Out of Bounds Read online

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “I know I’m having a field day with it.”

  I laugh. “So you’ve got a thing for this huge four-year age difference?”

  “Absolutely,” he says, his eyes drifting down to his crotch. “A huge thing.” He zips up his pants. “So was that our last hurrah?”

  I laugh. “More like first hurrah and last hurrah. Technically, we would need more hurrahs for it to be the last.”

  He laughs too. “Damn shame we didn’t have more. I sure liked hurrahing with you.”

  “The only thing better would have been a full hurrah.”

  “That would have been fantastic, I bet,” he says, as I straighten my skirt while he starts the car to drive me home.

  Soon enough, we arrive at my house. Cutting the engine, he takes a breath and stares out the window into the dark of the night. I don’t make a move to go, though I know I should.

  Without looking at me, he says, “I don’t feel friendly toward you, Dani.” He turns to meet my eyes. I can see the heat in his. “Fact is, I’m even more turned on than before. Didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Me too,” I say, my voice feathery.

  He tips his forehead to my home. “You better get inside then, before I try something like making you come so fucking hard on my lips that you’ll be whistling a happy tune when you walk into work tomorrow.”

  “Just so you know, I’m about to get in bed and enjoy that image you just planted.”

  He grins. “Just so you know, you’ll be on all fours on my bed in a few minutes.”

  And that image does the trick quite nicely for me too.

  But some other part of me, the saner part, the professional part, knows I must erase these thoughts of him going forward. We had our first and last hurrah, and no matter how far and fantastically the aftereffects of the traffic jam spread through my body, it’s time to let it go.

  Chapter Seven

  Drew

  Resisting her is easy for the next two weeks. The season starts and I’m in the zone.

  The first game is at home and we play like a well-oiled machine. I put the team ahead in the second quarter with a forty-yard pass to Elkins, who turns that into an absolutely beautiful touchdown.

  The crowd goes wild, and the sound of their cheers is such a high. When Elkins chest-bumps me on the sidelines, we’re both grinning like fools. It’s early in the game, but it feels so fucking good.

  “Nice work, man,” I say, and he does a little dance, then flexes his arms.

  “Told you I’d get it in the end zone. You get it to me, and I’ll bust my ass to put that ball where it belongs.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He points to his socks. “Lucky socks.”

  Maybe he’s right about the footwear. He nails another catch in the third, and our top running back drives it home on first down.

  We finish with a twenty-four–fourteen victory, and it’s both a thrill and a relief. After Los Angeles’s topsy-turvy record last year, and its slew of off-season problems, the tight game play is all anyone could ask for, the coach included.

  The next week, we travel to Arizona, and we’re on fire in the desert too. When we win our second game with a running touchdown in the fourth quarter, Coach pulls me aside on the way to the locker room.

  “You’re looking good, Erickson. Keep up the streak,” he says, his voice gruff, because it’s always gruff.

  “Do my best, sir.”

  After a light workout the next day and some game tape review, I catch up with Jason in Santa Monica for dinner. There’s a new taco truck he’s been raving about, and tacos sound damn good to me.

  “Two in a row, man. That’s the way to do it.” He claps me on the back when I join him in line at the red and yellow truck named Flipper’s Tacos.

  I give him the side-eye. “How the fuck is that the name of a taco truck?”

  Jason takes off his aviator shades. They complete the look he has working—the pressed pants, the polished shoes, the tailored white shirt. By contrast, I’m in jeans, a T-shirt, and ball cap, thank you very much. He flashes me a grin as he tips his forehead to the vehicle. “The guy who runs the truck has a Chihuahua named Flipper.”

  “Ah, well. That makes perfect sense to name a truck after a dog.”

  Jason points past the window to the illustration of said canine. “There’s the main man.” He lowers his voice. “By the way, Flipper’s owner is a big fan of yours. He’ll probably want a selfie with you. You cool with that?”

  I nod, as I roll my neck side to side, trying to work out the kinks. “Absolutely. I’m all about smiling for the camera these days.”

  “Excellent. I figured the team would be happy too, since they love your good-guy-about-town image. They released some shots of you from that charity thing you did a few weeks ago.”

  I arch an eyebrow as we move up in line. I don’t follow that stuff too closely, but I’m glad Jason does. “They did?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s all good. The team loves you. They love this happy, shiny face you have going on in public,” he says, clasping my chin and squeezing my cheeks like a grandma.

  I smack his hand away. “Dude.”

  He cracks up. “Little do they know you’re a sourpuss off the field.”

  “I’m not sour. I’m sweet,” I say, with a wink.

  “Anyway, keep this shit up and we can tie up some deals left and right, make some of the donations you’ve wanted to,” he says, since part of my goal with Jason is not just financial security or smart business; it’s also making sure I give back to some of the organizations I leaned on when I was a kid playing sports. It’s good to be in a position to return the love, and in a big way.

  “Awesome. That’s what I like to hear.”

  “And that was a nice shot of you and the hot chick from the front office.”

  My spine straightens, and a dose of worry zips through me. Shit. A swirl of images of the team’s troubles rushes before my eyes—the crashed cars, the pregnant teens, the drug-using players. I don’t want to tarnish the good rep I’ve had for years, or the one I’ve managed in just a few weeks here in Los Angeles. Or hers. And I certainly don’t want to risk anything bigger—like my job. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw it online. You and the blond babe. There was a shot of the two of you in front of the banner. Good stuff,” he says, then turns away from me when we reach the window.

  Whew.

  I drag a hand through my hair, reminding myself that posing at a charity function is not in the same league as the past problems. Hell, it’s hardly even on the same planet.

  But it’s smart to be careful. And it’s a good thing it wasn’t obvious from the photo that I wanted to fuck her. Or that I nearly did later that same night. Well, her hand, if you want to get technical. Ah, hell. Now I’m thinking about screwing Dani, instead of ordering fish tacos from Flipper’s person.

  Jason drops a hand to my shoulder and introduces me to the guy behind the window. Time to force out all thoughts of the woman I can’t have as my buddy says, “Drew, I want to introduce you to Ramon.”

  A tattooed, burly man with a baby face extends his hand from behind the window. “Good to meet you. Big fan. Whatever you want. It’s on the house,” Ramon says, gesturing behind him to the kitchen on wheels.

  I wave a hand, dismissing the offer. “Appreciate that, but I’m more than happy to pay for your fine food. And I appreciate the compliments.”

  “And I’d appreciate it if you can bring a ring to Los Angeles,” he says, with a wry smile.

  “I will absolutely do my best,” I say, and when the food is ready, Ramon refuses the cash, so I stuff a fifty in the tip jar.

  Ramon grabs his phone, and we smile for the selfie camera.

  We eat, then Jason and I wander along the promenade. We pass the movie theater, and I stop in my tracks when I read the marquee. “It’s tonight,” I say, my mind cycling back to Dani and our conversation in the car.

 
Jason knits his brow in question. “Heaven Can Wait? That old flick?”

  “That old flick is a good flick, man.” I check the time. It’s almost seven.

  “You and your love of old movies,” he says, shaking his head, like I amuse him.

  “Then me and my love of old movies and new movies and any movies are going to catch this showing now so I can still get my beauty sleep. See you later. I’m going in.”

  I’ve always loved the cinema. The silver screen had been my escape from the game. Don’t get me wrong, I love football, and I love playing, but the game is both love and work. Movies, though, have just been fun. They’re pure that way; they’ve served as a complete and total break for me, and I find myself getting lost in the story, which I enjoy. That’s what I want right now.

  I give Jason a tip of the cap and head for the ticket counter, when he calls out, “I’m going with you.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “To see that old flick? I don’t want to cramp your new, flashy style.”

  “I’ll just pretend I don’t know you. It’ll be fine.”

  “Too bad I was gonna treat. Not so sure I will now,” I say as I slap some bills at the counter and buy the tickets.

  He adopts a cheesy grin. “Aww, you did treat after all. See, you love me because I make your money turn into more money.”

  “Or because being next to you makes me look even more handsome,” I say as we head into the lobby, the door swinging closed behind us.

  “Or maybe you’re both handsome.”

  I stop in my tracks, snap my head around, and find myself looking at blond hair, high cheekbones, and full lips.

  She looks a lot like Dani, but she’s not her.

  Then, the star of my dirty dreams turns around from the popcorn counter, and I’m face-to-face with the woman who jacked me off and finished me with her mouth two weeks ago. Damn, my fucking brain races straight to the dirty. But, this woman. I stand no chance of not thinking of her that way. Why does she have to be so sinfully sexy? Dani wears a pink sundress and strappy sandals. Her hair falls loosely over her tanned shoulders. She stands next to a blue-eyed, slightly younger version of herself.

  “Hey, fourteen,” Dani says, using my number. “Good to see you.”

  “And you too.”

  Dani gestures to the pretty blonde by her side. “This is my sister, Ally.”

  “And you must be the two gentlemen arguing over who’s better-looking,” Ally says with an I-caught-you expression on her face.

  Jason flubs his lips as he eyes Dani’s sister. “It’s no contest, clearly. You ladies take the cake and beat us hands down in the good looks department. You’re both lovely angels,” he says, then doffs an imaginary hat, playing the role of perfect gentleman as he checks out Ally.

  Dani and I make introductions, and I do my best not to think about her naked. But hell, my best isn’t good enough, and I’ve already pictured her soft, supple flesh beneath that dress and how it would feel to kiss my way down her body and bury my face between her legs.

  Keeping my mind clean around her is a losing battle. Good thing is, the thoughts of her don’t chase me around when I’m on the field. They don’t distract me when I’m in the zone, when I need the laser focus.

  “This is Dani from the front office,” I say, clearing my throat and trying like hell to sweep away all the filth from the corners of my mind.

  Jason snaps his fingers. “Right. Thought you looked familiar. Saw you in a pic from the charity meet and greet.”

  Dani nods, her face revealing nothing. This woman must clean up in poker. “That’s fantastic. Are you guys heading to see Heaven Can Wait?”

  Jason nods. “We are indeed.” Then, like the idea clearly just occurred to him, even though I bet he concocted it when his eyes roamed along Ally’s figure, he says, “Would you like to sit together?”

  Dani swallows and turns to Ally, raising her eyebrows in question. Her sister nods her answer. “Works for me.”

  Jason strides up to the counter, picks up the cost of the air-popped, extra-healthy popcorn Dani was buying, and hands the bucket to her, buying another one as well. Jason and Ally chitchat the whole time. Dani and I say nothing, but our eye contact seems to say everything. Mainly, that we’re both entertained at how quickly those two are hitting it off, it seems.

  As we enter the movie theater, I drop back, letting Jason and Ally walk in front of us. “That was fast,” I say, nodding to them.

  “It was. Tell me he’s a good guy,” she says, her tone deadly serious, her jaw tight.

  I hold up my hand in the scout’s honor sign. “He’s like a brother. I trust him with my life.”

  “Good. Because I will hurt anyone who hurts my sister. I don’t care if those two just met. If he does her wrong . . .”

  I squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. “He’s a good guy. I swear.”

  She seems to relax under my touch, and from my words. I lean into Dani, drawing a quick inhale of her sexy, sunshine scent. “By the way, you look amazing,” I whisper, my voice low and just for her. A little compliment like that can’t hurt. Nothing wrong with it. Nothing that crosses a line.

  “So do you.”

  “What were the chances we’d run into each other here?” I say as we head down the aisle.

  “Pretty good, technically. Considering we talked about this being our favorite movie, and tonight’s the only time it’s playing.”

  “Okay then. So those are damn good odds.”

  “I’d say they’re as good as the way you’ve been playing these days.” Jason stops at a middle row and heads in first. Ally follows, then Dani, then me. I couldn’t be happier with the impromptu seating chart.

  “You’ve been watching me?” I ask in a whisper as we sit in the red upholstered chairs.

  She flashes me a sweet smile. “Of course I’ve been watching you.”

  The stupidity of my statement crashes into me. Some part of me had been hoping she was watching me . . . for me. But it’s her job. Nothing more. Besides, why do I even want her to watch my game? We can’t go anywhere with this . . . connection. Can’t take a chance of raising any concerns for Los Angeles. Can't risk a damn thing.

  “When you scrambled in the pocket in the first game, and it looked like you were about to get sacked, my nerves were frayed,” she says. “But then you dodged the defensive end . . .”

  “. . . And tossed a short pass to Frayer,” I say, naming the tight end, and finding that I’m glad she watched the Knights after all. I like hearing her talk about the team.

  A smile lights up her face, like she’s delighting in recalling the game. “That was a fantastic play. However, my favorite play was when you ran for twenty yards.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “You like that? I’m fast on my feet too. No one-trick pony here.”

  She squeezes my right arm. “You got the arm and the legs.” Dani offers me some of her popcorn, shifting gears. “How great is it that this theater has air-popped popcorn?”

  I pat my flat stomach. “It would be a travesty if this movie theater did not have it.”

  “It would be a complete movie snack disaster.”

  “I generally aim to avoid all cinematic food fiascos,” I say, and it’s as if we’ve returned to our word game. Last time we played with adverbs; now it’s synonyms. I gesture to the popcorn. “This is indeed the greatest thing since I can’t touch the regular stuff.”

  “Gotta watch your pretty figure,” she says with a wink.

  I steal a peek at my buddy. He’s busy chatting with Ally, so I bend my neck closer to Dani, and speak softly in her ear. “But I’d rather be watching yours.” She shivers, and just like that I veer back in a direction I shouldn’t go. But we’re in a theater. Nothing dangerous can happen here, so I keep going. “Touching you.” A small gasp falls from her mouth. “Kissing those lips.” A sharp inhale. “Undressing you and spreading you out on my bed.”

  She closes her eyes, breathes in, and grabs the armrest between us. I can onl
y imagine her body is on fire right now, just like mine.

  When she opens her eyes, she meets my gaze and says, “Funny. I’d rather be doing that too.”

  The movie begins and I watch it with a raging fucking hard-on.

  Dani

  Watching the movie next to Drew is not the toughest thing I’ve ever done. After all, I did run a marathon when I was twenty-five. I graduated from law school with honors. I also nabbed a fantastic job, beating out many applicants.

  Those were all pretty tough on the scale of challenging tasks.

  But this? Sitting close enough to Drew that I can smell the clean, masculine scent of him is a tall order. Add in the fact that I have a birds’-eye view of his gorgeous arms, and the challenge mounts. Even though I desperately want to wrap my hand around his bicep, then his tricep, then his forearms.

  I manage to survive all that desire.

  But then he does the sweetest thing. He mouths some of the lines along with the screen, including one the butler says about pretending to give the hero cocoa.

  And then Drew smiles. Not to anyone. Just to himself. Because he’s happy, truly happy, watching this movie.

  When Warren Beatty can’t take his eyes off Julie Christie in the car, Drew speaks under his breath, saying the lines with the film’s star about how he can’t stop looking at her.

  A little flutter begins in my chest when I hear that. There’s something ridiculously endearing about a guy who knows the lines to this movie.

  The flutter intensifies when he turns his face toward me, and the corner of his lips curves up. My stomach cartwheels, and I wish we were alone in this theater, because I could so make out with him right now. Like high schoolers. And I’m half hoping he drapes an arm over my shoulder, or reaches for my hand, like he did that first day we met. Only, I know that can’t happen now. And it’s not because my sister is here. I’m not worried she’d see us and blab to the press, or my boss. I doubt Jason would stand in the way either.

  It can’t happen because I’m pretty sure Drew and I both know where hand-holding would lead. The same place any sort of touch seems to go between the two of us. To more.