“You weren’t?”
“No.” More hurt, even a little annoyance.
He chose the popular path of any red-blooded American male: he played dumb. “Did I interrupt something? You’re out of breath.” His smile faded. He sat up straighter.
“I just came in the door. I ran to catch the phone.”
Good. That made him feel better. He relaxed back into the cushions and wished he was relaxing into her. “It’s good to hear your voice. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy this week.”
Silence.
“You still there?”
“Yeah. You’re not the only one who’s busy, Ramsey. Playoff coaches never go home. We might as well set up cots in our offices.”
“Sorry. I’m being an ass,” he said contritely.
“You’re not being an ass. You’re a guy playing for the biggest prize in sports.”
“And you’re a coach doing the same.”
“I’m glad you can see that.”
“I can, and I was an ass.”
“Apology accepted.” Her voice lightened, and so did the heavy weight on his shoulders.
“I’d rather not talk about football tonight. How about some of that stew?”
“You bet, big guy.” Her voice sounded normal. She’d forgiven him, somewhat. Damn, he didn’t deserve a woman like her.
“Good.” The tension drained from his tense body. He’d been wound up all week preparing for that first-round playoff game.
“Your place or mine? You do have a better bed.” Rachel posed the question.
“No one said anything about needing a bed for eating stew.”
“It’s the after-stew activities that require a bed.”
“Oh, really, do they? Since when?”
“Tonight, this boy is tired and sore. He requires a bed.”
He laughed. His cock hardened at the teasing in her voice. “I’m on my way.” Derek grabbed his keys and headed for the door.
“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”
So was he—all of her.
~ ~ ~ ~
The one-week deadline imposed by Rachel’s brother had come and gone. For the past several days, she’d embraced denial and blissfully gone about her business. Now dread edged out bliss as she fretted about whether or not her brother would take it upon himself. He’d never been one to make idle threats, and she doubted he’d start now. She just needed more time to sort out her conflicting feelings. Surely, she could convince Mitch to wait longer. With a nagging feeling that she was operating on borrowed time, Rachel pushed her fears aside and concentrated on enjoying the evening.
Derek ate second and third helpings. Afterward, he rubbed his still-flat belly, set his plate on the coffee table, and put his arm around her, pulling her close. She snuggled in the crook of his arm. Lord, she’d missed this closeness. They hadn’t had any alone time all week.
He’d wormed his way into her life in subtle ways she hadn’t noticed until he’d been absent for a while. Until tonight Rachel had gotten leftovers in the form of a few text messages during the week. But now he was here, and she planned on making the best of it.
She turned her head to admire his handsome face. His smile lit up her everyday life so it didn’t seem so everyday. His determined attitude infused the same energy in those around him, and his laugh was infectious. Then there was that body. Ripped and hard with masculine grace, he moved like a cheetah and just as fast. His body crackled with so much sexual energy the FCC should give him his own frequency.
“Rae?” She felt his breath on her ear. “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”
“Not a chance, buster.” She was falling—actually had fallen—but not asleep.
“Damn, I’m gonna be so weighted down tomorrow I’ll be slower than a lineman.”
“You didn’t have to eat three bowls.”
“I couldn’t help it. Nothing like good ol’ down-home cooking. All I’ve been eating this week is stuff I can’t even pronounce, let alone identify.”
“You’ll need to work it off somehow.”
He turned to her, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You bet your sweet ass I will, and you do have the sweetest ass.” His big hand slid lower and rubbed the small of her back.
“Your ass isn’t so bad either.”
His dark eyes bored into hers, suddenly intense and serious. He traced a finger down her jaw, then cupped her chin. “You ground me, Rae. I need that.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, fearing he might see the tears there. He didn’t notice, just pulled her close to his chest and held her tight. She wrapped her arms around him, and he flinched.
“Are you injured?”
“Nah, just beat-up. Comes with the territory. Guys compete for the chance to slam me to the ground several times every Sunday.”
“Let me see.” She couldn’t help but worry about him. He’d taken some scary hits during the last game, and each time he’d gotten up a little slower. “Take off your T-shirt.”
He started to lift his arms, then grimaced. “Fuck.”
“I’ll help.” Rachel pulled the shirt off his head. Not an easy feat because of his reluctance to raise his hands very high above his head.
“Oh, baby.” His torso looked like a prizefighter’s after a particularly nasty fight. She touched one colorful bruise the size of Mercer Island. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this tonight. We could just sit and talk.”
“Talking isn’t quite what I had in mind tonight.”
“Hmmm.” Rachel pulled back and rubbed his erection through his jeans. “Sure you’re up to it?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m up. Just go easy on me.” He laid his head against the couch and closed his eyes.
“You have more of an issue than your fat tummy and your bruises, mister.”
“Maybe you can do something about that. For the good of the team, of course.”
“Of course. Anything for the team.”
“You are a dedicated coach.”
“That I am.” She unzipped his jeans and was rewarded with his groan.
“Your jeans are too tight.”
“They fit just fine until you walked in the door.”
She felt evil, naughty. She wanted to show him what he’d been missing these past few days. She pulled his cock out of his pants. Like a good soldier, it sprang to attention. Rachel bent down and flicked her tongue across the tip.
“Oh, fuck.” He gritted his teeth and rocked the back of his head against the couch.
“That comes later, big guy.”
“Rae.”
“Don’t be such a wuss. I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“I have a great imagination.”
“I know. I’ve been on the receiving end. Tonight, I get a turn.” She knelt between his legs. He lifted his hips, wincing a little, as she pulled off his jeans and boxers.
“I wanna see your tits. Even better, I want to see you naked while you take care of my…uh… problem.”
She laughed and sat back on her heels to pull off her shirt. She left the lacy red bra on. He licked his lips as he stared at it. His pupils dilated until all she could see was black.
“Where’d you get that?”
“Cass dragged me on a shopping trip to the lingerie shop again.”
“I love that woman.”
“There’s more, but you’ll have to wait.” Rachel giggled, then bent back to her task between his legs. She ran her tongue up and down his velvet length. After wrapping her fingers around him, she pumped while sucking on the tip. He threw his head back and tossed it back and forth, his eyes shut, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted. Cupping his balls, she squeezed gently. He muttered a few unintelligible words. She took him in her mouth, deeper with each thrust until his cock touched the back of her throat. He stiffened. His dick twitched.
“Okay, enough. I’m going to come right here, and I really don’t want to. I want to come inside you.”
“Take me right up the middle.” She gazed
up at him, certain the lust shining in his eyes was reflected in her own.
“That’s my intention.” His dark eyes glazed with need. He held his arms out. Rachel suppressed a smile. She shimmied her jeans down her legs. His breath caught when he saw her little lacy underwear.
“Come here and ride me, baby.”
“What if you buck me off?” Her panties joined her jeans on the floor.
“I’ll buck, all right, but I’ll make sure you hang on.”
Placing one leg over his body, she rested her knee on the couch, straddling his lap. His hard-on pressed against her now wet crotch. His mouth covered hers. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, letting him explore. The toned muscles of his thighs strained under her bare butt. Rachel rubbed against him. He grabbed her ass and pulled her closer, his cock probing her opening.
She rose and eased herself down onto him. He stopped her. Holding her by the waist, he leaned in and licked an erect nipple through the transparent lace of her bra. He sucked harder, taking more inside his mouth. She writhed against him. He switched to the other nipple, using his teeth to pull the lace down and expose her to him. He nuzzled the skin around her nipple, nipping, then sucking, leaving his mark on her. She squirmed, trying to free herself from his grasp.
“You like that.”
“I hate it.”
“Coulda fooled me. You’re hot for me.”
“Maybe. Maybe I’m just working for a good tip.”
“I’m a big tipper if I’m happy. Make me happy.”
She might be the world’s most uncoordinated person, but that didn’t matter. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, over his face. Her hips swayed to and fro in her inept version of a belly dance. Derek didn’t seem to mind. He reached up to grab her breast, and she slapped him away.
“House rules. No touching the dancers.”
Rachel touched his biceps, ran a finger over his tattoo. The light from the lamp played off his body, accentuating the cords of muscle running up those strong arms. She bent down and nipped his shoulder.
He growled a deep animal growl.
She slid down his body like a horny pussycat, then back up again, undulating her hips and rubbing his huge cock. Slipping back down, she caught his cock between her breasts and slid back and forth. He buried his fingers in her hair.
“Oh, hell. That’s enough.” In one labored movement, he was no longer on the bottom. He pushed her onto the couch and positioned her on her side with jerky, desperate movements. Grasping her ankle, he raised one leg over her head, then slid into her sideways with slow, deliberate strokes.
“Don’t hurt yourself. You have a game tomorrow.” Rachel squirmed but couldn’t move much. She was pinned like a butterfly.
“I don’t fucking care.” His eyes glazed over. He’d gone to that place he went when he’d mentally vanquished the pain. He drove her mad by taking it slow. He’d fill her and flex her hips to drive him deeper, then the bastard would leisurely pull out. Like the hot blood of sex wasn’t driving through his veins as it was hers. She grabbed a fistful of his fine ass and tried to muscle him into doing her bidding. Bad idea. Her feeble strength was no match for his.
“Turn around,” he ordered, his chest heaving, his dark hair all mussed and sexy. She didn’t protest.
She flipped onto her hands and knees. Leaning forward, she planted her hands on the coffee table. He repositioned her hips, giving him the best angle to penetrate her from behind. He teased her, rubbing his cock up and down against her wet slit.
She gritted her teeth, wanting him to fill all those spots only he could fill. Wanting it down and dirty, wanting him to brand her as his and his alone. Wanting it all, even if only for a little while.
“Talk dirty to me, baby. I love it when you do that.” His gravelly voice was pure sex itself. She still wasn’t all that comfortable with dirty sex talk, but she’d give it a shot if it’d make him quit being a pussy tease and get on with the show. “Take that big cock of yours and slam it deep inside me. Now.”
“Now?”
How the hell he could sound so casual in a position like this, she couldn’t fathom. “Hell yes, now!”
“I don’t want to satisfy you too soon. You like it when I drag it out.” His erection rubbed her thigh. Not what she had in mind.
“Derek Cole Ramsey, do I have to take care of myself?” He hesitated as if considering the options.
“Derek?”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“I do?”
She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Please fuck me,” she begged. He chuckled.
“God, now you know why I love it when you talk like that.” As he held her hips still, his dick touched her throbbing opening. He thrust inside her, hard and deep.
She bit back a scream of need.
He moved in and out, long and slow, but deeper with every stroke. He reached around and pinched her nipples, pulling on them almost to the point of pain, but it only drove her frenzy to a higher level. His strokes gathered speed, and she matched his rhythm as it accelerated and built in tempo and power. Their two bodies slapped together faster and faster. Harder and harder.
“Aww, shit.” Suddenly he stopped and clung to her. At first, she thought he was teasing again until she turned her head to look at him. His breath rasped. His expression was a study of agony and arousal.
He straightened with deliberate care as he pulled away from her. The lines on his face were defined by discomfort.
Rachel turned to face him. She held his arms, supporting as much of his body as she could. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, give me a minute. My back’s a little tweaked, and my leg’s cramping. Fuck. That hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” She helped him as he slumped on the couch. Sweat dripped off his face.
“That was so stupid. I know better.” He ground his teeth together.
“Let me help.” Rachel massaged his calf, relaxed the tight muscles. Finally, he lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“Damn, I’m so hard. It almost hurts more than the rest of my body.”
“I have a cure for that.”
“Be my guest.” His gaze latched on to hers, burning beyond the pain, pleading with her for satisfaction.
She moved to him, straddled his hips, and lowered herself onto his waiting cock. His breath escaped in a long whoosh. “Ah, hell, that feels so damn good.”
He attempted to lift his hips, but his body spasmed.
Using her hands and her body, she tortured him with desire. Splayed helplessly under her, he closed his eyes and let her work her magic, which took a matter of seconds for both of them. Sweat mingled with the smell of their arousal. She screamed his name, wavering on the edge of reality and another, higher plane.
She took him there. Step by step they climbed, leaving mortal earth far behind. They soared, they rejoiced, they sailed weightlessly in a place without time or physical restrictions. She touched his soul, and he touched hers. Then together they floated back to earth.
~ ~ ~ ~
After a night with Rachel and a couple of painkillers, Derek felt decent, not as relaxed and loose as usual, but it’d have to do.
He’d played through pain before; he’d do it again.
He ran his pregame warm-ups with a little more care than he usually exhibited. Excitement filled the crowd as they filtered into the stands. Blue and green dominated the landscape, just like it’d dominated store windows and billboards on his way to the stadium this morning.
The stands filled, and his nerves got the best of him. His body was strung tighter than HughJack after a fifty-to-zero loss. Swiping nervous sweat from his brow, he looked to the stands and located Mitch and Ryan. He waved, then turned away, warding off another bout of nausea. The buzz in the stands morphed into a roar. The sellout crowds were ready to do their part.
Then the game began.
Tyler sent a bullet of a pass and hit him directly in the gut. The ball bounced off
his hands and fell to the turf. Damn. That hurt. He almost lost what little breakfast he’d eaten.
“Hey, catch the fucking ball next time,” Tyler growled at him. “Don’t you fucking crack on me. Got it, asshole?”
Why they called it butterflies, he’d never know. Right now, it felt like Muhammad Ali and Joe Fraser in their prime were pummeling his stomach with blow after blow. Each hit added a new layer of aches and bruises. His muscles protested the abuse. His high pain threshold threatened to ditch him when he needed it most.
HughJack watched him like a cat watches a bird about to wander into his killing zone. Razor grimaced, spat on the ground, and shook his head. He said something to HughJack.
“Ramsey!” HughJack bellowed across the field.
Derek knew what was coming. He jogged with difficulty to the sidelines. “Yeah?”
“Get your act together. This is it. Time to raise your play to another level, not knock it back down to mediocrity.”
Considering his physical state, Derek wasn’t certain he had another level.
The first half of the game proved that. Tyler threw two interceptions, proving even he wasn’t immune to the pressure. One was run back for a touchdown. Derek dropped two easy passes, tripped and fell for a loss on another.
By halftime, they were down 24-0. Their Cinderella season had struck midnight, and they were turning into pumpkins—big, fat, orange ones about to be smashed by a team ready to grind them to pumpkin dust.
HughJack chewed major ass, but the discouraged and demoralized team just hung their heads.
As they trudged from the locker room, HughJack grabbed Tyler and Derek by the arms. “Make something happen.” He looked each of them in the eyes. “You can do it. The team is depending on you. One big play is all it takes to turn the momentum.”
The cousins nodded, then ran out the tunnel onto the field. A deafening cheer they didn’t deserve greeted them. Their fans hadn’t given up. Derek couldn’t either. His tank might be empty, but he could still run on fumes.
Rachel stood nearby on the sidelines, holding her iPad and concentrating on the field. She must have felt him looking at her because she glanced his way. Her broad smile said it all. She had absolute confidence in him. She slid over a few steps to where he was standing.
Kickoff Page 19
