A Wild Card Kiss

by Lauren Blakely

  My throat tightens with emotion. “You’re right. I checked out two classes today, and some others yesterday. And the receptionist at my main studio is amazing, helping me search for options, coming up with lists of who to check out in the Bay Area. And I’m determined to do this right,” I say, squaring my shoulders.

  She drapes an arm around me. “Good. Then you will. Now, you want to check out this Banging Burger food truck?”

  “Yes, but do the burgers make you want to bang? Or do they make you want to bang Nolan?”

  Her eyes pop. “Hush. Do not mention him.”

  I press my finger to my lips. “I won’t mention the total hottie who you work with. The guy with the piercing eyes and delish muscles and great smile. The one you were looking at like you wanted to lick sriracha off him. I know you love sriracha.”

  She crinkles her nose. “Now who’s adorable and gross at the same time?”

  I point two thumbs at myself. “This woman.”

  “You know yourself so well.”

  “Also, is it hard to resist him?” I tease.

  She shoots me a don’t you dare go there look. “I’m supporting you in your resistance plans. You ought to do the same for me with Nolan. I bet you, too, are battling temptation every time you see Harlan.”

  “Oh, I am. I definitely am.”

  But I won’t let temptation win.

  24

  Harlan

  Time takes on a glacial quality.

  Every day is an X on the calendar. Every night, I wait for the dawn to come.

  I see Katie at the stadium, and it’s wickedly thrilling having our little secret, more so than it was before. I take these little hits of Katie-time to pass the days.

  When yoga class wraps up one Tuesday in November, Coach Greenhaven strides in, surveys the lot of us in triangle pose. “Excellent. We’ll have to rename you the Pretzels when we host New York this weekend.”

  There’s a collective groan from the Renegades.

  At the end of class, I leave as Katie straightens up. The coach stops me at the door. His gray eyes laser in on me, and he clears his throat. “Harlan.”

  I straighten, reflexively. The coach has that effect. “Yes, sir?” I ask, hoping he hasn’t gotten wind of my plans with Katie. But then, how could he? No one knows. We don’t go out in public. We’re cautious.

  Unless those rumors about phones listening in on your conversations are true. You never know with modern technology.

  He claps my shoulder. “You’re looking good this season. I keep telling that to the GM,” he says.

  “Thank you, sir,” I say, grateful as always for the compliment.

  “GM agrees completely,” he says, and the message is loud and clear—we want you to stay.

  “Thank you,” I say, relieved that’s the focus of our talk. Even though I don’t have anything more to tell him.

  “Hope you will,” he adds.

  “Thank you.” It’s all I can say, my head nodding like I’m a bobblehead of myself. And I’ve seen those bobbleheads in the team store. Not my best look.

  Later that afternoon, she texts me. I’m in a Lyft heading to meet my agent, so I write back right away.

  Katie: Is it hard for you when the coach says stuff like that?

  * * *

  Harlan: How can you tell?

  * * *

  Katie: You never answer.

  * * *

  Harlan: Ha, you’re astute.

  * * *

  Katie: You just say thank you. Nothing more.

  * * *

  Harlan: I don’t know what else to say.

  * * *

  Katie: You’re really torn, aren’t you?

  * * *

  Harlan: I am. Completely.

  It feels good to tell her, to unburden myself of some of these thoughts, so I keep going.

  Harlan: I don’t want to give up the game, but I also don’t know what makes sense for life beyond football.

  * * *

  Katie: You could open a foosball and ice cream shop.

  I laugh as I type.

  Harlan: I’ll mention that to my agent. I’m heading to see her now. She asked if I was going to open a pie shop like my mom. What do you see me doing?

  * * *

  Katie: Whatever makes you happy :)

  * * *

  Harlan: Good answer.

  When I reach my agent’s office, I don’t know that I’m any closer to deciding, but I feel better after talking to Katie.

  Harlan: I’ll see you tomorrow for our session. I promise I won’t steal any more kisses.

  She sends me a sad face.

  “Beat you,” Jason calls out from one hundred feet in front of me the next morning.

  “I let you beat me,” I shout as we make our way down the winding hills at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge, headed toward Crissy Field by the bay.

  He slows to a walk, and I catch up with him, having finished our four-mile sunrise run.

  “So, you let me beat you? That’s how you’re spinning this?” he fires back.

  “Kiddo, I give it all on the field, so I don’t need to beat your young ass on a weekday jog.”

  His brow knits. “Dammit. You have a good point there.”

  “I usually do.”

  We pass early morning exercisers spread out on the fields—boot campers doing burpees, serene groups of older men and woman swaying through tai chi moves, and then a pack of fit twenty-somethings just . . . shaking their hips.

  What the hell are they doing?

  I peer more closely as the attendees bend and pick up hula hoops from the grass. “Ah, a hula hoop class,” I say, then tilt my head when one of the gals in the class drops a quick kiss onto her neighbor’s cheek.

  “Looks like a workout date too,” Jason adds as we walk past them.

  “Speaking of, how was yours from the other week? Anything come of it?”

  He shrugs. “We went out a couple times, but I dunno. There wasn’t a spark. Not the kind I want. Know what I mean?”

  I picture Katie and our yoga sessions. The fire that flames between us. I chuckle knowingly. “I do know what you mean. Very much so.”

  Jason turns to face me. “Spoken from experience?”

  I don’t need to blab. I’ve got to protect my woman. But Jason’s a cool guy, and he doesn’t know Katie. He plays for the other team, so he’s not her yoga student. “Yeah, the woman I was supposed to go out with a couple weeks ago. Didn’t quite happen, but it’s still awesome.” Even without naming her, that feels good to admit.

  “Wait. You were supposed to go out with her, but it didn’t happen, so how can you say you’re sparking and it’s great? I’m a little confused.”

  I’m not sure I can untangle it for him or anyone yet. “Let’s just say it’s complicated. She’s someone I, well, I work out with.”

  He cracks up, grabbing his belly. When he collects himself, he says, “I told you workout dates were great.”

  “I suppose you did. I suppose that’s what we’re doing,” I say, and talking to a friend about what’s happening feels fantastic.

  Holy hell, I want to tell him more. I want to tell everyone about Katie.

  Not yet, of course. Not today.

  But soon.

  I want to go out with her, to paint the town red, to take her dancing at the 80s club. I want to shop for crazy costume parties at Daisy’s Duds, and, hell, to take her to the playground with my kid.

  I stop in my tracks, struck dumb by a realization.

  I’m thirty-six, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never fallen this hard for a woman before.

  “Wow,” I mutter, awed by the awareness of what’s happening to me.

  “You okay, man?”

  I shake my head like a dog shaking off water, trying to collect myself. “I’m great, actually. I just realized something kind of mind-boggling.”

  A sly smile spreads across his face. “And are you going to tell her you’re falling ass over biceps, triceps, an
d delts for her?”

  I jerk my gaze to the relationship expert by my side. “How are you so wise at twenty-five?”

  “It comes with my good looks,” he says with a wink. “Also, maybe don’t wait too long.”

  That’s excellent advice.

  Later that day at her studio, as Katie and I work on variations of the warrior pose, I ask her, “How are you feeling about . . .?” I point from her to me.

  She shoots me a sassy smile. “Am I still hot for you, do you mean?”

  “No, I consider that a given.”

  “So cocky.”

  “And you should take it as a fact that I’m still hot for you. I meant are you still feeling okay about our plans?”

  As I stretch my arms ceilingward, she answers, “Yes. I’ve been checking out other teachers, visiting their classes, working on some suggestions for replacements.”

  She tells me more about what she’s been up to as we move through other poses then drop to the floor, stretching side by side on our backs.

  I flash back to Jason’s words from this morning. Don’t wait too long.

  I don’t want to wait any longer, but I don’t want to pressure her either. Hell, I feel the pressure from my team, and it’s no fun, so I don’t want to do that to Katie. But I can let her know where I’m at in other ways. “I wish time would speed up,” I say, turning my gaze to her as I stretch.

  “Me too,” she whispers, sounding sexy and hopeful at the same time.

  “What do you want to do first?” It’s wild, secretly planning this romance we’ll have when our careers are no longer in the way. “Every time we’ve planned a date, it’s fallen through.”

  She wiggles her brow. “Then we won’t plan a typical date. No foosball and dinner. No bowling and ice cream.”

  “We have no luck when we plan like that,” I agree.

  She takes a beat, reaching her arms high over her head on the mat. “I think you should just come over the night you win the Super Bowl.”

  I shift to my side. “I like the way you think.”

  “You do?” Her eyes lock with mine.

  The air between us crackles.

  “When we win, I’ll fly home, and then I’ll get in a car and go straight to your house.”

  She shifts to her side too, propped on her elbow. “I’ll open the door wearing a naughty grin, because I’ll be so excited to see you. You’ll probably throw me against the wall.”

  I breathe out hard, my skin heating up. “I fucking will.”

  She slides her hand along her side, over her hip. “You’ll tear off my yoga pants.”

  My eyes drift down to her chest. “I’ll rip off all your clothes.”

  She licks her lips, lets out a shuddery breath. “We can go bare, Harlan. I’m on protection, and I have a clean bill of health.”

  “Me too. Clean bill of health,” I rasp, my dick rock-hard at the thought of feeling her slick heat against my cock. “I bet you’d feel incredible.”

  “Bet you would too,” she murmurs.

  Fuck waiting.

  I reach for her, running a hand down her side, sliding closer to her sexy-as-sin body. “I need to steal a kiss now. It’ll get me through missing you this weekend.”

  “Take it,” she says, then seals her lips to mine. She crushes my mouth in a consuming kiss. It’s the opposite of our last kiss in my kitchen. This one is wild and desperate, tinged with jet-fueled need. It’s rough and messy, the kind of messy that leads to hands roping in hair and teeth clicking and me yanking her against my erection.

  I flop to my back, pull her on top of me, and rub against her. “Katie,” I groan.

  She whispers my name with the same urgency as she rides the hard ridge of my cock. She rocks and sways, then consumes my lips again as we grab at each other.

  Everything feels electric and intense. Whatever faint hold I had on control spirals away.

  She swings her gaze to the door. This is the moment where we should break apart. Smooth down our clothes. Settle our jackhammering pulses.

  A glance at the door is the kind of break in the action that can jolt you back to reality.

  To consequences.

  To promises.

  Instead, Katie says, “Let me make sure it’s locked.”

  In a heartbeat, she hops up from me, scurries to the door, and locks it. She’s back in seconds, straddling me again.

  “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

  She rocks against me, pressing her hands to either side of my face. “So sure,” she murmurs.

  I grab her ass, cup those cheeks, and tug her tighter. Now is the time. “I want you so much. I’m so crazy for you. I’m falling for you so hard.”

  She gasps, then smiles softly. “I’m falling for you too,” she says, sounding utterly lost in the passion.

  Just like I am.

  25

  Katie

  He’s too hard to resist.

  I want a taste of him, this man I’ve fallen for.

  So in my yoga studio, I shimmy off my pants, shove down his shorts. My mouth waters when his cock says hello.

  Oh yes. I have enjoyed every encounter with him, and it is so very good to touch him again.

  To touch my man.

  Because he feels that way—all mine.

  I wrap a hand around his hard length, and he shudders. “Katie,” he moans, sounding desperate, sounding lost. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

  And it’s all for me.

  I’ve tried to take my time with him, to learn my lessons, to go slow. To do everything right.

  But he’s what feels right.

  And he’s all I want. I want all of him naked against me.

  “Take off your shirt,” I tell my guy.

  He sits up and does that sexy move where he tugs it off in one quick sweep.

  “I want to be under you,” I say with a moan, since I’m wildly aroused already. “Want to feel this whole gorgeous body against me.”

  “You should have everything you want,” he rumbles.

  In a split second, we shift. I’m on my back on the mat, and he’s kneeling between my legs, rubbing the head of his cock against my wet, aching center.

  Pleasure rushes through me at the delicious feel of him. It pulses through my core as I reach for his hips and pull him closer.

  He slides in an inch, and we both groan at the same time. Needy, hungry cries.

  My hands loop around to that fantastic ass, and I grab him. He heeds the call, sinks all the way into me, then stills.

  Ecstasy throbs through my body.

  I’m shaking everywhere.

  Pleasure and longing and emotion swirl inside me as I hold him tight. Wrapping my legs around his firm ass, I whisper, “Missed you so much.”

  “Missed you too,” he groans as he rocks his hips, finds a pace, and moves in me. He lowers his chest to mine, keeping me close, swiveling his hips.

  He grunts then lets out a long, plaintive, “God, you feel so good.”

  I feel more than good. I feel wanted. I feel worshiped.

  I feel all the things I told myself to wait for. I feel everything.

  Most of all, I feel like we’re not just falling into each other, but falling deeper in love with each thrust.

  It’s more than sex.

  It’s connection and intimacy.

  As he moves in me, roping his arms around my shoulders, holding me tight, he whispers sweet nothings.

  How good I feel.

  How much he wants me.

  How incredible this is.

  It’s all so wildly wonderful that I swear I’m flying off Earth and rocketing to another plane of bliss. My toes curl. My pulse surges. I am bathed in endorphins as we rock and thrust and move together.

  Sweat slicks down his chest. His breath rushes fast, telling me he’s getting closer. “Katie, need you to come soon,” he says, practically begging.

  And that’s all I need.

  His desire.

  His lust.

&
nbsp; It unlocks my climax and I soar to the edge, gasping and panting. My orgasm coils tight then rocks through me in blinding, beautiful waves.

  “Oh God,” I gasp. The sound of my voice jars me, and I bite down on his collarbone to shut up.

  That does it for him, and he fucks me through his release, murmuring my name as he shudders, coming hard inside me.

  A minute later, we’re both loopy and sweaty, and we need to deal with cleanup at my yoga studio.

  But I don’t care, and I don’t think he does either.

  He snuggles against me, kisses my cheek, then says, “I’m falling in love with you.”

  And it’s so right with him. It’s more than right. “I’m falling in love with you too.”

  Later, after we straighten up, I walk him to the door then wave goodbye. “Good luck with practice tomorrow,” I say. He’s got an all-day practice and prep for the game this weekend.

  “See you soon,” he says with a wink, then heads up Fillmore.

  I watch him the whole way with a dopey smile on my face.

  When I return inside, the receptionist drums his purple-polished fingernails on the counter. “He’s such a cutie. Thank you again for having eye candy clients.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” I say with a laugh.

  He slides his finger across his iPad screen. “Now, don’t forget tomorrow morning you have the videographer coming so you can shoot Ten Days to Half Moon Pose.”