Competitive Heat [Men of Iron Horse 8] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Morgan Fox

  She twisted her hands in her lap, wondering the same thing.

  “You should know that sex with you is amazing, but you, Noble, are the main reason I can’t stop knocking on your door.”

  She smiled, but his words weren’t enough for it to stick around.

  “These last few days sucked for me. I’ve never watched the clock so much in my life. On my way home tonight, before I realized what I’d done, I dialed Jace for your address. It wasn’t sex…well, that’s not entirely true. I was struggling with a massive erection with thoughts of you spread beautifully over my motorcycle, but that wasn’t what made me come here. I wanted to talk with you. I wanted to lay with you. I wanted to just be with you.” He pulled her hand from her lap and cradled it between his. “I know it seems crazy, but I feel like we have something worth exploring here.” He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I haven’t felt this kind of connection with anyone in my life, and I haven’t been this excited to see a girl since my first girlfriend.”

  Now she smiled. Finn Kipling was smitten with me. “Seriously?”

  “As much as I hate it, I’ll prove it to you. I won’t have sex with you until you want me to.”

  She laughed. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  His expression grew serious. “It’s supposed to let you know just how serious I am about you.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, staring into his soulful light green eyes. “I don’t think we need to eliminate sex from our situation. Maybe we should do more than that though.”

  He shot her a lopsided grin. “Our date still stands for tomorrow after the game, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He kissed her sweetly, before standing to put on his pants. “My coach is likely to skin me alive if I don’t check in soon. He has a strict policy about no late nights and no sex before a game. Thinks we play better when we have pent-up aggression.”

  “Oops,” she teased.

  “I think I’ll play better knowing I’ll get to see you after we kick Detroit’s ass.”

  Noble made a pain-filled expression, pursing her lips into a tight knot. She hissed just before she told him, “I’m not so sure about that. Have you seen the arm on their quarterback? He’s like a throwing god. And his receivers are superhuman.”

  His eyes flared wide. “Um, quarterback of the other team is standing right here.”

  She laughed. “My bad.”

  He shook his head, laughing. He moved up to stand in front of her and guided her up off the sofa. He put his arms around her and hugged her. She loved the way he wrapped himself around her, a comfort she craved.

  “I’ve got two tickets to the game if you want to come.” He eased her back to see her face, and a panicked rush flooded through her. He must’ve seen it. “I understand if you don’t want to come. Meeting my teammates can happen whenever you’re ready. Okay?”

  She nodded, swallowing hard.

  He kissed her, lingering on her mouth until her toes curled.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight.”

  He smiled as he moved to the door. Casting her one final look, he said, “It certainly is.”

  * * * *

  Sweat dripped down Finn’s forehead, stinging his eyes. The lights above him were blinding, the pressure insurmountable. The hated roar of the crowd chewed at him like a cancer. They were fucking booing him. His team was down by three. Damn, Detroit’s quarterback was making him look bad. Dehydrated and spent, Finn was dying. They were only in the second quarter, but he felt like he’d already played a full game.

  Noble.

  Hot, mouthwatering, sexy-as-hell Noble. Sex the other night might’ve been a bad idea after all. He chuckled to himself, admitting that he’d gladly do it again.

  “Come on, Kipling. Get your head out of the sand. Fucking throw me the ball and not a fucking mile over my head,” Davon, his wide receiver, barked. “If you need glasses, we can arrange that.”

  Finn gritted his teeth. He didn’t need the reminder that he was sucking major ass. “Just run the damn play,” he said through clenched teeth. Before Darrell broke huddle, he grabbed his helmet. “Block my ass, would you?”

  “I have been,” Darrell snapped. “Why don’t you stop daydreaming and taking all the time in the world to throw the damn ball?”

  Lining up, he snapped the ball. He scrambled out of the pocket, seeking Davon. Somehow, the bastard had broken open. Finn threw the ball and Davon caught it, running it thirty yards before being tackled. Dallas only needed five more yards to regain the lead.

  And my pride.

  Sucking in a breath, he called the same play. Again, they lined up and he sought out Davon, but he couldn’t shake the coverage. Finn spotted an opening and made a run for it. Darrell took the first block, giving him room to move. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a big motherfucker racing toward him. He sprinted, cradling the ball like a precious treasure, tucked his shoulder, and took the hit. He landed in the end zone. The crowd roared.

  Finn lowered his head to the hard earth beneath him. Was he wheezing? Hell yes. He’d been knocked flat on his ass by a Sherman tank and had to wait for his lungs to work again. He was dying, and couldn’t move as if waiting for the ground to swallow him straight into the bowels of hell. As painful as it was to breathe or move, he was pretty sure he’d broken, dislocated, or just plain fucked something up. Everything hurt. But from the glorious cheer of the crowd, he’d scored a touchdown and for the moment the fans loved him.

  “You all right?” Darrell asked, reaching his hand out. “That looked like it hurt.”

  Groaning, he took Darrell’s hand and stood. “Remind me never to do that again, okay?”

  Darrell laughed. “Not if it means scoring and winning.”

  The rest of the game, he tried to focus on capitalizing on each play. He had to or they were going to lose, and that would cost him more than just the game. Winning meant something to him. It meant he didn’t suck. It meant he was redeeming himself from the shit-ass year he’d had prior. He was ready to show the world how good he really was. Too bad his body was riddled with aches and pains, extremely fatigued, and his mind wrecked with thoughts of a woman he was craving more than air.

  Fuck me.

  How had he allowed himself to get so caught up in her? He’d sworn off women the second football season started. Casual sex was one thing. What he had with Noble was something else entirely. And no matter how much he tried to steer clear of something more serious, he couldn’t. She was a drug he couldn’t get enough of. His lackluster performance was proof of that.

  “What the fuck are you doing out there, Kipling?” his coach shouted. “You’re all over the place tonight and you look like shit!”

  He wished he could argue, but he couldn’t. He did look like shit. He was distracted and he couldn’t get his head in the game. The throbbing ache in his muscles didn’t help.

  “You’ve got less than a quarter to play. Do you think you can do that, or do I need to call your mommy to come pick you up?”

  He loved his coach. He was a great man. But right now, he really wanted to shut him up. He knew he was struggling. Shit, everyone in the stadium could see that. The only thing he could do to get them all off his back was to win.

  “I got this,” Finn finally said. “I got this.”

  “You better,” his coach barked. “Because if we don’t, it’s your ass.”

  The second half of the game played out a lot like the first half. It was painful to play, horrible to watch, but by the grace of God they’d won. Thank Heaven Dallas had a decent kicker. Finn was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

  The guys taunted him, asking him if there was something going on that they needed to know. Hinting about a woman taking up all his time, draining his brain of coherent thought, and killing his aging body with too much sex. He did his best to ignore them, dismissing them with a shake of his head. It was probably a good thing Noble had decided not to joi
n him at the game. If she had, they’d know exactly what was going on with him.

  As much as he hated the idea, he had to start making every effort to not have sex before a game. He couldn’t slip like that again. There was too much riding on him to fuck up. Like winning the conference and then getting a big fat gold ring on his finger. Winning felt good. His competitive side craved it.

  As quick as he could, he finished dressing, took the ridicule of the reporters at the post-game press conference, and darted out the door. He had one full day off and he wanted to spend it with Noble.

  As planned, he headed to her house. He wanted to go out with her, do something fun. He honestly didn’t know what that would be. She was a book when it came to her love of fitness and motorcycles, but that was really it. He had a lot of ground to cover to know her better.

  I’m looking forward to it.

  Chapter Eleven

  He pulled into her driveway, and the second he parked his truck, he headed for the front door. As he put one foot onto her porch, the front door opened. A shudder of something massive clenched in his chest, the second Noble’s sweet smile greeted him.

  She was barefoot, her pretty pink toes suddenly made him wish he was a foot man. She wore barely there black shorts, an Iron Horse T-shirt, and her hair was pulled up into a ponytail—a few loose strands trailing down the sides of her face.

  Is it wrong that I’m more excited to see her than I was to play football?

  “Hi,” she breathed, giving him room to enter.

  “Hey.” He kissed her gently and followed her into her house. “Did you catch the game?”

  She faced him, pursing her lips to hide her awkward smile. Her expression showed him that she had, and he knew she was amused that he’d sucked so damn much.

  “I know,” he said, raising his hand as if to block her verbal advance. “No more sex before a game. I got it.”

  She laughed. “Live and learn, right?”

  “Exactly.” He inhaled deeply. “What smells so good?”

  “Oh, that,” she said, moving into the kitchen. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind staying in with me tonight. I figured after the game you had, you might want to hang out and chill.”

  “Worried I’ll get razzed and you’d have to defend my honor?”

  “Even if you were, you could handle it. I was referring to just hanging out with me and chatting.”

  That sounded perfect. He never got the chance to be a hermit with a beautiful woman—at least not one that he wanted to be with. “Whatever you want.”

  “If you’d rather we—”

  “No, I like the idea of being alone with you,” he said, cutting her off. He moved in, wrapping his arms around her. “We can go out another time, as long as you’re not worried about going out with me.”

  A shy smile curled the corners of her mouth. “I’m not worried about running into your groupies, if that’s what you mean.”

  He scowled. That was exactly what he meant, but he didn’t have groupies. He had stalkers, and he wasn’t interested in them. Never had been. Noble had been the only woman to catch his eye.

  “I hope you like chicken parmesan,” she said, twisting out of his hold.

  He closed the door at his back. “I love it.”

  “Good. I knew you liked Italian food, so I took a chance you’d like this, too.” She pulled a few potholders out of a drawer. “You made me baked ziti, after all.”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “My mother will be so pleased to know you made an Italian dish for me. She’ll ask to meet you for sure.”

  She made a half-laugh choking sound. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not really a meet-the-parents kind of person.”

  “Are you kidding?” he asked, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth. A bowl of mixed green salad with extra sides of black and green olives, cherry tomatoes, cucumber slices, and croutons sat on the island bar in the center of her kitchen. He loved cherry tomatoes. “My folks would dig you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, slanting her attention to the newly sounding buzzer coming from the stove.

  She pulled out a loaf of fresh bread. His eyes swelled, and the moment he caught a whiff of it, his stomach growled. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. “That smells amazing.”

  “Wait until you see the main course.”

  He liked that she sounded giddy and excited to cook for him. He was honored by her efforts. She pulled out the chicken parmesan. The dish was bubbling and the cheese that covered everything was golden brown.

  “Do you cook often?”

  She shrugged. “I used to love cooking, but when my folks died I…well, I just don’t do it as much as I once did.”

  “I’m sorry,” he told her, saddened to hear about her parents. “I had no idea you’d lost both your folks.”

  “It was right after I finished college,” she said, attempting to shrug it off.

  “What happened?” His curious mind couldn’t help but ask. He hesitated, catching the lost look in her eyes. “You know what, never mind. That was insensitive of me.”

  “It’s okay.” She scooped a piece of chicken onto both plates. “I don’t talk about it much. I guess because no one ever asks me.”

  He waited for her to continue and was glad when she did.

  “I always wanted to own my own fitness studio and my parents were very supportive. During the planning phase, my mother died of a heart attack. My father distracted himself by purchasing a studio and having it renovated for me.” She smiled at the memory, but it faded as she stared off into the abyss. “One night while he was working alone, a man broke in, robbed and killed him.”

  The air fled from the room, his heart racing. “Noble, I’m so sorry.” He felt like such a dick. Damn it, why did I have to ask?

  He was crushed, broken up by her loss and his stupid curious mind. Finn hung his head, staring down at the salad on the counter. He still had both his parents. He couldn’t imagine how she must have felt losing them at such an early age.

  What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

  She placed spaghetti on the white china plates and moved them into the dining room. She’d already placed glasses of water, napkins, and silverware on the table.

  “I hope you like it,” she said, putting the plates on the table.

  He sat where indicated. The entire time he watched her bustling around the table, in and out of the kitchen, his mind raced with regret. He hated that her past had been so devastating. He was helpless to do anything to comfort her. How could he? He couldn’t imagine losing his parents.

  She sat down beside him and he stared, watching her act as if telling him about her parents had been normal conversation. She must’ve noticed his troubling thoughts.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” she told him, picking up her knife and fork. “I’m okay, Finn. Really.”

  “Then why didn’t you open your own fitness center?”

  “I don’t know,” she started, cutting into her chicken. “I guess I lost interest.”

  “Is that still true?” Not being motivated was the furthest from the truth. She was focused. A blind person could see that. There was something else holding her back. He wanted to help her find her way again, but a woman like Noble, confident and fierce, wouldn’t appreciate a handout.

  How would her parents feel if they knew she put aside her dreams?

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  He might not be able to give her the means of opening her own shop, but he wasn’t about to pass on what a great idea it would be. “You’re missing out and so are your future customers. You’d be awesome at it. Especially if you taught classes and ran it.”

  She looked up at him from under her long, dark lashes, a blush warming her face. “What makes you say that?”

  Had she honestly not noticed all the reasons why she’d be perfect? “You’re good, babe,” he praised, taking a big bit of Italian breaded chicken smothered in provolone cheese and marinara.
He closed his eyes, savoring the first piece.

  My mother would likely demand I marry Noble after hearing how amazing she cooked.

  Why did thinking about introducing Noble to his mother not make him nervous?

  “Care to elaborate?”

  He swallowed hard, bringing his attention back to the curious eyes scanning over him. He wiped his mouth. “You have the power of motivation. You’re fun. People naturally like you.” He leaned forward, as if telling her a secret. “Did you see how full your spin class was? How many stayed after to talk with you? I’m sure it’s normally like that, too.”

  She paused as if recalling for herself what he was talking about. “What would you know? You’ve only been once, and if I recall, you hid under a hoodie most of the time. How much could you really have seen?”

  “Enough to know I’m right.” Of this, he was confident.

  “What about you, Mr. Football? Are you going to try and become a senior citizen quarterback, or do you have other dreams?”

  Ouch. She knew how to divert a topic. He’d play. “First, I’ve got years of football life left in me. I haven’t even reached my prime yet.” He winked. “Second”—he paused, realizing that he’d never shared this thought with another—“I think I’d like to go back to ranching, like my folks.”

  She took a sip of her water, studying him from over the rim of her glass. “I think I’d like to see you riding around on a horse, yelling ‘yee-haw’ every now and again.”

  “Yee-haw?” He laughed. “You really have no idea what ranching is all about, do you?”

  She covered her mouth, the smile too wide to hide. “I’ve seen movies.”

  He shook his head, finding the reddish glow of her skin charming and sweet. She would look sexy-as-hell mounting a horse. I’m going to introduce her to a whole new world. “I might just have to show you what riding and ranching is all about. I think you’d like it.”