The Season: Rush (Austin Arrows #1)

by Nicole Edwards

  Shot challenges suck.

  My wayward thoughts make me giggle, but then I briefly sober when I think about my daughter.

  “I need to check on Bianca,” I mumble when I realize Kingston’s leading me down the hallway to my bedroom.

  “I’ll check on her,” he says. “You just get ready for bed.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.”

  When Kingston releases me, I stumble and would’ve fallen had he not wrapped his big arm around my waist and pulled me up against him. With his chest at my back, the deep rumble of his “Are you okay?” sounding in my ear, the effects of the alcohol dissipate, and I’m suddenly inundated with a jolt of lust so powerful I think I might melt right into the floor.

  The room stops spinning, and the only thing I can focus on is the man pressed intimately against me. The hard plane of his chest against my back, the seductively rough scrape of his beard on my cheek as he leans close to my ear. That and the way I’m leaning into him, wishing his hand would slide a teeny bit higher so I can feel his palm on my breast.

  “I’m gonna check on Bianca. I’ll be right back.” It takes a moment to process the words because the only thing I notice is the warmth of his breath against my neck.

  “’Kay.”

  With his help, I sit on the edge of the bed, watching his ass when he turns and walks out of the room and down the hall.

  He has a killer ass.

  Like, top ten best asses ever. Right up there with … I don’t know, but still. Top ten. Maybe top five. Yes, definitely top five.

  And I want to bite it.

  No. No, I don’t.

  “Uggh.” I’m in so much trouble right now.

  Three years is a long damn time to go without sex, and there is something about Kingston Rush that makes me want to do dirty things to him. Dirty, delicious things that involve him very naked.

  Mmm. The goalie god naked. I wonder what he looks like.

  In my defense, I’ve ignored my attraction to him for most of my adult life. It’s a hell of a lot easier during his serial dating episodes. But I know he’s been single for quite a few months, which is a new thing for him. Is there a reason for that? Did the last girl—the alcohol won’t allow me to think of her name—break his heart? Has he sworn off women for the time being? Forever, maybe? Is he now gay?

  I giggle. Clearly my thoughts are getting away from me.

  “Sharon? No. That’s not it,” I whisper, staring down at the floor, my brain working to come up with the name of his last girlfriend. “Shanilda? No, that’s probably not even a real word. Shania? Chelsea? Shit.” I think I’m getting closer. “Chancy? No, that’s a strange one, too. It’s a normal name. Not Cherry, but something like ... Cheryl? Yes! Cheryl!” I exclaim, proud of myself for remembering.

  I look up to see Kingston standing in my doorway, leaning against the jamb as he stares back at me. His eyebrow is cocked in that sexy way that says he’s amused by me.

  “Bianca’s asleep,” he says in that no-nonsense tone that makes my insides quiver.

  Good to know.

  God, he is so fucking hot.

  He’s got that whole inverted triangle thing going on upstairs. Wide shoulders. Broad chest. Narrow waist. He makes my mouth water. Not to mention those long, muscular legs. Mmm. I really do want to see him naked. And maybe, just maybe, I really want to take a bite out of his tight buns, too.

  “Ellie?”

  “Hmm?” I ask, not stopping my appreciative perusal of the sinful masculine package standing before me. I might be drunk, but I’m definitely not blind. I know beneath that shirt he sports tattoos on his arms and chest, but I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing every glorious inch of him sans clothing.

  “You need to get some sleep.”

  The last thing on my mind at the moment is sleep. “Not tired.”

  Am I drooling?

  I reach up to wipe my mouth, praying I’m not—because, you know, that’s really not sexy—but not really caring if I am because the alcohol tells me it doesn’t matter.

  When I meet Kingston’s gaze, I’m momentarily transfixed, unable to look away. Neither of us says anything, but the tsunami of heat that washes over me speaks louder than any words could have.

  I want this man. I want to strip him slowly, kiss every inch of his body, tease him the way he’s teased me for so many years, then make him lose every ounce of that control he seems to cling to like a lifeline.

  “Ellie.”

  I notice the warning tone, blinking slowly as I swallow, trying to wet my suddenly parched throat.

  “What are you doing, Ellie?” he asks.

  The question confuses me.

  I’m sitting here. Staring at him. What the hell does he think I’m doing?

  When his gaze drops to my chest, I look down, realizing I’m unbuttoning my shirt.

  Ahh, that.

  My fingers apparently have a mind of their own, because even though I now know what I’m doing, I can’t seem to stop.

  Apparently Kingston isn’t interested in what I’m about to offer him, because as I stare down at my fingers, I see his close over mine, effectively stopping me.

  “Get some sleep,” he whispers, taking my wrists in his big hands and helping me to my feet.

  I continue to stare up at him, fearful that this moment will be lost if I let him walk out of my bedroom, but not able to speak a word as he leads me around to the side of the bed. After pulling back the comforter, he urges me to sit down, which I do without complaint.

  I know I’m to blame for everything that has happened thus far tonight. Or maybe I should blame the tequila.

  But what happens next…

  That is definitely not my fault.

  I don’t think.

  Kingston

  I’m having a hard time breathing.

  It all started when I noticed Ellie unbuttoning her shirt, slowly revealing smooth skin and a black lace bra. Although I could stand here and watch the striptease without feeling an ounce of guilt, I know I shouldn’t. I definitely want to, but that doesn’t make it right.

  Ellie has been drinking and she isn’t thinking straight. Still, the only thing I can think about is how fucking much I want this woman.

  When I insisted on taking her home to ensure she arrived safely, I didn’t think much past opening her front door and watching her go inside, maybe depositing her on the couch. Leading her in and helping her to her bedroom wasn’t on my original agenda. I know from experience that her couch is comfortable. She could’ve slept right there, and I would’ve done my good deed for the day and wouldn’t be torn between giving in to the overwhelming desire I have to strip her naked and slowly slide deep into her welcoming body or…

  I’m not even sure there is another choice at the moment. Not with the way she’s looking at me.

  “Kingston.” The whispered word sounds more like a plea, and I’m hard-pressed to fight my need for her.

  “We can’t do this, Ellie,” I say, wanting to rip out my voice box so my subconscious can’t speak for me anymore.

  We could do this.

  God, I want to do this so bad it fucking hurts.

  “Spencer won’t find out.”

  That is the least of my worries, to be honest. I’m fairly certain that I will be able to recover from any physical pain Spencer puts me in for fucking his sister, but I won’t be able to recover if Ellie wakes up tomorrow and regrets what we did.

  And she will regret it.

  I’ve been around through all of the dates she’s had in the past decade—of which there really haven’t been many—and I recall her swearing off that particular man she’d gone out with after the encounter. Every time.

  I’m not going to allow her to push me away. Not when I haven’t yet had the chance to pull her closer.

  “Let’s get your boots off,” I tell her, placing my hand on her chest and gently urging her back.

  Her skin is soft and warm against my palm, so much so that I’m distracted by my bod
y’s ridiculous physical response to her. So when Ellie grabs my wrist and shifts my hand so that I’m cupping her breast, I damn near pass the fuck out.

  “Ellie, no. We can’t,” I urge, my hand gently kneading her breast as though I’ve said just the opposite.

  “Touch me, Kingston,” she pleads. “Please.”

  Fucking hell. Resisting this woman when she isn’t begging is hard enough. When she is…

  She’s drunk.

  Right. She’s been drinking, and I shouldn’t do this.

  My hand isn’t listening, continuing to caress her, my fingers dipping beneath the edge of her bra, the backs of my fingers sliding over soft, smooth flesh, teasing her nipple. Ellie’s back arches, her hand still holding my wrist as I fondle her gently.

  “We can’t do this, Ellie,” I tell her again, wondering who the fuck is speaking out of my mouth as I rest one knee on the mattress between her thighs and lean over her. Apparently my body is detached from my common sense, because the words spilling out of my mouth are the right ones, but my actions are proof that no one is listening to me. Not even me.

  I just want a little taste. Just enough to sate me until tomorrow when she’s sober and I can convince her that this thing between us is too strong to ignore.

  Dropping my head, I press my lips to her collarbone, kissing her softly. When she moans, her other hand sliding behind my neck and pulling me closer, I feel my control slip. With the fingers I’ve been caressing her with, I tug her bra down, revealing her nipple.

  Pink.

  Her nipples are a dusky pink, just as I imagined.

  And hard.

  Perfectly puckered, begging for my mouth.

  “Lick me,” she urges.

  My control slips another notch, my tongue sliding over her skin, moving lower as I curl it around the hardened point.

  Ellie sucks in a breath, her hips shifting, her denim-covered pussy grinding against my thigh, which is pressing intimately against her. “Please, Kingston. I need to come.”

  I suck her into my mouth, lashing her nipple with the tip of my tongue while she rides my thigh, her hands tugging my shirt until it’s freed from my jeans. I inhale sharply when her soft hands slide along my back, her fingernails dragging lightly over my skin.

  “Don’t stop,” she encourages. “I need more.”

  This is so wrong. I know it, and I figure, even in her alcohol-induced stupor, she knows it. Only she has tequila to blame her lack of inhibitions on. Me … I’m stone-cold sober because I resisted the urge to do shots with my teammates when I noticed Ellie had opted to join them. Which means I have no excuse. I’m driven by pure and simple lust.

  I’m also walking a very fine line that could ultimately backfire on me.

  Still, I can’t stop.

  I continue to lave her breast, nipping and sucking her smooth, warm skin while Ellie moans, her hands pulling me closer. I’m so caught up in the moment I don’t stop when her hands disappear and I feel them move between our bodies.

  In the back of my mind, I know she’s unbuttoning her jeans.

  I know that this is going to go further than I intended.

  I know that watching her reveal herself to me is going to be the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever witnessed.

  Hell, I know a lot of things, but the only thing I can focus on is making her moan my name again and again.

  “More,” she begs.

  I shift to her other breast, pushing her bra up this time, freeing both luscious tits to my hungry gaze. She shivers, goose bumps breaking out along her skin as I once again suck the hardened peak between my lips.

  “Oh, fu-u-uck…” A throaty moan follows her words.

  Ellie shifts beneath me, and a thud follows, which means she has managed to remove one of her boots. A couple of seconds later, the other falls to the floor.

  I don’t think anything could possibly pull my focus off her tits, but then I feel her hand moving between our bodies, and I realize what she’s doing. Releasing her breast from my mouth, I fall to my side in time to see her hand dipping below the open zipper of her jeans, beneath her black lace panties as she works herself into a frenzy.

  Okay, so that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  She pauses to shove her jeans lower. “It’s so hot in here.”

  Yeah, well … the more clothing she removes, the hotter it gets. For me, anyway.

  I watch in awe as she manages to shove her jeans down her hips, then shimmy out of them without ever getting up from the bed. I damn near bite my tongue off when she once again dips her hand inside her panties.

  God, help me now, because I’m damn sure not strong enough to help myself.

  “Need more, Kingston,” Ellie cries out. “Make me come. Fuck. I need to come.”

  The line between right and wrong blurs and then disappears completely as I cover her hand with mine, then guide her back down, our fingers sliding beneath her panties once more. I gently press her finger against her clit, applying enough pressure to make her cry out, the sound so sweet I want to swallow it, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight. I can’t see where our fingers brush her sensitive flesh, but I can feel the slickness, the warmth.

  Fuck, she’s so wet.

  “That’s it, little girl,” I urge, my voice laced with gravel. “I wanna watch you come.” I look down at her face and realize she’s watching me.

  “Inside. Put your finger inside me,” she implores in a rough whisper.

  I push my hand lower, finding the slick opening to her body with my middle finger. I tease her, pushing only the tip inside as she bucks her hips, attempting to force my finger in deeper.

  I’m going to hell for this, I know that, but I can’t resist. Her pussy is tight, gripping my finger as I fuck her slowly, pushing in deep, then withdrawing. I wish it were my dick sliding inside her.

  Her soft growl of frustration is followed by a satisfied moan as I push in again. Slow and deep. I fuck her with one finger, then add another. She continues to fondle her clit while I finger her and I watch, alternating between the sexy scene taking place between her thighs and observing her face as she succumbs to the pleasure.

  “Make me come,” she groans.

  My hand stills. “Under one condition.”

  Her eyes widen as though she can’t believe I stopped. I don’t blame her. I can’t believe I stopped.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  I smile. I push two fingers inside, then slowly pull back. I resume the slow pace as I watch her face.

  “Fine,” she huffs, her hips lifting off the bed as though that will help her get where she wants to be. “What’s your condition?”

  Leaning down, I allow my lips to brush hers lightly, but I don’t kiss her. I want to, but that will only be another distraction that will take me off course.

  “I’ll make you come tonight, Ellie. And tomorrow, when you’re sober, I’m going to do it again. Only this time, I’ll be the one making the demands. Understood?”

  I suck her bottom lip into my mouth at the same time I drive my fingers deep into her pussy.

  “God, yes!” she cries out as she explodes, her orgasm cresting, the tight walls of her cunt gripping my fingers as she comes undone.

  “So fucking beautiful,” I whisper as she rides out her climax, my fingers still buried in her warmth. When her breathing returns to normal and her body relaxes, I lift my head and stare down at her. “I was serious,” I tell her, locking my gaze with hers. “I’ve dreamed about this, Ellie. A million times. But not once did those dreams ever result in only one night.”

  “What about Spencer?” Her tone is hesitant. She still seems bothered by the fact that Spencer warned me away from her.

  Personally, I don’t give a shit about that anymore.

  “Let’s just worry about us for now.”

  “Us?” Her eyes widen as though I just started quoting scripture or something. “There can be no us, Kingston. Whatever happens, it’s only temporary. I
’ve got a daughter to raise and a restaurant to run. Not to mention—”

  I put a finger from my free hand against her lips to quiet her. I’m not going to argue. I know Ellie. She’s strong-willed and as hardheaded as they come. When she sets her mind to something, there is no changing it.

  I smile down at her. “No matter how many plays you have, you can’t predict the outcome.”

  “This isn’t hockey,” she says with a snort.

  “No, it’s not.”

  I pull my fingers from the tight clasp of her pussy, then lift them to my mouth, slowly licking her juices from them. Her eyes widen and her breath hitches.

  “What were you saying?” she rasps.

  “Don’t assume the score,” I tell her, my voice low, “until the final buzzer sounds.”

  23

  Ellie

  I’m woken by the scent of my favorite food wafting into my bedroom.

  Mmm, bacon.

  When it comes to bacon, I’m like one of those dogs on the dog treat commercials, salivating uncontrollably. I’m not ashamed to admit it, either.

  It takes me a minute to convince my eyes to open, remembering quite vividly what happened last night. Yes, I had a few too many tequila shots—which, for the record, I’m convinced were created by the devil himself—but I’m not sure there is enough liquor in the world to keep the memory of last night from invading my brain.

  Kingston made me come.

  With his fingers.

  I squeeze my thighs together as my body experiences the aftereffects from what was quite possibly the most incredible orgasm I’ve ever had.

  I’m not sure whether that’s as good as it sounds. It actually seems rather pathetic. At thirty-four, I’ve had plenty of orgasms in my life, so for one intoxicated encounter with Kingston’s fingers to be in the spotlight…

  Yep. Pathetic.

  The sound of voices drifts down the hall, and I realize Kingston is in the kitchen with Bianca. Knowing I will never win a mother-of-the-year award if I stay in bed on a school day, I force my legs over the edge of the mattress and sit up.