Title: Off Track
Series: Nashville Fury, Book 2
Author: Chelle Sloan
Contemporary Romance; Sports/football romance; Surprise Baby
“What is the opposite of a gentleman?” I ask.
Davis doesn’t answer as the bartender takes that opportunity to take our order. Vodka soda for me. Beer for him. As he’s trying to convince the bartender to put the drinks on Hunter’s tab, I take the opportunity to give him a better look.
His dress shirt is rolled at the sleeves in the way that makes most women, including me, go ga-ga over. His eyes are a fascinating shade of blue that almost looks gray. Then there is his cologne. It’s a combination of a woodsy and manly scent that makes me glad I have to cross my legs in this dress.
“The opposite of a gentleman,” he says, suddenly pulling me away from my unladylike thoughts. “is a man who just meets a woman and can’t stop looking at her legs, or wondering what they would feel like wrapped around him. The opposite of a gentleman is knowing we are here with our friends, but not being able to wait for the time we can leave. The opposite of a gentleman is wondering how I could know you from just a photo and a few words of conversation, but I already know I’m about to kick my friend’s ass for not introducing us sooner.”
I reach for my drink that was just put down in front of me, needing the liquid to cool me down.
What man talks like that? Definitely none I have ever been with. In my quest to find Mr. Right, I have dated douchebags and fuck boys. They tried to talk like Davis just did, but failed epically. Just sending a text saying, “U up?” isn’t the way to lure a woman to bed. Then there were the responsible guys. The ones with 401ks, savings accounts, and square footage with their name on the deed. They definitely never talked like that.
But Davis? Davis knows what he wants. And apparently, right now, he wants me. Sadie might have said he doesn’t take things too seriously, but I’m guessing that doesn’t mean inside the bedroom. Unless he’s a big talker. But judging by the way he’s looking at me right now—with nothing but fire in his eyes—I would bet all the money I have in my bank account that this man can not only talk the talk, but can also walk the walk.
This guy isn’t Mr. Forever. This guy has Mr. One Night written all over him. My dreams of this being my last first date are once again crushed.
“Cat got your tongue, princess?”
I ignore the pet name, not having any clue where he came up with it, and take another healthy sip of my drink as I gather courage for what I’m about to say.
Because I’ve never said it before.
Maybe one night wouldn’t be so bad? At least this time I know what I’m getting into. There wouldn’t be any surprise when I wake up tomorrow morning and he’s already gone, quicker than the afterglow of what I expect would be a phenomenal orgasm—or three.
And let’s be real, it has been a really long time since anyone has been anywhere near my bed. And definitely not a guy as attractive as Davis. Or with a man who can make my toes curl just with his words.
Yes! This is perfect.
I can’t get hurt if I know what I’m getting myself into. This time, I’m in control. Right?
Well, at least going into it. If the way he’s looking at me right now says anything, I have a feeling he’s going to be in control for most of the night.
And I don’t hate that. Not one bit.
“Not at all,” I say as I lean a little closer to him. “I was just thinking I like the fact you’re not a gentleman. Being a gentleman doesn’t sound nearly as fun.”
He lets out a small laugh. “I’m all about fun.”
“I like the sound of that.”
No one gets hurt knowing the expectations. What could be the harm in that?