Rowdy(36)

She didn’t throw the ball back at me, instead she cradled it to her chest and pushed her sunglasses up on the top of her head. “That’s why I got into the clothing line, why I wanted to be hands-on in the tattoo shop in Vegas. I wanted to leave a mark.”

“You can do that here, probably more so.” My voice was soft and I wasn’t sure if she even heard me.

She suddenly snapped the ball hard at me and I caught it with an “oof.” It was quickly followed by a grunt as her smaller body barreled into my surprised frame as she took me to the ground in a really effective tackle. She straddled my waist and put her hands on my chest so that she was hovering over the top of me and looking down directly into my stunned eyes as she reached up to pull my sunglasses off of my nose.

“I want to. Leave a mark, I mean. I want to leave one on the shop for Phil and because I think you guys are doing his legacy proud.” She leaned down a little and I knew there was no way she could miss the hard ridge that she was currently sitting astride. If the football wasn’t trapped between us we would practically be lying on top of one another. “I want to leave a mark on you as well, Rowdy.”

I grunted and shifted the ball out of the way so I could wrap one of her braids around my hand and tow her toward me. “You did that a long time ago, Salem.”

She shook her head side to side and bit her lip again. She was going to kill me with that. It took her from sinfully sexy to sweet and soft.

“Not a scar, not a wound . . . a mark. Something good. I want you to have good memories of me like I have of you.”

I got her close enough that I could get my teeth in the plump curve of her lip where she had just been biting it. She groaned into my mouth and I felt her fingers curl in the fabric of my T-shirt.

“Spend the weekend with me, Salem.”

Her obsidian eyes went a shade darker if that was possible. This time there was no indecision. Poppy was nowhere to be seen because all Salem could see was me and the desire I had for her flooding my gaze as I pleaded with her through my eyes.

“Okay.” Her voice was just a husky whisper but it was the sweetest thing I has ever heard.

I had to tell her, “Nice tackle, by the way.”

She pressed a laughing kiss to my mouth and climbed to her feet.

“I’ve been waiting to tackle you for years.”

Good . . . because I couldn’t wait to return the favor and I was refusing to think about what it was going to do to me when this stopped being fun, when this stopped being her new adventure, and she decided it was time to move on. She was here for a reason, she was here for me, and I fully planned on enjoying her while it lasted. I already had marks from her, I would surely survive the next set she left . . . especially if they included claw marks on my back from all the things I was planning on doing to her in bed.

I was lucky she had come here for me but knew that my good fortune rarely held out when it came to matters of my heart.





CHAPTER 8

Salem

I THOUGHT ONCE ROWDY secured my agreement to spend the weekend with him he would wrap up our time at the park and hustle me off to the closest horizontal surface he could find. Like always he was determined to throw me a curveball, and after a very steamy and not-at-all-appropriate-for-puppies-or park-patrons make-out session that had me all flushed and turned on, he got to his feet and grinned down at me.

“Not the right time or place for that, Salem.”

I just gazed up at him, a little drunk on lust, as he scrounged up a tennis ball for Jimbo and decided the dog made a better fetch partner than I did. I just watched the two of them in silence for a while, mostly because at some point it got really hot and Rowdy took his T-shirt off, which meant I couldn’t look away even I wanted to. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of one to enjoy the view.

There was nothing little boy about him anymore. He was all hard lines on a lean frame covered in strong muscles and bright ink. I had Internet-stalked him enough to know that when he played football he had been a lot bigger, wider, and more bulked up with muscle, but now he was more streamlined he looked more like an underwear model than a professional athlete. All those corded muscles that ripped across his chest and abs were covered with a layer of scrolling tattoo work that put most of anything else I had ever seen and worn myself to shame.

To go along with the unforgettable anchor that glimmered with a sexy sheen of sweat on the side of his neck, he also had a massive pirate ship tattooed on the center of his chest. It was immersed in a raging storm and fighting blue waves that were the same color as his brilliant eyes. Across the top of the ship, in the masts, was a waving banner with the words GUIDE ME HOME in tattered script and it broke my heart for him. Below the ship was an impressive sea monster with tentacles and mean eyes looking to pull the boat deep into the sea. It was a massive story told across his flesh in a truly beautiful way.