Falling for Dante
“I didn’t pick her. I picked you.”
His words were like a tuning fork and my body was humming. With his bottom lip tugged between his teeth, he patted the spot next to him. I considered bolting, because I was completely out of my element. I had to remind myself that I came to California for a reason. And attending the Stanford homecoming game had only been the excuse.
I slumped down beside him and caught a whiff of Ivory soap and the heady scent I’d associated with masculinity ever since Dante had breezed into my life four years ago. His hand dropped to my shoulder and I tried to shift away, but he pulled me closer with a gentle squeeze.
“Did you enjoy the game?”
“Yeah. You played really well. But you don’t need me to tell you that.” Watching Dante dominate the football field, front row in a stadium filled with captivated fans had been nothing short of a spiritual experience.
His full, sensual lips lifted into a broad smile. “Maybe you’re the only one I want to impress.”
“Please. You have screaming fans and scouts to impress. I can’t imagine I register high up on your list.”
“If I had a list, you’d be the only one on it.”
Was he drunk? I perused his face for the truth. In all the years we’d known each other, Dante had never flirted so openly. Putting my plan into action might be easier than I had anticipated. I grabbed the red cup out of his hand and downed the lukewarm beer before he could stop me.
“Babe, slow down. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“You’re as bad as my brother. I’m not a child anymore.”
“No. You. Are. Not,” Dante said, his eyes caressing every inch of my body. My face warmed under his inspection.
“Are you flirting with me?”
A low rumble vibrated up his chest, and he threw his head back to laugh. I wanted to trail my tongue up his neck and across the stubble peppering his chin. Would it tickle or scrape my tongue raw?
“And if I am?”
“Then you must have a death wish,” I said, only half-joking.
He reached over and rubbed a strand of my hair between two fingers. My breath caught in my throat. He wasn’t even touching me, but liquid, hot lust boiled between my legs. “I’m not scared of your big bad brother.”
“Well, you seem to be the only one. Every guy here is avoiding me like I have the plague and not one person is willing to give me a drink.”
“Come on, let’s get you a beer,” Dante said as he pulled me to my feet.
Something told me I was going to need all the liquid courage I could get, and I trailed after him, his firm hand wrapped around mine.