by Kim Karr
Drake was helping a few guys who were having trouble getting it.
“Good,” I said, letting go of Kutch’s arms and looking at the players. “Try this a few more times. It only looks easy. I promise you it’s not. It requires a lot of balance.”
Kutch laughed. For six-foot-six and over two hundred and sixty pounds, he had a lot to balance, after all. “Girl, all this time I thought I was doing yoga with that move I showed you.”
One of my brows rose and I tried to laugh. “And where did you learn it like that?”
He gave me a shy shrug. “Probably best if I don’t say.”
Now we laughed together, and I gave him a shove. “Go back to your spot.”
As I was bringing my focus to the front, I caught Lucas’s gaze again. This time it was different. Fierce. Hard. He was deliberately tracing the lines of my body with his eyes. I felt that look as if he were touching me, and I shivered.
Quickly, I averted my stare.
He was too distracting.
I had to remember not to look his way.
Next, as a group, we did a few more poses. Then I brought some guys up front to demonstrate a series of my difficult moves before allowing the players to experiment themselves.
Some fell.
Some got stuck.
Some couldn’t even comprehend how their body could move that way.
They were all having fun.
After we finished the more difficult moves, I clapped my hands together to get their attention. “Okay, let’s do one more pose, and then you guys are free to go. Any suggestions?”
“Downward dog. Downward dog. Downward dog,” they started chanting.
“Okay,” I said, “Downward dog it is.”
Taking a sip of water, I then asked, “Who wants to try this one in front of the class?” I had much fewer volunteers this time around, and although Lucas’s hand was not raised, I picked him anyway. “Carrington,” I said, purposely not using his first name so it wouldn’t come across as intimate.
That blue gaze narrowed on me. I smiled and crooked a finger, trying to remain as playful as I had been with Kutch. He hesitated, but when someone gave him a shove in my direction, he started to walk to the front.
As soon as he was standing beside me, I could feel a ripple of lust explode through my body. Hoping like hell I wasn’t flushing from head to toe, I tried to keep my voice even when I spoke. “This is one of the most recognizable yoga poses. It is a great way to stretch your back, shoulders, arms, hamstrings and well, just about everything, as well as keep you calm and centered.”
Without waiting for my cue, Lucas got on his hands and knees, and the guys followed his lead.
“Okay,” I said, “remember to align your wrists directly under your shoulders and your knees directly under your hips as you push up.”
Damn him, but Lucas had gone into full position before I had even finished talking.
“Don’t forget to point your middle fingers directly to the edge of your mat.”
That was a huge hit and FU’s were flying all around.
“Stretch your elbows . . . exhale as you tuck your toes . . .” I walked the players through each couple of steps. “Okay, now press the floor away from you as you lift through your pelvis. Draw your chest toward your thighs. Engage your quads.”
I went on and on, stealing glances at Lucas, who was full on staring at me.
“Your gaze should be between your legs or toward your navel.” I directed this to the class, but he knew it was at him because he looked away.
Bodies were moving in every direction.
“Don’t forget to align your ears with your upper arms, and when you release, gently bend your knees and come back to your hands and knees,” I said to everyone.
Some of the guys collapsed, some rolled onto each other’s mats, others rolled over and stayed on their backs. They were all laughing. It was chaos. “If you couldn’t maintain it, try again,” I instructed.
While they were attempting to re-pose themselves, I got down on my knees and brought my mouth close to Lucas’s ear. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
He glanced over with his blue eyes blazing. “Be in your room tonight at nine, and leave the door unlocked.”
The warm buzz of his demand, of being so close to him, hit me quickly, and I had to swallow before I could even try to tell him that I absolutely would not.
“Answer me,” he said, his voice husky.
“You didn’t ask me a question,” I responded in a low shaky tone. It wasn’t what I should have said, but I couldn’t form the words to reject him.
Collapsing to his hands and knees, he kept his gaze on me. “I want to see you, Gillian. Alone. Do you want to see me?”
Gillian. Had he called me by name yet?
I bit my lip, letting my tongue sneak out, and the sound he made was almost that of a growl.
His question got me, and I knew there was simply no other answer, so I whispered, “Yes.”
He smiled at me then, and it was so damn seductive that I wasn’t sure I could get up off the floor.
But I did, and so did he. And then he walked back to his spot without a backward glance.
I didn’t care.
Class was over and I was feeling as fluttery as the teenage girl I never was. He wanted to see me. Alone. We both knew what that meant.
And in that moment I allowed myself to think it was okay. That what we were going to do was okay. But in the back of my mind, even I had to question my judgment . . .
Because I knew it really, really wasn’t.
1ST DOWN
Gillian
THE THOUGHT OF having to eat felt like a chore.
I wanted to stay in my room and have something brought up. At least that way as the time passed, I wouldn’t have to force myself to focus, over and over again. I’m sorry but this obsessing stuff had to stop. I couldn’t take it anymore. At least with my roommate all those years ago, I could shut her out.
Yeah, myself . . . not so much.
My thoughts were once again on Lucas and not the conversation at the dinner table.
It was hard to concentrate.
Then again, that was nothing new. It wasn’t as if trying to plan family-style Sunday dinners for more than one hundred people who should be consuming almost two thousand calories in one sitting didn’t have its challenges, add to it pushing tables together and passing bowls, and well, just picture it.
Chaos.
As head coach, though, my father had declared it a team rule, and no one dared to not show up.
Not even me.
Very aware of this team rule, the nutritionist tried to plan meals that lent easily to this type of serving.
Normally the cafeteria offered an extensive fruit and salad bar, whole grain breads, brown rice, chicken, or fish, and fresh fruit juices. There were never any institutional products normally found in a college cafeteria served to the Bears.
That wasn’t allowed.
On the menu tonight was whole-wheat pasta with lean ground beef and salad. It was delicious, I was sure, I just couldn’t taste it. Not only had I become used to eating this way, I knew it was good for me, so I never complained. Tonight though, I couldn’t find my appetite.
I did, however, snag a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich on my way out. I left only after trying unsuccessfully to locate Lucas. I hadn’t seen him come in and I hadn’t seen him leave. I hadn’t seen him since yoga.
Was he still going to come see me?
It was close to eight-thirty when I got to my room. Tossing the ice cream wrapper in the trash, I collapsed on my bed.
At Sunday dinners everyone was required to dress nicely. Not necessarily dress up, but not in workout gear.
The summer dress I had selected was green. The shift style made it simple and easy. Dresses weren’t necessarily my thing, but after living in Florida for so long, I’d gotten used to them to help combat the heat.
I peered down at it.
Should I change?
No, I thought, I’d keep this on, but I did toe my sandals off and let them drop to the ground.
The underwear I’d selected was done so with care. I wore a black wispy bra and matching thong. Even I could admit it was sexy.
The men I’d been with in the past weren’t men, not like Lucas, anyway. Sure, they were the same age as him, and sure they talked the same, probably even liked the same things he did, but they weren’t . . . I wasn’t sure how to put it . . . like him.
They didn’t make my heart race or my belly flutter when I saw them.
Perhaps that was because I’d stayed clear of athletes, heeding my father’s warning without even realizing what I was doing. And maybe athletes were my type. If I had one. I didn’t even know for sure.
Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until I heard the turn of my doorknob.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw him.
He wore a pair of black dress pants and a white button-down open at the throat to reveal the smoothness of his chest. He’d slicked his hair back from his face and I instantly noticed the angle of his cheekbones that defined his good looks and those full lips.
That mouth.
Oh, God, that mouth.
It was perfect.
And that bottom lip, the way he pushed it out in a pout every now and then, I wanted to nibble it.
“Hey,” Lucas said as he closed the door behind him and pushed the button on the knob to lock it.
“Hey,” I said, sitting up and running my fingers through my hair.
He looked around the small space. “I didn’t see you at dinner.”
I swung my feet off the bed so I could sit up straight and placed my hands in my lap. “There were so many people, it was hard to see anyone.”
There was a picture on my desk, and he walked over to it, and then picked it up. “How old were you here?”
The photo was of my father and me when his team won the Super Bowl. “I was thirteen when the Bucs won the Super Bowl. My father was the quarterback coach and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier. It’s the only time he’s ever gone all the way in his career.”
Lucas set the photo down. “So far.”
I smiled at that. “Yes, so far.”
He turned toward me and leaned against the small desk, pushing his sleeves up high on his elbows.
I took a satisfying look at his forearms, the tendons so very sexy, so very powerful.
When he was done, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I’ll be able to help him with that.”
I cupped my elbows in my hands, uncertain why I felt so nervous. “I hope so.”
We stared at each other for a few long moments until he cleared his throat. “So what’s the story with you and Kutch?” he asked, innocently enough, but I knew he was wondering if I was into Kutch.
For some reason I liked that he was curious, that he had been watching me. I chewed the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. “We don’t have a story.”
“Girl,” Lucas said mockingly, “it looked earlier like you had a story.”
Ignoring the fact that Lucas used the name Kutch called me, because I was certain he called every girl he knew, Girl. I told Lucas, “We met the first day of camp, and I gave him some advice. Now we’re friends. That’s the end of our story.”
Tilting his head, he gave me an assessing look, and muttered, “Friends.”
“Yes, friends.”
That bottom lip pouted out. “And you don’t think he’s after you? That he wants you?”
“No, I . . .” Lucas had stumped me. I hadn’t expected this. “I don’t know,” I said matter-of-factly.
Lucas didn’t seem to like my answer. “Are you interested in him?”
Frustrated with this conversation, I snapped. “No, I’m not. In fact, I have never been interested in any of the players on this team or any other team.”
He put his hand on his heart and feigned being wounded. “Way to strike right where it hurts.”
The way he seemed to know when to take it down a notch, made me snort lightly. “Well, that’s not exactly a true statement. Not anymore, anyway.”
His eyes drifted from the tip of my toes to my face, growing overheated as they did. “I think it’s safe to assume you’re referring to me.”
My chest rose and fell with excited breaths. “I don’t know. Am I?”
“You better be.”
That’s when we both burst into laughter, utterly companionable and uncomplicated. It wasn’t long before my giggle fluttered into a sigh. He was watching me, and his blue eyes were alight. I couldn’t interpret his long, studying look, or the half smile that accompanied it.
I scooted to the edge of the bed. “What?” I finally asked, wondering about his scrutiny.
He looked so full of himself. “Are you telling me that I’m the first football player you’ve ever—” He let the end of his thought hang there.
I didn’t finish the sentence for him. Like him, I let the words dangle. Instead of speaking them, telling him he was the first, I got to my feet.
The pulse at the base of my throat was beating erratically, and I couldn’t wait another minute for what was destined from that first glance a week ago. My breathing was ragged and tight with each slow step I took toward him.
It seemed like forever before I was standing in front of him and even longer before I reached up to pull him down to me. He groaned when my fingers tangled in his hair and practically growled when I nipped at his bottom lip, but he didn’t strike.
Not yet.
He pulled back and stared down.
Searching.
Searching.
Searching.
For what . . . to do this? Not to do this? Did it really matter anymore? It was going to happen. He had to know that.
His hands clung to my hips. “Gillian—”
The sound of my name on his tongue might have stirred those butterflies in my belly, but even the thought of hearing it again wasn’t enough to stop what I was about to do.
When he opened his mouth to speak, I covered his lips with my finger to silence him. “Don’t say it. Don’t say we shouldn’t or it’s wrong or anything else like that.”
Those blue eyes blazed with the same uncertainty, and I think that was what made me feel like this thing between us was real. Sure, we were both torn. Sure, we were doing what we shouldn’t be doing. But we both couldn’t help ourselves.
I stared up at him. “Please, Lucas,” I begged, “don’t say anything. Just touch me.”
He kept me trapped in his gaze.
Looking.
Watching.
Studying.
Deciding.
“Your father is right across the hall,” he whispered.
“And both of our doors are closed. I’m not a kid. It’s not like he’s watching me.”
Lucas took a step back. “Maybe we should put this thing on hold until training camp is over, and he isn’t right across the hall?”
“We can’t wait,” I said. “I’m leaving Chicago as soon as camp ends.”
He stared at me in confusion.
That was when I explained to him about school and my job path before I finally told him, “I won’t be around anymore except to watch an occasional game.”
Again he looked at me.
Watched me.
Studied me.
“It sounds like we don’t have much time,” he whispered.
“We don’t,” I whispered back.
“So this thing between us is short-term?” he asked, a slight hesitation in his voice.
“It has to be,” I answered.
“And it stays between us?”
I nodded.
That’s when his big, strong arms lifted me like I weighed nothing, and before I knew it, I was sitting on my desk and his lips found mine. “Then we better get going.”
It took only seconds for my mouth to be so full of the taste of him, and took even less time for not
hing else to exist.
No worries.
No rules.
Nothing broken . . . not yet, anyway.
He whispered my name, but didn’t stop kissing me. His mouth moved with the same power his body did, and he took over what I had started. He was hard, heated, and demanding.
Oh God, I wanted him.
When his tongue pushed inward, hot and sensual, it glided over mine so effortlessly. I sucked in air as I fought for some equilibrium.
His hand flattened on my stomach and he smoothed it upward at the same time his lips moved down my chin, nipping and sucking along my throat. “I like this.”
“Like what?”
In answer, he licked his way back up my neck. “The way you taste.”
I think I stopped breathing.
This was him devouring me in a way no one ever had, and by the way he was eating me up, I think he knew that too.
With his mouth on mine, I pushed to my feet and started to edge back. He resisted though, not liking the fact that I was taking the lead.
That was okay by me. My legs were wobbling beneath me like they never had, and I suddenly found moving difficult. Not that I was going anywhere with his hard body pressing so tightly against mine.
It was warm.
Honed to perfection.
Sculpted like a piece of art.
And all I wanted to do was run my fingers over every inch of it.
I think I might have purred when I thought about it, and that’s when he started moving back toward the bed. Him back, me forward, him back, me forward. I slid my hand to his face to feel his skin there, too. Like the rest of him, his face was chiseled with perfect lines and angles. I could have run my fingers all over him for days and never gotten bored.
All of a sudden his teeth were grazing over my lips and nipping at the fullness in the most delicious way, and still we were moving. Him back, me forward. Him back, me forward.
Our second kiss was harder, rougher, full of hunger. It was way more passionate than that childish peck I had given him nights ago.
This was the real thing.
The back of his legs must have hit the mattress because he stopped for only a second before falling to it with me in his arms.
On his lap, I pulled my legs up to either side of his thighs and straddled him. Lucas pulled back and broke our kiss. I opened my eyes to find him looking at me. His gaze was unwavering as he pushed one hand between us and slid it up the hem of my dress, which had lifted to nearly expose my panties, anyway.
