Fourth and Goal

by Jami Davenport

  In that exact moment, everything changed. Life took a side road he'd never planned to travel again. Once he'd made the decision, he wasn't going back.

  He knew where this was going, if not tonight, soon. They'd been heading there from the moment she'd stumbled back into his life. Before long he'd be trying out Razor's suggestion on how to relax before a game.

  And she might not be inclined to stop him.

  Rachel might be a little buzzed, but she knew exactly what she was doing. Sorta. The two glasses of wine provided a little liquid courage and silenced all the reasons why this wasn't a good idea.

  She hadn't come out tonight with the intention of snagging Derek to share her bed, though it might have been in the back of her mind. She'd been disappointed to find he wasn't among the team members at the table earlier that evening.

  She could do this. Rachel, the cool, calm businesswoman, could have recreational sex without emotional strings. Besides, she'd take one for the team, just as Razor suggested. At zero and four, desperate times called for desperate measures.

  She wasn't looking for a relationship, especially not with Derek. Her true intentions destroyed any chance of that. Their conflicting objectives sealed the deal.

  Derek held her up as she stumbled, catching a heel on nothing. He gripped her waist, and she swayed back and forth. This wouldn't be difficult. After all, she'd slept with this man before. They'd shared long, slow, wet kisses; they'd shared their bodies. She'd felt him move inside her, gentle and easy, fast and desperate. She needed the feeling again, if just for a little while.

  Rachel snuggled in his arms and nibbled on his neck. Derek groaned. She smiled at his reaction. Rubbing her hips against his, she pressed against the evidence of his arousal.

  Catching her off guard, someone yanked her out of Derek's arms. Ready to pounce, Rachel spun around and came face-to-face with Mitch.

  "Mitch, what are you doing here?"

  "I'd like to ask you the same thing. Especially with him.” He pointed a finger toward Derek's face. Derek didn't flinch. Mitch turned back to her. His jaw hardened, and his eyes turned to ice. “And what the hell do you have on?"

  Rachel glanced down at the little black dress—Cass's little black dress looking very out of place on Rachel's body. Instinctively she crossed her arms over her chest. Her brother's judgmental scowl irked her even though her face grew warm. Maybe the dress didn't fit her normally modest wardrobe, but how dare her brother treat her like a child?

  "I'll wear what I damn well please and choose who I dance with."

  "I'm taking you home. You're drunk.” He grabbed her arm.

  "I'm not going.” Rachel attempted to jerk away, but Mitch held fast.

  "She's an adult. Why don't you butt out of her business?” Derek grabbed her other arm.

  "She is my business when it comes to you.” Her brother pulled back. Rachel held her ground. “That bastard only wants one thing."

  "Maybe that's all I want.” She jerked out of Mitch's grasp. Wrapping her hand around Derek's arm, she tugged on it, literally dragging him back to their seats. Her brother stalked behind and made a move to sit between them.

  "Butt out.” Derek glared over the top of her head.

  "Go to hell,” Mitch snarled as the two men squared off.

  "I'd be glad to take you with me.” Derek got in his face, but Mitch didn't back down. The entire table had gone quiet as they watched the action. Tyler snickered but didn't say anything. Rachel tugged on Derek's arm and shook her head, worried he might actually take a swing at her foolish brother. Donning her virtual business suit, she channeled her in-charge alter ego.

  "You don't scare me.” Mitch balled his fists.

  "Look, you two...” She pulled out a chair for her brother, keeping herself in between the two men having their testosterone moment. “Have a seat. You're making a scene."

  Hesitating, Mitch sank into the chair like a surly child and snarled at Derek. Derek glared back. Her brother might be a big guy and in pretty good shape, but he was no match for an even bigger pro athlete in prime physical condition.

  Rachel touched Derek's arm. “Please."

  "Don't worry,” he growled, “I won't fight with him, even if he pushes it. I have a game tomorrow, and I need to get Ty out of here."

  "At the rate he's downing whiskey, you'd better hurry."

  Derek leaned across Cass. “Ty, man, it's time to go."

  "What are you, my mother?"

  Cass nodded. “Ty, Dare is right. We need to leave."

  "Oh hell, Dare is always right. I'm sick of that shit. When you're the worst team in professional football, you have to be good at something. I'm good at partying."

  Derek frowned. “Cass—"

  "I'll take care of him.” Cass moved closer to Tyler. She trailed little kisses up his neck and stuck her tongue in his ear. Reaching her hand under the table, she milked his cock. Derek looked away, but Rachel watched the show, shocked yet mesmerized. Mitch slumped in his chair and glowered at his beer.

  Tyler staggered to his feet. “Well, it's been great guys, but gotta go.” Cass winked at Derek as Tyler grabbed her hand and weaved toward the door.

  "I hope she's driving?"

  "She is.” Derek glanced at Rachel and nodded. He leaned his head close to hers and lowered his voice. “Your brother needs to get off our case. I bet Cass could set him up with a horny cheerleader or two."

  "I'm sure she could.” Mitch wasn't the only person needing to get laid. If the way Derek kept looking at her was any indicator, she'd be taking care of that tonight.

  "I need to go home.” Derek stood and met Rachel's gaze. “Do you need a ride?"

  Rachel stood quickly. “Yes."

  "I'll take you home.” Her brother stood too.

  "Forget it, Mitch; it's out of your way. I'm going with him. Good night."

  Her brother followed them out the door. “Like hell you are."

  "So what if I am?"

  "I don't want him laying a hand on you.” People stopped to stare as they argued near the front doors of the bar.

  "Maybe I do. Maybe I want to have wild, hot sex with him in every position possible."

  "I'll kill him first."

  "No. You won't."

  "He'll hurt you again, Rae."

  "My life is not a democracy, and you don't get a vote.” The arrogance of her brother. The two of them fought over her like she was a favorite bone instead of a living, breathing person. She'd never been the rebellious type. She'd been the good girl who always did the right thing, followed the rules, and never caused her parents any grief. Well, she was sick of it. If she wanted to have a wild affair with an inappropriate man, she'd damn well screw his brains out.

  Rachel sat in the passenger seat of Derek's pickup, fuming and plotting revenge—on everyone in her controlled and manipulated life. She'd had it. She'd show them. She'd do exactly as she pleased...and tonight, she pleased to have hot, uninhibited sex with no morning-after regrets.

  Derek pulled into the driveway and stopped in front of her house.

  "Let's go to your house.” She ran a finger over his strong jaw. He swallowed and shifted his position.

  Blowing out a breath, he took her hand and removed it from his face. “Rae, this isn't a good idea."

  "Actually it's the best idea I've had in a long time. We've tried everything else Razor's suggested but this."

  "He told you about that?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "I'm not sure."

  She stared pointedly at his crotch. “You look sure to me. Let's go to your house."

  Keeping his eyes on the road and off her, he drove to his house and into the garage.

  Inside, Derek busied himself making a drink while Rachel thumbed through some DVDs sitting on the coffee table. She held one up. “Is this from the last game?"

  "Yeah."

  "Do you mind if I watch it?"

  Derek shrugged. “Fine with me. We haven't watched it together yet.” Relief flooded
his face as if he'd found an out.

  An odd seduction strategy, but it'd work. She knew Derek. If she merely stripped off her clothes and his, he'd resist based on basic decency. She'd tackle his defenses with football strategizing. He'd be eating out of her hand before he knew what hit him. She hoped to hell she knew what'd hit her.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twelve

  Inside the Red Zone

  The sexiest thing in the world was a woman who knew football. This woman knew her football. As they watched the game film together, she pointed out things no one else had noticed, like how on a run play he hadn't sold his route; instead he went right into blocking for the runner. Derek shook his head in amazement.

  "Too bad I'm not a guy. I'd make such a damn good coach.” She winked at him. His heart pounded in his chest, and his pulse quickened. He became every one of those sappy love songs he liked to sing at karaoke. She looked way too together, too perfect. He wanted to mess her up a little.

  "I'm glad you're not. A guy, that is.” His cock was really glad she wasn't a guy. In fact, it would be a hell of a lot happier if they dispensed with the rest of the foreplay and went straight to good old-fashioned fucking. His mind resisted on a basic crudeness level; the rest of him had no such scruples. Man, oh man, this really wasn't a good idea, but too late for rational thinking now.

  "Derek, I want to make this plain before things go any further.” Her eyes, greener than those grasshoppers she liked to drink, shone with sexual intensity—so intense, in fact, he swore his clothes were about to disintegrate from his body.

  He raised one eyebrow and cocked his head. “We're going further?"

  "I want you. You want me.” She paused to stare at the bulge between his legs. “You don't want distractions. Any emotional entanglements. I don't either."

  "You don't?” His voice cracked.

  "No, I don't. I'm not the Rachel you grew up with. I can handle a sexual relationship with an adult male and avoid all that messy emotional stuff."

  He wasn't sure he could. “Okay."

  "I've grown up a lot over the past five years. I'm uninhibited, adventurous, and sexually open to new experiences. Sex as recreation is fine with me."

  His mouth dropped open. He hadn't expected this. She was the type of girl you made a commitment to, not one you hooked up with for sex before moving on.

  "Rae, I've missed you. I don't want to screw it up again with sex. I did that once.” He couldn't believe he was arguing with her about this. He'd lose his membership in the macho jocks club if his reluctance ever became public knowledge.

  "Why can't we be friends and lovers? Up front. No strings. In a few months, I go my way, you go yours, and no one gets hurt. And we stay friends.” She ran a fingernail down his arm, across the corded muscles.

  Derek stared at her finger, mesmerized. Shaking his head, he met her gaze. “The old friends with benefits?"

  "And what benefits!” She laughed, a sexy, throaty sound.

  "You've had too much to drink. You're not thinking straight."

  "The only thing the alcohol has done is given me the courage to be honest and say what I've been dying to say but didn't have the nerve."

  "I don't get it.” Still he resisted for some stupid-assed reason.

  She shrugged. “You're making a big deal out of nothing. It's just sex."

  Nothing? Who was she kidding? Sex with her was hardly nothing.

  "Just sex?” His throat was dry, his voice raspy. She crossed those long legs of hers and just about undid him. His cock strained against his jeans like it had a mind of its own. Maybe it did, being it was the little head. Yeah, yeah, bad joke.

  "Yes, just sex."

  "Conservative sex or adventurous sex?” Conservative sex with her had been hotter than the adventurous sex he'd had with others.

  "Any way you want it, big guy. Let's see if we can relax that tight body of yours and get you in the game tomorrow."

  He was in the game, all right, just not the one played on a football field. Derek wiped the sweat from his brow and clung to the last of his sanity. “I'm speechless."

  "Not a problem. What I have in mind doesn't require talking."

  "No shit?” He cleared his throat. His gaze dropped to her breasts, all round, soft, and begging for his hands, his lips, his mouth.

  "If you don't want me to help you, we can find someone else."

  He choked. “That won't be necessary.” No way did he want another woman. He was ready, willing, and hard as a damn fucking rock.

  "Good, let's get to work."

  "Are you sure?” His shallow words of resistance held no meaning. Her proposal more than intrigued him, it answered his prayers.

  "If either of us becomes uncomfortable with the situation, we can bail out at any time."

  "I don't know who you are anymore. This isn't like you."

  "This is me. You haven't been around me in five years."

  She leaned closer, fingering the collar of his T-shirt, sliding her hands down his chest. “I want you naked."

  He gagged on his drink. “You want me naked?” He didn't know why he kept inanely repeating her words. His brain had sunk to his balls, along with the gift of speech and his ability to think.

  "I want you to fuck me."

  "Fuck you?” His voice came out as a squeak. He'd never heard her use the F word in all the years he'd known her.

  "Yes. Fuck me, Derek. Take me any way you want with no regrets in the morning."

  "Holy shit.” He blinked and sucked in a deep breath. His brain slipped and tackled and raced down the field, imagining several ways he'd love to take her.

  She placed a hand on his crotch and stroked him through his jeans. “You're hard for me."

  "Well, hell, yeah. Look at how you're dressed.” Not that it mattered. If she'd been wearing a space suit, he'd be hard for her.

  She pulled down his zipper and opened his fly. His lungs forgot how to function. His brain screamed orders to abandon ship and cease all mental activity. His dick prepared for a sport that didn't require or want any input from his brain.

  "Make me scream. Make me wet. Make me melt."

  "Awww, fuck it. I'm probably going to burn in hell for this.” A split second of hesitation shone in her eyes, but he was too far gone to analyze the situation. He moved closer, and she leaned into him. He snaked his hand around her neck and pulled her closer. She splayed her hand on his chest, then ran her fingernails down his breastbone through his T-shirt. Her other hand rubbed his crotch.

  "I need you,” he rasped.

  "I know."

  "We don't have a future. Your family hates me for more reasons than I can count. I'm screwed up when it comes to relationships. You know that. I don't have a piece of me left to give. At least, not now."

  His mother had seen to that. Yeah, she'd done a number on him, made him wary of getting attached, because in his book love hurt and people you loved the most deserted you.

  "The only piece I'm asking for is a physical piece."

  "Are you sure you can do that?” He couldn't believe he was still arguing with her.

  "Of course I can. You're the one who seems to have a problem with it."

  Him? He was the king of relationships without emotional involvement. He considered her words and attempted one more feeble protest. “I'm no good for you. We both know that."

  "I know."

  Well, hell, she didn't have to agree so readily. “Rae, I don't want to hurt you again."

  "I'm not that naive college girl."

  His gut clenched as he trod on forbidden territory, picturing her with other men. God, he hated that visual. He'd make her forget those other men until they weren't even a blip on her sexual horizon.

  "I know what the score is this time. Don't you? I don't want to hurt you."

  She'd turned the tables on him. “Not a problem."

  He gave it up. His resistance was screwed. He'd only been arguing to appease his conscience. “Tell me
what turns you on.” If he was doomed to hell, he'd go down with pleasure.

  "Honey, you do that naturally.” With a devilish smile, she rubbed his cock harder, slipping lower to caress his balls through his jeans. He grasped for some slice of sanity, but his ability to reason slid into the gutter and drowned.

  "Let's get to business.” She propped one spiked heel on his crotch and rubbed his erection with the heel. Her dress rode up and exposed creamy white skin on her upper thighs. His head spun. His body screamed for release louder than a sold-out crowd at the Super Bowl. He couldn't ignore it any longer. Her knee was just inches from his chin.

  "Oh, fuck."

  "That's the idea.” If she intended to shock him, Rachel succeeded. The little vixen had grown up. Perhaps to her this was nothing but a physical affair. He should feel reassured, but somehow he didn't.

  "Your turn, buster. Show me the goods.” She swung her foot off his lap and stood, hands on hips, her short little skirt riding up her fine ass.

  Derek didn't have to be asked twice. He shot to his feet, whipped off his T-shirt, and threw it across the room. “You're next.” He watched expectantly, getting into this little game. Instead of taking off her dress, she tugged on his pants.

  "Take them off."

  He just about fell on his face trying to get the damn things down. Soon they joined his T-shirt in a pile in the corner. His mind forgot about the football game tomorrow. In fact, he'd be damned if he could remember who they were playing.

  Grateful for a couple of nerve builders in the form of glasses of wine, Rachel relished the power she had over this man. It happened so seldom with men in her life. She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and corded biceps, savoring the feel of his hard muscles. She fingered his nipples, and he moaned. His body shook with repressed need. He wouldn't need to repress it for long.

  "You have too many clothes on.” Derek's dark gaze fixated on her dress.