Play

by Holly Roberts

  “You’re coming home with me.”

  “It’s probably not a good idea.” I kept my voice even.

  He didn’t say anything until we walked in his front door. “I’m grabbing a beer and heading to the pool. Join me if you want.”

  Hmm, let’s see. Go study for a coming test or spend an hour with a silent jackass. I chose studying. I actually made it thirty minutes before I couldn’t take it. I needed to know that he was okay.

  Grabbing a beer, I headed outside. Killian’s powerful arms ate up the pool, lap after lap. I still wore my clothes, so I just dipped my feet in the water and watched. I had no idea how much time passed, but eventually Killian swam toward me and came up between my legs, dripping water.

  “Hi,” I said shyly.

  He didn’t answer, and before I knew what happened, I was submerged in the pool gasping for air when my head came out of the water.

  “You dirty rat bastard,” I yelled.

  “I love you.” His cold lips settled against mine.

  The kiss went on and on. He removed my pants, which wasn’t easy because they were wet, and slipped his cock between my thighs and straight to where I needed it most. I wrapped my ankles around his waist, sinking my fingers tightly into his hair. This sex was somewhere between fucking and making love. I didn’t care which; I was just glad he responded.

  After our breathing settled, Killian pulled me to the steps, arranging me between his legs. I leaned back into the warmth of his chest. It wasn’t cold, but a gentle wind blew across my wet body causing goose bumps on my arms. Killian wrapped himself around me and took away the chill.

  “I sucked today.”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer his statement. This was unchartered territory for me, so I just cuddled closer and squeezed his arms.

  “Nothing fucking went right. I just wasn’t on my game. I didn’t feel it.”

  I leaned away, turning slightly, and kissed his stubbled jaw.

  “We have one of our best chances to get into the Super Bowl this year and we need me at my best.”

  There was no way I was reminding him that the Scorpions won. I just continued kissing his chin and jaw, the side of his neck, his shoulder.

  A small tug on my hair stopped me.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Of course I am.” I went back to kissing and nibbling.

  “You.” He tugged my hair again. “Are not listening.”

  “You didn’t feel it. Go on. I swear I heard every word.”

  His chest rumbled against me and he laughed.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “You said that already.”

  “Not nearly enough, baby. Thank you for being here.”

  “You didn’t give me a choice.”

  “You made the choice when you came into the locker room.” He pulled my hair back so my neck was in the path of his teeth.

  “I don’t have all the Killian game day rules down yet.” I groaned when he gently sucked on the skin he just bit.

  “Are you giving me a hickey?”

  “You gonna stop me?”

  I turned in his arms and attacked low on his neck. If he could mark me, I could damn well return the favor.

  “Come on. We’re finishing this discussion in bed.”

  “Do I get to hear more about how bad you sucked today?”

  “No, baby, I get to feel how hard you suck today.”

  “You have such a golden tongue,” I said with delight.

  “God, I want to spank you.”

  “Not if you want to see how hard I suck.” I broke away and made a run for the house. I knew he waited to pounce until I was near the bed, but I still squealed.

  “Scream for me tonight, baby.”

  I looked deeply into his intense dark eyes. “Make me scream, Killian.”

  He did.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Killian met my parents on Thanksgiving.

  Candi barely spoke to me. She’d called a few times to get the inside scoop on Killian and I’d cut her short. She had no problem pointing her flirtatious endeavors Killian’s way, though. She was seriously embarrassing, but at the same time, I had her to thank for placing me in Killian’s path. But there was no way I was telling her that.

  “Are you in college?” Killian tried very hard to be polite.

  “No, my sister got the brains. I’ve got other specialties.”

  Killian didn’t bat an eye, but he didn’t ask what those specialties were either. Candi didn’t like it when her sexual enticement skills didn’t work, and went into a full-blown pout not speaking for a few minutes. Unfortunately, it was short lived.

  “So, are you friends with Lenny Brower?” she asked in her sweet but bitchy voice.

  “I’m friends with all my teammates.” Killian glanced my way, gave my hand a small squeeze under the table, and turned back to my sister.

  “He and I are rather close. He says you’ve been known to party at his house on occasion.”

  Killian’s tone remained even, but I caught a subtle change. “It’s been a long time and I don’t see myself there again in the near future.”

  “I’ll tell him you said that.”

  Killian smiled. “Yes, please do.”

  Though Candi no longer embarrassed my parents, I was grateful when my mother broke in and asked Killian about his college days.

  My mom and dad were good people and it gave me a warm feeling knowing they liked Killian. He and my dad watched a football game on television while my mom, sister, and I cleaned the kitchen.

  “I’d like to help, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” Killian said, but my mom shooed him away.

  I smiled because I already knew there was no chance a guest would help with kitchen cleanup. My sister pounced as soon as the swinging door to the kitchen shut.

  “So you think you’re all high and mighty now that you’ve roped in a star quarterback?”

  I’d never stood up to my sister, but Killian had given me confidence in myself that was never there before. “He’s not a quarterback. He’s THE quarterback, or don’t you read the sports page?”

  “I hope you left off using birth control so you can keep him.”

  “That’s enough, Candi.” My mother’s voice was sharp.

  I didn’t bother to answer Candi’s taunt, because she was trying very hard to get a rise out of me.

  My mother put her peacekeeping abilities into play. “So does Killian’s family live here?”

  “Yes, his mother and brother live in Glendale.”

  “Killian has a brother?”

  The glee in my sister’s eyes made me laugh. “Yes, he has a brother. His name is Michael, and he’s Killian’s twin.”

  “Shit, Killian MacGregor has a twin brother. Is he as good looking as Mac the Knife?”

  “Actually, I think he’s cuter.”

  “I hope you plan on inviting his mom and brother here to dinner sometime soon,” my mom said.

  “Yes, I’d love to. Maybe after the playoffs. Killian’s traveling schedule is pretty hectic over the next two months, but I’ll arrange something as soon as I can.”

  “Yes, sister dear, please arrange something. He’s not married is he?”

  God, Candi was awful. “No, he’s not married.” I knew it was spiteful of me and Michael didn’t deserve my sister’s obvious scheming, but she was on my last nerve. She always brought out my bad side.

  Killian and I escaped at halftime. We drove to his mom’s house and ate more pie while Killian watched the rest of the game with his brother. It was obvious that Michael loved football. His eyes were completely animated and he actually rocked his chair a time or two in his excitement.

  Watching Michael and Killian together watching football gave me an idea for Killian’s Christmas gift. It would take some planning but I was thrilled to make this gift special.

  ***

  The Phoenix weather had cooled significantly and I was running each afternoon with the track team. It was on
ly mandatory to run together twice a week, but we pushed each other. My time increased minutely, though I knew it wouldn’t make much difference when the season started. I wasn’t down on myself, just faced facts.

  The holiday season kept me busier than usual but I loved this time of year. I spoke to Killian’s mom and she agreed that I should take Michael to one of Killian’s games before Christmas. I took the bus to her house several times so Michael would be comfortable around me. I loved his smile, and even with his emaciated cheekbones, every so often dimples appeared.

  On game day, Michael’s nurse came with us and drove the special van that transported Michael when he needed to go somewhere. I bought Michael a MacGregor jersey along with a purple and white pom-pom that he held pressed between his hands. Malory showed up early to help us get situated. I wanted to be sure Michael was in place in the skybox before the stadium went crazy with fans.

  I’d spoken to the team owner about my plans and everyone was in on the surprise. Michael did fantastic. He made noises when the rest of us cheered and I don’t think his gentle, quirky smile left his face the entire time.

  At the end of the first quarter, a picture of Michael and me hit the screen. I waved the pom-pom in Michael’s hand without removing it and blew a kiss to the camera. Tears rolled down my cheeks when Killian turned from the screen, looked directly at the skybox, and blew a kiss back.

  “Ah, he blew a kiss at us, Michael. Now let’s hope he kicks some ass.”

  They did. Scorpions twenty-one, opposing team nothing.

  We waited upstairs after the game to let some of the crowd clear out before taking Michael to the locker room. His nurse told me he was tired, but shouldn’t have a problem for another thirty minutes. We walked into the locker room and froze. All the players remained in their uniforms, minus their helmets, waiting for Michael.

  “I talked to Blitz,” Malory whispered.

  Before I knew it, a marker was passed around, and the jersey Michael wore was signed by everyone. I watched these big, clunky, fully geared men approach slowly, talk gently to Michael, and sign his shirt.

  Killian and I saw Michael off in the van, his tired eyes shutting before the vehicle pulled out.

  Still in his uniform and pads, Killian pulled me close for the best make-my-lady-bits-sizzle kiss I’d had in days.

  “Thank you,” he said in his husky sex voice.

  “Michael was wonderful,” I breathed against his lips.

  “So are you. Can you put up with me unwashed a little longer? I’ll drop my pads, but I want to get you home.”

  “Hmm.” I nuzzled the salty skin on his neck. “I kinda wanted to fuck you in nothing but your pads.”

  His throaty laugh made my panties wet. “Won’t work, baby. Too many clothes underneath, but we’ll manage something.”

  “No shower,” I licked his skin. “Just you and all your man sweat.”

  “Says the sweaty runner I love to fuck.”

  If he didn’t get me home soon, I’d combust.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I put a lot of thought into my other Christmas gifts for Killian—a picture Malory took of us, a heavy-duty silver chain necklace with script metal work saying, “Mine,” and a soft wool lap blanket for his feet when he kicked back and watched television. I knew I would use it, too, because he still liked keeping me nearly or completely naked when I cuddled up with him. It was hard to buy for Killian because he had everything, but I was very proud of my choices.

  Killian bought me a brand-new silver Mustang convertible.

  “But, Killian, you don’t even drive a sports car,” I said in stunned disbelief.

  “I do now, baby.”

  My hands were shaking as I walked around the polished exterior. “Am I leaving it here at your house?”

  “I hope not. I want you to drive it when you need it.”

  “Someone will steal it from my apartment.” I was actually having trouble getting enough oxygen into my lungs and the words came out breathy.

  He laughed, grabbed me about the waist, and swung me around in a big circle without my feet touching the ground. “Do you like it?” he asked after setting me down.

  His smile was so lighthearted and he was so proud of himself. What else could I say? “I love it.”

  He assured me it had a tracking system and a kill switch if someone stole it.

  My parents were out of town for the holiday, along with my sister, so I drove Killian to his mother’s house for Christmas dinner. Beth cooked, but before dinner was ready, Killian and I took Michael to the park in the van. We walked around the small lake so he could see the ducks.

  I’d asked Killian weeks before what Michael comprehended.

  “He feels happy and sad, expresses joy and anger, but he has limited brain function.”

  “He loves you,” I’d said.

  I blinked away my thoughts about that conversation and took out the breadcrumbs I’d brought.

  “Will you hold these for me, Michael?”

  He smiled and moved slightly in his chair, making his wonderful happy sounds. I sat the bag on his lap and drew more than a dozen ducks our way. Things were perfect until Michael got upset when it was time to leave. I witnessed him throwing a small fit using angry sounds to mark his displeasure. I gained an entirely new perspective on the years Beth cared for Michael without help.

  Killian crouched down and smoothed his palm over Michael’s cheek. “We’ll come back, buddy. Mom cooked a big dinner and we’re hungry.” Michael made angry sounds all the way home and it broke my heart.

  We opened gifts after dinner. I had used all my bar jar savings to purchase Michael a life-size wall poster of Killian in uniform throwing a football. Killian hadn’t known what I’d ordered and his face turned slightly red, but he helped me mount it in Michael’s bedroom.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. It’s perfect,” Beth said as she admired the image of her son in his number twenty jersey.

  Killian drove us home and used a slightly heavier foot on the gas pedal than I’d used on our trip to Glendale. The weather was cool, which made it one of the nicest places in the country to be on Christmas Day or evening. We drove with the top down and my cheeks were rosy and cold by the time we returned to Killian’s house.

  Killian had also given me a red bra and panty barely there set. I’d worn them to his mom’s house with a secret smile. They didn’t stay on long after we made it to bed, and I think I liked them more than the car.

  ***

  Killian’s last regular-season game was the week after New Year’s, and they were playing Seattle. Things went from intense to a keg of dynamite waiting for someone to light a fuse. The Scorpions had only lost one game, Seattle two, if you counted the pre-season game they lost against the Scorps.

  I was almost accustomed to Killian’s game-day, closed-mouth habits, but this week was different. The Scorpions were going to the playoffs even if they lost, but Killian had a score to settle. Friday night, we ate at his house in bed; we never got far from it until Sunday morning. Killian was sexually insatiable. If he wasn’t chafed after our sex marathon, it was never going to happen. I walked around his home on Sunday with a delicious soreness between my thighs and a satisfied smile on my face. I tried to ignore Killian’s loud music blaring through the speakers.

  Killian was his same silent, game-day self, but I gave him quick kisses whenever he drew close and received his burning gaze as my reward. He knew I was there and that’s what mattered most.

  Malory picked me up because Killian left the house even earlier than usual.

  “You doing okay, sister?” she asked as soon as we took off for the stadium.

  “Killian’s beyond intense. How’s Blitz?”

  “The man needed a chill pill intravenous drip. He’s psyched, and so am I. Our boys are going to the playoffs and with a little luck on their side the Super Bowl.”

  Amanda and Lyle joined us in the skybox. We all wore our purple jerseys
waiting for kickoff. All of us suffered pre-game jitters, but managed to settle back in our seats when the first whistle blew.

  After just two plays, the first fight broke out with Killian in the thick of things. My fingers tightened on the sides of my chair, and I fought running down to the field and punching a few Seattle players myself.

  Malory squeezed my arm. “Relax, Rebecca. This always happens when we play these jerks. The boys will be a little worse for wear, but they’ll survive.”

  I took a breath and tried to enjoy the game. The Scorpions came back onto the field after halftime, up by one touchdown. The score narrowed to a three-point spread in the fourth quarter and I could barely sit still. He’s going to the playoffs. He’s going to the playoffs. I kept repeating it in my head because it really didn’t matter what happened in this game.

  Scorpions had the ball on the thirty-yard line and Killian went back in the pocket to make a pass. No one was open and I watched, in what seemed like slow motion, as he avoided a sack, turned and ran with the ball. Killian’s nemesis, Blanastovich, took Killian down with a hit that lifted Killian into the air. He came down on his head at an awkward angle with his neck bent. The ball fell from his hands, but I didn’t see if anyone scooped it up. Killian lay crumpled where he fell and hadn’t moved since he hit the ground. From the corner of my eye, I registered that the team owner and everyone else in the skybox stood up. I stayed frozen in my seat.

  This wasn’t like the pre-season game. We all knew something was seriously wrong.

  “Come on.” Malory pulled on my hand.

  I looked up.

  “We need to get you down to the ambulance bay.”

  “No.” My eyes turned back to what was taking place on the field. Killian hadn’t moved at all. He wasn’t conscious. Medical staff ran onto the grass.

  “Rebecca, he’ll be okay. You need to get down there because he will be going to the hospital.”

  I couldn’t move.

  Lyle put his arm around my shoulder and took over communication, though I had no idea what he said.

  Everything was still going in slow motion. They secured Killian to a backboard, stabilizing his head and neck. I turned to Malory.