Kickoff Page 11

  “Somewhat. Never a dull moment with Cass.”

  “Or Tyler.” Derek smiled wryly. Their gazes collided, and she saw it all in his eyes. He did need her, and she did need him. Dumb as it was. Ridiculous as it was. Dangerous as it was. None of that would stop them. They both knew it. Arguing and resisting wasn’t convincing them to abandon their fool’s mission. They’d both already justified the reasons.

  “I know what the consequences are, but I think the rewards are greater. No one will ever know. No one. This is our secret. I play better when I’ve slept with you the night before. As a result, you’re achieving the mission they gave you. It’s a win-win.”

  How could she argue with twisted logic like that even though she should?

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The Steelheads won their away game over the weekend with ease. Derek played relaxed and loose after their night together, a pregame ritual he intended to keep.

  Tyler completed twenty-two out of twenty-five passes, several of them to Derek. The Harris-Ramsey connection was picking up steam and gaining some local press. Ever the publicity whore, his cousin wallowed in the attention. Derek avoided it.

  Tyler went about his business as if nothing traumatic had happened in his life. He boozed it up, projected the appearance of a man slut, and threw touchdown passes during practice. Yet at the end of each night, Derek was certain Tyler slept alone. Tyler’s playboy ways were mostly for show.

  Meanwhile, Derek’s relationship with Rachel settled into an oddly comfortable routine over the past few weeks. During the week, they kept each other at a distance. The night before a game, they were all over each other. In bed, the ice princess melted, and they kicked it through the uprights all night long.

  She seemed able to separate sex from emotions, and he followed her lead, not entirely certain how long he’d be able to keep his heart out of the deal. But damn, if she could do it, so the hell could he. Besides, the alternative would be an absence of Rachel in his life, which he considered an unacceptable option on so many levels.

  He wasn’t messing with anything as long as he had his game back.

  On Saturday night a few weeks later before a home game, he convinced Rachel to go with him to McGuire’s under the ruse of keeping an eye on Tyler, who’d taken reckless to a whole different level. She’d been reluctant to go, probably not interested in pushing the limits of what they could get away with. He’d been relentless in his persuasion until he got his way.

  They sat in a small booth in a dark back corner with Tyler. Before long, Tyler had littered the dance floor with broken hearts until he narrowed the field down to three busty blondes—his obvious preference in female types.

  A few minutes later, Tyler exited the building with all three women in tow. Derek shook his head. Poor bastard. Deep down inside, past his superficial armor of selfishness, Tyler ached for Cass, but Tyler never showed weakness, and caring for someone was the ultimate weakness in his cousin’s book. Maybe in Derek’s too.

  Rachel followed Derek’s gaze as Tyler retreated with his women. She was perfectly put together and cool as ice in a cooler. He had an urge to thaw her until she dissolved into a puddle at his feet.

  “I don’t get it. It seems like they’re really through this time. Yet he’s more crazed than usual, like a man nursing a broken heart.”

  Derek’s attention settled on Rachel, surprised at her perceptive comment. “I thought I was the only person who saw through his bullshit.”

  “Move over, buster. You’ve got company. I’ve known Tyler a very long time too.”

  “How’s Cass taking it?” Derek reached for a nacho dripping with cheese and pondered how he’d feel if he were Tyler. Pretty damn crappy and just as nuts.

  “She’s met someone. She rarely comes home.”

  “What can I say? They’re both flakes.”

  “Reckless flakes.”

  “Speaking of reckless… All I have to do is think about you naked, and I get hard. It’s the night before a game. You know what that means.”

  “I do,” she conceded, not bothering to argue this time.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this night all week. Watching you with a whistle around your neck and not being able to touch is beyond what any mortal man can take.”

  “Watching you run patterns and flex those sexy muscles of yours is about all I can take. I’m becoming as decadent as Cass,” Rachel said.

  “And that’s a problem?”

  “No. It’d only be a problem if you became as decadent as Tyler.”

  He snorted. Not possible, no matter how hard he tried. “Your house or mine?”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Rachel hung on tight as Derek drove like a man on a mission, but then he most likely was. She gripped her seat while his truck careened around corners and slid on the wet pavement.

  “Derek. Please.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth. His hands gripped the steering wheel.

  “You might, but I’m not sure about me.”

  “Close your eyes. We’ll be home in no time.”

  Home. Such an innocent word packed with such meaning. His home. Not hers. Yet he said it like they were a couple sharing the same living space. Only they weren’t. They were coach and player and once-a-week sex buddies. And she’d sworn she wouldn’t—couldn’t—have a problem with that.

  She released her held breath as Derek screeched into the garage and slammed on the brakes. No more time for reflection, regrets, or any kind of retrospection. Like the athlete he was, he rounded the truck, ripped open the passenger door, and threw her over his shoulder in one swift movement. Caveman style. Barbaric. Hot. And oh so sexy.

  She smacked his butt as he hauled her through his house and past the big king bed in the master bedroom, straight into the bathroom. She wiggled, but he held fast.

  She heard the water in his large, tiled shower turn on. Her heart beat faster. Her shoes fell off her feet. He lowered her body, let her feet touch the ground. His dark gaze burned a hole in her soul. Her body hummed with anticipation.

  “Get naked or get your clothes wet. Your choice.”

  “I love it when you play the macho man.”

  “Get naked.” He growled a warning as his clothes quickly littered the bathroom floor.

  Rachel stepped out of her jeans and folded them carefully over a towel bar. She glanced at Derek, who was now chewing on his lower lip. His eyes zeroed in on her red lace panties. Her jacket followed her pants.

  “You’re taking too long.” Without another word of warning, he swooped in and hauled her ass into the shower. She struggled, unable to gain purchase on the wet tile floor. Her thin blouse clung to her body and revealed the red bra underneath.

  Derek sucked in a long, appreciative breath. “You are beautiful.” He shoved her against the wall as the water sprayed both of them. His big hands framed her on both sides. Water trickled down her face, her neck, her chest.

  She gazed up at him and placed her hands on his wide shoulders.

  Reaching down, he grasped her panties in both hands. The expensive silk gave way easily as he literally ripped them from her body. Before she could anticipate his next move, he popped every button on her blouse and pulled up her bra, revealing her hard nipples.

  Hands on her waist, he hoisted her higher up the shower wall. Taking his cue, Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist. “Are you sure your back can take this?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Just hang on.” He seemed beyond caring, beyond noticing pain, beyond anything but the heat of the moment. Steam rose around them, fogging her vision for everything but the gorgeous man between her legs. He slid her down the wall until her crotch came to rest near the head of his penis. She wrapped both arms around his neck. Derek grasped her butt with one hand while he used the other to guide his cock inside her. Once he’d slid partway inside, he held her butt with both hands and lowered her down farther until she’d completely sheathed him. He filled her, the length of him pr
essing high inside her.

  Rachel closed her eyes and savored the feel of this man’s erection joining them together into one body with one purpose. He leaned into her. His head rested against the tile wall. His chest rose and fell, the movement raking his coarse chest hair against her already aroused nipples. His harsh breathing rasped in her ear as he fought for control over his body.

  Rachel buried her head in his hair, savored the smell of him. Slick, wet passion built inside her. Her inner muscles clenched around him, eliciting a groan of raw pleasure from his lips.

  Pinning her against the wall with his big body, he started to move inside her. He lasted only a few slow strokes before his movements became more frenzied. He plunged into her, each stroke more desperate and powerful than the last. His muscles flexed and strained from the exertion, but he didn’t seem to care.

  Holding tight, Rachel rode him with furious abandon. The fever built within her. She climbed higher and higher, stretching limits, erasing boundaries.

  Their wet bodies slapped against each other. Every thrust plunged him deeper into her body, into her soul, smashing fences, destroying inhibitions.

  She savored the sounds of their lovemaking, hyperaware of his body as it conquered hers, even as she conquered his. A mutual overthrowing of old barriers, barriers already battered by their previous encounters.

  He slammed into her, all control lost, and she held on until the final whistle. He jerked inside her, emptying his seed. He threw back his head, the cords of the muscles in his neck stood out, and his entire face twisted with ecstasy as he released a primal howl of sheer male triumph.

  Rachel followed seconds later with her own equally shattering orgasm.

  They both slid down the wall and collapsed in a heap on the tile floor as the warm water peppered their sated bodies.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?” Cass sat on Rachel’s couch, painting her fingernails bright purple.

  “Why would I be mad at you?” Rachel thumbed through the pages of a sex manual Cass had left lying around. Creative Monkey Sex for Adventurous Lovers. Monkey sex?

  Had she had monkey sex yet with Derek? What qualified as monkey sex? Did being fingered to an orgasm in a crowded bar qualify as monkey sex? She doubted it. Monkey sex probably involved gymnastic moves if this book was anything to go by. Now if Derek had stood on his head on the table, or she’d hung off the light over a pool table, that might make it monkey sex.

  Lately, her thoughts were consumed by Derek, sex, and football.

  “Because I didn’t come home last night again.”

  “Huh?” She’d forgotten the question. She fanned herself and wished Derek were there instead of Cass.

  “You’re not listening. Are you mad at me?”

  “Not at all. You’re a big girl.” Rachel flicked her wrist at Cass and went back to flipping through the book.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Distracted, she turned the page. Whoa. She read some more. This was good stuff. They’d have to try this.

  “The man is insatiable.” A cat-ate-the-cream smile spread across Cass’s face.

  “Great.” Rachel choked as she read the next paragraph and studied the accompanying picture. People really did this stuff? Was it physically possible? She had no idea people’s bodies twisted like that. Maybe they’d altered the picture.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what man?”

  “Sure, what man?”

  “Antonio Perez. I met him at a club a few nights ago. Instant chemistry. We were fucking in the bathroom in less than two hours.”

  “My bathroom?”

  “No, the handicapped one at the club.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Not that Rachel should talk; after all, she had engaged in a little foreplay in a bar.

  “We locked the door.”

  Shaking her head, Rachel pointed at the book. “Have you ever tried—” Rachel held the book up for her to see.

  “Oh, yeah.” A slow smile spread across Cass’s face. “Antonio says I’m one of the most flexible women he’s ever met with a healthy sex drive and no stifling inhibitions.”

  Cass took the book from her and turned to another page. “Try this one. It’ll make you scream so loud you’ll shatter the windows.”

  “All right.” Rachel was pretty sure there had to be an extra set of legs in that picture, but she took note of the page.

  “With Tyler, it was all about him. He never used a sex book as a guide, except for the pictures. Besides, I’m not sure Tyler can read.”

  “You two were together for years. Don’t you miss him?”

  “It was a dysfunctional relationship that served his needs but not mine.”

  Rachel could’ve sworn they’d both gotten off on the continual drama. “So now your needs are served.”

  “Rae, I’m in love or lust or both. The man needs it several times a day in ways you couldn’t even imagine.”

  Rachel shuddered. “How do you ever fit in work?”

  Cass shrugged, unconcerned. “In a few days, we’ve done it in every possible position and place in his house. Now we’ve branched out into the community.”

  “In my house?” Rachel didn’t want to hear that. She glanced at the counter, at the coffee table, the desk, afraid to find evidence of their sexual escapades.

  “Rae, the man is so bold. We’ve fucked in the—”

  “Okay, enough. I’m glad you’re having fun.” Sheesh, they’d only been together a few days. They’d go through every location in Seattle in a month at this rate.

  “Besides, my absence hasn’t affected Tyler in the least. He didn’t miss a stride. I understand it takes four girls to replace me.”

  Rachel didn’t doubt that one bit.

  She wondered what it would take for Derek to replace her once the season ended.

  Chapter 14—Going Deep for the Big Score

  Derek paced the length of Rachel’s front porch, stopping every so often to check his cell phone. The neighbor’s black Lab padded along after him, ball in his mouth. He dropped it in Derek’s path. Derek kicked it, and the dog scrambled down the aisle, legs flailing in a desperate attempt to retrieve the ball.

  The animal needed an intervention from ball addiction.

  Stopping, he peered down the street. No headlights. No sounds of a car engine. No Rachel.

  She never stayed out this late by herself. She might be with Cass—heaven forbid—or at a movie or something. Lots of things. Just because it was eight on a Saturday night didn’t mean she’d crossed the goal line with some other guy.

  Some other guy?

  His jaw clenched at the thought. He’d beat the crap out of any guy who so much as ran one play with her. Yeah, right, he’d do that. He had zero claim on her. Except for the Saturday night therapy, they’d kept it professional.

  For almost a month, they’d gone deep the night before every game, and the Steelheads had won all four of those games. On Sunday night, they would play the coach’s old team on national TV at home. The Texas Bulls steamrolled their competition and showed no signs of letting up. They’d trash-talked all week about how they’d fillet the Steelheads. Fuck that. He’d pull their sorry asses up by their roots.

  Damn, he needed Rachel. He needed the sexual and emotional boost that came after a night with her. A game as big as this one required her participation late into the night. Hot sex might not have anything to do with his team’s winning streak or his sudden confidence in his abilities. Coincidence or not, no way in hell would he mess up a good thing.

  Even worse, he wanted to see her, talk to her, discuss their lives, hopes, dreams, all that stuff. He was getting attached more than was safe for either of them, yet she remained emotionally distant, except when he was driving into her at the height of passion.

  He groaned. He had to banish those thoughts until he located her. He checked his cell one more time. No text messages, no voice mails. Not a damn fucking thing.

 
What the hell had happened to her? Maybe she’d gotten in a car wreck or been accosted or— He had to stop this line of thinking. It wasn’t doing him any good.

  As he walked down the porch steps into the front yard, Rachel’s influence overpowered him. Her lawn was green and freshly cut. The flower beds were awash with a riot of colors with not a weed to be found.

  A car turned down the street and came toward the house. Biting his lip, he resisted the urge to run to the driveway and demand to know where she’d been. She parked and got out, hesitating when she saw him standing on her porch.

  “Dare?”

  She stood on her sidewalk, only feet away. His personal savior. The outside light highlighted her chestnut hair. Stress was written on her face, visible even though it was partially obscured in the shadows. Her trim little body was strung tight.

  His legs reduced the space between them in a few short strides. That stupid-assed smile he always had when she was around spread across his face.

  “Hey. You okay?” He stopped a few feet from her.

  “I’m fine. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.” The tension on her face and in her body told a different story.

  “It’s Saturday night, and I need you.”

  Her expression relaxed a little. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  She took a step forward and tripped over the Lab’s ball. Derek lunged for her and held her to him for longer than necessary. She regained her feet, and he let her go—for now.

  She picked up the ball and threw it. The dog bombed after it, spinning her around in the process.

  “Watch out. He doesn’t acknowledge the existence of anything but his ball.” Derek wrapped his fingers around her arm to steady her. The woman was a danger to herself, the proof in her multiple bruised body parts.

  A smile lit up her face, which did weird things to his stomach. He should’ve eaten hours ago. “I was starting to worry about you.” He checked her out in the porch light. Her long legs were encased in navy slacks, and she wore an off-white sweater tight enough to accentuate her curves. Worry traced little lines in the corners of her eyes.