by Maggie Wells
Her mouth snapped shut and anger flared. It grew inside her, a fierce, red glow that spawned searing flames. “Get out.”
“You owe me—”
“Nothing! I owe you nothing but a fat lip,” she spat. “Now get out, or I’ll give it to you.”
“Christ, you are a ballbreaker,” he muttered.
She couldn’t resist taking one last swipe as he yanked open the door. After all, she was a clutch shooter. “Color, Jim. You’ll never make it as a broadcaster because you lack color.” He stopped, his feet planted on the sisal welcome mat emblazoned with a basketball. The same spot where she’d first seen the beautiful rainbow-colored shoes Danny had given her. “And that steak sucked,” she added, letting the door slam between them.
She flipped the locks and sagged against the wall. She wished her niece were staying with her. The silence of the empty house closed in around her. Had it been this quiet before Danny barged into her life with his lukewarm pizza and inane arguments?
She peered into the living room, her gaze darting from the multicolored throw pillows scattered across the couch and love seat to the overstuffed armchair Danny had claimed as his spot.
A deep-purple satin pillow was squished into the crack between the back and the seat. She closed her eyes, remembering the wobbly arc that pillow made as it sailed through the air. She’d aimed for his head when she’d lobbed it at Danny the night before. She would have hit her target if he hadn’t had such quick reflexes. There was no resisting the cocky grin he flashed as he thanked her for her concern for his comfort and tucked the pillow into the small of his back.
She’d fallen for his unperturbed arrogance. Fallen for him. Hell, she’d stumbled all over herself in her haste to make it from the couch to that chair. He’d held her there, straddling him, towering over him. She had him inside her with little more than a handful of pregame kisses and rode him with the kind of driving determination some guys might have found threatening. But not Danny. He just took it—let her take him—and gazed up at her in bright-eyed delight.
What a difference a day made.
Pushing away from the wall, Kate trudged into the living room and switched off the lamp she’d left burning. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and started down the hall, blind to everything but the promise of a full night’s sleep. But when she lowered her hand, she saw a strange light spilling from the open door to her bedroom.
She cocked her head and stared at it. This was not a golden streak of lamplight or even the overhead fixture but the flickering blue-white of a television. She squinted at the eerie light, trying to remember if she’d left the set on when she went out, but she was 99.9 percent positive she hadn’t.
The fifty-five-inch flat screen mounted to the wall opposite her bed was a parting gift from her ex. Frankly, she would have preferred some car wax, but he got the Corvette she’d bought him for his fortieth birthday. Which was okay. Unlike Jeff, she was too tall for the low-slung car. Her head grazed the roof every time he hit a pothole. She would have taken the enormous TV screen down if watching game film in glorious high definition from the comfort of her bed wasn’t so damn good. But she hardly switched the thing on in the off-season.
She backtracked to the foyer, where she withdrew an aluminum softball bat from her collection of sporting goods. Heart thudding against her breastbone, she raised the bat as she approached with caution. There generally wasn’t a lot of crime around campus, and she was fairly certain most thieves would take the goods rather than test them. Most likely she’d accidentally hit the button on the remote and failed to notice. Still, she felt more secure with the bat in hand.
Just outside the door, she bent at the waist until she could peek into the room. The clutter on her dresser looked undisturbed, the quilt on her bed smooth and evenly draped. The brightly colored trainers she’d toed off earlier that evening lay tumbled by the bed. Beside a pair of well-worn running shoes, toes pointed right at the glowing screen.
Danny McMillan sat on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, his face lit in glorious Technicolor.
Pressing her balled fist to her hammering heart, she stepped into the doorway and glared at him. “What the hell? How did you get in here?”
He didn’t look at her as the play he was studying unfolded. “You don’t lock the side door on your garage. You really should.”
Galled by his hubris—and a bit more thrilled than she would ever admit—she crossed her arms over her chest and waited until the refs whistled the play dead. “Maybe I don’t worry about it because most people in this town would know better than to break into the house of a six-foot Amazon who busts balls for sport.”
A slow, sexy smile creased his cheeks and crinkled his eyes as he looked her over. “I thought you liked to toss balls through hoops for sport.”
He paused the next play and tossed the remote onto the bed. His eyes raked her from head to toe. He made no attempt to mask the adjustment he made to his worn jeans as he stood. Broad shoulders rolled back, and she curled her fingers into her palms. Lord, she loved running her hands over those muscles.
“Davenport had exactly thirty-two more seconds to get the hell out before I took him down.”
He spoke so quietly she leaned in to hear him better. When his threat filtered through the haze of lust that clouded her mind, she rolled her eyes, kicked off her flat sandals, and came to a stop right in front of him, her hands planted on her hips. “I told you I could handle him.”
“I knew you could. That’s why he had another thirty-two seconds.” He reached to touch her arm, but his hand fell away without making contact.
Kate frowned at the hand hanging limp by his side. “What?”
He shrugged and turned to look at the television again. “I broke into your house. I’ve been sitting here for the last hour and a half, and I’ve only made it through fifteen minutes of film. Five minutes ago, some guy was crawling all over you, and now another guy is camping out in your bedroom because he’s so eaten up he can’t be anywhere else.”
“Stalker.” She whispered the taunt, hoping to goad him into looking at her again. He didn’t take the bait. Instead, that delicious mouth tightened into a grim line.
“Imagine what your pal Jim could do with that story.”
“I don’t think we’re pals anymore.” She took his hand and carried it to her hip, holding it there until his fingers curled around her. She leaned into him, invading his space just like he’d invaded hers. “Do we need to have a talk about boundaries?”
His nose brushed her own. She tipped her head to accommodate the kiss she hoped was coming, but he stopped, his lips millimeters from hers. “Nope. I’m pretty clear on them. You’re mine, and for the record, I would have torn him to pieces with my bare hands if he tried to cross one more line.”
Heat radiated from him. Warm, moist puffs of air teased her mouth. The taut muscles of his chest and arms were enticingly hard. But his eyes… That direct, blue gaze was soft, filled with apology, embarrassment, and enough stubborn righteousness to make her knees wobbly. That whole “you’re mine” thing should have raised her feminist hackles, but it didn’t. Not with this man. Danny respected her. More than that, he liked her. And she liked the note of wonderment in his voice when he made those gruff, grumbly declarations. He sounded almost as if he couldn’t believe his luck.
“I meant boundaries with you,” she said, running her fingertip under the collar of his T-shirt.
“No. No boundaries between you and me.”
He kissed her then, sealing the pronouncement with a caress so tender and searching, she couldn’t remember a single reason why she should resist. Just when she thought he might pull away, he ran his tongue over the seam of her lips. Asking, not taking. Tempting instead of demanding. Of course, she gave in. How could she not when he drew her bottom lip between his and sucked gently? She plunged her hands into his hair and hung on. His warm palm slid down over her bottom, but unlike Jim’s adolescent grab, Danny knew how to hold her.
Firm and unyielding. Safe and secure. His body aligned with hers, a fit so perfect the barrier of their clothes hardly mattered.
Wet, warm kisses. His tongue sliding against hers. The steely length of his cock pressing into her. The muscles of his thighs were every bit a match for hers. She liked that. She’d known few men strong enough to stand up to her, but this man could take her. And damn, that knowledge thrilled her to her bones.
Fevered kisses blanketed her cheek, jaw, and throat. He ran one hand up over her ribs, bypassed her breasts, and cupped the side of her neck. She opened her eyes as she tilted her head back, granting him all the access he needed. His thumb traced her jaw as calloused fingertips teased her hairline. Desperate to center herself, she tried to find a spot in the expanse of white ceiling to focus on. One tiny speck to anchor her to the earth. That was all she needed. He shifted a fraction of an inch, and she gave up the search. There was no point when she could come right there and then, without anything more than the contours of his body fitted to hers.
“Kate?”
He nibbled on her earlobe with the sharp edges of his teeth. God, she loved it when he did that, even if it did turn her brain to mush. “Hm?”
“I’ve been going crazy all day.”
She bowed up into his caress as he started on the buttons of her blouse. The silky fabric slid from her shoulders. She’d barely extricated her hands from the fabric when the front clasp on her bra gave way. He cupped her breasts as if they were something to be treasured. Tender and reverent, he teased her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, abrading the sensitive tips until they furled into hard, tight knots. With a moan, she let her head fall back, surrendering to the unadulterated want this man unleashed in her. She smoothed the back of his head, holding him close as he marked the slope of her neck and her collarbone with fervent kisses.
“You had no need to worry,” she assured him.
He chuckled as he bent to kiss her breast. Nimble fingers opened the button on her pants. She wiggled her hips as he tugged at the zipper. She wanted them gone even more than he did.
“The hell I didn’t.” Danny dropped to his knees, dragging her trousers and panties down with him. He steadied her with a hand on the small of her back and his cheek pressed to the curve of her belly. She stepped out of the puddle of fabric and shook the dangling bra from her arms. He looked up at her, those brilliant-blue eyes alight with pleasure even as his mouth twisted in anguish. Trailing his fingertips up her shin, he paused to trace teasing circles on the scars on her knee, then spread his hand wide over her thigh. “Christ, what if you’d worn a skirt?”
Kate stifled the urge to laugh. He’d uttered the speculation with such horror. Like her battered and scarred legs were some kind of secret weapon. “I wore a skirt the last time I went out with Jim. Didn’t make him crazed with lust.”
“He’s an idiot.” He gave her leg a gentle squeeze to reinforce the assertion. “Thank God.”
A shudder ran through her as he slid both palms up her hamstrings. His biceps tensed and bunched. She yelped as he rose, lifting her off the floor. Grabbing the broad, strong shoulders she loved so much, she dug her fingertips into his tantalizing traps and hung on tight.
*
Danny growled deep in his throat as he circled the end of the bed. He loved the power in her hands. Had the most bizarre impulse to lick them. Not just the long graceful fingers, but the broad palms as well. Lord, he was a goner. He’d let her tear him limb from limb with those strong, capable hands if she wanted to. It would be a hell of a lot easier to endure than knowing that some other man was basking in her smile, smarting from her wit, or, God forbid, holding one of those perfect hands.
Without ceremony or apology, he dropped her on the bed, then extricated himself from her grasp. He couldn’t look at her as he shed his clothes. If he did, he might make an even bigger fool of himself than he already had.
Balled-up jeans kicked aside, he finally chanced a glance. Color played over her skin. He watched the greens, golds, blues, and whites from the television screen wash over the smooth expanse of creamy skin. But he didn’t need added pixels or high definition to paint his favorite parts of her. The soles of her feet were pink, the high arch white and achingly vulnerable. The pinks and whites repeated in the scars left from her surgeries but in more vivid shades. The dark curls between her legs made his mouth water with anticipation. Golden-brown freckles dusted her chest and shoulders but stopped abruptly at the milk-white slope of her breasts. Only one dared to mark that expanse of skin the sun had never seen. A tiny, dark-brown rogue clung to the sweet spot just beneath her left nipple.
Knowing that freckle was there made him feel smug and sly. Kissing it made him feel like a god.
He stroked two fingers along the inside of her knee. Like magic, she parted her legs for him. A strangled groan tangled in his throat. He stared down at her. She lay naked and exposed, completely open to him. Totally trusting. Heat pulsed in his veins. Kate reached for him. One beautiful hand beckoning for him to join her. She whispered his name, and the last threads of his self-restraint snapped.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his mouth. His lips parted as they pressed to the center of her palm. She squirmed while he traced her lines and creases with his tongue, memorizing her pattern and wondering if he fit into it somehow. Not just for a few weeks, but for years, maybe even decades. She gasped and bolted upright when he ran his tongue over the delicate flesh between her fingers. A low, heart-stopping moan seeped from her lips as he drew her index and middle fingers into his mouth.
“Jesus, Danny,” she whispered when their eyes met and held.
He lowered his lashes and sucked, deep and greedy. She grabbed his arm, drawing him over her as she fell back again. He released her fingers with a pop as they wiggled and shifted, settling into each other. Angling his head, he squeezed her wrist to hold her steady, then ran his tongue over her palm in a long, languorous lick. Fingernails bit into his ass. He scraped his teeth over the flesh at the base of her thumb, and she moaned again.
“That shouldn’t be sexy.” She arched her back and undulated against him, a slow circle of her hips that proved her theory wrong.
He nipped at the pad of her little finger, then pressed a tender kiss to the afflicted flesh. “Is it?”
“God yes.” She dragged her free hand up the furrow of his spine and cupped his nape. “But I need your mouth elsewhere at the moment.”
Lacing his fingers through her wet ones, he trapped his desperate, depraved kisses between their palms as he raised his head. “Yeah? Where?”
“Fundamentals, Coach. Remember your fundamentals.”
He smiled as she pulled him down. Their noses bumped when she rose to meet him halfway, but the second his mouth covered hers, she sank back, taking him with her. Kate hitched one leg high on his hip, and he groaned into her mouth as his cock settled against the hot, wet crevice of her body. Her slippery fingers squeezed his. The velvet plushness of her tongue stroking his made it impossible to think of anything but this kiss. This moment. This woman. The six-foot Amazon ballbuster who conquered him with her sharp comebacks, soft whispers, hard angles, and secret sweet spots.
She drew her other leg up to encircle him, and soon he was sinking into the sweetest spot of all. Her heat enveloped him. She was slick and ready. Open wide and waiting for him. Just for him. Pride and need rose inside him. He thrust into her, burying himself in that irresistible inferno and relishing the feel of her wrapped tightly around him.
A rush of pleasure rippled through him, starting at his toes and traveling up his legs until it pulsed in his dick. Then panic gripped him. The urge to come hard and fast knotted his throat and made his chest tighten to the point where he thought he might burst in more ways than one. He held still for a second, thinking he could get a grip. Then he realized exactly why everything felt different.
“Condom.” He croaked the word, loss and longing weighing the syllables in equal measure.
Kat
e stiffened beneath him, but those exquisite muscles held him tight. She blinked up at him. He stared down at her. For one insane moment, he envisioned them facing each other from opposite ends of a dusty frontier town. In the next, he pictured himself spinning a chamber holding a single bullet and pressing the barrel of a gun to his head. But this wasn’t high noon, and they weren’t playing Russian roulette. They weren’t enemies. They were on the same team.
“I haven’t been with anyone since my divorce.”
Her confession rushed over him like cool, clear water, washing away some of his worries, but not all. “I’m clean,” he panted. “The board required a physical in the terms of my contract.” His eyelids grew too heavy to hold open as she squeezed his hips with her powerful thighs. “Birth control?” He exhaled the question the second she eased up enough to make a deep lungful possible. Laughter was the last response he expected, but damn, it felt good to be inside her as that husky chuckle rolled out of her.
She stroked his back. Light, feathery strokes. “I can’t get pregnant.”
Jaw set, Danny gritted his teeth and began to withdraw. At the last second, those long, strong legs clamped around him, holding him captive.
“What? Where are you going?” she asked.
He bit his lip hard. “I should…guufh.” The final word was nothing but an inarticulate gurgle, but it was the best he could do. She was slick and hot, tightening around him, drawing him back in. Steeling himself to resist, he pushed up on his arms and stared down into frantic eyes. To soften the blow a little, he forced a wan smile. “Did I ever tell you my brother is twelve years younger than me?”
“No.” A deep furrow of puzzlement bisected her brows, then her eyes grew round. “Oh.”
Laughter rippled through her again, and this time, there was no biting back his groan. He rocked against her, dying to plunge in but preparing to pull out. In just one more minute. “So, yeah, I always use condoms.”
