a long, sexy, lingering noise. “Mmm. That feels so good.”

“You feel pretty fucking fantastic, Dani,” I whisper in her ear. “And I love the sounds you make.”

Flicking my tongue over the shell of her ear, I hear her pitch rise, that gorgeous gasp a woman makes as she gets turned on. It’s a sound that can drive a man insane with desire. I return to her lips, kissing harder this time, drawing in her bottom lip between my teeth. Grabbing her hips, I tug her closer. “Those little sexy noises make me crazy,” I tell her.

“I approve of this reaction,” she says playfully when she feels my hard-on.

“Feel free to show approval manually,” I say, joking. But, you know, not joking. If she wanted to get her hands in my pants, I would not protest one bit.

She brings her mouth to my ear. “Or orally.”

I groan. I would love to feel her lips wrapped nice and tight around me. “Now you’re really driving me nuts. Saying those dirty things when I know you’re going to walk inside and leave me out here. But I’ll be a good shark.”

She presses a palm against my hard-on, feeling me through my shorts. “You are a very good shark, Andrew.”

“So good you’ll let me take you out another night?” I ask, because I’ve got to see this woman again.

“
I wouldn’t complain about that,” she says, as she slinks her hands up my chest, tiptoeing over my abs. I grab her hips and slam her against me.

“I wouldn’t either. I want to see you again, and you’ve got to know how much I want to touch you again too.”

She nibbles on the corner of her lip. “I want that too.
Both
.”

It’s a promise. Of another time. Another night.

I grab my phone from my back pocket and say, “Give me your number.”

I open my contacts and hand her the phone. She taps in her digits, and as she finishes, my ring tone sounds.

“Shit. Let me grab that.” I swipe the call and say, “Hey man, give me twenty seconds.”

Then, I lean in and brush one more kiss to her lips. “I’ll text you my number later. K?”

“You better.” Gripping my shirt, she tugs me close. She rocks her hips against me, and I nearly throw the phone to the ground, but I’ve got to take this call. It’s my agent, and shit’s been going down.

“I will, Dani Surfer Angel,” I say, then I turn around, head down her steps, and give her a tip of the hat one more time as she unlocks her door and heads inside.

As I walk down her street, I bring the phone to my ear. “What’s the story, man?”

He tells me, and my jaw fucking drops.

Chapter Three

Dani

I yank open the kitchen cupboard in Ally’s apartment one more time. Maybe it’s my fourth time. Fine, it’s my tenth. But it just yanks so satisfyingly.

“How do you
not
have tea or coffee?” I shout, irritated, as I stare at the nearly-bare shelves in her tiny kitchen.

“There’s this thing called Starbucks.” Her breezy voice calls out. But don’t let it fool you. She learned sarcasm from the best. “They have them everywhere. You go in, order your drink, and voila. The barista serves it,” she says, and yup, I was right. She’s a chip off the old block.

Her shoes clack against the tiles as she marches into the kitchen, her blond hair swishing in a high ponytail. I give my baby sister a cold stare. “Starbucks is expensive. You shouldn’t go there every day.”

“I have a million friends who are baristas.” She turns her voice to a stage whisper as she spreads out her hands. “News flash. They give me free drinks.”

I toss up my hands, exasperated. “Everyone gives you free everything. Because you’re so pretty,” I say in a hiss, pointing to her gorgeous figure, her lush blond hair, her sky-blue eyes. I slam her cupboard door. I already had a coffee at my own place this morning. But I want another. I want something. Anything. I’m still annoyed that that asshole hasn’t called or texted. It’s been four days, and while I’m immensely glad I didn’t invite him into my bed, I’m also ridiculously disappointed.

More than I should be. My reaction is probably way out of proportion, but I was so sure I’d be seeing
Andrew
again.

Ugh.
Can someone please punch me and make me stop caring?

Ally makes a clawing gesture. “Meow, kitty cat. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the week today, Dani?”

I heave a sigh and drag a hand through my hair.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Realize I’m acting like a complete and total douche. Then let go of my ridiculous anger.
I can’t take out a stupid dating annoyance on the person I love most. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I think I woke up on the wrong side of the moon. Maybe even the universe.” I shake my head, frustrated with myself, as I lean against my sister’s kitchen counter. “I wasn’t even terribly nice to Mrs. Fitzsimmons when she watered my plants yesterday.”

“Your neighbor does that?” Ally grabs her phone from the counter and tucks it into the back pocket of her skinny jeans. She wears a pink scoop-neck top, and the color makes her look even younger than her twenty-two years.

I nod. “She’s obsessed with plants. I can’t stop her. So I just let her. She loves taking care of the flowers and the plants and the Chinese food menus that wind up on the porch too. When I saw her watering them this morning—”

“The plants, not the Chinese food menus?”

I manage a smile. “Yes, the plants. And I grumbled something about them needing more plant food. When I’m supposed to . . . you know . . . say THANK YOU for making the flowers on my porch beautiful.” I frown. “I’m a witch, Ally. A total witch.”

“No,” she says, as she drapes an arm around me. “You’re not even a rhymes-with-witch. But you can’t let that dick get you down.”

I wrench back to look her in the eyes. This girl sees through me. “How did you know that’s why I was annoyed?”

She
laughs loudly. If a laugh could sound knowing, this one qualifies. “Because I know you. And because you called me the second he left the other night to tell me what an amazing time you had. And he is so not worth this,” she says, then gestures to my face. “Also, that insane thing you just said? Go look in the mirror. We look exactly the same. We could almost be twins.”

“Yeah, if you weren’t eight years younger and the baby of the family.”

She flashes me a big, innocent grin. Then digs the tip of her forefinger into her cheek to adopt an apple-pie smile. “I’m so sweet, mwahahaha.”

I hug her. Because I can’t resist. Because I love her madly. That’s why I’m here at her pad, to pick her up and drive her to class on my way into work, since her car is in the shop. She’s working on her master’s degree as a nurse practitioner and I couldn’t be prouder of my little sister. Especially because she’s mine, and I pay for her school.

This is where I drop the news that we’re orphans, right? When I dive into the sob story of how it’s just the two of us navigating the great wide world alone? She’s the only one I’ve ever loved and I volunteer as tribute?

But while I
would
take her place in the hunger games, I don’t have that kind of tale to tell. Our dad is a high school football coach in San Diego, our mom is a bank teller, and they lost all their retirement money in the last recession. They couldn’t afford to pay for Ally’s college, so she nabbed scholarships, just as I’d done. But grad school was tougher, and that’s why I told her I’d take care of her bills for nursing school. She says she’ll pay me back someday. I doubt I’ll let her. I
like
taking care of her. Keeping an eye on her is one of my greatest joys in life because she’s so freaking awesome. When we were growing up, she worshiped me, and I adored her. We baked chocolate chip cookies as a team for our dad’s games and cheered from the sidelines as a
sibling
unit. I taught her how to recognize the shotgun, the pistol, and the wishbone formations, which scored her major points with Dad. We’ve seen every episode of the Gilmore Girls together at least three times, and still secretly hope that Stars Hollow is a real place. If that doesn’t spell sisterly love, I don’t know what does.