Hart, Catherine

by Impulsive

  It was heaven and hell wrapped into one delicious torment. Jess's fingers tangled in his hair, half tugging him away, half prodding him on, as if she couldn't decide which to do. Ty solved the dilemma for her. He whisked her panties off, hooked her long legs over his shoulders, and with something that sounded like a growl, buried his face between her wide-spread thighs. Suckling, licking, spearing her with his tongue, he led her to the edge of ecstasy. She writhed, she whimpered—she fell into the whirling pit, spinning helplessly out of control.

  By the time she could think and breathe again, Ty had rid himself of the rest of his clothes and was lying beside her, stroking her damp hair from her forehead and smiling down at her with those devil blue eyes. "Lady, I love the way you lose it."

  "You should be charged with illegal use of hands," she claimed weakly. "And mouth."

  He chuckled. "With what penalty? Loss of down?"

  "No." Jess levered herself up on one elbow, her face level with his. Her hand skimmed along his bare thigh, raising goose-flesh in its wake. "New rules. The opposition gets equal time and access. Think you're up to it?"

  His hand caught hers, leading it to his groin. "Judge for yourself."

  Her fingers curled around his turgid manhood. "I'd say so, but let's make sure, shall we?" she suggested with a smile as old as Eve.

  "I'm all yours," he vowed with a wicked grin. "Do your worst. Just don't drop the ball, babe."

  Her hand moved, curving downward to cup his scrotum. "I think you'll find I can handle a ball or two without fumbling them too badly." She squeezed lightly, playfully. "Of course, I'm more accustomed to kicking them than I am fondling them," she taunted.

  "Not this time, if you please," he said. "We don't want the poor things 'whistled dead' before the game really gets going, do we?"

  "No way," she agreed. "We've got to keep everything pumped up nice and firm. Which is why I'm going to check out your equipment, big boy."

  She began with his chest, nuzzling her nose into the golden fleece, kissing, nipping, lapping her way leisurely down his torso. "You taste delicious," she told him.

  "So do you," he countered on a blissful sigh, one that reversed into a gasp as her teeth nibbled a new path up his inner thigh. "Careful there, darlin'."

  Her laugh was delightfully provocative, her hands soft and sure as she caressed him. Her tongue swept out to lap a dewy drop from the tip of his engorged penis, sending a shock wave bounding through him. Reflexively, he lurched upward as she took him into her hot, slick mouth. His fingers caught in her hair, binding her to him as she worked her wanton wiles, suckling him until he thought he would die of the pleasure.

  When he could stand no more, was sure he would explode if she didn't cease her sweet torture, he tugged her away from him, pulling her up and beneath him. As he sprinkled kisses across her breasts, he reached for his trousers. Seconds later, he was ripping open a foil packet. Her hands reached to help him slip into the protective sheath, and to guide him to her own.

  He entered her slowly, surprised at how tightly she gloved him. She grabbed his buttocks, urging him onward.

  "I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart."

  "I want you. All of you." She arched upward, engulfing him further.

  It was more than he could withstand, and in one swift lunge, he buried himself to the hilt. Her sigh echoed his. They lay motionless for a moment, savoring the exquisite sensations, until she shifted her hips restlessly beneath his. He answered her siren's call, retreating only to plunge deeply again—and again, and again, in a driving rhythm that lured them ever higher. Blind, breathless, driven by the ruthless demands of their bodies, they surged toward the pinnacle. Together, they hurtled past it, into a fiery abyss, welcoming the flames that consumed them.

  CHAPTER 11

  "God! They were right!" Jess panted.

  "Who was? About what?" he rasped.

  "Those announcers, about you. They claimed when you're on your toes, you can really drill it."

  Ty dredged up enough energy to chuckle. "I wonder what they'd say about you? You've drained me dry."

  "Will you do a small favor for me?" she asked, lying limply at his side.

  "If it doesn't require any energy, yes."

  "Just raise your head, look down, and see if either of us smokes after sex, will you?"

  He laughed outright. "You screwball."

  "No, I think that's your department."

  It felt good to banter back and forth with Jess this way. At any rate, it was certainly a novel experience for Ty. Much better than a trite exchange of "Was it good for you?" afterward, or a tearful, "Do I mean anything to you at all?" or an equally awkward silence. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall the last time he'd laughed with a woman in bed.

  She nuzzled next to him, and he realized anew just how well the two of them fit together, like adjoining pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Hip to hip, chest to breast—she was just the right height for him. It was a relief not to have to bend himself in half and get a crick in his back every time he went to kiss her. She sighed contentedly.

  "Go to sleep," he suggested softly. "I'll turn off the TV and check the lock."

  "I should shower first, so we won't be so rushed in the morning." Reluctantly, Jess got up, wobbling weak-kneed to the other bed. After fishing through her overnight bag, she toddled toward the bathroom. "Dang! My legs feel like overcooked spaghetti! I sure hope the fire alarm doesn't go off anytime soon!"

  "Me, too, because I sure as heck don't have the strength to carry you down eight flights of stairs. In which case, we'd just have to slide down the banisters."

  Ty, nibbling at the nape of her neck, woke Jess the next morning. "C'mon, sleepyhead. Rise and shine. Josh's bus will be there to pick him up in an hour."

  Jess bunched her pillow under her face and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "coffee."

  "Right. I'll have room service send some up. We can drink it while we're getting ready."

  He flipped back the sheet and reached for the phone, smacking Jess on her bare bottom at the same time. "Up, woman."

  Still half asleep, Jess fumbled her way to the bathroom, grouching all the while. How could that dratted man be so ever-blasted cheerful this early in the day? The answer was obvious. He was full of himself this morning, after two glorious sessions of lovemaking the night before. Meanwhile, she hadn't gotten her quota of sleep, and was walking like a bow-legged octogenarian.

  One look in the mirror, and Jess was glad she'd been cuddled next to Ty with her back to him. Undoubtedly the rear view had to be better than the front. She looked as if she'd spent several hours under a street sweeping machine.

  The coffee still hadn't arrived by the time she relinquished the bathroom to Ty. "What are they doing, picking fresh beans by hand and transporting them by donkey?" she groused.

  The phone rang just as Ty emerged from the bathroom, looking bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and perfectly groomed— while she was still bleary-eyed and barely presentable. It simply wasn't fair!

  Jess answered the call. It was room service, wanting to know if they still wanted their coffee delivered to the room. They apologized for having to double check, but upon seeing the sign on their door, the boy who had taken it up a short while ago had returned for further instructions.

  "What sign?" Jess asked. Then, to Ty. "Did you hang the 'Do Not Disturb' sign out?"

  Ty shook his head. "Tell them not to bother now, we'll grab a cup on the way."

  Jess relayed the message, and they finished packing their belongings. On the way out, Jess was holding the door for Ty when she caught sight of a large sheet of stationery taped to the outer door panel. "Oh, my lands!" she declared in astonishment.

  Ty took one look and started to laugh. "No wonder we never got that coffee." Someone, most likely the person or persons in the next room, had printed in large letters, "Do Not Disturb. Rabbits Busy Humping!"

  "It was that darned headboard!" Jess hissed, as though it would do any good to be
quiet now, long after the fact. "It kept knocking against the wall."

  "Or you giggling, and shrieking like an Indian on the warpath," Ty reminded her.

  "Well, if you hadn't kept tickling me..."

  Ty grabbed the paper, folded it, and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

  "What did you do that for?" Jess wanted to know. An expression of horror crossed her face. "You're not going to complain to the management, are you?"

  "Lord, no!" Ty told her, chuckling. "I'm going to keep it, as a memento of our first night together. Now, let's get moving." His eyes took on a merry twinkle as he added, in a fair imitation of Elmer Fudd, "And be vewy, vewy quiet. Weahr humping wabbits!"

  "And you're Looney Tunes!"

  It was on the long ride home, during a discussion of the game, that Jess told him, "I liked that surprise move of yours in the fourth quarter."

  "Which one was that?"

  "When you switched direction, and threw left instead of right, and made that spectacular pitch to Gabe for the touchdown run. That was very sneaky, and very effective. Up 'til then, the Colts seemed to be reading every play almost before you or Jack could make it."

  "That's why Coach and I decided to change it."

  "It must have been an awfully last minute decision," she concluded. "I heard the original call over my earphones, just before you broke the huddle."

  "Wait a second. I'm getting confused. Are we talking about the same series?"

  "Well, you only threw one T.D. to Gabe," Jess recalled. "He was on the fifty-yard line when he caught it."

  "And it was third down, right?"

  Jess nodded.

  "Babe, that call was decided on the sidelines, while our defense was still on the field. I knew it three plays ahead of time. It was never delivered via audio transmission."

  "Oh, well, maybe Coach Danvers was simply relaying the information to the other coaches upstairs."

  "Not if you heard the old play call," Ty pointed out.

  Jess frowned. "So why did I hear the false play call go out? It doesn't make sense."

  "No, it doesn't," Ty concurred. "Was it Danvers' voice you heard?"

  "I'm not sure. There was a lot of static. It could have been anyone. I just assumed it was him. Why?"

  A thoughtful expression furrowed Ty's brow. "It could be that somebody else, someone who was unaware of the change in plans, was transmitting our plays to the opposition. Which would explain why they were always one step ahead of us, until then. And you've already said that your headphones were messing up. Maybe... just maybe... you caught a signal no one on the Knights team was meant to hear."

  "But... that's illegal!" Jess exclaimed, her eyes wide.

  "You bet your booty it is. Logically, the next question is, who was giving our plays away?"

  "And why?" she added pensively.

  "For money, most likely," Ty said in response to her last query. "Damn!" He hit the steering wheel with his fist, his anger building. "It's hard enough starting out with a new team, without having a rat in the pack."

  "But who? One of the players? A coach?"

  "That, my lovely Jess, is the big question. And I intend to get some answers before all is said and done."

  They were on the loop that circled Columbus when Ty took an off ramp much too early. "Are you lost?" Jess asked. "This isn't my exit."

  "No, it's mine," Ty informed her calmly. "I thought maybe you'd like to see where I live."

  Jess shrugged. "I suppose I should, just in case someone asks me about it, or mentions something I should know."

  "Is that all?" Ty inquired, his mouth quirking with humor. "Aren't you even the tiniest bit curious, just for yourself?"

  "I've wondered a time or two," Jess admitted nonchalantly. "Does this mean I get to go through your drawers, too?"

  Ty chuckled, and gave her a sexy wink. "Honey, you can search my drawers any time you want."

  Jess rolled her eyes. "Boy, you're easy."

  Ty had rented a two-story town house in an elite suburban community enclosed behind a vine-covered brick wall—a complex which came complete with security gate and guards, landscaped gardens, lighted tennis and sand-volleyball courts, heated swimming pool, and exercise/spa facilities. At the gate, he slipped a plastic card into a slot, punched in a series of numbers on the key pad, and the gates swung open.

  "Wow. I'm impressed. Do they have guard dogs, too?" Jess commented.

  "No, but the security personnel have weapons, and the top of the wall is imbedded with ground glass to keep out any intruders. I guess they thought dogs were superfluous, and would probably be more of a nuisance and a menace than anything, especially to families with children."

  "They actually allow children to live here?" she mocked.

  "Don't be facetious. The kids even have their own playground, with all the latest, safest equipment, and there's a twenty-four-hour child-care center on the premises."

  "Now I truly am impressed."

  Jess noted with interest that unlike other apartment complexes, hers included, the units here were not identical to each other. Here, the planners had gone the extra mile, and each town house was uniquely fashioned and constructed to resemble a single-family residence. Ty's was the end house on a cul-de-sac. Instead of abutting a neighbor's property, his backyard bordered a golf course, providing a pleasant expanded vista. The large brick duplex was of Spanish design, with half-round roof tiles, arched windows, wrought iron gates, shutters, and window planters. At either end was a curved driveway, leading to a garage which faced the side yard rather than the front, to further the impression of a stately home rather than a condo.

  "Nice. Very nice," Jess said. "I can't wait to see the inside."

  She wasn't disappointed. Through the recessed front entry, she stepped into a marble-tiled foyer. To the right, along the brick wall dividing the apartments, a spiral staircase curved upward to the second story. To the left, a wide arch and two semicircular steps led down to a spacious living area with ten-foot-high walls, vaulted ceiling, ultraplush carpeting, recessed lighting, and a stone fireplace with built-in bookcases on either side. The shelves were sparsely filled with a few books, randomly positioned knickknacks, and several framed photos of Josh. The furniture was dark oak, rustic but elegant, the thick cushions covered in a diametric southwestern pattern.

  "Compared to this, my place looks like a garage sale in progress," Jess declared, surveying her surroundings appreciatively. "Did it come furnished?"

  "No. Corey helped me select some of the new stuff. The rest I already had, or chose myself. And your apartment may be more cramped, and therefore more cluttered, but it has that lived-in look and feel to it. Unlike this place, which is nice enough to look at, but lacks the warmth and welcome of yours."

  Jess grinned at him. "Just throw a couple of pairs of dirty socks around, scatter some newspapers and magazines here and there, an empty pop can and candy wrapper or so, and you, too, can have that homey aura of disarray and disorder. It's not difficult to achieve, Ty. Believe me. All you have to do is spend a little time here and not pick up after yourself so well."

  "I don't," he told her. "A cleaning lady comes in twice a week. Even if I did make a mess, she'd clear it out again. So you see, there's just no hope for it, unless I fire her. But then I'd be up to my neck in dirty laundry and pizza boxes in no time flat."

  "Not to mention having to clean the tub and toilet yourself, which I'll bet you've never done in your life," she teased. She glanced around again, with a more critical eye. "I suppose if you got some plants it would help. If you like fish, you could put up a fish tank. Or get a big, hairy cat and buy it a ton of toys."

  "The cat would starve to death, or eat the fish," he predicted. "Then there's that litter box issue. Helen might consent to feeding the creature, and vacuuming up after it, but I doubt she'll agree to changing a litter box."

  "Then both of you are wimps," Jess decided. "Show me the rest of the place."

  The far end of the living room
doubled as the dining area. In keeping with the overall theme, double glass doors with ornate grillwork led out to a roofed patio, surrounded by a low brick wall and arched pillars. The patio extended in an L-shape around the far corner and across the back half of the house. The kitchen featured Mexican tile floor and countertops, light oak cabinets, and a butcher block island—above which hung an array of empty hooks for pots, pans, and utensils, and a wine and goblet rack, equally void.

  "This room is criminally barren, to the point of sending back an echo," Jess observed balefully. "You need some shiny, copper-bottomed cookware, and some stemware." She eyed the bare counters. "Copper canisters would be nice, too, maybe a teakettle to match, and some decorative covers for the range burners. A colorful throw rug or two and a couple of pretty dish towels would help absorb the sound, since you have those louvered wood shutters over the windows instead of curtains."

  Behind her, Ty chuckled. "Typical female. Show her your home, and she immediately wants to remodel it."

  Jess shrugged. "Sorry, but..."

  "Oh, you're going to be more than sorry, Miss Big Mouth," he told her. "Now that you've spouted off, you can help me shop for the items you suggested. Let's see what else we should add to the list, shall we?"

  They resumed their tour. Off the kitchen was a small laundry room. The rear patio was partially enclosed and sported a recessed hot tub; latticed panels were strategically placed to ensure privacy from the neighbors on either side while still allowing a view of the golf course. There was a half bath downstairs, and two full baths up, one for guests and the other off the master bedroom. There were three bedrooms. The first was a guest room, as yet unfurnished except for a multitude of unpacked boxes, poking out of which Jess saw several trophies and award plaques.

  "You should have those on the shelves downstairs."

  Ty shook his head. "No. While I appreciate having them, I don't want them on display for one and all. Regardless of anything you may have heard or read about me, I'm not that egotistical."