Making the Play

by T. J. Kline

  I love you.

  Her heart stopped beating. Grant lifted his hand, repeating the gesture to James. Bethany felt her heart swell two sizes, making room for the football player who’d just filled it with so much tenderness, she thought she might explode.

  BETHANY COULDN’T BELIEVE her eyes as they rode over the hill, entering a small valley. The area was dotted with pines and spruce and the sweet scent of the coming spring hung in the chilled air. In spite of the warmer than usual weather, there were still a few puddles left from melted snowfall. The chatter of squirrels and the warbling chirp of several birds in the trees as they awakened to the coming season greeted their arrival. In the center of the meadow, surrounded by trees to the rear, was a large canvas tent.

  “What’s this?”

  “Privacy.” Grant smiled at her. “An entire afternoon away from everyone. We can stay as long or short a time as you decide.”

  She bit the inside of her lip as they rode closer and she tried to see inside the tent. It seemed far too elaborate to set up for one occasion but it was far too immaculate to have been out here long.

  He’d done all this for her? And he was willing to go through this much effort for only a few hours if that’s what she decided? He couldn’t possibly be for real.

  “This is a chance for us to get to know one another.”

  He dismounted and reached for her mount’s reins to hold the animal so she could climb off. He led both horses to a rope tied between two tree branches and tethered them. When he turned back toward her, she moved closer to him, sliding her arms around his slim waist.

  “Mr. McQuaid, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”

  She was rewarded with one of his playboy grins that made her heart skip. “You haven’t even gone inside yet.”

  Her brows lifted in question as he slipped his hand into hers and pulled her toward the opening. As soon as she stepped inside, she realized this was no regular tent. This was a portable hotel room, complete with a screened patio with wicker furniture. Moving farther inside, a large bed—­a real mattress with a comforter—­filled much of the room and in the back was a small portable bathroom, complete with shower and generator.

  “How did you even manage this?” She couldn’t keep the awe from seeping into her voice. How in the world had he arranged this on such short notice?

  He shrugged. “Would it surprise you if I told you this was one of the business interests I had outside of football? I invested in some property not too far from here where I offer glamping facilities.”

  “Glamping?”

  “Camping for ­people who don’t want to rough it.”

  She leaned backward to look up at him. “You’re serious?”

  He laughed. “You’d be surprised at what ­people will pay for these. At my place, we even deliver breakfast. I had my staff bring up one of the tents yesterday and set it up while we were at the house.”

  Bethany ran her hand over the rough canvas as she peeked out of one of the six windows lining the walls of the tent. She turned back to face him and clasped her hands behind her back. “You continue to amaze me. You’re a real jack-­of-­all-­trades. Rancher, plumber, football star, businessman . . . Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “I’m sure there’s something.” His eyes were mischievous and she knew he was up to no good. His hands circled her waist and pulled her close to him. “For the record, I’m no rancher. That is definitely something that’s not in my wheelhouse.”

  “Your Dad mentioned that you don’t like it.” He frowned and Bethany cursed herself for bringing up the early morning conversation. She looked up at him and spotted another window on either side of the ceiling of the tent. “Is that a skylight?”

  He smiled down at her, his eyes heated with yearning. “It is.”

  “Were you hoping we could discuss astronomy tonight?”

  “Not exactly.”

  His head dipped to her throat as he pressed kisses to the pulse that kicked into warp speed. Bethany sighed and dropped her head backward, her fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, holding him to her. His hand slid down her spine to grip her hips and she pressed herself into his body, feeling his arousal through their clothing. Grant groaned deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against her own chest deliciously as he pressed kisses to her collarbone. She splayed her hands over his back, feeling the muscles rippling against her palms. He lifted her and she wound her legs around his hips as he carried her to the bed. Laying her down gently on one side, he moved to lie beside her.

  Grant ran a finger over the thin strip of her skin bared as her shirt rode up slightly and she shivered in response.

  “You’re so beautiful, Bethany.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say, or if a response was even necessary. What she wanted to do was straddle his body and strip him naked but she held back, sensing him doing the same. His palm slid under her shirt but simply lay against her skin, warming it and sending butterflies racing through her limbs.

  “So,” he began, pausing a beat. “I want you to ask me anything.”

  “You want to talk?”

  Grant nodded and Bethany was confused. Other than the one night he’d stayed over, whenever she felt any sexual tension building between them, he pulled away and shut it down. He was obviously attracted to her but unwilling to act on it. She knew he was a gentleman, but this was taking it a bit further than necessary. Her confusion must have been evident in her expression.

  “On the phone, the other day, you said that we barely knew each other. I don’t want you to feel that way. What do you want to know about me? For you, I’m an open book.”

  He was willing to go to this kind of effort to make her feel more at ease with pursuing a relationship? Her heart crashed through what was left of the protective wall around it. No man had ever cared for her, about how she felt, her worries and concerns, the way Grant did. He’d more than earned her trust. He’d won her over completely.

  She lay her hand over his, wanting to ask a thousand questions but unsure where to begin. “Why did you choose football?”

  “You mean instead of another sport or as a career?”

  “Both.”

  “I enjoyed the game as a kid and we had plenty of practice wrestling with the cattle, just screwing around. But I figured if I could toss a calf for junior rodeo, getting hit on the field wasn’t much different. I did track in high school too but football was where my heart was.”

  “You were a rodeo cowboy? I thought you didn’t like ranching.”

  “They are two very different things. I rodeoed when I was younger. I started around James’ age riding sheep and stopped in high school.” She smiled at the thought of him as a young cowboy. He must have driven the girls wild. “Getting beat up in football was bad enough, I didn’t need it in the arena with rough stock too.”

  His fingers traced the line of her hip and she could feel the hunger coiling in her, begging to be released. She could see it in his eyes but he didn’t seem inclined to act on it. Either that or he was in far better control of himself than she was.

  “What about you? Did you always want to be a teacher?”

  His hand moved to play along hers, his long, tapered fingers gliding over her skin. Bethany couldn’t help but remember the way his fingers had played her body just a few nights ago, like a musical instrument made especially for him.

  She and Matthew’s sex life had been okay, but she’d loved her husband and never wondered how it might have been better. However, with Grant she had no self-­control. Her body reacted apart from her will, wildly, leaving her breathless, calling out his name. And that was before they had even actually—­

  “Are you listening?”

  Her gaze leapt up to his face and she realized he’d been talking to her but she’d been too busy fantasizing about him to listen. Gra
nt’s eyes darkened, turning nearly black, and she could see the desire pooling in them.

  “No, I’m not,” she admitted on a whisper.

  Grant brushed a lock of hair back from the side of her face. “You’re off somewhere else. Tell me.”

  She swallowed as he braced himself on an elbow, his cheek in his hand, and let his fingers trail over her arm, falling to a halt at her ribs. Desire smoldered in her, like a flame barely banked, ready to blaze out of control if he wasn’t careful. He’d sparked it in her and now she wanted to be burned. She wanted to let it rage.

  “I was thinking about the other night.”

  A blush crept to her cheeks and Bethany wondered where she’d ever found the courage to admit her wanton thoughts to him aloud. A week ago she wouldn’t have admitted having them at all, let alone confess them to the man inspiring them. How had she changed so much in the last week and a half?

  Grant smiled as his thumb brushed the curve of her breast. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

  “Grant,” she pleaded, closing her eyes with a sigh.

  “Sorry.” He pulled his hand back from her and Bethany reached for it, catching it before he could move.

  “Why are you sorry?”

  She could see the concern in his eyes, a tender mix of worry and desire. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you, Bethany.”

  “Grant, you’re not pressuring me. I told you the other night, I want this. I still do.” She rolled over, pressing him onto his back and hovering over him, prepared to show him exactly what she was asking for. A slow smile curved her lips. “Please, tell me you came prepared this time.”

  Grant hesitated. “Bethany—­”

  Dread welled up. Had she been misreading his signals? Maybe this was his version of friendship and she was the one pushing him for more than he was prepared to give. But that’s not what he’d said this morning. She sat up and scooted backward, putting some space between them as his rejection loomed like a dark cloud over them. “I know it’s been a while since I did this, but am I misreading things? I thought we were on the same page.”

  Bethany saw the emotions run the gamut in his eyes. He’d never make a good poker player because his eyes showed everything. She could easily read indecision, fear and anger. But there was more—­desire, sorrow, regret.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” He didn’t answer for a moment, looking lost. Whatever he had going on in his mind was visibly tearing him up. “Grant?”

  “Bethany, you’re not misreading anything. It’s killing me keeping my hands off you, but I also know you deserve the dream.”

  “What dream?”

  He tipped his head to one side and rolled his eyes. “The dream. You know, marriage, house, kids, a ­couple dogs.” He threw his hand up. “I don’t know if I can give you that.”

  “I had that, remember? Well, minus the dogs, and it all fell apart. The problem with a dream is that it fades in the face of reality.” She lay on his chest, her body molding to his, and moved her lips over his. “This is the only reality I need.”

  Chapter Twenty-­One

  GRANT KNEW THE moment to tell her the truth had passed. He’d been ready to confess everything—­his appointment with the doctors, the likely outcome, the fact that unless he took one of the two positions offered—­neither of which was appealing and both took him far from her and James—­he’d be officially retired, unemployed and, for the time being, broke. What kind of irresponsible man would he be to take on a family without a job, just sitting around her house, waiting for next year’s payout? Or the next opportunity, if Bob could even scrounge one up? He was raised to work hard, protect and provide for a family. That was what a man did.

  She deserved the truth and a man brave enough to admit it.

  Guilt ate at him, her words like stakes driving into his heart. His feelings for her were real but until he told her everything, this wasn’t reality. Being with her, in his arms, this was his fantasy, a dream come true, if only for a short time. Because, like Bethany said, dreams would disappear when faced with reality. He couldn’t come to her empty-­handed and ask her to wait for him. But if he could settle the question of his future in the next ­couple days . . .

  His hands slid to her waist as she covered his mouth with hers, swinging one leg over his hips to straddle him. He wanted their first time to be perfect. He’d brought her here to tell her everything because regardless of which job he ended up with, if any, he wanted her beside him. But watching her with his family, seeing them with James, he realized he could never ask her to leave Hidden Falls. She fit in here, far more than he ever had. Maybe he could be a rancher, like his father and brothers. Maybe he could learn to tolerate it with Bethany at his side. Settling was far better than losing her.

  Wrapping her hands around the hem of her shirt, she pulled it over her head. Her long, dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, falling forward to tickle his face and chest. His entire body responded to the sight of her, longing spiraling through him, igniting every bit of the desire he’d been holding back since the first time he’d seen her in the park with James. His impatience fueled her own and she slid her hands under his shirt. Every muscle she touched tensed with anticipation and he took the collar of his shirt, yanking it off before wrapping his arms around her waist and rolling her onto her back. Staring down at her, Grant knew without a doubt, he couldn’t let go of this woman. He would have to find a way to make his future work with her.

  His thoughts about his career vanished as Bethany moved her hands over him. They were everywhere and he was desperate to touch her, to taste her again, but he didn’t want them to rush this. He took her hands in his, lacing their fingers, and brought her hands to either side of her head, bending to sip from her lips. Her hips bowed into him and, as much as could understand the hunger driving her, he wasn’t letting anything, not even desire, steal this precious moment from either of them.

  He let go of her hands, letting his fingertips graze over her arms and to her breasts swelling over the top of her bra. Grant flipped the clasp in the front, releasing them to his gaze. She was as close to perfection as was possible. His hands covered her, feeling the tight buds pressing into his palms as she arched into his touch. He watched as she closed her eyes, her breath ragged as she gave herself to every caress, sending his senses reeling. Grant bent forward, his mouth replacing one hand and she cried out.

  The sounds of the outdoors stilled, as if even nature understood the reverence of this moment between the two of them. Unbuttoning her jeans, Grant hooked his fingers into the material at her hips and slid the denim down her thighs, catching her underwear and following with his mouth, pressing hot, wet kisses over her flesh. He covered every inch of her, from her hips to the delicate curve of her ankles, and back up again, searching for and finding every caress that would make her gasp with hungry desire.

  His thumb found the center of her pleasure as his lips caressed her inner thigh, moving higher. Covering her with his mouth, Grant worshiped her with his lips, tongue and hands. Bethany’s hands fisted the covers of the bed, her body writhing beneath him.

  “Grant,” she managed through clenched teeth. “Please.”

  He slid a finger into her, slowly, watching her eyes fly open in wonder as her entire body quaked, her release gripping them both and she cried out his name. Grant took her to new heights, lifting her to crest the waves of her rapture until she came back down, lying satiated and weak beneath him. Pressing gentle kisses over her stomach, he slid up her body, smiling as she sighed with gratification. He swirled his tongue around a tight nipple, sucking gently, and she laughed quietly as her body trembled in sensual response.

  “I can’t move,” she whispered, her fingers knotting in his hair, pulling him toward her for a kiss he was happy to provide.

  He couldn’t get enough of her, the scent of her surrounding him, the taste of h
er still on his lips, the feel of her hands on his feverish skin. It was intoxicating.

  Her fingers moved over the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down and lingering over the evidence of his desire beneath. Sliding out of them quickly, Grant plucked the package from his pocket before kicking the pants aside. As he moved to lie beside her, she reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his length, and he thought he’d explode. Gritting his teeth, Grant stilled her hand.

  “Not this time. I want you too much. I can’t.” The words were barely coherent but they were the best he could manage. “I need you, Bethany.”

  Her smile, the dazzling joy in her eyes, could light up an entire room. “Good, then I’m not the only one who feels this way.” She sat up, taking the package from his fingers, and tore it open.

  Grant thought he would die before she sheathed him. The mere act nearly driving him over the edge of sanity as she slowly ran her hands over him, touching him, stroking him as he throbbed in her hand. He groaned as she gave him what he needed, pressing her body against his, cradling him in her curves. His body begged for release as it nudged the entrance to her heat.

  “Bethany,” he whispered on a pained sigh. She moved her hands to his shoulders, then let one hand glide over his hip to press him closer.

  “Please, Grant.”

  He couldn’t wait any longer. Grant clenched his jaw, holding back the desire to plunge into her as he moved with devastatingly torturous slowness. Bethany arched her hips as he filled her, inching forward to create the rhythm that would ignite them both.

  Her nails dug into his back, biting into the flesh, and he fought to maintain control as her body wrapped around his, urging him to join her. She wrapped her legs around his hips as her body trembled around him and he could feel his body answering, tightening, coiling, before letting go. He buried himself into her, carrying them both to the pinnacle. Grant lost his ability to think as her body urged his, riding the throes of their desire, taking him to the edge before he leapt over with her.