The next thing she knew, Jen was sandwiched between the two SEALs, who proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes trash-talking each other as their respective teams took the field. Their good-natured taunts and creative insults kept her in a constant state of much-needed laughter, and by the time the game’s first quarter came to a close, she’d managed to put all thoughts of Carson and his marriage out of her mind.
When Dylan disappeared into the kitchen to grab some beers, Jen glanced at Cash and grinned. “I like him.”
“Everyone likes him,” Cash said with a sigh. “I can honestly say that Dylan is the most charming person I’ve ever met in my life.”
She couldn’t disagree. Those laughing green eyes and devilish grins were definitely having an effect on her. She could see why women went wild for the man.
“Look what I found,” Dylan announced. He held up a bottle of Patrón, grinning like the cat who’d swallowed the canary.
“What happened to beers?” Cash asked. He’d slung his arm over Jen’s shoulder, and she was enjoying the way he carelessly dragged his fingers over the top of her arm.
“You want a beer? Fridge is that way,” Dylan replied, jerking a thumb at the kitchen. “But I’m gonna get my Patrón on. Who knew O’Connor had such good taste?”
Retaking his seat, he unscrewed the bottle and brought it to his lips. He swallowed with a contented sound, then held out the bottle. “What do you say, Blondie? You gonna pansy out and stick to beer, or are you in the mood for something that’ll make you burn?” He wagged his eyebrows in challenge.
A smile stretched across her mouth. “I guess I could use a burn.” When Cash frowned, she offered a little shrug. “I need a distraction, remember?”
“Fine, but you’re not allowed to pass out, okay?”
“Deal.” She accepted the outstretched bottle and took a small sip. It burned, all right, all the way down to her stomach. But almost immediately, warmth spread through her and a pleasant buzzing flowed in her veins.
She handed Cash the bottle. After a beat, he slugged back some tequila.
“Oh, get ready for it,” Dylan said with a whoop, his green eyes focused on the flat screen. “Ten yards…five…touchdown!”
A new round of heckling ensued, courtesy of Dylan as San Francisco scored, but then Arizona answered with a touchdown of their own, and it was Cash’s turn to deliver some verbal abuse.
Jen couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. During halftime, Dylan regaled her with stories, everything from childhood anecdotes to bad dating experiences. The guy was charismatic as hell, not to mention sexy as all get-out. She couldn’t help checking him out every now and then, admiring his classically handsome face, his ripped arms, those hypnotic dimples.
Cash caught her ogling more than once, but he didn’t seem put off by it. He simply grinned knowingly before taking another shot of tequila. Dylan had brought out three shot glasses sometime during the second quarter, and the amber liquid in the bottle had slowly begun to dwindle.
Jen definitely had her buzz on, but she also knew her limit, and when Dylan tried coaxing her into another shot, she shook her head and raised her hands in surrender. “One more and I’ll go from tipsy to flat-ass drunk.”
“Maybe I’m trying to get you drunk,” he responded, those dimples making another appearance.
“Why, so you can talk me into a threesome?” The words flew out before she could stop them.
“Why, is that something you’d be interested in?” he countered.
She felt herself blushing. “No,” she lied.
His grin widened. “I think you would.” He glanced at Cash. “You didn’t tell me the LT’s sister was such a naughty girl. If I’d known, I would have come over days ago.”
Cash rolled his eyes.
Dylan shifted, leaning into the arm of the couch. Green eyes gleaming with mischief, he locked his gaze with Jen’s and said, “So, the idea of being with two men turns you on, huh?”
“Maybe a little,” she relented.
He cocked a brow. “What else turns you on?”
She shrugged and avoided his eyes. Her cheeks were scorching. And somehow, in the span of a few seconds, she’d become wildly aroused. She squirmed on the couch, tried to ignore the zip of heat moving between her legs. From the corner of her eye, she caught Cash grinning at her again. Bastard was enjoying watching her squirm.
“Come on, Blondie,” Dylan prodded, “tell me all your wicked turn-ons.”
When Cash had the nerve to chuckle, she scowled at him. He thought it was funny, huh? Letting his friend tease her like this? She swallowed to bring moisture to her dry mouth, deciding that maybe Cash needed to do some squirming of his own.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I’ve always wanted to watch two men together.”
Although Dylan’s dark-blond eyebrows soared, he didn’t blanch or seem the slightest bit horrified by the idea. If anything, he looked incredibly intrigued. “Really,” he mused.
“It doesn’t freak you out?”
“Why should it? I love watching two women going at it, so why shouldn’t you enjoy a little man play?”
“Very progressive of you,” she said graciously.
He flashed another one of those rogue grins. “Thanks.”
Before she could blink, he tugged her toward him. She squeaked in surprise, her pulse racing when he touched her cheek. His palm was callused, fingertips rough as he skimmed them along the curve of her jaw. “So you wanna see me and Cash get it on, huh?”