Down By Contact: A Making the Score Football Romance

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Take off your shirt. I need to get to more of you.” I shoved the material up, and Tate shifted to sit up a little bit more, crossing his arms over his middle and grasping the hem of the tee. He paused, his eyes molten.

  “You take off yours, too. Fair play, right?”

  “Oh, absolutely.” I sat up and stripped off my top without hesitating. “I’m all for keeping things even.”

  Tate raised his arms and tossed the shirt onto the floor, and then for a long moment, he simply sat there, drinking me in while I did the same. I already knew he had a beautiful body; I could feel the hard planes through his clothes, and I’d seen him working without his shirt, but being here in my apartment, alone with him, close enough to reach out and touch . . . this was different. Now he belonged to me.

  I sat still, aware that Tate was still staring at me. I rose up on my knees and reached behind me to unhook my bra, letting it fall down my arms before I shook it off. Tate’s mouth dropped open.

  “Gia, you are . . . perfection.” He reached out one hand, tracing the slope of my breast. “I can’t believe that I’m sitting here with you like this. I’m almost afraid to move. What if this isn’t real?”

  “If you don’t move, I’m going to feel pretty silly, kneeling in front of you.” I caught his hand in mine and pressed it against my boob again, my nipple drilling into his palm. “Please, Tate. Touch me. Let me touch you.”

  “Babe, you can do whatever you want. Touch me . . . wherever you want.” He stretched his arms and pulled me up against him, skin to skin for the first time. Looking down into my eyes, he brushed his fingers through my hair. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes.” I managed a smile, even though I was trembling with need. “I’m sure. I mean . . . I’m sure about this step. I’m not ready for sex yet. There’re things we need to talk about before we take that step. But I want to be with you as close as we can be. I want to make you feel good.” I ground myself against him. “And I sure as hell want you to make me feel good.”

  “Tell me what to do.” He ran his lips down the side of my neck. “Tell me what you like.”

  I hummed a little in anticipation. “You touching me, doing what you want to me—that’s what I like.”

  “I can’t stop touching you. Maybe I’ll never be able to stop.” He palmed my breasts. “Look at you. You’re amazing.” His thumbs rubbed back and forth over the pink tips, and I moaned.

  “That feels so good.” I guided his head lower. “Kiss me here. Suck them—and I like it hard there.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Tate was mumbling as he licked at my nipple.

  “You won’t. I’m not breakable, Tate. I promise. If you treat me like I’m made of glass, I’m not going to feel like you’re really here with me. I can’t feel like you don’t trust me to be strong.”

  “Gia, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” As if giving me proof, he scraped his teeth over my nipple, and it felt damn good.

  “Just like that.” I held his arms, his biceps too big for me to wrap my fingers around. Tate lowered me slowly to the mattress and arranged his body alongside mine before he resumed his ministrations. I watched, entranced by the erotic sight of Tate discovering how to pleasure me. His face was full of rapt attention, and his hands moved over me with a gentleness that belied their size.

  “Is this good?” he murmured, one hand flattening against my stomach.

  “So good.” I managed to wriggle my hand between us, feathering my fingers over Tate’s taut stomach until I reached the button of his jeans. His breath hitched a little when I slid lower still, under the jeans and into his boxers, not stopping until the tips of my fingers reached the hard length of his erection.

  “Gia.” He sounded strangled.

  “Mmmm.”

  “Don’t—yet.” He grabbed my wrist and held it still. “I don’t want to get too excited too fast. I need to—let me make you feel good first.”

  “I don’t mind.” Even as I said the words, I realized I was falling back into dangerous old habits, into the scenario where Matt’s needs and desires always came ahead of my own. I shivered.

  As if he’d read my mind, Tate held me closer, tilting up my chin so that he could kiss me, his lips on mine erasing bad memories. “I don’t care that you don’t mind. I’ll enjoy myself more if your needs are met. If I’m making you feel good.” Even as he spoke, he moved lower to kiss my breasts again and to slide his hand between my legs.

  I was wearing yoga pants, and I felt the pressure of Tate’s fingers right away. I rocked into him, sure he could tell how wet I was already. Every nerve ending was so sensitive and yearning that I knew it wouldn’t take much to make me explode. He rubbed me over the material for a few minutes and then thrust his hand down the pants so that he could touch me without any barriers.

  My legs fell open as if I’d been waiting my entire life for Tate and his talented fingers. He was a little cautious at first, exploring me, and it was the most incredible sensation ever. He didn’t fumble; he was merely curious and attentive.

  One large finger skimmed down to slide into me just a little. The intrusion was tantalizing and sweet, but before I could arch my hips up and persuade him to take it further, he withdrew and moved up to my clit.

  “Ohhhhhhh.” I cried out. “Right there. My God, Tate. A little harder.”

  “Like this?” He replaced his finger with his thumb.

  “Yes . . .” My breath was coming in pants now. “And . . . and the other . . . your finger. Inside me. Inside. Me.”

  Tate was a fast learner. He thrust his finger into me deep at the same time that he took my mouth yet again, his kiss aggressive and impatient. I rose higher and higher, everything in the world centered on where Tate touched me, every cell of my body in tune with him. He swallowed my cry of pleasure as the orgasm swelled over me, his fingers working me relentlessly until I pushed him away, my sensitivity off the chart after the climax.

  “I could feel you.” He dropped a line of kisses down the column of my neck to the crook of my shoulder. “I could feel you come, against my fingers. It was incredible.”

  “It felt pretty incredible on my end, too.” My body was languid, fluid. “You’re amazing. You made me feel . . .” I couldn’t think of words that captured the wonder of Tate’s hands on me. “Cherished. And so insanely turned on.”

  “You know, this sex thing . . . I’m thinking I’ve been missing out.” He lifted my breast and planted a tender kiss just below the nipple. “It’s pretty cool.”

  “Pretty cool?” I couldn’t help giggling. “Kind of nifty, is it? Gee whiz, Tate. You’re making me blush.”

  He snickered. “Hey, don’t make fun of me. I was raised by a man who came of age in the mid-sixties and grew up on Leave it to Beaver. Leo says I’m the master of retro slang.”

  “I’m not making fun of you. I think it’s adorable.” I pressed my mouth to his shoulder. “And if you think that was fun, just wait. I’m not finished with you yet. Not by a long shot.” I sat up, unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them from his hips. “Lift up, big guy. I want to see you all of you.”

  “Okay, but if I’m going to do that, take these off, too.” He snapped the waistband of my yoga pants.

  “If you insist.” I wriggled the pants down my legs and kicked them off and then sat back to watch Tate maneuver out of his jeans. Seeing him laid in front of me, completely nude . . . it was kind of like a religious experience.

  The man was seriously built and seriously beautiful. I knew it was weird to talk about a guy in those terms, but in this case, it was absolutely true. I’d already appreciated the perfection that were his shoulders, his arms and his chest. But adding his legs, firm and roped with muscles, dusted with a sprinkling of light brown hair, and his rounded ass to the mix made my mouth go dry. And when I finally gave myself permission to get a good gander of his cock, dry mouth was no longer the problem. Now it was a matter of keeping it together
so I didn’t drool.

  He was long, thick and erect, rising from a thatch of hair at the juncture of his legs, and I would’ve sworn he grew even as I watched. I felt Tate’s eyes on me as I stared at his cock, and I wondered if I was making him nervous by my silent adoration. Just to ease his worries, I reached forward and wrapped my fingers around the base, and then worked my fist up and down a few times.

  He groaned, his eyes closing. “God, Gia. You’re going to kill me.”

  “Kill you? Nah.” I loosened my hold and trailed my nails down the underside. “Don’t die now. I’m only getting started.”

  “Hey.” Tate’s voice was hoarse, and he brushed the back of his fingers over my cheek. “Gia . . . I want to tell you something, before I lose the power of speech. No one has ever touched me like this. Only . . .” He lifted his hand and flexed his fingers. “Only me. But in my head, when I was, uh, pleasuring myself, it was always you I imagined. I thought I had a pretty good imagination, but you’ve already blown away anything I pictured.”

  I shot him a smoldering smile, complete with one raised eyebrow, using his favorite teasing endearment. “Honey pot, you need to be more adventurous in your fantasies. Because I haven’t even started to blow your mind.” I paused. “Or any other part of you. Hang onto your hat, baby.”

  Before he could reply, I curled myself over him, taking as much of his length into my mouth as I could manage. When the head of his dick hit the back of my throat, I wrapped my hand around the rest of him. Hollowing my cheeks, I sucked, slowly raising my head until only the wide crown was between my lips. I swirled my tongue around him and dipped over the slit, where he was leaking salty precum.

  “Mmmmmm.” I licked my lips. “You taste good.”

  “Can’t be as good as you.” He was almost gasping now.

  “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” I swiped my tongue around him again before I drew him back in, pumping my hand and my mouth in unison. “Do you know how privileged I feel right now?” I sat back a little so I could see Tate’s face. “That my hands and mouth are the first to touch you this way? That I’m the first one to taste you?”

  His eyes were hooded, but I couldn’t miss the desire burning there. “No more so than me, babe. I’m the lucky one here. You’re beyond my wildest dreams.”

  Holding his gaze, making sure he was watching me, I bent again to take him into my mouth, this time with more intensity and increasing speed. My heart was beating fast, and I was keenly aware of every pulse point in my body, because making Tate feel good was igniting a blaze of want inside me all over again.

  He buried his fingers in my hair, stroking me even as I brought him higher. His words were unintelligible now, but he never closed his eyes, never stopped drinking in the sight of me, milking him with my mouth. Emboldened by his stare, I slid the fingers of the hand not holding his cock between my own legs and rubbed my clit.

  Tate’s eyes flared, and his groan rumbled through both of us. I hummed in answer and began to bob my head even faster.

  “Gia . . . I’m going to come.” He gritted out the words.

  “Me, too,” I gasped. “Do it. Give it all to me. Give me all of you.”

  As if he couldn’t help himself, Tate roared and erupted, gripping the back of my neck as he spurted down my throat, doing exactly what I’d asked. He gave me everything, every last bit of his orgasm pulsing in my mouth. Feeling the power of his climax sent me over the edge, too, and my body bowed, rising to the summit for a second time.

  Still breathing hard, Tate sat up and gathered me closer, pushing my hand away from my slick juncture.

  “Let me,” he rasped. “Let me . . . feel it again.”

  I could no more stop him than I could stop my heart beating. I relaxed against his chest as his fingers, still shaking from his own orgasm, took over, pressing into me relentlessly.

  “Oh, God!” I cried out. “Tate . . . harder . . . make it harder.”

  “Baby.” He crooked his neck down and took my mouth, mumbling against my lips. “Baby, come for me again. You feel so fucking good.”

  And as though my pleasure was inextricably tied to his commands, yet another orgasm rocketed through me, leaving me nearly sobbing into him and begging him to never stop.

  Once I was sagging into his arms, Tate laid me down next to him, stroking my body lightly as though he couldn’t make himself stop touching me.

  “Gia,” he breathed out my name like a prayer. “This may have been a mistake.”

  My eyes flew open. “What?”

  “Nooooo,” he chuckled, dropping a kiss onto my forehead. “I mean, now that I’ve been here with you like this, I don’t think I’m going to ever want to leave you. Forget football. Forget Pops. Hell, even forget food. You’re all I’ll ever need.”

  “Forget food?” I made my mouth round in feigned shock. “Now you’re talking crazy.”

  “I know.” He nodded, his mouth curling into a half-smile. “But I’m serious. I think I’ve finally found something even better than eating.”

  “And just think . . . this was only the beginning. An appetizer, so to speak. What will you do when we actually have sex?”

  “Probably lose the capacity for breathing.” He sighed and pulled me closer. “Gia, you don’t know what this is for me. I’ve wanted you for so long. I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

  A twinge of unease flittered through my chest. “It was wonderful for me, too, Tate. But remember, I’m still the same broken mess that I was before. Don’t put me on a pedestal. Don’t make me the center of your dreams. I’ll let you down, even if I don’t want to.”

  “You’re healing, baby. I can see it.” He kissed me, his lips tender and lazy on mine. “We’ll be each other’s center. I know we’re not perfect, but when we’re together, it feels pretty damn close.”

  I wanted to believe him. I wanted to be hopeful and giddy and full of promise for the future. But even as I let him hold me, I couldn’t forget that he didn’t really know all of me. Not yet.

  But for now, I convinced myself that it was all right to live in the moment with this man who was getting dangerously close to making me fall for him.

  Chapter 11

  Tate, Now

  “Is that Philadelphia’s famous new running back, Tate Durham?”

  I paused without turning around; I’d been head-down focused on getting from the locker room and out to my car after a grueling afternoon of spring conditioning. I’d been pretty smug coming into the camp, figuring all the work I’d been doing over the winter would make my first official experience with the Philadelphia team a breeze. But these past two days had seriously kicked my ass, and I was anxious to get over to Gia’s apartment, where I could collapse and die in the peace and comfort of my girlfriend’s arms.

  Girlfriend. It still gave me an incredible high to think that word, let alone to say it out loud. I couldn’t believe that when I said it now, it meant Gia. I couldn’t wait to get home to her.

  But apparently, before that happened, I had to deal with someone else. I assumed the dude calling out my name was press, since we’d been alerted to the fact that there was media around today. I was surprised that anyone would be interested in me, though. I was pretty small potatoes, just the new player traded from New York.

  And then it clicked, and I realized how familiar the voice was. With a smirk, I answered without turning around, keeping my tone bored and self-important.

  “Talk to my agent. I don’t have time to answer questions.” I snuck a peek over my shoulder. “Especially smart-ass questions from upstart tight ends from Richmond. What the hell are you doing here, dude?”

  Leo jogged over to meet me, a grin on his face. “Hey, I just figured maybe you’d need some emotional support on your first week in the trenches. And I happened to be in town.” He clapped me on the back. “How’s it going, buddy?”

  I winced. “Easy, there. They’re killing me, man. I’m sore in places I didn’t know existed.” Narrowing
my eyes, I added, “But that’s just between us. Officially, I’m doing fine and not even noticing any issues from the workouts.”

  “Got it.” Leo planted his hands on his hips. “Your secret is safe with me . . . mostly because I was in the same boat last week. I figure I’ll just about recover before mini-camp begins.”

  “Dude.” I sighed. “This is intense. But I just keep trying to remember that it’s going to pay off come the season. We’ll be in such amazing shape that we’ll be undefeatable, right?”

  “You know it.” He paused and then added, “Assuming we live to see it.”

  “We will. We’re going to slay on the field.” I shifted the duffel bag on my shoulder. “So seriously, what’re you doing up here? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s great actually.” His eyes were lit up, and I knew that kind of joy could only come from Quinn. “With Quinn and me, things are better than I imagined. I mean, nothing has changed on the outside, but how we’re talking . . . I have more hope now than I’ve had in a long time.”

  “That’s really good news.” I meant it. If any two people belonged together, I had to believe it was Quinn and Leo.

  “I’m up here for a couple of reasons, and one of them has to do with you. I’m talking with some local elementary and junior high schools about the non-profit we’ve established in Matt’s name. The Matt Lampert Foundation is official now, and we want to get to work right away.”

  “Huh. You don’t let any grass grow, do you?” I rubbed the back of my neck. The last person I wanted to think about right now was Matt Lampert. I still hadn’t forgiven him for what he’d done to Gia and how broken he’d left her. I had a feeling, one that grew all the time, that I didn’t know the full story yet, either. There were times when Gia got quiet or when her face darkened, and I knew she was remembering something that was painful or unpleasant. I wished I could wash away all those memories.

  “I’m visiting my parents, too, of course, but I caught an earlier flight than I’d planned, so I took a chance and came here first, thinking maybe we could grab a beer and catch up before I head over the bridge.”