I turned to Malory. “Who’s number ninety-nine?”
“That’s Stump.”
“He’s out of the game?”
“Yep.”
“Why isn’t the guy who hit Killian out?”
“It’s the rules, but he’ll be fined between five and ten thousand.”
“Dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Will Stump be fined?”
“Yes.”
Anger settled in my chest because of the stupid rules. “I owe Stump a beer.”
“You okay?”
“No, I’ll never be okay again.” My hands were shaking, and I fought the need to throw up my hot dog.
Malory rubbed her hand across my back. “This is nothing and still pre-season. You’ll get used to it.”
I finally took my eyes from Killian. “Really?”
“No, not really. But you do get used to your man being bruised, hurt, and sometimes completely beat up. It’s part of the game. Football ain’t for sissies.”
Killian didn’t return to the game.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When the game was over, Malory and I returned to the hotel. I didn’t feel like having a drink in the bar, so I settled for bottled water while sitting with the other wives and girlfriends. They talked about the game and I thought about Killian.
“I’m going back to my room,” I whispered to Malory.
“Okay. I probably won’t see you until next week at the opening game.”
I went to the suite and walked around, unable to sit still. When the door finally opened, I turned and watched Killian walk in.
“Everything off below the waist. Now.”
I stared for a moment.
“Now, Legs. I want you just in my jersey while I fuck you.”
“Are you hurt?”
He gave me a frustrated sigh and walked until his chest pressed into the front of me and his lips were mere inches away. He found the top of my pants, but his eyes stayed glued to mine.
“I want to fuck you, Legs, and you’re not making it easy.”
I threw my arms around his shoulders. Killian’s lips slammed into mine, and my jeans and panties were on the floor seconds later. He wasn’t gentle.
The first time, he fucked me against the wall and the second bent over the couch. I still wore his jersey, but he managed to slip my bra off through the armholes. I really thought only girls knew that trick, but I wasn’t giving Killian enough credit. When it came to fucking, removing a woman’s clothes, or making me feel sexy, he was the authority.
When we finally made it to the bed, he nuzzled the hair behind my ear. A sharp, biting sting to my earlobe came next.
“I’m buying more of my jerseys for you, Legs. I saw you in the stands and my cock went hard.”
I giggled and slapped him playfully on his chest. “I doubt that, but I don’t mind wearing your jersey. I never saw you look into the stands.”
“I fight it. I need to be focused, but I had to be sure you made it to the game.”
“Do you always want sex after a game or only when you’re hurt?”
“I always want sex with you. Doesn’t matter if a game is involved or not.”
“Says the man who barely spoke the entire day.”
Killian’s hand slid through my hair. “It’s going to get worse. How do you handle track season? Do you need to find your zone?”
I cuddled closer. “Not like you, but I understand. I tend to be nervous. I think I actually talk more than usual, or at least that’s what Amanda and Lyle tell me.”
“Hmm.” He was back to nibbling on my earlobe.
My hand traveled down his chest until I wrapped my fingers around his cock. It wasn’t soft like I expected, but then again Killian’s cock was rarely soft. I shifted my body until I could place kisses on his chest. Continuing lower, I slipped my lips around the head and used my tongue. I tasted both of us, and in a million years, I couldn’t have imagined myself enjoying something so naughty. My hair fell forward and Killian gathered it, lifting it out of the way. I gazed up and his brown eyes drilled into mine. He held my head still and pushed farther into my mouth.
“What can you take, Rebecca?”
I didn’t answer, just closed my eyes, loosened my throat muscles, and took his cock deep.
“Fuck.”
And I did.
We barely slept that night. I woke up the following morning feeling decidedly achy in all the right places. Black and blue bruising covered Killian’s lower side and I forgot my small discomfort.
“Don’t worry about it, Legs. Just bruising.”
“How do you know?” My anger at the Seattle player rose again.
Killian kissed my fingers and placed them against his injury. “Because I’ve had broken ribs before and this is nothing. I know I would feel better if you kissed them all better, though.”
How could I resist his dimples?
***
Malory and I left on the same flight. Team rules dictated that the players fly back together. I had homework and I needed to pick up notes from the class I missed. Killian wasn’t happy, but I needed to be at my apartment that night, not in his sexy arms. I called a fellow college teammate and we ran together after the sun went down. I fell into bed exhausted, but was unable to fall asleep.
My phone rang and I smiled at the display.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing?” His husky voice made my toes curl.
“Lying in bed thinking of you.” I smiled against the phone.
“You should have stayed the night and you’d feel me slide between your thighs right now.” There was gentle chiding in his voice.
“Hmm, I’d be digging my nails into your back.” I squirmed and fought putting my hands where I wanted Killian’s cock.
“Touch yourself.”
“Killian!”
“Touch yourself, Rebecca. One finger, just the tip. Run it over your clit.”
How could I resist his voice, his words?
His tone lowered another octave. “Now slip your finger inside your pussy.” He breathed in and out so I could hear. “Is it there?”
“God, Killian, I need you.”
“My hand is wrapped around my cock, pumping up and down, but in my mind, I’m fucking you. Add another finger, but go slow.”
I breathed more harshly into the phone.
“You still there, Rebecca?”
“Yes, Killian.”
“Then come open this damn door so I can fuck you the way I want.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I said as I jumped from the bed and ran to the door and threw it open.
“Fuck me first,” he demanded, and ground his lips against mine.
My exhaustion melted away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The first regular season game was the following week and it was at home. There was a completely different vibe of excitement in the air and Killian’s intensity doubled. I somehow resisted the urge to throttle him the day of the game. I tried to understand, but couldn’t help feeling I would be better off at my apartment while he did his intense indifference to me being with him thing. The Scorpions won, and Killian’s after-game sex almost made up for my trampled feelings.
During the week, I immersed myself in classes, homework, and Wednesday night waitressing. Somehow, the media got wind that I worked at Tillomans and my boring weekday life became social media fodder. My manager didn’t mind, but I found it difficult to field questions from sports reporters and do my job.
Campus life wasn’t much better. Students pointed me out and brave ones asked me about my relationship with Killian.
“Is it true?”
“What’s he like in bed?”
“What did you do to rope him in?”
Were only a few of the questions I dodged. The guys didn’t approach me, but their assessing gazes made every step I took a challenge. Falling on my face was a real possibility because of the stress I felt.
“S
orry, babe, it goes hand in hand with my life. Quit your job and stay here Wednesday nights,” Killian said when I told him about work.
“I need the money, Killian.” I rolled over and placed my finger against his lips. “Don’t say it.”
He bit my finger and didn’t let it go.
“No, Killian.”
He rolled and had me beneath him, raising my hands above my head. “I hate when you tell me no.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You hate for anyone to tell you no.”
“It’s not something I hear often, but with you it’s especially irritating.”
“Get used to it.”
“Hmm.” He tickled me until I begged him to stop.
I didn’t quit my job.
The second week of regular season was another home game, which they won. The Scorpions hit the road for their next game. I couldn’t go because I needed to complete a research project. Killian gave in grudgingly. We’d never discussed him hooking up with another woman after an away game and it ate at me during the weekend. He called Saturday night, sounding lonely, which made me feel better.
I didn’t hear from him again until Sunday after his game. We talked for more than an hour. I slept that night knowing Killian missed me and was flying in late to sleep alone in his bed that night. I didn’t discuss my insecurities with him. I knew he wouldn’t like my thinking.
The following week the team had a Monday night game, and then the Scorpions had a bye week. If I thought the excitement in the stadium amped up when regular season started, it was nothing compared to Monday night. By now, I’d ordered and read a copy of Football for Dummies, and didn’t need Malory to give me a play-by-play anymore. When Killian’s teammates came over to his house, I kept up with conversations, though I didn’t impart any wisdom on the subject.
I still wasn’t accustomed to the minor injuries Killian suffered, but I learned to keep my feelings to myself and kiss him all better.
The Monday night game started well, but progressively turned sour. By the end of the first half, the Scorpions were down by a touchdown, and I was getting nervous. Fights broke out in the second half and the Scorps lost by ten. To top it off, Killian threw two interceptions.
“Good luck,” Malory whispered to me before we went to the locker room.
Killian had promised to get me home before my Tuesday morning class, and without a word, he drove me to my apartment. I knew he was disappointed and angry, but his refusal to verbalize his feelings pissed me off. I didn’t wait for him to come around and open my door. I heard him following me to my door. He took the key out of my hand and opened it, still without a word.
“Killian, just go home,” I said when he closed the door behind us.
His fingers sank into my hair and his lips came down. If he wanted to punish me for his loss, the kiss did just that. Without really knowing what happened, I was on my knees while Killian unzipped his pants. He fucked my mouth, carried me to my bed, kissed my cheek and left.
I cried for an hour.
He didn’t call Tuesday night, and I fell asleep against my wet pillow. Killian MacGregor was an ass.
Wednesday I arrived at work and started my shift with a heavy heart.
Sabrina walked up to me, “Sorry, honey, but it looks like your ex-boyfriend is here.”
My ex? What the hell? Why would she think that?
I turned and Killian was holding out a chair for a woman; all I could see was the back of her long brown hair.
Sabrina continued, “He specifically asked for one of your tables and there was nothing I could do. In my opinion, the woman is too old for him, but not my problem.”
My heart was lost somewhere in my lower stomach. I really thought I was going to be sick. I squared my back, didn’t say a word to Sabrina, and walked over to confront Killian. I would probably lose my job, but I was past caring. The son of a bitch didn’t speak to me for two days after a blow job, and then showed up with another woman where I worked. I planned to leave his body with more than a few bruises.
Killian saw me walking toward him and stood. His lip quirked slightly, but his dimples barely showed. He was nervous. He damn well should be. His hand came out, but I ignored it. I only needed to be close enough to damage his face, and then I was leaving.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Rebecca.”
Startled, I turned to Killian’s…date. Her smile was her son’s smile, though other than her lips and dimples, they looked nothing alike. She was beautiful, appeared years younger than she had to be, and I was going to murder Killian MacGregor.
“Hi, dear. Please call me Beth. Killian has told me so much about you.”
I shook her hand, turned slightly, and gave Killian my best killing glare and calmly asked if I could get them an appetizer.
Confusion showed clearly on Beth’s face.
“Sorry, Mom, but Rebecca just survived her first losing game and I owe her an apology.”
“Oh, well then, I understand. I need to find the ladies’ room and that will give the two of you a chance to talk.” She gave me a hesitant smile and walked away.
The tables near us were not occupied, though it wouldn’t have mattered. I turned the full force of my anger on my…ex-boyfriend.
“What the fuck are you doing, Killian?”
“My mother wanted to meet you.”
I took a slow, calming breath hoping I wouldn’t start crying. “And I wanted to hear your voice, talk to you, make sure you were okay. But no, you got your suck off and gave me the fuck off. How dare you show up here tonight with your mother.”
I was impressed that I managed to keep my voice relatively low.
I saw a touch of anger spark in Killian’s eyes. “I told you what being with me was like during season, Rebecca. I don’t like to lose.”
“You know what, Killian, that’s just too damn bad. I’m sorry your tricycle got mangled and messed up the shiny red paint. I’m an adult. I don’t like to lose either, but I would never do what you did.”
Killian’s eyes went over my shoulder and I knew his mother was standing behind us.
I moved slightly so she could sit down in her chair.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. MacGregor, but my break is starting and I won’t be available to serve your meal.”
I walked away and didn’t look back. I made it past the kitchen into the back storage room before I started crying. Jim, my manager, came in. He was obviously at a loss, but agreed to have another waitress cover my tables. I slipped out the back door and made it home to my apartment in one piece.
I couldn’t stop the flow of tears and had no idea what time it was when someone pounded on my door. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out it was Killian. I walked to the door, refusing to open it, and childishly told him to go home.
“I’m not going home, Rebecca. Open the damn door.”
Maybe, I thought, we needed to end this here and now. I opened the door and stepped back.
Killian walked in and turned to face me. I closed the door behind him with a resounding thud.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes showed so much hurt.
I hated myself for wanting to give in and melt against him so badly—take him in my arms and kiss him until sometime tomorrow. But I knew our relationship wasn’t going to work.
“I know you’re sorry Killian and I’m sure you’ll be sorry the next time and the next. I can’t deal with your single-minded intensity for the game. I’ve thought about it. You make me feel beautiful and I have more confidence in myself than I have since I was twelve years old.” I took a calming breath before continuing. “But, Killian, you’ve hurt me more than anyone ever has. I’m not pro-sport girlfriend material. I’m middle of the pack and happy to be there. Go home, Killian, and thank you for everything.”
He just stared at me and I could feel my eyes welling over. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but I knew it was pointless to think I could hold them back. I moved away from the door hoping he would leave.
&
nbsp; He took a step closer, but didn’t touch me. “I love you, Rebecca.”
I closed my eyes.
“Please don’t cry.” Fingers brushed the side of my face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I shut down. I was just going to drop you off at your house, not touch you, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m a fucking bastard, but, baby, I love you.”
I leaned forward just a bit and I was in his arms. God, I loved him, and at the same time felt a crushing pressure inside my chest. Killian picked me up and carried me to the couch.
“I love you,” he said over and over, smoothing my hair away from my face, making me cry harder.
His lips finally rested against my forehead for a moment before sitting me against the couch cushions and walking away. He came back with a box of tissues. When he tried to blow my nose, I grabbed the tissue out of his hand and did it myself.
I managed to gain control, but I needed him to know how I felt. “I can’t do this again, Killian.” I looked up at him and saw the hurt I felt reflected in his eyes. “I love you, too, and that made this so much worse.”
He kissed me. It was soft and sweet and full of promise. His arms went around me and he pulled me tight against his chest. “My mother wants you to come over for dinner this Sunday.”
“Your mother hates me.”
His chest rumbled and I clenched his shirt.
“She doesn’t hate you. The woman won’t come to any of my games. She doesn’t put up with me after losing or even before a game when I won’t talk. She told me years ago she’d knock my head into the nearest wall for my attitude. When I was in high school, she made me clean our apartment on game days. I’d scrub the bathroom floor on my hands and knees and she’d point out every spot I missed.”
I was laughing now. “I don’t think your sports psychologist is working very well, Killian.”
His hand tightened in my hair. “He is. You have no idea how bad things used to be.”
I pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Make love to me. Please don’t fuck me.”
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