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I pull my shirt back on. I grab the blanket and toss it on the couch before I head over to the bar, where I fiddle around and find a Keurig and some tea pods. I brew a cup of tea, and I sweeten it with a little honey packet.
She emerges from the bedroom a minute later looking freshly fucked and gorgeous, and she sits on the couch, pulling the blanket up over her legs as she looks out the windows at the Strip. I bring her cup of tea over and hand it to her before I sit on the opposite side of the couch, facing the windows overlooking the skyline as I slide my legs under the opposite side of the blanket and twine them with hers.
“Thanks for this,” she says, and she takes a sip. “No tea for you?”
I shake my head. “I’m not really a tea drinker.”
“How’d you know I needed some?”
“Good guess. You seemed chilly and it’s late for coffee. And I wanted you to feel warm and comfortable with me.” I say the words almost shyly, which isn’t really my MO. I’m more of a confident guy bordering on cocky most of the time.
She tilts her head as a warmth seems to radiate from her, and I get this really strange sensation like I’m looking into the future and we’re at home as a couple of kids sleep soundly upstairs and we’re about to have the kind of deep conversation that will push me even closer to her.
Where the fuck did that come from?
“That’s really sweet,” she says softly.
I offer a polite nod as I press my lips together and look out the window over her shoulder. Did I just make it awkward? I feel like I did. I should say something. “People don’t usually call me sweet.”
She chuckles. “You are to me.”
“You’re different,” I blurt.
She raises her brows. “How?”
“I haven’t quite put my finger on it yet.”
She ducks her head a little and averts her gaze toward the window, and then she takes a little sip of her tea. “Well, you’re different, too.”
“How?”
“I’ve never…um…” She pauses and seems to come to a decision as to what she wants to say. “I’ve never been with a football player before.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?” she asks.
“Because I’d have to kill him if you had been, and I’d hate to start my time with a new team by killing a teammate.”
She giggles.
“You mentioned an ex,” I say, striding a careful line but also trying to get to the truth of the question I can’t seem to bring myself to ask. “Do I need to kill him?”
She makes a face like she’s contemplating it, but then she shakes her head. “He’s married to his job, and we grew apart long enough ago that he’s a nonissue.”
She dodges mentioning anything about her sex life, not that I’d really thought she would.
“Have you, uh…” had sex before? Come on, Grayson. Just ask her. “You said you haven’t had a one-night stand before?”
Her eyes flick to mine, and I spot a question there. “No.”
“Good. That record still stands since I’ll be back in a few days, and I want to see you again.”
“You do?” she asks, and her voice is filled with incredulity.
“Of course I do. You’re hot, you’re funny, you’re kind, you make cookies for a living, and you look at me like I’m a god.”
“Have you ever had a one-night stand where you wanted to see the woman again?” she asks.
