She grabs the stem of her glass and swirls her wine as she asks, “So tonight we get to know each other better? As in, I get to ask you questions, and you’ll answer them? And not answer them like you do in magazines or postgame interviews, but like a real straight-shot answer?”
I smile. Something I seem to be doing a lot more of in her presence. “Tread lightly, Isabella. You’ve watched one of my games, and now I know you’re keeping tabs on me. Might give a guy a complex or something.” I lift my glass to hers.
I go to clink her glass, but she pulls hers away. “Hold up, let me just get the terms and conditions straight before I step in it. So you’re telling me I can ask you anything? Anything at all? Nothing off-limits?”
I laugh, because fuck, she’s cute. “Hmm, I suppose, but…”
“But?” she asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.
“It’d have to go both ways. Anything off-limits on your end?”
She mulls it over for a moment and then surprises me when she casually shrugs her shoulders and brings her glass closer to mine. “Deal.”
Fuck. The things I want to know about her are not exactly things I should be asking over pizza.
What makes you wet? Would you spread your legs if slipped my hand under your tight leggings? How do you sound when you come undone?
I try to adjust myself subtly as I scold myself. She’s probably only curious about my astrological sign or some shit like that. Not about becoming acquainted with my dick. “So what are we toasting to?” I clear my throat.
She taps her chin playfully until she finally settles on “let’s toast to you potentially regretting this.” She clinks her glass mischievously against my unmoving one.
Well, shit. What have I just done?
“Seriously? You’ve never looked at each other’s penises while you’re in the shower together?”
Fucking hell. Isabella has been relentless tonight. Although I can’t say I haven’t been thoroughly entertained. She most definitely surprised me with her line of questioning. Gone is the woman who couldn’t run away from me fast enough thismorning. She’s been replaced with someone who couldn’t derive more pleasure from watching me squirm.
I knew Isabella had a backbone. Hell, I try to rile her up at least once in every one of our conversations. But little did I know how brutal she could be once she got comfortable with me. I fear she may never go back to being docile.
That’s a lie.
I actually like her much better this way. Even if I’ve become her comical punching bag.
We’re lying on our sides, facing each other, on different ends of my U-shaped couch. It feels intimate to lie this way with her, but the ten feet between us seems to give us a false sense of safety.
“You can’t tell me a guy like Ace Middlebrooks walks out of the shower with a third leg, and you’re not looking.”
Okay, fun time is over.
“You like Ace?” I love the guy, but at the moment, I’d love to take a fastball to his sac.
She rolls her eyes again, and for a split second, I think of the ways I want to punish her for being insolent. She makes an unpleasant face. “No, but he walks around like he has big dick energy, so I assume he’s packing. And my question was if you look, not if I like.” She points her almost empty wineglass at me.
I groan. “No, Isabella. I don’t look. Eventually, they all blur into my periphery, I guess. Happy?”
She bobs her head from side to side. “Good enough, I guess. But at least I now know you don’t like Ace. That’s some prime chisme. Because sheesh. The way you looked at me when I mentioned his name? Got the message loud and clear. Bummed to know that he might not be a good guy after all, though.”
Oh, Isabella. If you only knew. Hell, if I only knew why I react the way I do around you. “Sorry, too much dick talk. Didn’t mean to give a look. Ace is actually a nice guy. Likes to lean intothe whole playboy persona, but it’s a front. He’s actually one of my favorites on the team. But I’ll never tell him that. His head is big enough as it is.” I chuckle as I remember the picture he sent in the team group chat earlier today, asking us which bracelet he should buy his mom for her birthday. One was covered in pink diamonds and the other in yellow canaries.
And they say I go overboard with gifts.
I look over at Isa when I realize she’s been quiet for the longest stretch of time tonight. Which happens to be ten seconds. “Everything all right in that head of yours, Isa?”
She shakes her head subtly, staring into her empty glass. “Yeah, sorry. Nice to hear that he’s actually a nice guy, even though he plays into the whole, you know, ‘I’m an athlete and I’m a womanizer’ bit.”
This is usually where I would bolt. I would give Isa the out and not try to pry into her past. But tonight, I’ve learned so much about her.
She even brought out her work backpack after I asked to see one of her book cover designs. I couldn’t get Torres out of my head once I saw her cracked screens and headphones with exposed wiring. The fucker is right. Took everything in me not to get up right then and there and take her to an electronics store.
