Changing Her Plans (Santa Fe Bobcats)

by Jeanette Murray

  “Say it. Kristen, I need to hear you say it.”

  “I want this,” she managed, then gasped when his shoulders pushed her legs wide, her skirt flipped up, and his mouth latched onto her exposed flesh. The heated, slick center of her tingled with every slow swipe of his tongue. Her muscles quivered and tightened and ached as she forced herself to hold still, to not buck back at him when he lapped at her clit, when he nibbled unexpectedly. And she fought off embarrassment when he pulled back, blew on her warmth, and then just stared, like he was looking at something beautiful.

  It was almost sinful how he watched her sex. The obvious lust in his eyes, the desire. She expected to flush all over, but instead it only fired her. Had her wanting more.

  “You’re too covered,” she complained.

  He sat back on his heels on the floor, grinned, then ripped his shirt off over his head. God, that man... He was something to look at. Something magnificent. He levered himself over her again, and she ran her hands down his torso. Sprinkled with salt and pepper hair, with a little more gray than the hair on his head, his skin was hot and tight over muscle and bone. He kept himself in pristine shape, for a man whose body was no longer the reason he had a job.

  “Done perusing the merchandise?” he asked, amusement coloring his question.

  “I’m just making sure I’m getting my money’s worth.” Flicking a thumb over his nipple, she delighted when he groaned a little and let his eyes close. “You got to play and torture me, so now it’s my turn.”

  “Another time,” he said, reaching for his belt. “Not the first time. I’ll barely survive it as it is.”

  “If you say so,” she said on a wistful sigh. She’d just have to explore later. After.

  “Anything you want to tell me? Any unspoken fantasies you want to explore while we’re at this?” he asked, pulling his belt from the loops of his jeans. “Anything you want to give me a hint on to make this the best sex of your life?”

  That set her back a few paces. “Uh... Well, it’s sex. So... Let’s have it? I mean, sex is sex, right?” she added when he gave her a disbelieving look. “Foreplay is awesome, but at the end of the day, the mechanics are the same.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed—actually sighed—in a bid for patience. Then he gripped her under the thighs. “Hold on.”

  “Hold on?”

  “My shoulders,” he warned, then lifted her just as she’d barely gotten a grip. She yelped in surprise, then laughed when her butt hit the cold surface of his dresser. The mirror was at her back, and she was glad she still wore a shirt to protect her skin from that.

  “What...”

  “Sex,” he said calmly, undoing the waistband button of his jeans, “can be just sex. But sometimes, sex can be more. I want to give you more.”

  “Clay.” His name came out on a strangled whisper. A whisper that spoke of regret, of wishing there were more. There were hope. “Clay, I...”

  “Let me show you,” he said on a hushed tone, then kissed her. Somewhere along the way, his pants dropped down, and she was surprised—and maybe a little disappointed—to find he wasn’t exactly commando. Boxer briefs in deep navy covered the goods. When she reached out to caress him through the cotton, he gripped her wrist and wrapped her hand around the edge of the dresser.

  “This is where you hold on. Both hands.”

  She blinked in surprise. “What?”

  Instead of answering, he leaned to the side, opened the nightstand drawer that sat between the dresser she was currently perched on and the bed, grabbed a condom, and put it beside her on the dresser.

  “You hold on, both hands.” Then he dropped down to his knees again, draped her calves over his shoulders, and licked her core.

  Kristen’s head dropped back to crack against the mirror. Some dim corner of her mind prayed she hadn’t broken the glass, but the bigger, better, engaged portion of her brain screamed, Who cares? She was getting the best oral sex of her... Of...

  “Oh my God!” she called out, just before the orgasm ripped through her body. Her legs jerked, her fingers clenched around the wood so hard she worried she’d get a splinter, and her neck hurt from tightening to keep her from throwing it back again and getting a concussion.

  The moment she stopped seeing stars, she realized Clay had stood, wedged her knees apart as far as they would go, and had positioned his protection-clad erection at her entrance.

  “What was that again, about how sex is just sex?” he asked mildly.

  “Hmm?” she asked, dazed.

  “Kristen, give me the okay.”

  She blinked and realized he still wouldn’t go farther without her agreeing to it. Wouldn’t take the step without her active participation. Wouldn’t take advantage of her cloudy judgment, even when he had every right to assume she was wanting it.

  God, would this man stop being perfect already?

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  The second “yes” was barely out of her mouth before Clay slid inside her. She waited for him to pound, rapid speed, in order to reach his own climax. But instead, he simply held still inside her, their fronts draped together, his face pressed into the side of her neck. Held her close as if he were treasuring the moment.

  She ran her hands up and down his back, silently giving him whatever he needed. Encouragement, patience, comfort... If he needed it, she would do what she could to provide.

  Then he slid out, with measured slowness, before pushing back in again. He set a pace that a snail could have surpassed, but each thrust was deliberate, each angle a new twist until she stiffened on a particularly intriguing angle.

  “Liked that one, did you?” he asked, his lips in her hair. “Hit a good spot?”

  “You’ve hit all my spots by now,” she muttered but sucked in a breath when he did it again. “Okay, yes! Yes, yes, yes...”

  He chuckled, the sound muffled a bit by her hair. Then his lips moved down to just below her ear. “I want you to come again.”

  “But I already—”

  “Humor me,” he added dryly. “I know it’s a trial for you to suffer through, but give it your best.”

  “I don’t think I can,” she said weakly. “The first one nearly killed me.”

  “I’ll protect you,” he said, even as his hand slid down to where they were joined. His thumb strummed against that little bundle of nerves just above her core, moving in time with his thrusts.

  She focused, trying so hard to not think about it, not analyze whether she actually could orgasm a second time so quickly.

  “Stop thinking,” he growled, just before lightly biting her neck.

  That sharp sting, coupled with the animalistic feel of it, along with his thumb and cock working in tandem, released the dam she’d built, and her second orgasm flooded over her, taking her for a ride. Dimly, as she was being washed away, she felt him jerk against her, inside her, and knew he was taking his own ride.

  Just before she fell asleep on his shoulder, he helped her remove the rest of her clothes and pulled her into bed with him.

  Twenty minutes and a shift to the bed later, Kristen finally had enough energy to speak.

  “Wow.”

  “I second that motion.”

  Kristen laughed a little, though it almost hurt her stomach muscles. Could stomach muscles ache after sex? It was like she’d done the thirty-minute ab blaster class at the gym and struggled the next day to breathe without tightening.

  How amazing did it say the sex was if she actually had sore muscles afterward?

  “So about that chemistry…” Clay propped himself up on his elbow

  “I came dangerously close to failing that class in high school. Maybe you should lead the chemistry discussion.” Kristen tugged at the sheet until it covered her breasts. The look Clay shot her asked What’s the point of that? The point was…well, she was cold. But still, she wasn’t going to have this conversation with her ladies hanging out.

  “First…” He leaned over and kissed her softly. Som
ething in her heart clenched at the tenderness. It was what she’d missed the most from the lack of dating recently. The sweet tenderness of another human’s contact. “I needed to get that out of the way.”

  “Mmm,” was all she could say.

  “You say we’re not compatible, but then we came in here and, well…” Clay gestured to the sheets in an effort to say Notice how the bed is destroyed?

  Oh yeah. She noticed.

  “I’m not going to convince you to give up your ideas and have a dozen babies with me. I want a partner, not a uterus with legs.”

  That made her snort, then giggle at her snort, and before she knew it, Kristen was covering her head with the sheet and laughing uncontrollably at the image of an organ walking around with a pair of Barbie legs sticking out of it. Maybe with a pair of ovaries dangling from some antenna. She laughed until tears leaked out of her eyes and rolled down to fall on the pillow.

  “Okay, that wasn’t meant to be that funny, but hey. I’ll take it.” Clay gently uncovered her when the laughter subsided and watched her with serious eyes. “A family…my family, it’s something I want. I don’t mean that in a way to disrespect Isaac—”

  “Oh, no. Clay, I know.” She cupped his cheek, her heart doing the clench thing all over again when he nuzzled into her touch. “I never thought you did. I really understand your meaning. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Good. Fine.” Clearing his throat, he flopped back down on his back. “I…haven’t had anything close to that in a long time. Maybe ever.”

  “I haven’t even had sex in over five years,” Kristen said to the ceiling, then she gasped and covered her mouth. Wow, way to throw out all the dirty laundry. Maybe she should tell him about that time at the gynecologist’s office when she—

  “Hey, you’re picky. That’s not a bad thing.” Clay pulled her over, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to curl up beside him. One large hand played with her hair. “I think we can both agree this wasn’t the norm for us. Which makes it that much more rare.”

  “Mmm,” she agreed, loving the way his fingers scratched and pulled gently at her scalp.

  “I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t have anybody stashed in the wings. I don’t know about you…”

  She was silent for a moment, still absorbing the feel of his touch when he poked her ribs.

  “You missed your cue,” he groused.

  “Oh, sorry.” She hid a smile against his side. “I don’t have anyone else on my radar, no.”

  “Using that fantastic communication we have going on for us and our adult reasoning skills…there’s no real point in not repeating this experience again, is there?”

  Kristen absorbed that for a moment. Which was really difficult to do when his other hand—the one not currently massaging her scalp—reached up to cup her breast, lazily thumbing the nipple.

  “So you’re saying…you’re saying…you—okay you have to stop that.”

  He just grinned and waited.

  “You want to do the whole friends-with-benefits thing.”

  Clay’s mouth twisted in a frown. “I’m not a twenty-one-year-old frat boy. We’re adults. That term isn’t all that complimentary for either of us.”

  “But that’s what you’re going for.”

  “I’m going for, we’re mature adults who know what we want, and while we’re out there looking for it, there’s something nice to bide the time.” With a quick roll, he had her under him, with nothing separating their bare skin.

  Because she wanted to, she ran her hands up and down his biceps, which were currently flexed thanks to his positioning. He nuzzled her neck in appreciation.

  “I like spending time with you,” he whispered by her ear, causing her to shiver. “You like me. We just blew each other away in bed.”

  “You mean dresser. We blew each other away on the dresser.”

  He ignored her cheeky response. “Why walk from that when there’s nothing else to take its place? If you meet someone, or I do, we can be adults and move on. I trust you.”

  That level of trust, the simplicity of how he phrased the whole thing, wasn’t something Kristen was used to. “It’s not…I’ve never had just casual sex.”

  “This isn’t casual either. We’re tied together, no matter what happens in the bedroom. Coaching, work…it’s there no matter what. Because of who you are and who I am, I know we can manage.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. Was this really what she wanted?

  She wanted Clay. That much felt right. But his need for kids…if she said no, that would be the end of it. No more dinners like tonight. No more lying in bed. No touching and comforting and reveling in the sensual contact. No more…them.

  Cupping his face with her hands, she nodded. “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  With a grin, she said, “After that whole speech, you’ll really piss me off if you go and fall in love with me.”

  “I can promise to keep that in check,” he said gravely, then kissed her nose.

  Kristen glanced at the clock. “I’ve got another hour or so before I should be home to kick Isaac to bed. Finals week, you know.”

  “Hmm. I think I know how to spend it.” Clay began kissing her neck, then playfully bit and pretended to attack.

  Kristen laughed and rolled. He stayed with her.

  Chapter 7

  “You’re humming.”

  Clay paused on his way to his office the following Monday. “What was that, Frank?”

  The elderly man didn’t bother to make eye contact. “You’re humming.”

  “Oh. Huh.” He hadn’t realized. “Must be in a good mood.”

  “It’s distracting,” Frank muttered in his usual happy-go-lucky way.

  Clay just shook his head and ignored it. He entered his office and sat down, staring at the binder full of plays he was supposed to be reviewing. Still. Because this would never end.

  Pass.

  He swiveled in his chair and decided to get out his phone and update and sync his work calendar with his practice schedule for the baseball team. While he should be able to make most of the early tournaments, once camp started, it would get a little more dicey. Luckily, Anton had promised any help was better than no help at all.

  “Uh, Coach?”

  Clay’s head snapped up to find Trey Owens and Josh Leeman standing in his doorway, confused looks on their faces. “What?”

  “You were humming,” Josh said, looking concerned. Trey’s face morphed into amusement.

  “Damn,” he muttered, then waved them in. Both came in and sat down in the chairs across his desk. “Since neither of you two exit the area for postseason, I’m going to be using you.”

  His This is voluntary went unspoken.

  As did their Not really, we know we can’t really say no.

  He smiled a little at their silence. “Coach Jordan asked me to flip through the playbooks and find a few to replace. I’m wanting input.”

  Trey nodded and held out his hand for the top binder. It didn’t surprise Clay a bit. Owens was the starter and had been for years. Team quarterback, all around leader of men on and off the field. He’d have the confidence to step in and make suggestions.

  Josh hesitated. As the backup quarterback, he’d been thrust into the spotlight following Trey’s injury in the past year. He was a solid player and a good guy, but he didn’t want the attention or the leadership responsibility the way Trey did. “What are we looking for?”

  “Plays we’ve run, either in practice or games, that failed more than succeeded. Plays we haven’t run for years.”

  “Pull them out and toss them?” Josh asked.

  “No, mark them, and we’ll consider why. Why aren’t we running this play? Is it because it was buried under all the other junk and we need to give it some new consideration? Or is it because it’s almost identical to another play but more complex and unnecessary? Why did the plays fail? Were the successes with the play on big gains or n
ada?”

  Josh nodded slowly and took the binder Clay handed him. He’d work on it, but Clay would bet dollars to donuts he wouldn’t be nearly as vocal about it as Trey was. Fine. That was what separated the satisfactory team members from the franchise-making players.

  After a few minutes of flipping and flagging using sticky notes, Clay asked, “Did you boys come through the practice parking lot or the front?”

  He flipped another page, not looking up. The small pause before either answered made him think they were glancing at each other, wondering what was with the weird question.

  “Front,” Josh finally said.

  “Anyone up there? Summer staff,” he added, looking up quickly. “Never know who’s around or not.”

  “Kristen,” Trey said. “Marge wasn’t there, though I think she’s just on lunch.”

  “Right, right.” He flipped another page, aiming for casual. “Your wife’s working through the year though, right, Owens?”

  Trey’s smile could have lit the stadium at night. Nearly a year ago, he’d married the head coach’s daughter, Cassie. She worked for the team in the IT department. The Nerd Herd, as they referred to themselves.

  “Yup. She’s taking a week off in two weeks, and we’re going to do a vacay, but she’s around. In fact, I brought her lunch before stopping off here. She’s eating with Kristen in a bit.”

  “Those two do that often? I mean, does Kristen eat with people in the office regularly?” When both Josh and Trey looked at each other again, he knew he had to cool it. Questions and Getting To Know You stunts weren’t his thing. He was business on the field, all the way. “Never mind. Let’s get back to it.”

  For the next hour, the only sound that filled the office was the flipping of laminated play sheets.

  Kristen sat in the bleachers, surrounded by the mothers of the baseball team, working her darndest to keep her focus on the conversation at hand and not stare at her friend with benefits out on the field. He wore baseball pants today—were they brand-new?—as today was sliding practice. He’d taken a few aims at the slides himself, which the kids had all promptly laughed at even though they’d looked pretty good to her.