by Mara Jacobs
It was that thought—never seeing Marlee again after this week—that spawned his next actions. He’d want a piece of Marlee with him always. It wouldn’t be enough to take out her memory every now and then and polish it like the trophies that adorned the walls of his den. He knew he’d want to relive every nuance of Marlee, again and again, until he could regain his perspective. Years of watching and re-watching his losses had taught him this. Hell, he still pulled out the tapes of his rookie season on occasion and played them, dissecting his every movement, taking away the good and berating himself for the bad.
Declan was moving files to a flash drive to add to the one they’d made yesterday. He took a step back and aimed the camera at Marlee. It didn’t take much movement, because the camera was already pointed in the set’s direction from Declan’s rehearsal.
“Marlee,” he said softly. She looked at him, waiting for him to speak. “Okay if I turn this on?” He motioned to the camera.
“Do you want to do another run-through?” She started to rise from where she leaned against the corner of the desk, but stopped when he held up a hand.
“No. That’s not what I want to record.”
She shook her head a tiny bit, and pushed her glasses up her cute nose. “I’m all set for today, if you were thinking of recording me.”
“I was thinking of recording…us.” He said it with enough innuendo in his tone that she quickly caught on.
“Uh…that would be no.” She was giving him a “come on, get real” look, but she also sat up just the tiniest bit, and ran a hand through her hair.
“Why not? Think about how much you like it when I talk dirty to you. Just think of this as one step further. We could watch it together later.”
She shook her head again. He expected a hard no, but instead she said, “The equipment stays here in the studio. How could we…”
He motioned to the pile of flash drives on the table that they’d brought. “We copy the file onto a drive, then we erase the file from the camera and the laptop. I erase, you double-check to make sure.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like that.” She was looking at the camera and biting her lip. So damn sexy.
“Me neither. Listen. We do it. You take the flash drive with you, so you are in complete control of the file. I admit, I like the thought of having you…with me…after this week, but I don’t want you wondering what happened to the flash drive.”
“I have the flash drive. We erase it from the camera and laptop?”
Holy shit, she was going to say yes. His cock sprang to attention and he put his hand over the on button of the camera. “Absolutely. Yours to do with what you want. Take a hammer to it if that’s what you want. But I warn you, I’ll try to talk you into watching it together.”
There. That. That was what got her. She wanted to watch it together. She covered her face with her hands, her loose hair falling forward. After a tiny squeal, she lifted her head and said, “Turn the camera on.”
He flipped the switch. “You’re sure?”
“I trust you,” she said. To hear those words from her meant a lot to him. And he didn’t want to do anything that she’d regret later.
“I can still turn it off.”
She shook her head and said, “Come here, Declan.” Her voice was husky and his cock sprang to full attention as he moved toward her.
Out of the blue, the thought that he’d have to do something really special for Cole went through his mind. Maybe a trip somewhere nice and warm for him and Anna. No expense was too much as a thank-you for the introduction to Marlee. Hell, maybe he and Marlee could even join Cole and Anna on that trip.
The vision of Marlee lying on a Hawaiian beach, her toes dug into the sand, a bikini barely covering her spectacular breasts, made Declan stumble against the rise of the set as he approached Marlee. He nearly fell into her, but caught himself just in time.
“I thought you were known for your fancy footwork,” she said, laughing. Her arms were still open, a reaction to catch him that he hadn’t needed. She dropped them down to the desk beside her hips and uncrossed her legs, spreading them wider than necessary for a normal stance.
It was good that he’d stumbled. It had kind of taken the newness of the camera being on down a couple of notches.
He moved in between her open thighs, grabbed her waist, and lifted her so that she was sitting on the desk, her jean-clad thighs brushing his. He turned her as he lifted her so that she was now completely on the side of the desk, its entire length behind her.
“My footwork’s only fancy when I’m trying to evade defenders. And darlin’, I’ve spent all week trying not to evade you.” His hands were still on her waist and he squeezed her. A little harder than he would have normally, but he’d come to know what Marlee liked, and she wasn’t one for flowers and poetry when it came to sex. She liked hard touches and rough caresses, and she loved it when he talked dirty to her. Whenever she was on the edge, Declan knew saying something steamy in her ear would send her over.
And apparently she also liked the idea of being videotaped.
The paradox of the conservative professor getting off on dirty talk greatly amused Declan. And turned him on. It was that thought that had tempted him to turn on the camera. If she liked hearing dirty sweet nothings, would she like the idea of watching what they were about to film? He couldn’t wait find out.
Declan had never had sex on tape before. Lots of women had suggested it, of course, and he’d been attentive to the idea. Even going so far as letting them pull out their phones. Then he’d have a flash of the recording ending up in the hands of some tabloid TV show with some cheesy voice over along the lines of “star quarterback in the sack,” and the idea would be hit with cold water, like the traditional dousing of coaches with Gatorade buckets.
Marlee wiggled against him. “Evade me, or invade me?”
“Evade. I’ve been trying real hard to invade you, haven’t you noticed?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed. You’re pretty good at it, too.”
He silently agreed. He’d been subtly trying to invade Marlee’s heart since he’d realized how much alike they were, how, down the road, there could be a possible future for them. He thought he’d made some progress with her, but wasn’t sure. His other invasion, this one not so subtle, had been purely physical, and had worked well.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. She brought her breasts to his chest and rubbed herself against him. Nuzzling his neck, she whispered what she wanted in Declan’s ear and he hardened instantly. He moved his hands to her hips and slid her backside along the desk, angling her so the camera could capture them both. It would be mostly a profile shot, but it would capture all of Marlee’s body, and her face as he made her climax, and that was what Declan wanted.
He wanted the raw, sensuous Marlee, the Marlee he figured only he got to see. The Marlee that let all those inhibitions go when she was in his arms. He wanted that Marlee on tape, so he could have her forever. But more so she could see her the way he did.
She wrapped her legs around Declan’s thighs, pressing his cock into her soft, ready body.
Declan stepped back so he could see Marlee’s face. He wanted what she had just said to be out loud so the camera could pick up on it, not whispered into his neck, although that had felt pretty damn good.
“Say it again, Marlee. Tell me again.”
She leaned her head in once more to whisper to Declan, but he moved his head back.
“No. Look at me and say it. Don’t whisper it.”
She looked over at the camera nervously, but he put a finger on her chin and turned her face back to look at him.
“Own it, Marlee.” He was pushing her past her comfort zone and he knew it, but since the moment he’d seen her at the party in his home, in her suit with her hair up in that tight bun, he’d needed to let this Marlee out. He knew she was in there. He smelled it in the same way he could smell a surprise blitz. Instinct.
>
She swallowed her indecision and raised her chin. That’s my girl. Her voice was clear and true, her green-gold eyes locked on his.
“Take me, Declan. Now. Here. Take me hard and fast.”
It sent Declan into motion. And emotion. Having a woman want him was nothing new. But Marlee…Marlee, who was trying so hard not to see how good they were together.
“Oh yeah, baby, I will. Anything for you, Marlee. Any way you want it.” His fingers were already undoing the buttons on her sweater. He brushed the sweater away and filled his hands with her breasts, causing the nipples to spill over the edge of her pink lacy bra. Marlee wore underwire bras, and in this position the wires held her breasts in place above the pushed-down cups, almost acting like more of a bustier than a bra. Declan thought he’d never seen anything more sexy.
He bent his head down and wound his tongue around a peachy nipple. It pebbled instantly and he moved to the other nipple, where he continued. When both nipples were standing at attention, he took one in his mouth and sucked on her. He then bit down on the nipple, gently, but with enough force for Marlee to feel it.
She gasped out and put her hands on Declan’s waist, already reaching for his belt buckle. He could do this to her, bring her to a fever pitch almost instantly. His touch burned her ivory skin, and his voice made her weak.
All thoughts about the camera being on flew out of Declan’s mind the second Marlee eased his zipper down and reached inside to wrap her fingers around his hard shaft.
At dinner that night, it seemed by mutual silent agreement that they wouldn’t talk about the tape. After their amazing lovemaking on the desk, they had done just what Declan had described to her. First they’d transferred the digital file to the laptop via a cable, then loaded the file onto a flash drive. They had then deleted the file from the camera and the laptop, double-checking.
He didn’t want to put the drive with their others, but he had an irrational vision of someone breaking into the studio, selecting that exact flash drive, and him ending up on TMZ. She had taken a red Sharpie and made an “X” on their drive so they’d be able to easily discern which was the tape of their incredible sex.
And it had been incredible. Hard and fast, just as Marlee had requested. Declan had even thrown in a little rough when he sensed Marlee wanted it. And she did. Nothing that would physically hurt either of them—Declan was experienced enough to know pain from pleasure; he had encountered both on the field and in the bedroom.
Her willing and eager response—not to mention her trust—had humbled him. Even now, hours later, Marlee’s skin still glowed as they sat in the restaurant and gazed at each other over the candlelit table.
They’d gone back to Gino’s restaurant, the place they’d gone with Cole and Anna on the night they’d met. Five nights did not normally leave room for nostalgia to grow, but it seemed to this night. They both had the same salads they had ordered that first night. Declan picked out a wonderful Chardonnay that they both enjoyed.
“Almost done?” he asked her. Their plates had been cleared away and they had both been nursing their wineglasses for the last ten minutes.
“I’m sorry, am I holding you up?” Marlee had enjoyed the long, leisurely dinner, but now the thought that maybe Declan had somewhere he wanted to be entered her mind.
Of course he had somewhere he needed to be; she had monopolized his time for the last four days. How could she think that Declan would be content to just be with her, working in the studio during the days, spending the evenings cooking in her kitchen or going out for dinner like they were doing now, and then going to bed early, though not going to sleep until much later.
This was Declan Tate, for Pete’s sake—the man was probably surrounded at all times by teammates or groupies or hangers-on of some sort. Being solely with her was probably killing him. Oh, she knew he enjoyed sex with her—you couldn’t fake the kind of body-racking orgasms that Declan had with her. In her. On her. But to be with her, just her, twenty-four/seven had to be getting to him.
Odd—it wasn’t getting to her, and she was used to spending the majority of her time alone. Still, that must be why Declan seemed in a rush to end their dinner; he had other plans for the evening.
“You’re not holding me up. I just want to get you home so I can hold you up…like against a wall, or maybe another door.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, even though the restaurant wasn’t crowded and Gino had again placed them in a secluded corner, and all the tables that surrounded them were empty.
A breath of…relief?…went through Marlee. He wasn’t rushing off to be somewhere else, he was in a hurry to be alone…with her. “Tempting as that is, I need to go to the store.”
“No you don’t. I bought two boxes of condoms, and we still have a couple left from the first box.”
She laughed at his assumption. “Of course you’d think that was the only staple we’d need.”
“Well, isn’t it? What more do you need, Marlee? Seems to me you’ve been pretty satisfied with what I’ve offered up.” He leaned close, pinned her with his gaze, and turned on that sexy drawl. “And I’m not talking about my pesto sauce.”
That voice, what it did to her. And he knew it. It was low and sexy, almost as gravelly as it became when he was inside her, telling her how much he wanted her. Just the memory made Marlee’s insides tingle.
As did the thought that they’d captured it all on on video. She still couldn’t believe she’d done it. And if she was honest with herself…she had been aroused by the idea of the running camera while Declan took her on the desk.
She shook her head, trying to break free of the exciting memory.
“True as that may be, I still need to go to the store. Yes, you can give me everything I want, Declan, but I’m having my family over for dinner tomorrow night, and I’d rather you not be offering any of that to my sisters.”
“I don’t know, do your sisters look like you?” he teased.
“They’re much prettier, but my brothers-in-law keep them well satisfied.”
“There’s well satisfied, and then there’s Tate satisfied, and darlin’, I know you know the difference.” He leaned back in the booth, putting both hands behind his head, playing the proud peacock.
Marlee laughed. “You’re not going to refer to yourself in the third person, are you?”
“Declan wouldn’t do that, he’s too humble for that.”
“Real humble. Tate satisfied. As if.” She smiled, but knew there was some truth to Declan’s jest. She’d been more satisfied with Declan in just a few days than in relationships with other men that had lasted several months, some of them years. And so much more so than Justin Jones.
She’d never achieved this level of intimacy with any other man, hadn’t even come close to being as uninhibited with another lover. She surmised that Declan’s physical dominance over every other man she’d known was the reason, but she had an inkling that she was so free with Declan because, deep down, she knew it wouldn’t last past Sunday. An all-or-nothing feeling that allowed her to play out her natural desires. Desires she’d never even realized she had before meeting Declan.
“Okay, sorry. Back to the subject at hand. Groceries. Your family. Tomorrow night. What am I cooking? I assume you want the best chef in the house to cook for such special guests.”
She didn’t miss a beat with her comeback. “That’s right, I do, so I’ll be cooking. I’m making vegetable lasagna.”
They both laughed, enjoying the banter, feeling more clever than they actually were, but too sated in the aftermath of their carnal mating on the desk to care.
“Lasagna? A bit prosaic, don’t you think?”
“Don’t forget, I’ll be serving my nieces and nephews as well. Haute cuisine is a little hard to get past a four-year-old’s palate. I’ve finally gotten so the fifteen-year-old won’t totally turn his nose up at the idea of vegetarian lasagna.”
“The fifteen-year-old, that would be Captain Hook?”
It
took her a second to catch his meaning, and then she was impressed that he would remember the picture and her explanation of Hook’s current age. Maybe he hadn’t been just filling time between sex sessions with idle chitchat. Maybe he really had wanted to get to know her.
They’d spent hours in bed as they came down from their incredible highs, talking and sharing childhood stories. Marlee had treasured those times, but she wasn’t sure that Declan had been as rapt as she. After all, was a man really listening to a woman speak when he had one hand caressing her breast, and the other buried deep between her legs? Apparently Declan had been.
She nodded to his assumption of her nephew’s identity.
“Let me make sure I remember. Susan is the oldest. Husband is Charlie. Brent—or Hook, as I call him—is fifteen, Heather is ten, and Matt is eight, right?” At Marlee’s stunned nod, Declan continued, “Then there’s Linda and Larry. Cute, by the way, the alliterative names. And their Graham is eight, same as Matt, and Grace is four. Is your brother Patrick coming too?”
A flabbergasted Marlee shook her head. “No, he’s in New York. How did you know all that?”
He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “You told me. The other night in bed. When we were talking about our families.”
“Okay, let me rephrase. How did you remember all that?”
“I told you all about my family. Could you tell me their names and approximate ages?”
Marlee scanned her brain. “Yes, I could.”
“Then why do you assume that I wouldn’t be able to do the same? Because I’m a guy?” Declan’s eyes narrowed on Marlee. “Or because I’m a jock?”
“Neither. It’s because you normally had your hands all over my body while we were having those discussions.”
“That’s the beauty of my talent, Marlee. I can work my crotch and my cranium at the same time.”
She smiled at him. Oh yes, she did know how well he worked his crotch.
“Okay, vegetarian lasagna it is. You’re in luck—it’s another one of my specialties.”
