Free Knowing the Score by Kat Latham Page B

Never.”
    “So they didn’t know about this insecurity of yours?”
    “One guy figured it out pretty quickly when he tried to kiss me and I head-butted him. He didn’t stick around long enough to ask questions.”
    “He kissed you and you head-butted him?”
    She grimaced. “Yeah.”
    He scrubbed his hand over his mouth, but she caught the spark of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.
    “It’s not funny.”
    “Of course it’s not. He sounds like a right arsehole for not sticking around.”
    She dropped her head into her hands with a heartfelt groan.
    He was silent for a few heavy seconds. Then: “A Band-Aid, huh?”
    “What?”
    “What’s stopping you doing that now?”
    “Doing what?”
    “Ripping off your virginity like a plaster.”
    She peeked at him through her fingers. “It doesn’t sound so attractive when you put it like that.”
    “Let me put it another way then. Maybe we could help each other out. I could—very gently and with a lot of care—peel off that plaster of yours, and maybe make it such a mind-blowing experience that you’ll want to peel it off over and over.”
    Her stomach fluttered and she tore her gaze from his to gaze over the Thames. Gulls swooped around them, and trash floating on the water lapped against the shore as a boat sped past.
    She had to leave Britain in December; her one-year work visa couldn’t be extended. There was no danger of her losing her mind over him and finding herself in a disastrous, controlling marriage. She could enjoy his body and their budding friendship without worrying about long-term consequences because there wouldn’t be any. The government wouldn’t let her stay even if she did make the gigantic mistake of falling in love with him. He knew her hang-ups, even if he didn’t know the real reasons behind them, and he understood he would have to start at the beginning with her. It could be the perfect solution. The disaster manager in her had to check one thing, though.
    “We have a month?”
    “One month. A bit less, actually. About three weeks until I join my team in training again.”
    “What happens if I change my mind? If I like kissing, but I panic when we do other stuff, and I decide it’s too much for me? Or I just don’t enjoy it.”
    His hand reached out to squeeze her shoulder in a bid to reassure her. “Then you change your mind. This isn’t a contract, Caitlyn. The only reason we’re talking like this is because we both need to set our ground rules. You’re not guaranteeing you’ll have sex with me, and I’m not guaranteeing your first time will be the biggest orgasm you ever have in your life. I will promise to be patient and take care of you, and if we haven’t had sex by the time the season starts, then I’ll go another year without. It seems to have done wonders for my game this year, so imagine how much frustrated energy I’ll take onto the pitch with me after two years of celibacy.” He cringed. “Actually, I’d rather not dwell on that thought. Let’s just say, I won’t be angry if you want to stop at any point.”
    “I don’t want to be called a cock tease.”
    “It wouldn’t even occur to me,” he promised gently.
    She couldn’t imagine him being that horrible, but then again, she hadn’t imagined Tony—the tree-hugging pacifist she’d head-butted—would say that either. “Okay. Let’s do it.” His brows shot up his forehead. “Not it. But your plan. Operation Band-Aid.”
    The tension drained from his body. He rested his hand palm-up on the table. “Operation Sticking Plaster.”
    She knew he wanted her to place her hand in his, but she was momentarily distracted by the intimacy of their situation. These big hands that were used to cradling a rugby ball and knocking grown men off their feet would now be put to use helping her overcome her fears and insecurities. They might even rock her world, if she was lucky enough.
    Eager to show him without words how thankful she was for all the