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by Holly S. Roberts

  As hard as I tried to keep a level tone, my words came out breathy. “Only when I’ve had less than five hours sleep.”

  Killian wasn’t fooled. “I’ll add that to the list.”

  I ate one waffle, wanted five more, but knew I needed to run first. Killian gave me a clean pair of his boxer briefs, sweat shorts, and a t-shirt. I showered quickly while he took care of some pressing emails. I walked into the front room looking like a homeless person in the oversized clothes.

  His dimples flashed and I wanted to drown in his laughing eyes.

  Rounding my shoulders, I tilted my upper body back and displayed a double peace sign with my fingers before tilting forward again. “I got this gangsta shit down.”

  Killian was on me in a blink, spinning me around, my ass in the air with my stomach pressed against the back of the couch. He had my shorts and underwear pushed to the floor before I knew what happened.

  “Killian, what are you doing?” I laughed.

  “You’s in my territory, and you payin’ turf fee.”

  I could only groan as his cock slid between my legs and found my sweet spot. He reached around and teased my clit while his hips went to work rocking the large couch. God, I could get used to this every day for the rest of my life.

  I moaned when the orgasm zinged between my g-spot and clit while Killian roared against the skin of my neck. I might not be a screamer, but he sure as hell made up for it. I liked it because he always let me know I’d done something right. Even if all I did was have repeated orgasms.

  Sliding out, he pulled up my underwear and shorts then turned me around.

  For the first time after sex, he didn’t look happy.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said with complete shock on his face.

  What the hell?

  His eyes locked with mine and I saw worry tinged with something I couldn’t identify. On anyone else I would think it was terror.

  “I didn’t bag it.”

  Oh shit, it was terror.

  “Um, I’m on the pill.”

  He still didn’t look happy.

  “I’m clean and haven’t had sex in over a year.”

  His dimples gave a slight quirk. “I’m clean, too. Why are you on the pill?”

  My face went red. I did not feel comfortable talking about my body’s cycle.

  He waited patiently.

  I gave in. “Running makes my period almost non-existent. I take the pill straight through for three months then off for a week. It sometimes lets my body do its thing.”

  He blinked, and then a slow, sensual smile lit up his face.

  “You don’t have periods for three months?” He looked like he ate a piece of his favorite candy.

  “Perv.”

  “Why have I never dated a runner before?”

  Now I gave him my evil-eyed look.

  “Sorry.” He turned slightly away. “I’m an insensitive jerk. What about mood swings?”

  My fist flew, hitting him on the side of his arm. I shook my hand out from the pain of connecting with a cement wall.

  “What was that for?” He rubbed the spot I’d hit even though I knew it really felt like nothing more than a mosquito bite to him.

  “That was a mood swing.”

  He laughed all the way to the counter where he grabbed his keys.

  He turned back with his bad-boy grin still plastered to his face. “I’ll add that to my long list of notes.”

  An hour later, we stood outside my apartment building after I changed into real running gear. As much as I liked wearing Killian’s clothes, I couldn’t run in them. He had a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, no shirt, and drool-worthy shorts. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to lose fluids, so I had to keep my eyes off him or at least try. It was nine in the morning, four hours after I usually started my run, and it was already hotter than hell.

  “You sure you want to do this?” I asked Mac the Knife.

  “I’m tough, baby. I live for this heat.”

  He held tight on the first mile, stretched with me, and then without complaint settled in for the real fun. Five miles later, I started to see the strain. Sweat dripped off both our bodies, but his was a river.

  “Cut the coffee next time,” I taunted. We continued running for two more miles.

  We ran beside the canal and entered the soccer park district. He grabbed my hand, throwing me slightly off stride.

  “What are you doing?”

  He pulled me off the cement and onto the grass. Three small trees bunched close together and had about five feet of shade beneath them. He collapsed and pulled me down beside him.

  “We have another six miles.” I struggled to pull away, but he wouldn’t release my hand.

  “I think we need an ambulance, and you can’t leave me to face the tabloids alone.” His heavy breathing made me smile.

  “Tabloids?”

  “‘Killian MacGregor Dead From Heatstroke’ will be the headline. If you mention coffee, I’m throwing you into the canal.”

  I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “You did better than I thought you would.”

  “Hell, what does it take to be at the head of the pack for college runners? I can run, baby, but not at this level.”

  “You have too much muscle mass. Your body works harder.” I looked at the canal and tried to keep more laughter from my voice. “The coffee and five waffles didn’t help.”

  “I’m too tired to take notes, so please remind me after the ambulance arrives.”

  I flipped open my old cheap phone and called Lyle. “Killian went running with me. We’re at the canal soccer field.” I listened and then answered. “He doesn’t have a shirt on and his shorts will give you wet dreams for the next month.” I looked at Killian, who put his forearm over his eyes. I clicked my phone shut.

  He groaned out beneath his arm, “Can I just look sexy and not put out?”

  My laughter bubbled over. I think I loved Killian MacGregor.

  Chapter Nine

  Lyle made the trip worth his time. He ogled and leered, lifting his eyebrows and making a complete cake of himself. That was Lyle, and surprisingly Killian didn’t seem to mind and even played along.

  “Thanks for saving me. I think I’m giving up jogging. I’ll just stick to weights.”

  “Excellent idea. Weights are good.” Ogle, leer, eyebrow lift.

  This went on even after Killian took us to a late breakfast. I scarfed, both men watched, and I didn’t care.

  “She eat like this all the time?” Killian questioned Lyle.

  “I’ve invested in pizza stocks and made a fortune. She eats a large, topped with everything, all to herself. Touch a slice and lose a finger. Not with a knife or anything, she’ll just bite it off and eat it.”

  “Ha ha, funny.” Amanda and Lyle always teased me about food. Killian was great to go out with because he actually managed to eat a little more than I did. If I added the five waffles he ate this morning, he was holding his own.

  Lyle dropped Killian and me off at my apartment. Killian followed me inside and, as soon as the door closed, pulled me into his body. I could feel every hard, hot, and needy inch of him.

  “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

  I pulled away slightly, giving him a quizzical look.

  “Tomorrow?” he repeated.

  “Uh, I have a nine o’clock class.”

  “Pack an overnight bag and I’ll get you there on time.”

  I took a slow breath to line up my thoughts. “Don’t you have practice or something?”

  “Yes, practice and something, but I’m not finished with you.”

  “Finished?” That feeling of dread entered my stomach again.

  “What’s your weekly schedule look like?”

  I was missing something here, but went ahead and acted like an idiot. “Weekly schedule?”

  He smiled slow and easy, moved back, and smiled some more.

  I stared.

  “I thought maybe you coul
d concentrate more if my dick wasn’t touching you.”

  My eyes dropped to the front of his shorts and, yep, his dick was there, tenting from his pants and huge. No smart comeback came to mind. I just licked my lips.

  His voice dipped to that sweet, sexy octave that made my panties wet.

  He laughed, but stayed back. “I want to know your schedule so maybe sometime during the week we can connect. Mine is crazy right now, but once regular season begins, things will be worse.”

  I barely managed to keep my eyes up and not look at his crotch again. “I have classes on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. I have Wednesday days off, but work all night.”

  “Work where?”

  “Tillomans.”

  His eyebrows arched. “I’ve never seen you there.”

  “I’ve been there for five months, just on Wednesday evenings.” Tillomans was an exclusive restaurant that had steep prices, world-class dining, and excellent tips. It’s challenging to get a job there but the college arranged it for me.

  “Friday nights?” He looked hopeful.

  “Open.”

  “Saturday and Sunday nights?”

  “Open.”

  “Not anymore. Pack essentials, maybe a couple nice dresses for dining out. You can buy anything you need that you don’t bring. When we’re alone at the house, you won’t need clothes.” He walked closer, entirely into my personal space, and threaded his fingers into my hair so he was holding my face still. “I want you on the weekends when I’m in town. Half the season I’m away, but when I’m not…I. Want. You. Bring that sexy short skirt, too.”

  Dimples.

  I had trouble breathing.

  My life went from zero to Killian MacGregor in twenty-four hours, and I was in love.

  Killian stayed close while I packed a medium-sized bag. I was having trouble believing this man, face of an angel, body of a god, rich, sports icon, and light years beyond sexy. He wanted me to pack a bag for sleepovers. Suddenly, all my insecurities came to the surface, but I managed to hide them as I stuffed my things inside. I tossed in my extra running shoes, received a scowl, which only made me smile, and zipped my bag. Killian took the handle, though it had rollers, and followed me to the door. I locked it then walked slightly behind him, watching his ass all the way to his car. His arm muscles barely tightened while holding my bag, damn it. I should have packed more junk.

  We pulled up in front of a large outdoor mall. Killian got out first, came around, and assisted me from the car. I glanced at the storefronts, seeing no reason for us to be there. He took my hand and walked me toward a high-end cosmetic retail salon. I had no clue about his intentions.

  “Pick out your soap, shampoo, and makeup—whatever you want so you don’t need to bring it back and forth from my place to your apartment.”

  He walked inside with me following in stunned silence.

  All female heads turned. Killian stayed by my side as I tentatively picked out the things I needed.

  I looked at him. “Are you buying anything?”

  His gaze tilted down to mine and he smiled. “No.”

  When I went to dig into my small purse, he pulled out some bills and paid for everything. When we were back in his car and pulling onto the main road, I couldn’t help myself. “I can pay for my own things, Killian.”

  He actually looked surprised for a split second and turned my way before giving me his completely lovable grin.

  “I’ll add that to the list.”

  He knew exactly how to take the angst out of me. I decided to change the subject. “So, what’s your weekly schedule?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Strength training in the mornings, full pads and contact most afternoons. My masseuse comes to the house at six thirty Monday through Friday, and I have a standing sports psychologist session on Wednesday nights.”

  I wasn’t going to comment on the psychologist, but he answered my questions for me right after he took my hand and ran his fingers over my knuckles.

  “I have a temper and don’t take losing well. There are other things I don’t handle with full brain function, but I’ve never hit a woman, never will. It was suggested when I got the starting QB position that I see a sports shrink.”

  Wow. Okay, I knew lots of athletes used hypnotists and therapists, but he was the first one I knew who went to one for anger issues. I looked up from our locked fingers.

  “Do you think I could borrow him once track season starts?”

  His dimples came back.

  Chapter Ten

  When we got to Killian’s house, he took me out back to his humungous swimming pool. I hadn’t packed my suit and looked around for a way out.

  “You won’t need it,” he said with a sexy leer, obviously guessing what caused my anxiety.

  He stripped me down, then himself, and pulled my hand until the water surrounded us. It was perfect. He began swimming laps while I leaned back on a rounded step and watched.

  Maybe he was a nudist. I’d never known anyone so comfortable in their naked skin. I admired his arms as he ate up the length of the pool, turned around, and repeated the process. I lost count of his laps and just enjoyed the pool’s cool water and my favorite pair of arms in the entire world. His naked ass propelling through the water wasn’t bad either.

  Eventually, those big powerful arms brought him to me. He circled my hips and lifted me half out of the pool. My palms rested on his shoulders as he held me up. For the first time, outside of me being above him in bed, I looked down at Killian MacGregor.

  He was undeniably glorious.

  Water dripped from his long eyelashes and streams trailed down his face and chest. His eyes stayed on mine as he lowered me, ever so slowly, with just the strength of his arms. I was Tinker Bell again. He stood me on the second step with his feet at pool level.

  “Mmm. I like this,” he said in that husky, sexy voice of his.

  His mouth, now even with my breast, sucked me in. Not just the nipple, but as much of my breast as he could. No man had ever done that, and the feeling was incredibly erotic. My head went back and a low moan escaped from my throat. He switched sides and I moaned again. His mouth released my breast and I looked down. He stared at me as his tongue twirled around my nipple. He played, sucked, teased, and watched me the entire time.

  I decided somewhere in the back of my brain to have my first orgasm with breast stimulation only. Actually, Killian decided. He pulled me a little closer so my chin rested on the top of his head. I circled my legs around his hips. He sucked my full breast in again and a cry left my throat as my pussy zinged inside and out.

  He held me close until my body returned to normal, or as normal as it could with my legs wrapped around Killian’s bare hips.

  “Better,” he said against my skin after tilting me back and lowering his head.

  “Better?” I asked, still woozy from my orgasm.

  “I like hearing you make noise.” He kissed my abs, flicking his tongue over my flesh and making me shiver all over again from his touch.

  I still felt embarrassed over his comment about me making noise.

  “Truth. What are you thinking?”

  I shifted back and his intense eyes stared into mine.

  Honesty apparently mattered with him. “That you make me feel uncomfortable when you say things like that.”

  “Good.”

  I wouldn’t do it. I would not do it. “Good?” Damn it.

  “You need to let go and stop thinking so much when I’m fucking you.”

  He pulled me off the step against his chest and kissed me, softening his words. Every time his lips met mine felt better than the last. He worked my mouth like he worked my body.

  In fifth grade, I was five foot nine inches tall. Taller than every teacher I’d ever had. I was awkward, gangly, and homely as hell. The girls didn’t play with me, the boys ran in the opposite direction, and I turned inward.

  It wasn’t until high school that I started running. Slowly my coordination improved a
long with a small bit of confidence. Not in my looks or my size, but in my ability to be alone and enjoy things I could do by myself.

  Being a track star got me no high school points in the hallways, but it gained attention from the newspapers and college scouts. I accepted the full ride to State and found a new world where acceptance wasn’t required.

  Academia was my best friend until I met Amanda and Lyle. Most people would think we had nothing in common. Amanda was studying to be a kindergarten teacher and Lyle a stage actor/director. But each of us, in our own way, was a square peg in a round hole. We didn’t fit until you put our pieces against each other and then we locked tight.

  Now I was naked in a swimming pool with Killian MacGregor and he made me feel beautiful. And shit, I thought to myself, I wanted nothing more than to completely let go and scream.

  Killian’s body continued to press against mine and his needs became obvious. I let my fingers do the walking down his side and over his hip until I could wrap them tightly around his cock. Maybe it was because of the night with Stump, but Killian hadn’t given me any indication that he wanted my lips on him. I loved his lips on me, so turn-around was only fair.

  I pulled slightly away and gathered every ounce of courage I could find.

  “I want to taste you.”

  His eyes closed for a moment. “Not here. Come.”

  He took my hand and I followed. He dried us both off with one towel before we entered his house. He stopped at his couch, tossed a pillow on the floor, and turned toward me. I arranged the pillow and sank to my knees while he stood.

  I looked up past his glorious cock, over his abs and chest and then met his eyes. “I’m not sure I’m very good at this.”

  His lips quirked and his low, husky voice showed his need. “Christ…just taste, baby.”

  So I did. Our bodies were so different, but I loved the way he used his lips and fingers on me, so I did the same. I explored with my mouth, and, at one point, palmed the sack of his balls. I wasn’t sure how much pressure the silky full skin could take, so I squeezed just a little. He took my hand and squeezed mine harder, teaching me what he liked. I writhed against his mouth when he did this to me and I wanted a similar reaction from him. His straining cock slid past my lips until my tongue felt the pulsing along the backside, which signaled his pending orgasm. He grabbed my hair and held my head in place while pulling away. He took hold of his cock and spurted across my breasts.