Free Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance by Aubrey Irons Page A

won’t go away and only burrows deeper the more you try to push it out. I’ve felt that now, and I almost feel some sort of pity for all those girls he’s burned his way through.
    Well, almost .
    It’s just natural , I try and tell myself for the fiftieth time since that night. It’s just human biology and physiology, that’s all. Biologically speaking, yes, Dalton Cole is attractive on that alpha caveman level, with his muscles, and that strong jaw, and that dominating personality. Biologically , I know he’d be good at fighting saber-toothed tigers away from the mouth of our cave and protecting our tribe.
    I roll my eyes. Except this is the twenty-first century, and intellect matters. Deep thoughts matter - reading books, common courtesy and manners matter.
    Not being a total jock dickhead and massive manwhore goes a long way too, I might add.
    That’s not the only massive thing about him .
    I groan and try to push that thought right out of my head again, when there’s a rapping knock at the door to my room.
    I raise a brow before looking at the time.
    What the heck does Roxie need at this time of night?
    I march to the door and start to yank it open. “Hey, what’s-”
    And that’s when I suddenly stumble over my words and realize I’m looking right up into Dalton fucking Cole’s smirking face.
    “Well, that is definitely one way to answer the door,” he drawls, grinning as his eyes drop to what I’m wearing.
    Or rather, what I’m not .
    “Oh what the fuck! ” I quickly slam the door shut and groan as I drop my face into my hands.
    Of course I just answered the door to Dalton wearing nothing but polka-dot underwear and a t-shirt.
    “Nice shirt,” he laughs through the door, and I scowl down at the vintage Batman t-shirt I’m wearing to bed.
    “Nerd.”
    “ Screw you, ” I hiss back through the door.
    He knocks again and I scowl. “What are you doing here, Dalton,” I mutter.
    “Well, it’s a funny story really,” he starts to chuckle. “I, uh, I sorta fucked up.”
    I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you did. It’s one in the morning the day before classes, and this is a girls’ floor.”
    “It’s a coed dorm, isn’t it?”
    “A girls’ floor , Dalton,” I mutter again, shaking my head as if he’s standing right in front of me.
    “Well, shit, what damn year is it?” I can hear Dalton sigh heavily on the other side of the door as he slumps against it. “C’mon darlin, what happened to suffrage and all that?”
    I grin in spite of myself, biting my lip. “Do you have any idea what you’re even talking about?”
    “Half,” he says with a chuckle. “I got about half an idea what I’m talking about. Look, can you just let me in? Apparently I’m not supposed to be out here. It’s a girls’ floor you know.”
    I roll my eyes as I shake my head and grin.
    No, stop that! My mind scolds me. He is NOT funny, he is not CHARMING.
    I can’t believe I’m about to say yes to this.
    “Okay, fine , you can come in.”
    “Well aright then.”
    “ Only because I don’t need you making a scene. Hang on.” I groan again about how bad an idea this is as I yank on a pair of pajama pants, before I go back and swing the door open.
    “And a good evening to you too, sweet-thang,” he drawls with an extra twang in his voice, tipping an imaginary hat.
    God, is he drunk?
    I frown at him. “Are you drunk?”
    Dalton makes a serious face as he clears his throat, swaying just slightly on his feet as he blinks. “Stone cold sober, darlin.” He grins and moves to step past me into the room when an unopened can of beer falls out of his hoodie pocket and rolls across the floor.
    “Whoops,” he laughs. “ Busted .”
    “Jesus, Dalton,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What are you doing here?”
    “Okay, okay,” he flashes that damned charming grin at me and holds his hands up. “You got me. I’m a teeny bit drunk.” He holds up his thumb and forefinger, as if that’s some sort of