Fourth and Goal

by Jami Davenport

  Sighing, she locked the door and took a seat. Cass threw herself on the couch.

  "That bastard. That lying, cheating bastard. I'm going to feed his balls to New York's defensive line.” She tilted her glass back and guzzled the entire thing.

  "What did he do this time?"

  "Everything. He's a lying, cheating—” Cass slammed the glass on the coffee table.

  "Bastard. I know."

  "He was supposed to meet me for dinner at Alfonso's last night. He never showed up, so I checked next door. There he was, sitting in the bar surrounded by a half dozen women. It was disgusting how they fawned all over him. Who'd have thought that asshole's head could get any bigger, but it did after the last game. One win and he thinks he's a fucking celebrity."

  "Did he see you?"

  "Sure did. Just before I dumped a pitcher of beer on his head."

  "You didn't?"

  "I did. Not only did I soak him but all those little bitches too. Looked like a wet T-shirt contest gone bad."

  Rachel laughed in spite of herself. “Cass, you never cease to amaze me."

  "I was going to dump him anyway. Just hadn't gotten around to it.” Cass looked around. “Where should I put my stuff?"

  "Uh, I guess in the spare bedroom. Where'd you sleep last night?"

  "I stopped by here, but no one was home so I got a hotel room, waited for the ass to leave this a.m., and then packed all my shit and left him a fuck-you note."

  Grabbing a couple of suitcases, Cass headed for the spare bedroom. Rachel followed. She sat on the bed and watched as the whirlwind threw her suitcases on the bed one by one, opened them, and took out her clothes. She stuffed them in drawers until the dresser overflowed, then crammed them in the closet. She didn't seem to care. Rachel zipped her lips. Cass was pissed and taking it out on her clothes, which beat maiming or murdering a living being.

  Last to come out was her cheerleader uniform, a skimpy little thing that she actually hung in the closet with care. “I'll show the bastard. There are plenty of guys that'd beg for a chance with me."

  "Are you sure he wasn't just engaging in some harmless flirting? He considers it a sport."

  "It was blatant. You'd never catch me doing anything like that. I have more class."

  Rachel's eyes crept up to her eyebrows. She resisted the urge to roll them. Every other week, Tyler and Cass got into an argument over one or both of them flirting.

  Cass flirted shamelessly; so did Tyler. Whether it ever came down to actually sleeping with any of their victims, Rachel hadn't a clue and didn't want to know.

  She had enough problems of her own.

  The Jacks won their away game over the weekend with ease. Derek played relaxed and loose after a Friday-night roll in the hay, a pregame ritual he intended to keep.

  Tyler completed twenty-two out of twenty-five passes, several of them to Derek. The Harris-Ramsey connection was picking up steam and gaining some local press. Ever the publicity whore, his cousin wallowed in the attention. Derek avoided it.

  Tyler went about his business as if nothing traumatic had happened in his life. He boozed it up, projected the appearance of a man slut, and threw touchdown passes during practice. Yet at the end of each night, Derek was certain Tyler slept alone. Tyler's playboy ways were mostly for show.

  Meanwhile Derek's relationship with Rachel settled into an oddly comfortable routine. During the week, they kept each other at a distance. Only in bed did the ice princess melt and they kicked it through the uprights all night long. Perhaps she'd been telling him the truth about being able to have recreational sex without any emotional entanglements. He followed her lead, not entirely certain how long he'd be able to keep his heart out of the deal. But damn, if she could do it, so the hell could he. Besides, the alternative would be an absence of Rachel in his life, which he considered an unacceptable option on so many levels.

  He wasn't messing with anything as long as he had his game back.

  The following Saturday night, he dragged Rachel out for a hamburger at McGuire's under the ruse of keeping an eye on Tyler, who'd taken reckless to a whole different level. She'd been reluctant to go, probably not interested in seeing her picture plastered all over the local papers. He'd been relentless in his persuasion until he got his way.

  They sat in a small booth in a dark back corner with Tyler. Before long, Tyler had littered the dance floor with broken hearts until he narrowed the field down to three busty blondes—his obvious preference in female types.

  A few minutes later, Tyler exited the building with all three women in tow. Derek shook his head. Poor bastard. Deep down inside, past his superficial armor of selfishness, Tyler ached for Cass, but Tyler never showed weakness.

  Rachel followed Derek's gaze, impeccably dressed and cool as ice in a cooler. He had an urge to thaw her until she dissolved into a puddle at his feet. “I don't get it. It seems like they're really through this time. Yet he's more crazed than usual, like a man nursing a broken heart."

  Derek's gaze settled on Rachel, surprised at her perceptive comment. “I thought I was the only person who saw through his bullshit."

  "Move over, buster. You've got company."

  "How's Cass taking it?” Derek reached for a nacho dripping with cheese and pondered how he'd feel if he were Tyler. Pretty damn crappy and just as nuts.

  "She's met someone. She rarely comes home."

  "What can I say? They're both flakes."

  "Reckless flakes."

  "Speaking of reckless—” He grasped her hand, moved it under the table, and placed it on the bulge between his legs. “This is what you do to me. All I have to do is think about you naked, and I get hard."

  "Then keep thinking. It's the night before a game. You know what that means.” She milked his erection for a moment. Sliding her hand up his stomach to rest on his belt buckle, she cast him a beckoning look. His cock beckoned right back.

  "I've been looking forward to this night all week. Watching you with a whistle around your neck and not being able to touch is beyond what any mortal man can take.” One corner of his mouth quirked. To prove his point, he put his hand on her crotch and stroked her through her jeans.

  She tensed but didn't move his hand.

  He glanced around. “Ever done it on a table in a bar?” Curious how far she'd go, he moved his hand to the button on her fly. She drew in a breath and held it as he released the button. Her gaze darted around the crowded room.

  "Afraid someone will notice?"

  "No, not at all."

  "Liar.” He grasped her zipper and pulled it down.

  "Derek."

  "Hmmm?"

  "I—You—I mean—"

  "What's wrong, baby?” Derek slid his hand down her pants and past the elastic band on her underwear. Her eyes grew big. He leaned toward her and kept his voice low. “It's dark in this corner, and no one can see under the table. As long as you don't attract attention, it'll be our little secret.” With his index finger, he grazed the wetness between her legs. He slanted her a knowing glance and slid his finger inside her.

  "I'm—I'm just supposed—” She paused for minute, attempting to collect her thoughts. “I'm supposed to sit here and act like your finger isn't where it is?"

  "How about when I do this?” He toyed with her clit with this thumb. Her entire body shuddered. She buried her head in his shoulder. Her hands gripped his arm. He thrust his finger in and out while working her clit. She pushed her hips into his hand, silently begging for more. He aimed to please. Ignoring the cramp in his hand, he brought her to the edge and sent her over. Her body jerked next to him. Her fingernails dug into his arms. She bit his shoulder as if to stop herself from crying out loud.

  "Will that be all?"

  "Huh?” Derek glanced up at the waitress; her slow smile indicated she wasn't fooled. “Uh, yes, that'll be all.” He tossed a fifty on the table to get rid of her. “Keep the change."

  "Thanks. You might need these.” She left a few extra napkins on th
e table.

  Derek removed his wet finger and wiped it on a napkin. Rachel, still in a daze, zipped up her pants with shaking hands.

  "I'm becoming as decadent as Cass.” Rachel spoke in a breathless voice.

  "And that's a problem?"

  "No. It'd only be a problem if you became as decadent as Tyler."

  He snorted. Not possible, no matter how hard he tried. “Let's go home."

  "Now you're talking."

  Rachel hung on tight as Derek drove like a man on a mission, but then he most likely was. She gripped her seat while his truck careened around corners and slid on the wet pavement.

  "Derek. Please."

  "Don't worry. We'll be fine.” He spoke through gritted teeth. His hands gripped the steering wheel.

  "You might, but I'm not sure about me."

  "Close your eyes. We'll be home in no time."

  Home. Such an innocent word packed with such meaning. His home. Not hers. Yet he said it like they were a couple sharing the same living space. Only they weren't. They were business partners and once-a-week sex buddies. And she'd sworn she wouldn't—couldn't—have a problem with that.

  She released her held breath as Derek screeched into the garage and slammed on the brakes. Not more time for reflection, regrets, or any kind of retrospection. Like the athlete he was, he rounded the truck, ripped open the passenger door, and threw her over his shoulder in one swift movement. Caveman style. Barbaric. Hot. And oh so sexy.

  She smacked his butt as he hauled her through his house and past the big king bed in the master bedroom, straight into the bathroom. She wiggled but he held fast.

  She heard the water in his large, tiled shower turn on. Her heart beat faster. Her shoes fell off her feet. He lowered her body, let her feet touch the ground. His dark gaze burned a hole in her soul. Her body hummed with anticipation.

  "Get naked or get your clothes wet. Your choice."

  "I love it when you play the macho man."

  "Get naked.” He growled a warning as his clothes quickly littered the bathroom floor.

  Rachel stepped out of her jeans and folded them carefully over a towel bar. She glanced at Derek, who was now chewing on his lower lip. His eyes zeroed in on her red lace panties. Her jacket followed her pants.

  "You're taking too long.” Without another word of warning, he swooped in and hauled her ass into the shower. She struggled, unable to gain purchase on the wet tile floor. Her thin blouse clung to her body and revealed the red bra underneath.

  Derek sucked in a long, appreciative breath. “You are beautiful.” He shoved her against the wall as the water sprayed both of them. His big hands framed her on both sides. Water trickled down her face, her neck, her chest. She gazed up at him and placed her hands on his wide shoulders. Reaching down, he grasped her panties in both hands. The expensive silk gave way easily as he literally ripped them from her body. Before she could anticipate his next move, he popped every button on her blouse and pulled up her bra, revealing her hard nipples.

  Hands on her waist, he hoisted her higher up the shower wall. Taking his cue, Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist. “Are you sure your back can take this?"

  "Yeah, I'm sure. Just hang on.” He seemed beyond caring, beyond noticing pain, beyond anything but the heat of the moment. Steam rose around them, fogging her vision for everything but the gorgeous man between her legs. He slid her down the wall until her crotch came to rest near the head of his penis. She wrapped both arms around his neck. Derek grasped her butt with one hand while he used the other to guide his cock inside her. Once he'd slid partway inside, he held her butt with both hands and lowered her down farther until she'd completely sheathed him. He filled her, the length of him pressing high inside her.

  Rachel closed her eyes and savored the feel of this man's erection joining them together into one body with one purpose. He leaned into her. His head rested against the tile wall. His chest rose and fell, the movement raking his coarse chest hair against her already aroused nipples. His harsh breathing rasped in her ear as he fought for control over his body.

  Rachel buried her head in his hair, savored the smell of him. Slick wet passion built inside her. Her inner muscles clenched around him, eliciting a groan of raw pleasure from his lips.

  Pinning her against the wall with his big body, he started to move inside her. He lasted only a few slow strokes before his movements became more frenzied. He plunged into her, each stroke more desperate and powerful than the last. His muscles flexed and strained from the exertion, but he didn't seem to care.

  Holding tight, Rachel rode him with furious abandon. The fever built within her. She climbed higher and higher, stretching limits, erasing boundaries. Their wet bodies slapped against each other. Every thrust plunged him deeper into her body, into her soul, smashing fences, destroying inhibitions.

  She savored the sounds of their lovemaking, hyperaware of his body as it conquered hers, even as she conquered his. A mutual overthrowing of old barriers, barriers already battered by their previous encounters.

  He slammed into her, all control lost, and she held on until the final whistle. He jerked inside her, emptying his seed. He threw back his head, the cords of the muscles in his neck stood out, and his entire face twisted with ecstasy as he released a primal howl of sheer male triumph.

  Rachel followed seconds later with her own equally shattering orgasm.

  They both slid down the wall and collapsed in a heap on the tile floor as the warm water peppered their sated bodies.

  "You're not mad at me, are you?” Cass sat on Rachel's couch, painting her fingernails bright purple.

  "Why would I be mad at you?” Rachel thumbed through the pages of a sexual manual Cass had left lying around. Creative Monkey Sex for Adventurous Lovers. Monkey sex?

  Had she had monkey sex yet with Derek? What qualified as monkey sex? Did being fingered to an orgasm in a crowded bar qualify as monkey sex? She doubted it. Monkey sex probably involved gymnastic moves if this book was anything to go by. Now if Derek had stood on his head on the table, or she'd hung off the light over a pool table, that might make it monkey sex.

  Lately her thoughts were consumed by Derek and sex. Sex and Derek. Sex with Derek. Sex. Derek. Sex. Der—

  "Because I didn't come home last night again."

  "Huh?” She'd forgotten the question. She fanned herself and wished Derek were there instead of Cass.

  "You're not listening. Are you mad at me?"

  "Not at all. You're a big girl.” Rachel flicked her wrist at Cass and went back to flipping through the book.

  "You're sure?"

  "I'm sure.” Distracted, she turned the page. Whoa. She read some more. This was good stuff. They'd have to try this.

  "The man is insatiable.” A cat-ate-the-cream smile spread across Cass's face.

  "Great.” Rachel choked as she read the next paragraph and studied the accompanying picture. People really did this stuff? Was it physically possible? She had no idea people's bodies twisted like that. Maybe they'd altered the picture.

  "Aren't you going to ask me what man?"

  "Sure, what man?"

  "Antonio Perez. I met him at a signing for the JackGirls calendar a few nights ago. Instant chemistry. We were fucking in the bathroom in less than two hours."

  "My bathroom?"

  "No, the handicapped one at the mall."

  "You can't be serious.” Not that Rachel should talk; after all, she had engaged in a little foreplay in a bar.

  "We locked the door."

  Shaking her head, Rachel pointed at the book. “Have you ever tried—” Rachel held the book up for her to see.

  "Oh yeah.” A slow smile spread across Cass's face. “Antonio says I'm one of the most flexible women he's ever met with a healthy sex drive and no stifling inhibitions."

  Cass took the book from her and turned to another page. “Try this one. It'll make you scream so loud you'll shatter the windows."

  "Okay.” Rachel was pretty sure
there had to be an extra set of legs in that picture, but she took note of the page.

  "With Tyler, it was all about him. He never used a sex book as a guide, except for the pictures. Besides, I'm not sure Tyler can read."

  "You two were together for years. Don't you miss him?"

  "It was a dysfunctional relationship that served his needs but not mine."

  Rachel could've sworn they'd both gotten off on the continual drama. “So now your needs are served."

  "Rae, I'm in love or lust or both. The man needs it several times a day in ways you couldn't even imagine."

  Rachel shuddered. “How do you ever fit in work?"

  Cass shrugged, unconcerned. “In a few days, we've done it in every possible position and place in his house. Now we've branched out into the community."

  "In my house?” Rachel didn't want to hear that. She glanced at the counter, at the coffee table, the desk, afraid to find evidence of their sexual escapades.

  "Rae, the man is so bold. We've fucked in the—"

  "Okay, enough. I'm glad you're having fun.” Sheesh, they'd only been together a few days. They'd go through every location in Seattle in a month at this rate.

  "Besides, my absence hasn't affected Tyler in the least. He didn't miss a stride. I understand it takes four girls to replace me."

  Rachel didn't doubt that one bit.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Sixteen

  Going Deep for the Big Score

  Derek paced the barn aisle, stopping every so often to pet a horse and check his cell phone. Simon padded along after him, ball in his mouth. He dropped it in Derek's path. Derek kicked it, and Simon scrambled down the aisle, legs flailing in a desperate attempt to retrieve the ball.

  Rachel was right. The animal needed an intervention.

  Stopping, he peered out the doorway. Blackness engulfed the gravel parking area in front of the barn. The silhouette of Rachel's little cottage cast no light from the windows. No Rachel. She never stayed out this late by herself. She might be with a girlfriend or at the mall. Lots of things. Just because it was eight on a Saturday night didn't mean she'd crossed the goal line with some other guy. Some other guy? His ‘nads clenched at the thought. He'd beat the crap out of any guy who so much as ran one play with her.