Roxy hadn’t found Calvin, but she did find a very sweaty, very determined Clayton Karz lifting weights. She was just about to bitch at him for lifting over twenty-five pounds but he wasn’t. Either he had been at it awhile or he’d been doing something else first. His face was red and his hair dripped with sweat. Shamelessly, she watched as he curled the weights left then right, repeatedly. Muscles bunched and veins bulged as his arms flexed with every movement. Knowing how those muscles felt beneath her hands as he slammed into her over and over had her breath quickening. Geez. He was a patient—bad enough. But now lusting after him as he worked out in the very clinic where he was being treated—that was too far. Turning, she retreated to her office to regain her composure.
Booting up her computer, Roxy dropped her iPod into the base and tried to calm her body down. Some mundane computer work should handle that just fine.
Her office door opened and closed and Clayton stood against it. Locking the door, he eyed her with nothing but intent in his eyes. “Bend that fine ass over your desk, Samantha.”
Every time he spoke her name, it still surprised her.
For a moment, she was frozen in place. As if there was a chance of a different decision, she stood and followed his directions. Clayton’s dominant side was heady stuff when he let it run wild.
His hands worked the button and zipper of her ripped Seven jeans and in one swift pull, he had them down around her ankles. With her boots on there was no stepping out of them—she was hobbled.
His hands kneaded her butt near the point of pain. “No panties, again? You are one naughty girl, Samantha.” Letting his finger follow the crack of her ass down, he found her wet. “You liked watching me that much, huh?” So, he had known she was there. “Good, because I’ve been hard since I saw you watching me in the mirror.”
The thick head of his shaft pushed its way through her folds until he was lined up and he plunged home. No sweet slow lovemaking—this was fast, can’t-get-enough fucking. Sometimes a girl just needed to be fucked, and luckily for her, Clayton knew the difference and gave her what her body craved.
Pushing herself against him with each thrust, they were in a race to the finish line. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The sounds of their bodies mating echoed in the room. The small space smelled of sex. Coldplay played in the background from her iPod. The song was a little slow for the mood, but the lyrics were right on “A Sky Full Of Stars,” would never sound the same to her again.
Clayton increased the speed as he felt her sex start to tighten around him. “Your pussy—god damn! I’m gonna blow…need to come, now, right now!” he whispered hoarsely. He needed to kiss her. Removing one hand from her hip, he pulled her back by her throat and kissed her—kissed the hell out of her, biting the bottom lip that he loved so much. The muscles in his thighs began to quiver from pure exhaustion from the workout and now this workout.
Slamming into her hard enough that the desk moved, he lost control and couldn’t slow down after seeing Roxy’s knuckles bright white from where she gripped the edge of the desk so tightly. She was as far gone as he was. And mercy was she tight. With her pants around her ankles, spreading her legs was impossible.
Hearing her gasp, Clayton knew she was about to come. He slipped his hand from her throat to cover her mouth when a whimpering noise escaped her.
In a rush, she came and her pussy flooded as well as her brain. She was practically howling against his hand.
Clayton continued, not faltering as he pumped into her until sweet release hit him so hard he thought he might just pass out. He bit her neck as wave after wave of electricity left his body and poured into hers. Her flesh between his teeth, his left hand gripped her hip so hard he was certain she’d be bruised Clayton’s body twitched with the aftershocks from such a cataclysmic orgasm.
“I…missed…you, too,” she whispered.
Chapter 22
Unpacking, she let her mind run in circles. Clayton had touched her soul deeply. Never had her body responded to a man as it had to him. She walked away satisfied, but scared as hell. In previous relationships, Roxy had always been the dominant one—not so much out of choice, but out of necessity. Her orgasms, her sexual pleasure had always been her responsibility. Clayton Karz came in and crashed through that like a bulldozer. Thank God. Giving up control was liberating, exactly the opposite of what she thought it would be. Allowing herself the freedom of constant control—oh, she was in control but on a completely different level. Clayton might be running the show during their sexcapades, but she decided the show times and intermissions.
Her heart, on the other hand, was something she always kept control of and she wasn’t willing to just hand over control to Clayton. Great sex was one thing to lose, but it wouldn’t break her. A broken heart would do her far more damage.
She’d told Doctors Brown and Monihan that she’d give them an answer by the following weekend, and she had some serious decisions to make. Why was it such a decision? My god! The offer was more than she had ever expected. No one, two, or three years down the road and we’ll ‘consider’ a partnership, but walking right into it from day one. Unheard of.
Never in her life had she been one of those kinda broads that based her decisions off what some man wanted or around some man’s agenda. Kinda what being an independent woman in this kind of field meant. But, her heart was trying to sneak its thoughts—its wants— into her brain. Those two things never meshed well: what the heart wants and what the brain knows.
No, it had to be strictly brain on this one. Sorry, heart., It’s either damage it now or stand by as it gets completely demolished later, right? She still had five days until Sunday. Roxy might just use all five days and give them her answer come Sunday. Hey! Sunday IS still considered the weekend.
********
With the no-contact restrictions lifted, Clayton felt like a new man. He was ready for ball. He had come to play. He felt stronger than he had before his surgery. His endurance was at an all-time high. In addition, his outlook was even higher than that. Talk about a complete 360. Thinking of the man he had been the first day he met the foulmouthed, tattooed, blue streaked woman, Clayton had a moment of embarrassment. Not only had he been a cocky, smug bastard, he’d been an outright ass, showing his displeasure that she had been the one his team had brought in for his therapy.
Day one and he’d made it clear that she wasn’t what he wanted nor needed. Some misguided putz had said women didn’t belong in football—didn’t belong in sports. But Roxy knew her shit. She knew what his body needed when he didn’t have a clue. When he kept shit to himself that he really should’ve told her, she only went forward. She didn’t give him the ass chewing he so richly deserved, but she reworked his therapy plan repeatedly until it was just right. The only time she’d ever passed him off to someone else was when he had been downright slime and when she had gone to Dallas.
Dallas, he understood why she went. She had been a mobile commodity for years—not much different from the players she treated along the way. But, Samantha had told him that she was ready to hang up her wings. He figured that meant she was ready to settle down. Before, if a woman gave off those kind of signals or said anything close to that he was gone. He’d never run that fast in a game, but he’d sure as shit haul ass to make it known he wasn’t to be included in anyone’s playing house plans.
Now, he wondered if Samantha had checked out clinics around Pittsburgh. Or at least in the state of Pennsylvania? He’d sure like to keep her closer than Texas. Somehow, Clayton knew that she wasn’t the kind to take kindly to him telling her to stay. She’d been running her life all by herself a long time, and she wasn’t the delicate feminine flower waiting for a man to pick her up, plant her, and tend to her. Hell no! She’d taken care of herself and if she’d let a man come along for the ride? He’d best consider himself one lucky S.O.B. for too many reasons to list. He’d only had a few weeks with her—not all peachy, either, but he’d take every day he got a glimpse of that defiant
woman in a huff over a day without her at all.
Since the day he’d waited for her in her parking garage and let Michael Brooks know about their relationship, every day had been better than the one before. They kept their hands to themselves in the clinic…well, other than the few times they hadn’t been able to wait and had fucked themselves breathless in her office. Fuck. What that woman could do with her mouth had his exhausted body springing back to life within minutes—not even showing the aftermath of five hour therapy sessions.
Okay, maybe that also included acupuncture and a soak in the metal tub that he’d once hated, but loved now. Hell, his body needed that soothing water. Bless Sherry, but she hadn’t thought outside of the box—hadn’t constructed a workout, a plan, an active therapy schedule that catered to just him and what he, Clayton Karz, needed. Roxy had.
He tried like hell not to influence her decision to stay in Pittsburgh. He wanted her there—like you wouldn’t fucking believe, but he didn’t want to mess with her dreams either. He knew a few things about having your dreams almost taken from you. Football had almost been ripped from him. Almost. Clayton wouldn’t do that to her no matter how much it physically hurt to keep his mouth shut.
She had until the weekend to give the Dallas clinic her answer and quite honestly, he was nervous. More nervous for that answer than he was at the fact she was meeting with his trainers and coaches this Friday. Samantha would give her recommendations and her professional opinion on his abilities, his condition, his—whatever the fuck it was. Whether he was the man capable of leading Pittsburgh come pre-season. A season that started in a couple weeks.
He was ready. He knew he was ready. The opinion that mattered was if Samantha thought he was ready.
“Karz!”
“Yo!”
“You in a trance or what, bro?” Brooks tossed a damp towel at him as he sat on the bench across from Clayton in the locker room.
“That better not be sweat, dickhead.”
“Did you pass out?” Michael shook his head. “Dried my hair with that one.”
“Hair? What hair?” Michael’s head was shaved practically to the scalp. Clayton figured he was trying to hide the gray he had coming in. This was not a sport where you wanted to show your age. Not at all. And, the ass ripping he’d get if someone caught wind of him using hair dye? Whew. The crewcut was definitely the way to go.
“I’ve got hair, Karz. Plenty of it. Women like the way a buzz feels against their skin.” At least he’d taken the clippers to his head after he had spent any time with Samantha, because that was not something Clayton wanted to think about happening between the two of them. Shit, he was still pissed that he hadn’t taken her to the banquet. Nothing had happened between Samantha and Brooks, but he’d like to have been the one who had her on his arm the whole evening. Introduce her to all of his teammates and their wives and girlfriends as his girlfriend. Geez, girlfriend made him sound like a teenager.
“Sa—Roxy likes my hair.” Clayton watched as Michael’s expression turned stern and he saw a muscle in his jaw clench and release repeatedly before he spoke.
“Sa? Oh yeah, Roxy is her name, huh?” Brooks closed his eyes and took a breath. “You’re seeing someone else, too? Roxy is not the kind of woman you fu—”
“Whoa! What?” Clayton squinted at him, leaning forward, and lowering his voice. “I’m not seeing anyone but Roxy.”
The wide receiver stood and turned toward his locker giving Clayton only his back.
“Brooks! You hear me?”
Starting to dress for practice that started in fifteen, Michael completely ignored Clayton.
Clayton finished tying his shoes and grabbed his helmet off the self above his name and number. Walking over to Brooks, he repeated, “I’m only seeing Roxy, I swear.”
Without looking at him, Michael asked, “Then why did you almost say someone else’s name, Karz?” Finally turning toward him, Michael looked him straight in the eye. “She’s not some sack slut; Roxy is so much more than that.”
Shit. This would be a helluva lot easier to explain if he could just tell Brooks he almost said Samantha—Roxy’s real name, her given name. However, he had been trusted with her secret, and Clayton would show her that she hadn’t made a mistake in placing her trust with him.
He exhaled his frustration. “I can’t explain it right now, but just know I’m not seeing anyone but Roxy.”
“You’ve always had multiple chicks on the line—”
“Not this time—not with her.” He was gonna sound like a pussy, but fuck it. “I don’t want anyone else… but her. We’re exclusive.”
Michael watched him—seriously stared at him before clapping him on the back. Hard. “Our lil’ boy’s growing up, huh?”
The corners of his mouth turned upward. “Maybe.”
A loud whistle ripped through the air. “Anyone not on the field in five will be fined three thousand bucks and game time.” It was Darreek Terrell, defensive line coach, spewing threats.
“Can they do that shit for a practice?” Brooks asked.
“Who the fuck knows. But, I don’t want to be the one to find out.” Clayton slipped on his helmet, fastened his chinstrap, and jogged away, leaving Brooks to grab his helmet and catch up.
Chapter 23
He hadn’t known she was even there. However, Roxy wanted—needed to see Karz on the field. It was one thing seeing him in the clinic. Hell, it was even different watching his every move during their sessions at Keystone Lake. Roxy had attempted to mimic their practice workouts the best she could with only one player aboard. Not that he was much help in that department. Nope, the second they were outta the clinic and off the grounds, the quarterback took that as a free pass for ass grabbing and anything that would get her juices flowing. Bastard. Keeping his hands to himself after she’d instructed him to only led him to visually eye fuck her every chance he could. Besides, that had more power over her and her Clayton-addicted pussy.
Shit, half the time she figured her heartbeat was higher than his… at least she got in some cardio herself, right?
The truth was he was on the mend—beyond that. His confidence was nearing an all-time high since the surgery. His strength, without the doubt in his eyes, was a beautiful thing to witness.
Today, she was in the stands next to the practice fields with a ball cap shading her identity and sunglasses shading her eyes. She wanted to make sure to blend in as much as she could in the crowd of fans that had come for another day of training camp. It was highly unlikely that Clayton would even look in the stands, let alone see her.
An hour in, she was impressed with what she saw. Clayton was able to rocket throws out quickly with impressive velocity. They were deep throws that would be MVP worthy even in a division game. Accurate passes were paired with raw speed. Damn, he looked good on the field. There was no more hesitation, no more lackluster passes. Above everything, watching his body morph back into the player he had been was a form of redemption for the both of them.
Everyone knows a quarterback can either throw or not. He’s either accurate or quick and a select few are both. Clayton Karz was certainly both.
She kept her eyes on his feet, watching for any sign that the numbness lingered. She saw nothing—no foot drag or turning at awkward angles like before. Had that only been a few weeks ago? Overall, Roxy was confident that quarterback Clayton Karz was back. He had full range of motion with his upper body and if the bullets he was throwing were any indication, he wasn’t only healed, he was ready… ready to play.
While the players ran through one two-minute drill after another, she made her way down to the field. Catching Coach Gresser’s attention, she was escorted through the gates and onto the field alongside a security guard the size of a Volkswagen.
“Walk with me,” the older man said.
The duo walked along the sidelines from one end zone to the other before he spoke again. “Well?”
Taking her sunglasses off, she tucked them into th
e collar of the ball teams T-shirt before looking down the field to the man in question. “I think he’s good—I really think he’s back.”
Gary smiled slowly as if he’d just received the best news possible—which, in a way, he had. His team’s starting star quarterback was back and could be out on the field without restrictions, without worries.
“He was damn impressive today.” Eyeing her expression, he asked, “What?”
Shaking her head, Roxy answered him. “Oh nothing—I mean he’s good. And I’m not a coach or anything—”
“Spit it out, Sunshine.”
She sighed. “I think if he flipped his wrist over he’d only gain speed.” She risked looking at the coach to see if she had crossed the line. He just stared back at her. “Never mind, he looks real good—”
“Oh no, Samantha, explain. Because as you well know, throwing is something a man can do; it’s not something you teach.” She’d heard that a time or a thousand throughout the years and she still didn’t believe a word of it to be true.
“Sir?” His eyes met hers. “I call bullshit on that.”
Gary roared with laughter. “You do, huh?”
Roxy continued even if he found her to be humorous when she was being serious. “His wrist is rarely in the same position twice come release. Inconsistent. His passes are good—some great even, but they could all be great.”
All amusement disappeared from his face and that’s when Roxy knew he was really listening to her. “Just cocking the bottom of the ball out 45 degrees from his body, it can’t go parallel to his feet. That’ll reduce movement in his joints—wrist, elbow, you know? This will guarantee more control and more—”
“More spin,” he finished for her.
She sighed. “Exactly.”
“More spin, more speed, more control.” He got it.
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