“I was thinking we could start a little smaller. Like…kissing.”

He raises his eyebrows and draws back. “Should I teach you how to hold my hand first, too?”

“Shut up. I think would should go through the…you know.” I gesture in a vague circle.

He furrows his brow and stifles a laugh. “The bases?”

I grin. “Yes. The bases.”

He cocks his head. “Okay, Nit Whit. I’ll teach you the art of lovemaking one base at a time. But, if you didn’t know, I play football. Not that other lame shit. So we’ll call them downs. First down, second down, third down…”

“And fourth down. I get it.”

“Nah. Touchdown.” He nods slowly like this is some sort of brilliant creative breakthrough.

I snort. “Then what’s fourth down?”

“Probably off-limits for you,” he says with a suggestive wink.

“Eww!” I smack his arm quickly.

Chase laughs heartily. “I’m fucking with you.”

“So we start with kissing. First down. Haven’t we kissed before?” I tilt my head and chuckle at a hazy and distant memory of locking lips with Chase.

“Uh, duh. You don’t remember? Playing spin the bottle in Kyle Brown’s basement? Seventh grade?” His eyes light up with teasing enthusiasm. “You rocked my world, Whitney Cooper. Truth is, I’ve never been the same.”

I flop back into the sofa cushion, smiling at the reminder of our spin-the-bottle peck fifteen years ago. “Oh shit. Yeah, I remember. I think I’m gonna need a refresher, though.”

He grazes his knuckle across my thigh, and unexpected chills dance through me. “When are we starting this whole thing for real?”

“How about tomorrow?”

“You gonna pussy out again?” He nudges me. “No pun intended.”

I narrow my eyes and shove him back, losing myself for a second in the depths of his brown eyes and the fact that I’m going to be having sex with him in a matter of days. “I did not pussy out, you jackass.”

“I think you’re just scared you’re gonna fall in love with me.”

His words catch me off guard, and I try to swallow my surprise. “Don’t flatter yourself. The only people who will be doing any falling in love will be me and eligible bachelor Peter Chapman.”

“Whatever you say, Whit. All I know is once you get a taste of this, you’ll be hooked.” He winks.

I wave off his comment. “Your ego should be in a museum.”

“Some of the guys are at the Atlantic right now. Wanna go get drunk? I mean, if we’re not gonna start fucking tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ll come. But only if you stop referring to sex as fucking.” I stand up and rest my hands on my hips.

“Sorry. Banging.”

I try not to laugh as I kick him lightly. My head swirls with confusion. One second, Chase is my idiot best friend who says stupid shit to make me laugh and never really matured past eighth grade. But one second later, he’s…Chase Kennedy. No. 6. The superstar quarterback with a line of women a mile long and a six-pack that could cut glass.

Don’t miss this unforgettable ride:

Ready to fall in love with Chase and Whitney’s full story?