“Uncomfortable, but not painful.” She glanced over her shoulder, big brown eyes watching him thoughtfully. “Thank you.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes wouldn’t leave her back.
“Trey?”
“Hmm?”
She turned until she was facing him, and his eyes were no longer on her back, but on her hands cupping the corset to her chest. Then she let the stiff undergarment fall to the floor and dropped her hands. And his eyes zeroed in on her breasts. They, too, had faint pink lines from where the material lay tight against her. He wanted to cup the soft flesh and trace each indented line with his tongue.
“I don’t really feel like wearing your clothes just yet.”
“You don’t, huh?”
She stepped out from the circle of the dress, away from the corset. Still in her heels, she easily reached his mouth for a kiss. “I’d rather slip under the covers with you, if you want some company.”
This would be what most men would call a no brainer. He bent low and tossed her over his shoulder. She shrieked, then laughed. Her breasts pressed into his back. He leaned forward to deposit her on his king-size bed. She sprawled there, still in her black underwear and those high, high heels. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of the panties, then skimmed them slowly down her legs. A word from her would have stopped him, but she did nothing but watch. When he took care to peel them off over her shoes, she bent down to remove them.
“No. Keep them on.”
She raised a brow. “One of those fetish things men have?”
It was shallow, but he couldn’t resist the attempt. “Let’s just call it a fantasy checklist.”
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of your dreams.” She draped herself back, then reached out to him. “Come make love to me, Trey. I need you.”
* * *
I need you?
Why had those three weak, simple words come from her lips? She wanted him, yeah. She desired him, lusted after him.
Trey reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head with one tug of his forearm.
Oh, yeah. Major lust.
But need? Girls who went to college to get their MRS degrees needed a man. Mature women who took care of themselves in the world and stood on their own two feet didn’t need a man. They wanted them when they could get them. But needing and wanting . . .
“Hey.” Still wearing his shorts, he sprawled out next to her. “You went all serious on me. Everything okay?”
She palmed his face between her hands. “Everything’s just fine.” Kissing him, she rolled over him until she had one knee on either side of his hips. “Except that you’re still wearing shorts.” She tsked and tugged at the waistband. “Up we go.” And she pulled them off.
Just as she was about to toss them to the side, she noticed the Bobcats logo on the bottom of the left leg. The tan screen printing was faint and looked old, as if it’d been washed a few hundred times. A fan’s tribute to their hometown team. The reminder that her little family experiment was going poorly nearly had her hiccupping back a sob.
But then Trey’s hands covered her breasts, and he sat up to take one nipple in his mouth. Her hands went lax, and the shorts fell from her fingers. She speared those fingers through his hair, holding him to her. He rocked up, the length of his cock pressing against her core, and she tightened all over.
His touch slowed and his mouth turned from ravenous to gentle and coaxing. That was wrong. All wrong. She wanted it hard and fast. Wanted to use him, let him use her. Use each other and take the moment and let it stretch out in front of them like a shield to keep any negativity in the world away from them.
Rolling a little, she tugged until he was on top of her again. “Trey.”
He glanced up from her breast, one brow raised in question.
“Hard, please?”
He hesitated, and she was pretty sure he was about to use words to put her off. Talking about feelings or some crap. Feelings weren’t allowed. Not right now. Not in this moment when she was using sex as a barrier. She scrambled to the nearest nightstand and opened the drawer. She found a box of tissues, some chargers for a phone or maybe a tablet or iPod, and—oddly enough—a Bible. Shutting that with a snap, she moved to the other side of the bed and opened its drawer.
“Yeah, sure. Mi casa es su casa. Look through whatever you want.”
She kicked at him with her foot, but barely managed to knock his knee. This drawer was a double bust. Nothing but the remote for the flat screen across from the bed. “Condoms. Where.”
He got off the bed and strode through the walk in closet to the bathroom. A drawer opened and closed, and he came back to toss the box on her stomach.
The unopened box.
She bit the inside of her lip to ask how old the box was. None of her business. But it warmed her from the belly out, thinking that at least she knew no other woman had come before her, digging through this particular piece of cardboard for a condom.
Feelings. Whoops, there she went again. Cut that out, Wainwright.
Trey stood beside the bed, hands on his hips, erection jutting out at a comical angle. “Should I feel cheap and used?”
“Nope.” She tore open the box and grabbed the first foil packet her fingers touched. A quick rip and she sat up to roll the latex over his cock. His eyes closed at the pleasure of her hands wrapping around him, and she squeezed at the base, just for a little extra tease. “You should feel luxurious and used. You’re my splurge, Trey.”
He narrowed his eyes at that, but pushed her back and covered her with his body. One knee nudged between her thighs, and his hand moved down to test her, tease her, open her. She was wet, his fingers sliding effortlessly through the folds of her core. “I’d rather not be a splurge, Cass.”
“Then what—oh,” she cut off in a moan. “What are you?” she finished faintly as one finger entered her, then two. Swirling around, finding those perfect spots and massaging them with his calloused fingertips.
“I’d rather be a regular meal. See, a splurge doesn’t come around often. I like to think I’m more of a meat-and-veggies kinda guy.” He grazed his fingers up and over her clit, just enough to make her shiver, before positioning himself and pushing inside. “I’m substantial enough to keep you coming back for more, day after day. I’m a balanced diet.”
She wanted to say more, have some witty comeback to put him in his splurgy place, but she couldn’t think when he did things like—oh! Like that. Her eyes nearly crossed when he pushed fully inside and rotated his hips. She was nearly panting his name while he mixed up the rhythm.
Fast, fast, slow. Fast, fast, faster. Slow . . .
“Oh, my God!” She’d been so intent on anticipating his next pattern, her climax took her by surprise. She clenched, spasmed, lost complete control of her limbs as he thrust into her without any further care of rhythm. He followed her into bliss, muttering his own prayers to the Lord above before collapsing on top of her.
A few minutes later, he slid from her and padded to the bathroom. Dimly, she realized this was her chance to rearrange herself in a more sexy pose. Some seductress’s sprawl, with her hair fanning the pillows and her back arched out to make the most of her cleavage. But she still couldn’t move for anything. Trey could set the bed on fire and she’d be a dead woman.
He came back—still naked—walked over to the dresser, and tossed her the shirt and shorts he’d picked out for her.
She stared for a moment. “Ready for me to leave?”
“Hell no. You even think about bolting for the door, I’m dragging your ass back here caveman style.”
She grinned at that. “How Neanderthal of you. I think I’m getting turned on again.”
He flashed his own smile at her. “No you aren’t. You’d hate it. But I’m willing to risk it.” He went to a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of boxers and slipped them on. As they glided over the taut muscles of his ass, she sighed inwardly. It really was a grade A butt. “How do you stay in shap
e?”
He turned and tilted his head. “Same way most guys do, I guess. Work out.”
“Yeah, but most guys are just fighting the impending beer gut. You’re . . .” She waved a hand at his midsection. “A freak of nature.”
He glanced down at his stomach. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
She tugged the shirt over her head before she said anything else stupid. From inside the shirt, “It means you’re hot. Take the compliment and let’s move on.”
The cold hand on her inner thigh made her squeal in surprise. He squeezed, then bit lightly on one nipple through the cotton shirt. “Thank you.”
Her head popped out and she glared. “Rude.”
“You like it when I’m rude.”
She did, sort of. So she just kept glaring while wriggling into the shorts. Then more wriggling under the covers as he lifted and rolled her from side to side so she didn’t have to stand up to get under them. And when he pulled her against him, tucking her so sweetly to his side and making sure she was comfortable, she started feeling things again.
“There’s no way anyone can experience what we just experienced and not think it was a splurge,” she murmured against his chest.
“We’ll see.” His hand rubbed up and down her back until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
The last thing she heard before drifting off was a cocky voice whispering, “Meat and potatoes.”
* * *
The first thing Trey felt when he woke up was a mouth circling around his hard cock. His eyes opened to total darkness and he quickly checked the clock. Only twenty minutes since he last saw the time. Barely even worth calling a nap. But he was still pissed he fell asleep at all. Nice way to savor having the woman he’d been thinking about for almost a month in his bed. Passing out cold.
Though her method of waking him back up just about made up for it. She was hidden under the covers, so he couldn’t see her at all.
“Cassie?”
She hummed an answer that vibrated around his erection and sent sharp zings of pleasure to his balls.
He hissed in a breath, stomach tightening when she lowered her mouth completely down his shaft, her hand covering the base. She worked him up so fast he almost wasn’t ready when the orgasm tightened his muscles. He barely had enough time to rip the covers off the bed to watch those last few seconds of her working his cock, her eyes intensely meeting his while her lips stretched around him before he came. Then he couldn’t see anything but a fireworks display behind his eyelids.
He came back into his own body as she kissed her way up his torso. “Hey, stud.”
“I don’t think I earned the name. You did all the work.”
“Yes, well, you’re welcome.” She kissed him on the cheek, then curled back against him. Though the posture was relaxed, she squirmed like she couldn’t get comfortable. Or like she didn’t want to be comfortable.
“You okay?”
She forced her body to still, though her muscles quivered anyway. “Sure.”
“And the award for Worst Liar Ever goes to . . .”
She pinched his side, smiling at his yelp.
Despite her pinch, he kissed her temple. “Tell me what happened to send you running here.”
“Maybe I just wanted to use your hot body.”
His lips curved against her skin. “Maybe. Soon enough, you’ll come here because you want to, not because you’re running from something. But stop avoiding the subject. Who hurt you, baby?”
She nuzzled against him. “Things aren’t going like I’d hoped with my father.”
He ran his fingertips over her back and arm, but said nothing.
“He says he wants to get to know me, he says he wants me here. But he’s never around when I want to spend time with him. He cancels lunches, avoids the house when I’m around, and then tonight . . .” She breathed in, but it was a shuddering sort of sob, and she coughed to clear her throat. Trey decided not to mention the near-terms. “He didn’t even acknowledge me as part of the family.”
“I’m sorry,” was Trey’s low voiced reply. He squeezed her tighter against him, until they were completely molded together and would take a crowbar to pry them apart. One hand fisted behind Cassie’s back. He’d love to know who her father was and beat the crap out of him for hurting her like that. What the hell was this guy’s problem? “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“I’m in my late twenties. I shouldn’t care. I’m not some little toddler sitting by the window waiting for Daddy to come home from work. Why does it still hurt like I was a kid?”
His answer didn’t come right away. He pressed sweet kisses to her forehead and hair for a few minutes. “I’m not a therapist, I’m just a guy calling it like I see it.”
“Okay. Call it.”
“You’re smart, you’re self-reliant, you’ve got a good job, you’ve obviously got good friends, if one of them is willing to trek across the country with you to be here for support when you meet him. And he’s seeing this. He’s having to come to terms with the fact that you’re amazing, and he had nothing to do with it.” He ran a finger down her nose. “About the only thing he can claim is half of the DNA to make this beautiful face.”
“I look like my mom,” she said dryly, smiling when he chuckled. “Except for my coloring.”
He breathed in deeply. If he was going to take the plunge, might as well try now. “Cassie, I know he’s hurt you. And I hate that. But before he does something else again to make you run for a distraction, can you at least acknowledge what we have here is more than just hot sex?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again and pressed her face harder to his chest.
Not quite the answer he was looking for.
He curled one escaped tendril of hair around his finger and tugged until she looked up at him. Then he kissed her, with all the heat he had for her, all the emotions he wasn’t ready to unpack yet, showing in every stroke of his tongue. Every nibble and every caress. He laid it on the line, in a language they both spoke fluently, praying she translated it.
When they came back up for air, her eyes were wide.
“I want more of that.” He kissed the corner of one eye. “And not just that. I want to wake up with you in my bed. I want to meet you for lunch and show you around the city more. I want you to come over and watch sports with me, or drag me to one of those stupid chick flicks where I groan at the cheesy lines and you throw popcorn at me to make me shut up. I want more than just sex.”
She blinked. “Isn’t that my line?”
“You missed your cue, so I’m picking up. And damned if it makes me the girl. I’m just saying out loud what we both want. You’re either too slow to pick up on it, or you’re denying it to yourself.”
He hadn’t meant to be quite so blunt. But if she was going to walk away from whatever they had growing, at least he knew he’d laid it all out there.
She stared across the room for a moment, and he knew she wasn’t looking at anything on the wall. Her mind was somewhere entirely.
“I like you,” she finally said, quietly. “But I don’t want to use you.”
“Feel free to use my body whenever,” he said, to make her smile. She did, but barely. “You’re not using me, Cassie. You like me. If you didn’t like me, it’d be mutual sex. But we like each other, so it’s something to build on. I want you around, outside the bedroom.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m coming here just for the sex. I mean, it’s a fantastic perk,” she added with a sultry smile. “But I came over here for friendship, too. I miss Anya. I need someone here I can talk to.”
“And then have sex with.”
She smothered a laugh, but he felt it vibrating through his chest. “Is that so wrong?” she asked, her voice muffled.
“Absolutely not.” He rolled on top of her. “Just say it. There’s something more here.”
“There’s something more here,” she deadpanned, but her eyes were soft and a little misty. Her hands cupped
his face. “I don’t know what, and I don’t know for how long. But yes, something more.”
“That’s what I needed to hear.” He kissed her again. “So. Movie, snack, or sex?”
Cassie glanced at the alarm clock by his bed. The bright red lights said it wasn’t quite ten yet. “I should go.”
He raised a brow. “Curfew?”
She hesitated, then rolled her eyes. “Do I look fifteen?”
“God, I hope not.” Slithering down to nibble her breast, he said, “Since you seem pressed for time, I’ll just combine two of the three options. For your sake, of course.”
“Combine two . . . Trey!” she shrieked when he scraped his teeth over her lower ribs. “That tickles. “Combine what?”
Using his elbows, he pried her thighs apart and settled between them. “Snack and sex.” He licked once between her puffy outer lips, sucking on her clit.
“That’s so wrong . . . but it feels good so I’m not arguing.”
“There we go.”
Chapter Twelve
Cassie snapped a hand on her iPhone, cursing when the beeping didn’t stop. Why didn’t phones have raised snooze buttons like alarm clocks did? Life would be so much easier if she didn’t actually have to pry her eyes open to earn five more minutes of sleep.
The pounding at the door, however, she couldn’t make go away even by opening her eyes. It wasn’t quite nine in the morning. The girls were at school . . . not that they knocked anyway. They were fans of the B&E school of sisterhood. Her father had been leaving for the office or practice before seven each morning, which was so not him. The housekeeper would just buzz the intercom until she answered. So that left . . .
“Just a second,” she called out, knowing her voice carried through the pool house enough to be heard. The fact that Tabitha hated raised voices gave her only the smallest feeling of satisfaction.
She located an old GU sweatshirt and tossed it on over her sleep tank, then grabbed a pair of capris that hadn’t made it back to the drawer from the last Mellie-raid. Hopping into them as she walked to the door, she checked her reflection in the hallway mirror.
One Night with a Quarterback Page 13