Turning on her iPod and dropping it in the dock, Roxy picked a playlist and cranked the volume. Music that fed her mood—probably not the best choice. Fuck it. A little Rage Against The Machine fit the bill.
She had been packing for the last three hours with no plan to stop until somebody started banging on her patio door. The door that could only be reached from Michael’s patio. Without looking, she flipped the lock and slid the glass door open part way. Clayton—not Michael stood in the doorway. Totally not who had expected.
“About time you answered, I was about to break the damn door.” A very pissed off Clayton apparently, stood in the doorway.
“Sorry, didn’t hear you.” She heard him slide the door open further and knew he had let himself in. Within seconds, the volume was turned down but in no way was she shutting it off. Bulls On Parade was rather therapeutic at the moment.
“You look like shit.” Well, he did. She already knew she did. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes just like Clayton’s and her skin looked pale, as did the color in her eyes. That was a sure sign of fatigue. A slight pinch of satisfaction crossed her when it was clear Clayton was in just as bad shape as she was.
“I drank too much last night.”
Ahh… that was the excuse he was going with, huh?
“Had a little too much fun, did ya?” For the first time since they had started this, this whatever they were, Roxy wondered if he had gone home with company last night. Not that it was any of her business. They were done—not that they had ever started anything official anyway.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Clayton followed her as she walked into her bedroom. Boxes and suitcases covered most of her bed. Pictures had been taken down from the walls and curtains had been taken off the rods leaving only the contractor blinds behind. What in the hell? “What’s going on, Samantha?”
Did he have to use her real name? Every time he said it, her heart constricted. Lifting her fingers to her temples, she tried to rub away her thoughts. If only it worked like that. She should have never confessed her real name to him, ever.
“I’m packing things up—”
“Already?”
“Look at you, you’re ready to play. You don’t need me anymore.”
Like hell he didn’t need her. He felt like grabbing her and shaking her because she didn’t make any sense. Jesus, Clayton felt as if he needed her more now than he had weeks ago but for totally different reasons.
“That’s it? You’re just up and leaving?”
“You knew about Dallas. It wasn’t a secret, Clay. I’m taking the job—it’s an amazing opportunity. There’s nothing left for me here now that you’re back on the roster. The Cherry Hill Clinic isn’t busy enough to keep me on. They can’t afford me and Dallas is a perfect fit.”
“Perfect fit, huh?” Funny because that’s what he had thought they were. Relationships were not his forte. He was lost and had no clue where to go.
What was he doing? Sitting on the edge of her bed, Clayton watched as she took items out of her closet, folded them neatly, and placed them in an awaiting box. Each time she tossed a plastic hanger into the pile, the sound ricocheted in his head like a cannon ball. It wasn’t as if he was going to volunteer to help her. God, had his head ever been this messed up before?
So he just… watched. Watched the way she moved with meaning—she’d always done that. Roxy never moved without purpose. If she was feeling anything other than contentment, she didn’t show it. She never showed any emotion. Most likely, a survival skill she’d acquired over the years, he figured. Her independence was one of the things he admired about her. Yet, he yearned to be the man she could count on. He wanted to be the one constant thing in her life that she could show her vulnerable side to—he’d cherish it, protect her. If only.
She wore an oversized Charger’s jersey. The damn thing could’ve fit Remme and he was a three hundred five pound linebacker. It hung off one shoulder, leaving her red bra strap showing. Why that little tease made him want to nibble on her smooth shoulder beat him. Never had he looked at a woman and been so aroused and certainly not over a shoulder. Of all of the wonderful female body parts, Clayton had never salivated over a shoulder.
“You trying to jinx us? We play the San Diego the second week of pre-season—”
“Third week, actually.” When she turned to face him, her look of exhaustion had his gut clenching. Clayton wondered if he was to blame for the dark circles beneath her eyes. “You play the Patriots first week, Giants the second week, then the Chargers.” Of course, she knew. The corners of his mouth slowly turned up and then she graced him with one of her beautiful smiles.
“Damn, you’re beautiful.” His voice was thick with unexpected emotion.
Reaching up, she smoothed her wild hair that was piled atop her head in a messy topknot. “I think you’re still drunk.” And she blushed. A woman who could nail his ass to the wall without blinking, call him every curse word known to man and beast, openly ask for what she needed in the bedroom in the filthiest of locker room terms… blushed at being called beautiful. It was the truth. He’d thought so the first day he’d met her and she’d only gotten more so each day that had passed. It was also a new experience for him. One that he’d never forget—not that Roxy was the kind of woman a man could ever forget. Dammit, he didn’t even want to try.
“Quit staring at me,” she said. “It’s creepy, you creep.” Then she laughed.
God, that laugh.
He was so screwed.
Getting up, he went to her—it seemed he was always following her. Clayton didn’t mind.
His large tanned hand stalled her smaller paler one as she reached for another clothes hanger from the closet. Neither said a word. He stilled, she stilled, time stilled. Then, Clayton turned her slowly. Closing his eyes for a moment, he cupped her face in both hands. His breathing was deep and hard, his chest rising and falling quickly, his jaw tense. Roxy had seen Clayton him from every angle, every mood. Yet, she’d never seen him as he was right now.
In need. Haunted by one of the most basic, yet, complicated needs there were.
Completely male, testosterone poured from his body. It surrounded him in a cloud that blinded her within its haze.
Roxy turned and kissed one palm then turned and kissed the other. Her only worry was if he could actually see her heart breaking. Hear the cracking, see her wincing as the tender flesh separated.
Their eyes were connected, and she had never had to hold back tears as hard as she was at that moment. Without a word, Clayton dropped a hand down to the apex of her thighs. Just beneath the hem of the jersey, he ran his hand up her smooth thigh until he cupped her mound, finding her without panties. He growled.
Her head fell back against the mirrored sliding closet door and she let out the purest feminine sigh his ears had ever heard. Not only were his thick fingers buried within her heat, they were quickly covered in her honey. Clayton nipped and sucked the tendon along the side of her neck—the one that made her shiver every time. Leaning close against her ear, he whispered to her. “I came here to give you hell for not inviting me over—not asking what I was doing the last couple days—”
“But I—”
His fingers picked up speed, and he nipped her earlobe. “Shh… I’m not done. I was pissed you sent over drinks last night at the bar when I never knew you were there.” Leaning back, he looked at her face. Roxy was flushed, her lips slightly parted, and her breathing coming in short brief pants. “When I all I wanted last night was you.”
His mouth descended and relayed what he had just said. Need, want, and demand came across loud and clear. Clayton’s fingers continued to tease her and wreak havoc on her. She wanted more. Roxy always wanted more when she was with Clayton. That would be her undoing; she knew it.
What was he going to do? There was no way he could let heaven go when he had it at his fingertips… literally. Clayton understood what a gift it was for such a strong woman like Samantha to give hers
elf over to someone as she had to him.
Thick lashes fluttered against full flushed cheeks and his pulse skipped a few beats. The green of her eyes no longer looked clouded as they had when he had arrived but now pierced his soul. He absorbed every feature—every freckle on her beautiful face. Her full lips. The bottom one was slightly pouty; some would say a tad too big but had him picturing those same lips wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy. A nose that had that slight tilt upward that only looked right on women.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, and when her nails dug into his scalp, urging his mouth to hers… Clayton lost all control. “Samantha, you’re potent and I could never get enough. Never.”
Wrapping her right leg around his hip, she writhed against him without shame. “Show me.”
And, he did just that… twice.
Chapter 26
Thursday August 7th First Pre-Season Game Pittsburgh VS. New England
Knowing damn well that one tight end and four receivers in a grouping sent defensive coordinators into valley of fury with their substitute patterns had him smugly smirking. Forcing the defenders to make sudden adjustments off the cuff always boded well for him. Hell, that’s the only reason they used the odd groupings in the first damn place. Using the empty formations or rocking a number of various spreads sent the other team in a tornado of wonder. A confused opponent wasn’t a confident opponent. Toss in some pre-snap shifting and they had themselves an opening of epic proportions.
Black and gold had led the first half of the game, but the Pat’s came up from behind with two consecutive touchdowns and an impressive 54-yard field goal. Trailing 30-14 and looking straight at a third-and-17, Clayton’s only choice was to throw the ball away. Instead, New England’s linebacker Deville Sterling intercepted.
Dammit! They needed to get their hands back on that ball.
Karz was back in the game but after making a rookie mistake like that, he wasn’t making the impression he wanted to. It was now or never to show his team that he was here and that he damn well belonged here. Sitting on the sideline, he watched his men attempt to get the ball that he’d basically handed over on a silver fucking platter back, wasn’t what a starting quarterback did.
********
The other day when Clayton had come to her hung over as hell, and looking as if someone just kicked his puppy, she had let her temper cool. And when he’d practically brought her to tears with his look of sincerity as he held her in his hands, Roxy no longer saw red. She had worked herself into a real good mad from the night before. Fully intending to say hello at the sports bar last night, the words she heard fall from Clayton’s lips changed her mind.
“Roxy and I are just having a good time—that’s it, nothing else. She’ll be gone soon enough.” That sounded almost like he was waiting for her to leave—anticipating her departure. Why was she surprised? It was the man’s M.O., right? He didn’t do relationships and, if he did, it would be with some all-American girl- next-door type like Kathryn or even the annoying as hell receptionist at the clinic, Missy. Roxy probably wasn’t his idea of settling down material—if he was even considering that at all. Not that she would know. They hadn’t done a lot of talking besides football, fast cars, and a helluva lot of sex.
Her anger was gone—at least against Clayton. Now, she found herself mad more at herself than anything. She’d never been the kind of woman who would change her life, alter plans, or make decisions based around a man. Roxy had always stuck with the thought that if it had testicles or tires, it’d give you trouble… eventually. And, she hadn’t worked her ass off—ten times harder than any man would’ve had to in the same field to succeed—just to let it go for some sappy love story that would end in disaster. A girl had to give up on silly fairy tales sometimes. Her mother left when she was a baby. Her father died. She had a brother she rarely ever spoke to and there was no fairy godmother granting wishes or casting spells that would have her meeting her Prince Charming. Everything in her life she had worked hard for and pissing away a job opportunity because of some one-sided crush was something she’d never sink to.
No, it was time to square her shoulders, lift her chin, and hold her head high as she waltzed away from Pittsburgh for Dallas. It was time to leave the Cherry Hill Clinic for the four times larger clinic on El Dorado Boulevard.
For today, she’d watch her last patient from the sidelines. Just so happens he was the same man she’d be leaving with a piece of her heart—not that she’d tell him that. Some things were just better left unsaid, and this was one of those things.
They’d both entered this with eyes wide open and knowing the deal. Just fun—no strings. At the moment, Roxy had so many damn strings in her head that it looked like a round of cats in the cradle gone wrong. But, that was on her. Her feelings were her responsibility not Clayton’s; she knew that. He hadn’t done anything… but make her fall for him. Even if he wasn’t aware that he had.
********
Pittsburgh had possession of the ball again after a New England fumble just shy of their thirty-yard line. Tied up with mere seconds left in the game. Seriously? First pre-season game of the year and they were headed straight into overtime. Sudden death. The first to score would be the first to win. Clayton wanted this win and not by a safety—not even by a field goal but by black and gold crossing that goal line.
Time’s up. And they still sit at a tie. The Referee tosses the coin and the Pats call tails—luckily for the hometown boys, heads it is, Pittsburgh’s ball.
Clayton jogs over to the small pow-wow of Coach Gresser, defensive coaches, o-line coaches. He takes a knee and listens closely. They only have a three-minute intermission before they will continue play for fifteen minutes. Since it’s a pre-season game, each team is given two timeouts instead of three.
They had a plan and Clayton was confident. There was just no way he was walking away from this game without a win. Shit, it was his first game back—even if it was only pre-season.
As he made his way out onto the field, he caved into the need to look over on the sidelines to see if she was still there. She was and, in all honesty, he knew Roxy was there before she was in his line of sight. His body reacted the same way whenever she was within a certain distance. Call him sappy, call him horny, call him whatever the hell you wanted as long as he got to see her, smell her, taste her—hell, feel her, he was happy. Just as he was about to look away, she shook her head and made an ‘L’ with her index finger and thumb on her forehead.
What the fuck? Did she just call me a loser?
Then she laughed and gave him two thumbs up. He didn’t need to hear her laugh to know what it sounded like. No, he’d had that sound memorized, or rather, it had mesmerized him long ago.
Clayton lost it. He laughed the rest of the way to his position just behind the o-line. It was Roxy’s way of telling him not to lose. No blowing him a kiss or a sweet wave, just a no bullshit get-the-job-done gesture, you loser.
God, he loved that woman.
Holy shit! He truly, completely, fully, balls-to the-wall loved Samantha Aurora Shaw. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind, but it was the first time he was willing to accept it, admit it. And, how fitting that he had seen the light, you could say, walking across the fifty-yard line ready for his first win back from the dead. All of it due to the foulmouthed, tattooed goddess he craved as much as the game itself.
Fuck if she was going to Dallas. Yeah, like that wouldn’t get his balls handed to him in Ziploc bag, right? Smiling to himself, Clayton knew he needed to finish this game because he had shit to do. He had plans to make and a woman to talk to more than anything.
He may have been the quarterback who threw the 36-yard bullet, but it was Brooks who had taken it in for the touchdown. The wide receiver not only made the impressive three finger catch, but he managed to pass five members of New England’s team before crossing the goal line. Sudden death for sure and he was happy as shit that it wasn’t his team’s
demise.
********
And Clayton Karz is back!
She knew he was, but watching him today on the field was all the proof Roxy needed. Her job was done. Who knew it was possible for one’s heart to swell and break simultaneously? He was back in the game where he belonged.
Making her way from the sidelines, she was determined to flee while she could. The doctor ordered a ride on the back of one Suzuki Hayabusa. Nothing soothed her like a good bike ride… except for Clayton, but he wasn’t an option anymore. The sooner she started accepting that the better. It made no sense to prolong the pain.
Chapter 27
“Karz! Coach wants you in his office.”
He’d showered, dressed, and was just packing up his duffle when he was summoned.
Two knocks on the door and he saw the Coach signal for him to enter. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Coach Gresser nodded his head toward the chair in front of his desk. Clayton sat and wondered what this was about and if it could wait? He’d like to get out to Roxy as soon as he could.
“Coach, can this wait? Roxy’s out there and I’d like to—”
“She left, son.”
“What?”
“She already hopped on that damn suicide machine of hers and took off like it had a jet engine on the stupid thing.” The older man shook his head and ran his hands over his face. “Did I mention I hate that bike of hers?”
Clayton would have smiled if he wasn’t upset that she’d already left.
“I was planning on talking to her first but she hauled ass outta here like she was on fire, so I figured I’d run it past you first,” he laughed. “Truth is it couldn’t hurt to have you on my side.”
“Your side, sir?”
“Not just my side, but the team’s side, I guess. But, I won’t lie… Doris and I would reap the benefits personally as well.” He stopped fidgeting with the ballpoint pen in his hand, pulled the top drawer open, and tossed it inside before meeting Clayton’s questioning gaze. “But if I’m not wrong here, I’d say that you’d reap in plenty of benefits yourself. Actually, you’d probably gain the most from what I’m about to say.”
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