“I certainly am talking about someone at this table—the sausage stuffed into the black dress with the freak show blue hair.” It was such venom from such a sweet looking woman.
Really? We’re in high school?
“I never expected you to be so misguided, downright wrong, and not to mention cruel.”
Kathryn practically shot daggers at him with only a single look before replying.
“I never knew you were a chubby chaser either.” Her whisper was loud enough and spiked with enough anger that it drew attention from the other couples at the table. “I’m not sure why you asked me to come with you tonight.” Kathryn finished.
“Me either, but it won’t happen again,” was Clayton’s only response.
The music started and many of the banquet guests moved around the room, mingling. But Roxy really hadn’t made it far; every time she was about to move, somebody would come up to her. She could hardly believe that three of her former patients were now a part of the Pittsburgh team, small world.
After his little ambush outside the ladies room, Clayton hadn’t really spoken to her, besides joining in the table conversation.
Although, no matter who she was talking with, or how much they blocked her from his view, she could still feel his gaze on her. It was far more exhilarating than she would’ve ever guessed and far less creepy than she would’ve suspected.
Knowing it was wrong, but still…Roxy felt a bit giddy when she saw the little blonde at his side looking so pissed, she’d put money on the fact the woman could start fires with her eyes. Not that it was tattooed on her forehead or anything, but she wondered if the woman had figured out that she had shared Clayton’s bed recently.
Recently? Like last night?
Michael leaned over, his lips just barely against her ear. “Come on beautiful 17B, time for a dance.” His breath caused her to shudder—more as a reaction to the tickling sensation than the words themselves.
“I’m not much of a dancer.” Knowing it was a weak excuse and it probably wouldn’t work, Roxy still tried.
“You practically dance with every step you take, sweetheart. I’ll lead you, no worries.”
Roxy bit into her lip to keep from whimpering as Michael nipped her earlobe. It wasn’t the bite—well, not only the bite and the words, but it was the the fact Clayton’s eyes had locked on hers and never strayed. As if he was willing her to follow his commands without needing to hear them verbally. And right now, he didn’t want her dancing with Michael 17A Brooks.
So she did just that. She danced.
“Son?”
“Coach?”
“You gonna stare at that girl all night or are you gonna make a move before Brooks does?”
“Sir?” Clayton asked. It wasn’t that he was trying to be coy; he really couldn’t believe what he thought he just heard Coach Gresser say.
“Now, I told Sunshine I didn’t like that damn dress and the look in your eye is exactly why.” He took a deep breath in and then released it before continuing. “I’m surprised the thing hasn’t gone up in smoke with the way you’ve been eyeballing her all night.” Clayton’s eyes met his mentors and he couldn’t, or rather, wouldn’t attempt to lie to the man. He bowed out gracefully and let his gaze roam back to the woman who was quickly taking over his every thought. “She know?” Without looking at the older gentleman, Clayton shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell tales of their night shared to the man. But with her behavior since this morning, maybe that’s all they’d ever have.
Not if he had anything to do with it, that’s for damn certain.
“I’ve seen a look or two she’s cast your way tonight. You sure she doesn’t know, son?” He was a grown ass man, but he had flashbacks of his teen years with the way Coach was obstinate in his inquiries.
Clayton considered denying everything. Then, he considered half-truths, but he respected the man too much and so did Roxy. He couldn’t lie to Coach Gresser.
Taking a deep breath, he conceded. “Yes sir, she knows.” It took all he had not to look away when the old man locked his eyes on his.
“Really? Well, a lot has changed over a weeks’ time then, huh?” He laughed as he swirled the ice in his glass. “If she didn’t knee you in the groin, then she must feel the same. I’ll tell you this, son.” looking up from the melting cubes in his glass, he glared at Clayton.
“What’s that, Coach?”
“You hurt that little girl and you’re as good as gone. A few phone calls and you’ll be hoping that Oakland or Tampa Bay will be willing to take you on.” A couple of the two worst teams that had basically become the butt of every bad football joke out there in recent years, nice. “Understood, Karz?” For a man of his age, he still had that intimidating thing down solid.
Clayton merely nodded. He felt like he was seventeen and had just gotten a warning by a father before taking his daughter to prom. Sounded funny, but living through it? Wasn’t funny. Wasn’t funny, at all.
“Clayton, dear, that’s just what my husband will do to you.” Doris, the coach’s wife said as she patted his shoulder and walked past him to a group of women at another table.
Jesus! The Coach and his sweet as honey wife had threatened him. What was happening?
“You gonna cut in or sit here all night while Brooks works his magic?” The old man had a mean streak.
“Like hell.” Clayton was on his way to the dance floor and he could’ve sworn he heard Coach Gresser chuckling as he went.
As she swayed in the confines of Michael’s arms, Roxy found her thoughts drifting from the man who had accompanied her tonight and found their way to the man she had been with last night. Talk about awkward. Sharing a dinner table with Clayton and his date had been something she never wanted to do again. Convinced it was her imagination, that Clayton hadn’t been watching her to the extent she’d actually felt his eyes on her. This was why she had decided never to date a patient. Not that they were dating—no, a one-night smorgasbord of sizzling sex was not dating.
She knew Michael was attracted to her, and she had been to him as well. Now, the only man she could think of was a certain pain in her ass quarterback who thought he knew more than she did about what he needed medically. Clayton Karz had completely consumed her whole being in a matter of a week.
How in the hell had he done that?
She had an idea of where his therapy needed to go now that he had finally been honest about his condition. Wasted time pissed her off, but then Roxy understood his hesitance in filling her in. After all, it was his career on the line. As God as her witness, she’d get him back to where he needed to be, she would.
Roxy felt him before she heard him. Not that she had been paying attention. No, she was lost in her own head….again. Yet, the second Clayton walked up, her body’s radar set off warning bells.
“May I cut in?” His question was directed to Michael.
Michael leaned back to look into her face, one brow raised, questioning her. Roxy nodded, and she felt her body stiffen when Michael’s strong arms released her.
“You take care of my girl, Karz or it’s your ass.” With a slap on the back, Michael walked toward another table where several other players were seated.
She still hadn’t looked at Clayton, instead, she watched as nearby couples swayed slowly around them. Little white lights kept skipping across their forms from above.
Apparently, Clayton thought speaking was overrated as well, since he merely took her right hand in his, lifting it, and sliding his left practically to the small of her back as he lead them without words. Neither spoke as they swayed to the soft music. For a moment, Roxy let herself feel small inside the cage of purely Clayton that surrounded her. These feelings happened so rarely that she took it. Right or wrong. Good or bad.
“Take care of my girl? What the fuck does that mean?” When he broke their shared silence, it was nothing but pure ticked off testosterone and Clayton’s tone practically chilled her bones.
“What?” Roxy
was truly confused.
“Brooks—since when are you his girl?”
“Oh my god! I’m not anybody’s girl. What are we, twelve years old?”
“Why did he say that then? Why are you here with him?” Of course, he could’ve added, “and why does it make me want to rip his heart out?” but he didn’t, out loud at least.
“Umm…I wasn’t about to come alone tonight.”
“Why him, though? Why Mike? He’s my friend and teammate for chrissake.”
“Who am I supposed to be here with, Karz?”
“Me.” No tenor to the word—it merely escaped as a whisper, yet Roxy was shocked by the wistful longing she heard in that single syllable.
One word was all he said, and one word was all it took to constrict her chest. The man was jealous. Pure and simple. Jealous. Too much—all of it was just too much. Pulling away from him as quickly as she could without causing a scene, Roxy fled—her only thought was that she had to get away from him and now. Luckily, he had pushed them toward the back of the dance floor so her exit went unnoticed by Michael…for now.
Not sure where she was going, she headed down the hall that lead past the restrooms, but this time she continued to follow the dimly lit walkway, running her hand along the beautiful mahogany trim that followed the wall. At the end of the hallway, there were three doors. It didn’t matter where they lead, she just wanted a few minutes to compose herself before going back…to Michael.
Before she was able to choose a door, thick fingers circled her wrist. “Don’t touch me,” she spat out, attempting to pull free from the man’s grasp.
“You sure as hell weren’t saying that last night nor this morning for that matter, were ya?”
“Fuck you, Karz.”
“With pleasure, sweetheart. Here?”
Tears stung her eyes. She tried and failed to blink them away before Clayton saw them, but the ass locked eyes with her. Tugging her just inside the right side door, he stood in front of it blocking her only exit with his arms folded across his chest, the male version of foundation bricks to keep a wall between them. Not because he held that much displeasure with her, but because all he could think of was seeking pleasure with her repeatedly.
Clayton looked at Roxy after briefly taking in their surroundings. It appeared to be a storage room or large supply closet of some sort. Two shelves of linens lined the left side of the small room. Chairs were folded not so meticulously against the back wall—at least thirty of them, possibly more. Then, the realization that he was the cause of her waterworks felt like a kick to the gut.
Way to go asshole.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—. “ He tried to apologize.
“Don’t even think I’m crying for you, Karz. You don’t have anything to make me cry about in fact. I’m just stressed and needed a break—“
“Don’t bullshit me, Roxy.”
The staring contest commenced.
Step one may have taken her a moment, as she tried to get herself under control, but she managed. Step two was to come out swinging and hope for the best.
“It’s cute that you think you have something over me or that you matter enough to me that you have the ability to upset me. It’s sweet—completely misguided and wrong, but sweet.” Lord, she hoped that her faux condescending lilt was enough to aggravate Clayton Karz into walking out on her or granting her the mercy of allowing her to walk away without further embarrassment.
No such luck. “Drop the tough girl act. I know you’re nowhere near that frigid. Hell, I’ve been inside of you—“
“Shut up, with the crudeness, really! What does that have to do with anything?”
“Crudeness? Wasn’t anything crude about us last night, this morning, or right now. I was just saying that I’ve been inside of you and watched as the tough girl faded away, and you trusted me enough to take care of the woman you are without the boots, chains, and sarcastic-ass mouth. It was a damn fine place to be.”
“Was a mistake is what it was.” Ugh! Roxy heard herself say it—even if she didn’t mean it.
With that, Clayton had heard enough. Enough to know Roxy was playing tough in order to remain in control and push him away—not happening. Words weren’t working but maybe….
Within seconds, Roxy found herself with her back against the door and 250 pounds of athlete pressed up against her. Clayton’s hard angles met with her soft ones. How they melded so well made no sense—no sense at all. But then again, none of this had made any sense. Caregiver and patient. Cocky, sexy alpha male and smart-ass, plush tough girl. Not that she wasn’t sexy—she knew she was, felt it, and worked it when the time was right. But, men like Clayton tended to favor centerfold types. To each their own was her way of thinking. Yet, Clayton Karz surprised her—the way he handled her, touched her with such hunger, such frenzy there was no denying his attraction was real.
No more thoughts were allowed the second his mouth met hers. Roxy didn’t have the strength or the will to resist him. Parting her lips, Clayton’s tongue invaded her mouth, seeking its mate. He would not be disappointed. She thought for a moment that either steam would blow her dress up like the old Marilyn portrait she had hanging in her apartment, or her knees might just buckle under the pleasure. Just when she feared breaking the kiss to gasp for a breath, he abandoned her mouth.
Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along her jawline and down her neck before making his way back up to ear, he whispered, “it’s not a mistake happening between us. The only mistake would be you not coming home with me or me not going home with you; I don’t care, I just need to be with you tonight.”
Chapter 16
It took her a moment to regain her bearings. “No.” Her voice was hoarse, and the word stung coming out for more than one reason.
“I’m pretty sure you meant yes.” Crushing his mouth against hers, Clayton was determined to change her mind no matter what it took.
It was too easy to let him lead her. Dammit! That pissed her off as much as made her wet. No man had ever had this much control over her with such little effort. However, for some reason Roxy feared she’d do whatever Clayton asked of her. Red flags were flying everywhere; her head looked like the 50-yard line after a false start. She had to stop this—had to stop it now. Maybe, if she repeated it in her head she’d start to believe it?
Pulling her mouth from his was hard, but it was necessary. “No, I meant no. I’m going home with Michael.”
“Michael?”
“Ah yeah, ya know, my date.”
“Oh, I know your date, all right.” Clayton ran his hand through his hair out of frustration. “Like hell you’re going home with him. He’ll be eating his teeth before that happens.”
Possessive much?
“I came with him—“
Clayton interrupted her. “You came with me a bunch of times last night and it will be happening again tonight, sweetheart.”
“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you, Karz—“
“Name’s Clayton by the way, but I’ll admit I prefer the way you were gasping Clay, oh my god, Clay even more.”
“I can’t even talk to you—“
“Let’s not talk then.”
His mouth was back on hers before she could argue. Even the woman’s damn scent was intoxicating. Welcoming. Sunny. Soft—could one smell soft? Well, she did. Roxy smelled completely female—completely opposite of him and not like a fashion magazine sample like Kathryn.
“Sonuva bitch, Roxy,” he mumbled against her full lips now slightly swollen from his passion. “I want you so fucking much. I crave you.”
“Karz, we can’t—“
“Clayton.” He reminded her.
“Clay—“
“Dear God, say my name again. Say it all breathless and needy just like that, again.” His eyes were dilated and boiling over with desire.
She was about to tell him that she had to leave, but seeing the want and desire in his face shot that thought to hell. Roxy cou
ldn’t deny the man a damn thing. As wrong as it was.
“I want you, too, Clay.” A deep growl escaped before Clayton smothered her with another mind-melting kiss. His tongue was smooth, and he used it to seduce her. She moaned lightly when his mouth began its descent down her throat and across the cleavage her dress showcased so well. Her breasts were pushed up and looked so inviting that Clayton had to fight the urge to pull her top down until those babies were in his hands and at his mercy. Later.
One hand steadied her near the base of her neck as if he feared she’d flee…again. He was probably right. The other hand slid slowly down the bodice of her sleek black gown. The bodice hugged her snuggly, as did the fit across her hips before flaring a bit. Probably not the best fit for her body type but it made Roxy feel pretty—she was a girl who rarely felt pretty, rarely wanted to.
Roxy feared for a brief moment that he’d want her stripped and begging him to thrust harder within seconds. She wasn’t prepared for this, dammit! A girl her size in such a beautiful gown meant only one thing that could make or more likely break an evening of passionate mind-blowing spontaneous sex….Spanx. Yup, her plump derriere was being shaped and molded by the almighty gift from the god’s…spandex and a dream. Of course, they did their job and held her in where she needed it most but they had to be the ugliest things when seen by the naked eye. Small price to pay for beauty, right?
Oh my god! No, no, no, no!
The thought of Clayton attempting to peel her from her spandex haven? It was witness protection worthy. Nothing felt as good as taking the damn things off after wearing them all night, but never would she want an audience as she wriggled, wiggled, and finally rolled the damn things down until they lay in a twisted mess on the floor. Her flesh finally freed, rising like warm bread fresh from the oven.
He may like her curves—he sure acted as if he did. But, after that visual, Roxy might never see the man again nor would she want to.
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