The Best Defense: A Sports Romance

Tillie

The liquor has all but left my head, leaving a raw sense of clarity I have never felt before. I expect the familiar pound of a headache against my skull. Instead, I am inviting Devon into my bed as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Stupid, which is what it is. I'm not this person, I don't invite play boys into my bed. I'm a nester. He's very much not a nester.

He is hesitant as he watches me pull back the blanket and pat the mattress beside me, but he shrugs off his jacket and climbs into the bed beside me. I try to hide my smile by biting the corner of my mouth, but I think he saw it replying instead with his own smile. A smile that would explain how he gets so many girls, it melts even the coldest of hearts.

We settle in, and the show starts again. It's the best episode. I wait patiently for the scene where Dean screams he's scared after seeing a cat in a locker and laughter escapes me. I'm silenced almost immediately, though, when I look to my side to see Devon watching me instead of the TV.

His eyes are searching, and a wave of paralysing heat courses through me, a feeling I haven't felt in so long. I lean towards him, bringing my lips just an inch in front of his, waiting to see if he closes the gap. Our eyes still locked on each other. I said I could only be friends, yet here I am minutes later, changing the script. I'm insane. That's all I can think to explain the sudden pull towards his lips.

All breath leaves my lungs the moment he does what I had hoped he would and gently presses his lips against mine. It's not a particularly heated kiss, more of a test of boundaries. I can not stop the moan that escapes my lips, causing them to open. He's quick, though, and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between them. My good lord.

He's not demanding or forceful in his movements, just exploring and dare I say, enjoying the feeling of our tongues gliding against each other.

I angle my head to deepen the kiss and find myself bringing my hands to his body, one snaking behind his head to thread into his dark brown hair at the nape of his neck. The other planted firmly on his rock-hard chest. I can feel the thundering of his heart underneath my palm, and it lights a fire in my core. A throbbing need settling between my legs.

I should be thinking that I promised myself to stay away from the hockey team or that it's so soon since him or that I just don't do this. I should be thinking that I am possibly no where near ready for this. I don't hook up on the first date, if you could even call that a date. I just can't bring myself to care about any of that, though, not with his scent raging havoc on my senses threatening to make me lose my damn marbles.

His hand settles on my hip where he gently grips, I know what he wants, and I should stop it here. I should put space between us, say thank you for getting me home safe, and ask him to leave. But I won't. Instead, I pull my lips from his and move to straddle his lap. Yep, marbles are lost. 

He sucks in a breath as I settle on top of him, feeling his cock hard against his jeans. I want to grind down against it and feel the length of it against my quickly dampening core. I don't get a chance to before Devon clears his throat and looks at me.

"Tillie." His tone is not heated, or passionate. It's the tone of voice that accompanies the words I don't want to hear right now. My heart drops as he utters the words "this isn't a good idea."

I quickly pull myself off his lap and climb off the bed wrapping my arms around myself as embarrassment washes over me. Tears burning behind my eyes. He's probably right but the rejection hurts more than I could put into words.

"Tillie, I like you..." I cut him off before he can finish whatever bullshit he was going to muster. I'm such an idiot, two days of me feeling knotted up inside thinking maybe someone like Devon Taylor was into me. I obviously built it up in my head. I mean, sure, he made out with me, but that doesn't mean anything these days.