Kissing Madeline (Dearest #3) (13 page)

She studies me, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. “So this would just be something casual?”

I nod.

“And you’re not going to screw around with other girls?”

“Nope. I would just screw you. Frequently.”

She fights a laugh and then her smile disappears. “But we wouldn’t be in a relationship?”

“Just friends.” Even as the words leave my lips, I recognize how that doesn’t feel right, but I’d be an idiot to think we could start some kind of relationship right now. One where I’m always off at football practice or recovering from a game, or trying to find the energy to wine and dine her when I need to be thinking about the hundred new plays I still have to memorize.

She holds her breath in the world’s longest pregnant pause before she speaks again. “On three conditions.”

To be honest, I’ve been waiting for her to knee me in the nuts for making this proposal. But Maddie always surprises me. And I like surprises.

“Shoot.”

“One, you really are monogamous. You’re faced with girls who throw themselves at you on a daily basis, and I understand that temptation, but if you want to mess around with other people, we can’t sleep together. However, since we’re
just friends
, it shouldn’t be a big deal for you to give me a heads up. Can you do that? Can you be that honest?”

I answer without hesitation. “Not a problem.” I push closer until she’s up against the counter again. Her chest rises and falls in a quickening breath. “What’s the second condition?”

Her tongue swipes against her lower lip, and I fight the urge to taste it myself. “That we keep this a secret. We can’t tell anyone, which means we can’t go out. My job is on the line, and I don’t want to jeopardize it with a casual fling.”

Bracing myself on either side of her, I run my nose against the slender column of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. “Deal.” She shudders against me, her breasts pressing into my chest, but she's quiet. Too quiet. “And the last condition?”

“That we always use condoms.”

I nod. “Goes without saying.”

She takes a deep breath and nods. “I'm on birth control. It's just... ”

“No explanation needed. I understand.”

Maddie takes a deep breath and whispers, “Okay.”

And just like that, we are happening. Fuck yeah.

I kiss her forehead and the tension in her body melts. “Will it be a stretch to pretend you like me during our interview?” I ask, resting my hands on her hips, leaning back to see her beautiful face.

She shakes her head, trying to fight that smile again.

“Can you admit you missed me?” I kiss her cheek and that smile widens.

Taking a deep breath, she nods, her hands coming up to rest on my chest. “Yes, I missed you.”

“Madeline,” I whisper, enjoying the way her full name sounds on my lips. “Have you thought about what we did that night? Do you replay it in your mind?”

Her hands tremble against me. “Yes.”

With those words, the clarity I’ve been desperate for since she fled my bed settles over me. I don’t know why, but I need this. I need her in my life. It’s like her presence settles something inside me.

Wrapping her in a hug, I lift her off her feet until she laughs, and I swear I feel lighter than I have all week.

When I place her on the floor, I let her body drag against mine slowly before I thread my hands into her hair and pull her into a kiss. Her lips are soft when I brush against them, but she pulls back as I seek her mouth. She’s keeping in a laugh, her eyes playful. I lean in again, and she backs away, her lips tilting up. God damn it.

“C’mere,” I growl and pull her against me for a searing kiss. She gives up her coy game and moans into my mouth, her tongue eagerly stroking mine. When I think my dick is about to break through the zipper in my jeans, I come up for a breath and press my lips against her forehead.

“Why, Maddie McDermott, does this mean I can get you naked now?”

Her arms tighten around my waist. “Yes, you can get me naked.”

“Thank fuck.”

She laughs against me, but before I can sling her over my shoulder and carry her back to my place man-style, her phone rings, and Eminem’s
Lose Yourself
blasts through her quiet kitchen. Her smile drops, immediately replaced with that no-nonsense demeanor.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get this.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

- Maddie -

Setting down the phone, I look up, expecting Daren to give me that judgmental sneer I got so accustomed to seeing from my ex. Jacob hated that I’d drop everything for work, which is a total double standard. Men do it all the time without a second thought, but if a woman does it, she’s cold, heartless, or worse.

Daren frowns for a moment and then sighs. “I get it. Work calls.” He motions toward my cell with a smirk. “Eminem, huh?”

I smile back, distracted by his sexy charm as he runs his hands through his already disheveled hair.

The relief in me is palpable. I didn’t realize how much that bothered me about Jacob. How his judgment weighed on me.

But it’s still early. Wait until you’re half naked in Daren’s bed and the phone rings.

I shake my head, wanting to clear my thoughts of the negativity. “I swear they call at the worst times.”

The words just come out, like I’m testing him. Maybe I am. Why, I’m not sure. He said it himself. We’re just fuck buddies, which is a new frontier for me. It should bother me, taking something as serious as a sexual relationship so casually. But it doesn’t. A part of me feels liberated, like I’m taking charge of my life and getting what I want. Because I want to have sex with him again. He made me come so hard I half wondered if I had blacked out. I’ve never come more than once with a man, and I’d probably light on fire and go straight to hell if I tried denying I’ve thought about little else this week.

He’s marking new territory for me left and right. Can I still consider him my first one night stand if we plan to sleep together again?

What a stupid thing to be mulling over right now when I have to get back to the office.

After listening to the message on my cell, I mutter, “I… I need to go,” as I try my best to ignore the throb between my legs. He felt huge against my belly a few minutes ago. I take a deep breath, trying to find a sense of balance. Being around Daren is disorienting, like I’m on a non-stop carnival ride.

He nods, a resigned smile on his lips, like he understands the demands of my job.

I should be racing out of here, but I can’t help but study Daren, who showed up on my door wearing a worn, long-sleeved Henley and jeans. He’s rich. Loaded. But nothing about him screams obnoxious wealth aside from his address. Even his condo, although decked out with lots of big boy toys, isn’t flashy.

He glances down at his watch, a beautiful Patek Philippe, a luxury watch without the flash of a Rolex.  That frown returns. “It’s late. Can I drive you?”

I can’t help the shock in my voice when I ask, “Didn’t you just have a ten hour practice?”

He tilts his head, unsure of where this is headed. “We watched film and had meetings in between the scrimmages and workouts, but yeah, it lasted about ten hours. Why?”

Who knew Daren Sloan was such a sweetheart? My heart melts a little, and I resist the urge to stroke his handsome face.

That’s when this sinks in. How this is a bad idea. The worst. I may want to experience some casual fun, and sure, “hanging out” with Daren might help me be more relaxed when I interview him, but this man is all kinds of sexy
and
he’s thoughtful.

When my phone buzzes again, I know I don’t have time to think about this any longer. I decline Daren’s offer because I’ll need my car to get home later. He makes me promise not to walk out in the middle of the night alone, and my heart thuds a little faster.

“I’ll get security to escort me.”

He grabs his phone and looks up at me as though he’s waiting. “Well, are you gonna give me your number or do I have to wait on your doorstep like a lost puppy whenever I want to see you?”

“I don’t know.” I look him over, unable to resist messing with him. “Are you housebroken?”

“Hmm. I’m not gonna pee on your leg if that’s what you’re worried about, but I can’t guarantee I won’t bite.”

And then he gives me that look, the one that makes me want to incinerate. Would it be strange to hand him my panties right now and beg him to find hidden places on me to leave his mark?

I give him a weak smile because it’s all I can do to focus. Reaching for a pad of paper, I scribble down my number, jamming it in his outstretched hand a little too hard. But then those bear paws grab my elbow as I head for the door, and he leans down to whisper, “Let me walk you to your car.”

Of course he wants to walk me to my car. He isn’t the cad that Jacob was.
Why did I even date Jacob? The reasons, which I could rattle off a few weeks ago, seem fuzzy all of a sudden.

Daren soothes back a stray hair behind my ear and says, “By the way, I’ll be thinking of you later.” I glance up at him and he gives me a devilish grin. “In the shower.” And then he nips my earlobe.

What was I doing?
It takes me a long moment of shuddering breaths to remember I have somewhere to go. Something to do. Even though I can barely stand upright.

I close my eyes, struggling to focus.

Work.

Right. Because I put work first.

* * *

I run my thumbnail back and forth across my bottom lip as the sports producer edits the footage. Admittedly, my life is easier when I don’t have to shoot, edit and write my own segment, but it’s also nerve-racking to have other people obsess over my video. I’ve always been pretty thick-skinned when it comes to criticism, but covering something so high profile has been harder than I thought.

Hearing my voice in the otherwise silent room makes me cringe. “Today, Daren is going to show me how to throw the perfect pass. He says it starts with lining up your fingers in just the right spot.”

Even as those words left my mouth, I could see the look in Daren’s eyes, and I knew he was fighting the urge to turn that into a dirty joke. What I didn’t expect was for him to wrap his arms around me to show me how to reach back and throw it.

“Nice job, McDermott,” Spencer says behind me, making me flinch.

“Uh, thanks.” I feel tempted to look outside to see if hell has frozen over.

Spencer stands by me, and I get one step closer to biting my nail. Please tell me I only
imagined
blushing when Daren got up in my space.

“He obviously likes you more than Nicole.”

“Maybe he was just enthralled with those ridiculous shorts you had me wear.”

At least you can’t see the shorts from this angle. Wait.
Now
you can see my short shorts with the team’s name emblazoned on my ass. Thank you, Douchebag Spencer, for making me wear them.

He clicks his tongue at me, and I fight the urge to knee him in the groin. “Those shorts were genius. I’m glad I have a pair in three other colors.”

“Good thing.” Asshole.

Deciding I’d better get away from him before I commit a homicide, I try to duck out of the editing suite, but Spencer calls my name.

When I turn around, he doesn’t bother looking up from his tablet. “Don’t get too busy with news. I’m going to need you to do a few sports promos.”

At this rate, I’m never going to cover real news. I fight to keep a scowl off my face.

“What about the bachelor contest? Doesn’t she need to do that voice over too?” the other producer asks.

“What bachelor contest?” And while we’re at it, why don’t we do a cute puppy contest? Or a most adorable baby contest? When the hell am I ever going to do real news? Since starting this job, I’ve barely done anything of substance. Although my golden-winged warbler story finally aired, producers made me trim it down so much that if you blinked, you would have missed it. The Rebels are already breaking ground on the new parking facility, and no one seems to care about the endangered birds but me. Typical.

On the inside, I’m stomping my feet, but outwardly, I haven’t budged a muscle.

Spencer waves me off. “Something we’re reviving. I’m still working out the details. I’ll call you if I need you. I might use Nicole.”

A bachelor contest?
Please, God, let Nicole cover that.

Once I’m safely back in my cubicle, the sweet solitude doesn’t last long. Nicole strides in looking as snarky as ever. The thin thread of
friendship we developed Friday night died the moment she found out I was back on the football segment.

After forty-five minutes of total silence from my cubicle mate, I brave the waters.

“Do you know anything about a bachelor contest?”

She laughs, but the look in her eyes when she turns around is anything but humorous. “Don’t you know anything?” She blows her hair out of her face. “It’s Boston’s Number One Bachelor Contest, featuring four of the top local athletes. The money raised at the November gala goes to charity, and everyone pats themselves on the back at Thanksgiving when a few more turkeys get handed out.”