by Koko Brown
Casually attired in a pair of fitted jeans, a pink cardigan sweater and only a swipe of lip gloss, Yvonne felt more confident than when dolled up in couture like at last week’s gala. Unfortunately, all of her confidence didn’t quiet the butterflies in her stomach caused by one particular footballer.
Yvonne’s steps slowed. She should hate Paolo Saito and his arrogant attitude, not anticipate seeing him again. But there was just something about him that made her all weak-kneed and mushy inside. Well whatever it was, she needed to nip her weakness to the Brazilian in the bud because nothing could come of her inappropriate attraction to him.
With her eyes back on the goal, she turned the corner entering the kitchen with her head held high and a gamine smile on her lips.
“Hello boys,” she greeted as her eyes drifted around the room and immediately noted the absence of the man of the hour. Maybe he wasn’t coming.
The possibility should have relieved her especially when she just spent the past half hour steeling her hormones against him. But for some silly reason a strange hollowness filled her and his absence affected her more than she cared to admit. Shaken, Yvonne tucked her disappointment away to examine later when she was alone. Right now she needed to play her role as the happy fiancée.
Smiling warmly, Yvonne sauntered over to Robbie and wrapped her arms around his lean waist. As if on cue, he pecked her on the forehead followed by quick introductions. The quicker the better, Yvonne silently panted. All of his teammates were hotter than the hot sauce she planned to serve with dinner. Of course, none of them held a flame to Paolo Saito.
Disturbed by her thoughts, Yvonne shooed them out of the kitchen with their bottles of Peroni’s. She needed to set up the buffet, not lust after a team of hot guys.
After they deserted the kitchen for the media room, Yvonne walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a dozen plates. She added silverware and napkins then set them on the kitchen island next to the hot dishes. As she was bending over searching for the hot sauce in the refrigerator, a heavily accented voice caught her by surprise.
“You get more beautiful every day, Yvonne Floyd.”
All of Yvonne’s mental and emotional preparation flew out the window with the sound of his voice. Rising slowly, she turned around to face Paolo Saito, her personal kryptonite.
Dressed in knee-length camouflage shorts, a plain white t-shirt and his hair slightly damp from a recent shower, Paolo was equally sexy in shorts as he was in an expensive suit. Skin smooth and unblemished, he smelled of fresh soap and a light spray of cologne.
His very presence awakened her as if from a deep slumber, her senses sharpening as if reborn. Yvonne was hard pressed not to wrap her arms around his neck and simply breathe him in. Instead she took the safer route and stepped back. She didn’t stop until the back of her knees hit one of the vegetable crispers.
“Running from me?” He asked, stepping closer. Yvonne gulped. His body emanated heat from him in a slow crashing wave that threatened to swallow her whole. “For some reason I would have never labeled you a coward.”
“I-I’m not.” Yvonne stammered.
“Then why are you sitting in the refrigerator?”
Yvonne nibbled on her lower lip. What was wrong with her? He was right, why was she running? Despite her anxiety and the chaos to her hormones, Yvonne squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance.
“Back off, Saito.”
“Playing the bad girl?” Paolo chuckled. “I like that.”
He stepped closer, until barely an inch separated them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Yvonne gulped. He smelled panty-dropping good! As his hand lifted towards her, she squeezed her eyes shut and her lips parted, expecting him to do his worst. Instead, she heard the bottles of beer tinkling on the shelf behind her.
“You don’t mind if I help myself?”
Yvonne’s eyes flew open, just in time to catch the smirk quirking the corner of his full I-bet-he’s-a-great-kisser lips. He hadn’t been trying to kiss her. He was simply reaching for a beer! Filled with self-directed anger, Yvonne pressed her lips together and shook her head stiffly.
“It’s hot in here, no?”
Yvonne nodded. She was burning up!
“Then I should do something about the heat, yes?”
Before she could predict his next move, he slid the neck of the beer bottle against the side of her neck.
Ironically, she’d seen this very thing in hundreds of beer and soda commercials, yet none of them came close to giving her this exhilarating rush. He twisted the bottle slowly against her skin, the cold ignited her hormones. Yvonne stifled a moan. She didn’t need to look down to know her nipples had hardened.
“Please stop,” she whispered.
“Por que…why?”
Yvonne searched his impossibly dark eyes and all she could muster up was, “I don’t know”.
Taking advantage of her flimsy denial, he slid the bottle over her collar bone and down between her breasts. The condensation from the bottle left a cold, damp trail wherever he touched, causing her to shiver.
Yvonne couldn’t believe she was allowing him to do what he was doing with a quarter of Robbie’s teammates only fifty feet away. Still, she could no more stop him than she could stop her body from leaning into his for more.
“More,” he whispered near her ear.
This was so wrong on so many levels! Robbie or one of his teammates could walk in any minute. Yvonne wavered. But just like a kid loves sweets, she couldn’t resist sticking her hand in the cookie jar. With barely a perceptible nod, she gave him permission to do whatever he wanted.
Like a subtle caress, he ran the bottle down her belly to the juncture of her thighs. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. Her breath quickened.
They couldn’t!
He wouldn’t!
Yvonne groaned as Paolo pushed the neck of the beer bottle between her legs and twisted it slowly. With each turn, he stoked every hormone associated with her sex and inner thighs. He made a one-eighty turn, her toes curled. A three sixty, her clit throbbed. If he kept this up much longer, she would have an orgasm.
“Does this feel good?” he asked.
Yvonne almost rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he tell she had the shakes?
“Feels good?” He asked again, this time his tongue snaked out and licked the side of her neck.
“Better than good.” Yvonne grabbed onto his shoulders to stop herself from collapsing.
“You fascinate me, Yvonne Floyd. I want to discover all of your secrets.”
She could probably guess which secret he wanted to tackle first. And damn her, she didn’t have the strength to stop him.
“Want to know what I want?”
Yvonne knew he was leading her down a dangerous path, but she didn’t care. She groaned as he sucked on her neck, wishing it was her clit instead.
“Want to know what I want?” He repeated.
“Yes,” she gushed as her blood ran straight to her inner thighs.
“Eu quero,” He paused to nip at her throat. “I want to know what’s for dinner.”
And just like that he’d switched gears and her natural high was blown. While she struggled to pull herself together, Paulo plucked the bottle from between her legs and twisted off the cap. He cocked his eyebrow right before tipping the bottle and taking a healthy swig. Why did the devil have to come in such a beautiful package?
“I ugh…I need to put the biscuits in the oven.” Unable to look him in the eye, she brushed past him.
“Need any help?” He asked, coming up behind her as she picked up a pan filled with biscuits. She’d left them out earlier so they could rise. “I’m pretty good around the kitchen.”
Yvonne was sure he was pretty good at everything. And the thought made her blood boil. “I-I don’t need your help and I don’t need you, Paolo Saito. Leave. Me. Alone,” she said swinging around to face him.
He flinched as if she’d hit him, lingered a moment, then t
urned about and left.
Yvonne gripped the side of the counter tightly and took several deep breaths. She hadn’t been this pissed since Dr. Edu rejected her first thesis idea.
Unfortunately, his actions didn’t keep her from wanting him. No. Her body desired Paolo Saito more than anything she ever wanted in her life maybe more so now.
*****
Paolo knew he’d stepped over the line, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Every time he was around the blasted woman he wanted to push her up against a wall, sink his cock into her and bang her brains out.
Why her? He’d slept with dozens of beautiful women. Many of them ten times better looking than she was. But none of them turned him on like she did or made him feel this odd possessiveness or blind jealousy. So much so, that ever since he’d joined his teammates he wanted to jump up from his seat and punch Robbie into tomorrow.
Troubled by his thoughts, Paolo didn’t watch any of the game footage and he didn’t notice when Yvonne entered the room forty minutes later.
“If you guys are ready to eat, dinner is ready.” She announced. She’d come to stand on the other side of the room. In her jeans, pale pink sweater and headband holding back her curls, she looked good enough to eat or fill with a half-a-dozen, dark-haired babies.
Groaning, Paolo stood with the rest of his teammates. Instead of scurrying into the kitchen, he hung back. Right now, he was consumed by a different kind of hunger.
Yvonne had stepped aside, allowing Robbie and the rest of the team to rush past. When it dawned on her that just the two of them remained, her brown eyes widened and she took a step back.
Before she could make her escape, Paulo charged forward and grabbed a hold of her wrist. Personally, he hated manhandling a woman, but with Yvonne he always lost his head. Like now he felt like a wild beast as he brought her up against him.
“Let me go,” she squeaked, obviously surprised by his actions.
Stunned as well, Paulo blinked. Damn! He’d never forced himself on a woman in his life.
Ashamed of his behavior, he released her, and started to pace. “If I frightened you or offended you, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Whenever I’m around you, I turn into someone else. I’m not rational and all I can think about is how much I want you. I feel…I feel like an animal.
Paulo stopped and looked at her. A frown marred the otherwise smooth brown skin above her eyes. In that moment, he would do anything, short of death, to make things right. Without thinking, he blurted out, “I would do anything to make it up to you. Name your price.”
His apology must have stunned her because she stood there, head cocked, dark brown eyes wide like he’d turned into a two-headed goat.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Anything. My actions have been offensive.”
“Cut it off.”
Paolo’s heart started to race. “Cut what off?”
“If your hand offends thee, then cut it off.” Surely she must be joking! But her expression remained somber as she continued, “I’ll even make it easy for you.”
She stepped around him, crossed the room and stopped in front of a pair of ancient Roman daggers tacked to the wall.
Paolo gulped at the determined gleam in her eyes.
Meu Deus! She was freakin’ serious!
“Cut it off,” she repeated, holding the dagger out in front of her. “It’s not like you need it to play soccer.”
She did have a point. Still, that didn’t keep his insides from tying into knots. Paolo was desperate for her forgiveness, but was she worth losing a limb? His eyes slipped over her mouth-watering curves and his cock stiffened as his backbone slipped.
Once again Paolo found himself acting irrationally and woefully out of character. Taking the knife from her, he walked over to a tall credenza set against the wall and placed his hand palm down. Maybe if he called her bluff, she’d back down.
But to his utter amazement, she came over to him and placed a trashcan on the floor in line with his crotch. A pleasant smile played across her full rosy lips as she made herself comfortable, by placing her elbows on top of the table. “Robbie would kill us if we left a mess.”
“We wouldn’t want that would we?” Paolo gritted out, his teeth clenched tightly.
Paolo studied the knife in his hand, tested its weight. Maybe if he cut his hand off, it would prune him of this crazy obsession driving him.
“Do you want me to count to three?” she asked, batting her lashes at him drawing his attention to her beautiful dark brown eyes. He could get lost in their depths.
Shit! He had it bad. Without further hesitation, he raised the knife several inches above its mark. He steadied himself for only one strike. He doubted he could commit to any more than that.
“Give me the knife, Paolo,” she said, holding out her hand. “The longer we’re gone the more it will raise suspicion.”
As he lowered his hand a sudden realization hit Paolo smack dab in the middle of the eyes. “You were funning me weren’t you?”
“I think the term you’re searching for is playing with me. And yes, I played you like you were trying to play me with all your ‘I want you so badly crap’.”
She’d beat him at his own game. Paulo’s body buzzed with barely-contained fury, admiration and something else—lust. So much so, he vacillated between wanting to wring her neck and kissing her. When she stepped past him, he struggled to keep his hands to himself.
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” she said, heading towards the kitchen. Unable to help himself, his gaze dropped to her gently swaying hips. Even though he’d made a fool of himself he still wanted to plow into her, balls and all.
“I’ll pass. I no longer have an appetitefor food.”
Sensing his hidden meaning, her steps faltered and she stopped. “G–good idea. I’ll tell Robbie you had other plans,” she whispered. She hesitated a moment longer then left him alone.
Paolo didn’t hesitate in letting himself out. He needed time on his own to rethink his strategy. Yvonne stirred something inside him he’d never experienced with any other woman and it was knocking him out of his comfort zone. And he didn’t like it one bit.
* * * * *
“Is today’s match important?” Yvonne asked as she stood up in the garden bathtub while Robbie sat on the edge flipping through a men’s magazine. Putting his proximity to some use, she placed her hand on his shoulder for balance and climbed out.
“All of our matches are important, particularly this one.” Without looking up from his magazine, he handed her a large beige bath sheet. “We’re playing one of our biggest rivals, FC Unione Pisa.”
After drying off, Yvonne let the towel fall around her feet. Robbie was so enthralled with the spring collection he wouldn’t notice a little nudity.
“Damn, Yvonne!” He crowed as she pulled on her robe. “I didn’t know you were hiding all of that.”
Yvonne rarely gave her curves much thought. Her full breast, narrow waist, and rounded buttocks were always hidden under a baggy university sweatshirt or jeans. “No wonder you have Paolo Saito sniffing up your skirt.”
“That’s only because I have all the pertinent criteria—three holes and a pair of tits.” Even though she cracked a joke, Yvonne felt uneasy whenever they discussed Paolo, so she changed the subject.
“Is Pisa any good?”
“Any good?” One of Robbie’s brows rose elegantly as he looked at her. “They’ve won the European Grand cup three years straight.”
“So they’re like the Lakers?”
“More like the Chicago Bulls when Jordan and Pippen were on the team.”
Yvonne’s mouth formed a small ‘O’. “So the stadium will be filled to capacity with fans and the press?”
“No need to worry you’ll be sitting in the club box again.”
Yvonne groaned. “Do I have to? I’d rather pluck out my eyelashes one by one than sit with the mean girls again.”
&nbs
p; Robbie picked up her favorite lotion from amongst the bottles littering the bathroom counter. “I thought you made a friend?”
“Keitha is cool, but I’m not sure if she’s worth being bullied.”
Robbie’s face took on a faraway expression as if remembering something from his past. “I’ll get you a field seat.”
“Thanks, babe.” Yvonne stopped to kiss Robbie before moving on to the bedroom. She walked over to the bed and moaned. “Remind me to never ask you to pick out my clothes ever again.”
He’d chosen the one pair of jeans from last month’s shopping extravaganza she’d hoped not to wear anytime soon. Her self-esteem was high, but she wasn’t so sure she was flying high enough to go around showing her crack to the world.
Yvonne eyed the low-slung skinny jeans as she put on her panties. “You do realize that crack kills?”
“They aren’t that low, but just in case make sure you lotion your booty,” Robbie quipped, tossing her the bottle.
She needed more than lotion, she needed another derriere—preferably two sizes smaller. Yvonne snatched up the jeans and stepped into them. For good measure, she slathered the vanilla-scented lotion on her backside before zipping them.
“I just want you to make a lasting impression.”
Interwoven with spandex, the jeans were surprisingly comfortable, but they made her feel self-conscious with the way they gripped her thighs and accentuated her butt.
“You want me to make a whorish impression,” she mumbled, yanking up the zipper. “After today, the press will christen me Queen Booty.”
“Everyone wears them low, so I doubt you’ll even receive a double take.”
Yvonne caught his smirk before he turned his head. “While you fix your hair and put on your face, I’m going to pack my sports bag.”
After Robbie left, Yvonne went back into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed at her bed head. “You sleep like a five year-old,” she grumbled, taking in the mess she’d made overnight.