Quarterback Draw
Page 23
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She turned to him. “Maybe it’s better that we’re just friends.”
He had no idea what was going on with her, but he wasn’t going to walk out and let it end like this.
He stalked over to her and drew her into his arms. “I don’t fucking think so. And I don’t think you want that, either.”
He held her just a breath away, his gaze meeting hers, a storm of emotions in her eyes. He felt the draw, and this tension wasn’t the kind that made her want to pull away.
He put his mouth on hers, felt her surrender even before his tongue slid between her lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist as he explored the softness of her mouth, tasting her, claiming her, letting her know that friendship wasn’t at all what he wanted from her. And when she sagged against him, when one of her hands wound around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair, the other hand clutching his shirt, he tasted victory.
Her moan was as sweet as her taste, and he let his hands slide down over her back, relaxing a little now that he knew she wasn’t going to bolt. He wanted to touch her everywhere, to take his time kissing her neck, that sweet spot on her collarbone, and her back. He wanted to get her naked and explore her skin with his hands, his mouth, and his tongue. He’d seen so much of her body in Barbados, but they hadn’t been alone and it had been for work—his hands on her then had been professional.
Now he wanted to get really goddamned personal with her body, but he understood she wasn’t relaxed enough for that. He needed to get her alone, behind a locked door where neither one of her siblings was likely to burst in at any second. He needed her calm, tranquil, and stress-free, not thinking about anything but what the two of them were doing together.
But right now he enjoyed having her mouth under his, tasting and teasing her lips and having her body snake against him in a way that felt urgent and needy and made him hard. Which he had to agree was probably not a good idea since they didn’t have a guarantee to be alone.
So he was the one to lighten the kiss, to slide his hands from her back to her arms, even though what he wanted to do was grab a nice handful of her sweet ass. He was the one to eventually break away, take a deep breath and rest his forehead against hers, fighting for control when all he wanted to do was gather her in his arms and take what she seemed so willing to give.
She tilted her head back and her eyes were a storm of emotion. Confusion, desire, and regret, all packaged up in a blue purple haze. It took every ounce of strength he had not to kiss her again.
“Grant,” she finally said, her voice a strangled whisper.
“Yeah, I know. I need to go, because otherwise I’m going to take you to your bedroom and I’m not going to give a damn who comes through the door.”
She swallowed. “Yes. You need to go.”
He blew out a breath. “Mind if I finish my water first? I have an issue here that needs dealing with before I go out in public.”
Her gaze drifted to his erection and lingered there before moving back up to meet his eyes. Yeah, that did nothing to help.
“Oh. Sure.”
He needed to get away from her, away from the looks she was giving him. Otherwise he was never going to leave.
He downed the contents of the glass in three gulps, mentally thinking of football plays and strategies for the game as he did. Getting his mind off Katrina and onto the game helped. By the time he turned back to her, she had moved into the kitchen, putting some space between them.
“I’ll get tickets to you for Sunday’s game.”
She nodded. “Great. The kids will like that.”
“I’ll talk to you.”
He walked out the door, feeling like he’d left unfinished business in there.
He had.
Katrina.
TEN
KATRINA HAD NEVER BEEN TO A PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALL game before. She’d watched games on TV with Leo and Anya, and she liked football, but she didn’t know as much about the game as they did.
When the tickets had been messengered over, Leo had been so excited he’d had to text all his friends about going to the game, and that Grant Cassidy himself had gotten them tickets.
He’d even gotten a haircut, which had shocked her.
She was amused by his fanboy attitude. Leo was always so laid back, like he didn’t care about anything. Who knew he was such a football fanatic? She wished she’d known earlier so she could have gotten him into football.
Though she wasn’t sure she would have agreed to it without Grant’s influence and suggestion. She still thought it was a rough sport.
And now she could see all the players up close—though they were in a club box, so it wasn’t like they were on the field or anything. But still, it wasn’t like watching it on television. She was seeing it live, and those guys were so big, so muscular, and as she shifted her attention to her little brother, she couldn’t fathom how he could compete with men like that. To her, he would always be that vulnerable five-year-old, confused about where Momma had gone, and looking to her for love and guidance because she was all he had left.
Maybe she’d been a little overprotective of him and Anya, but they were all she had, too, and she wasn’t about to let anything happen to them.
“Aren’t these seats great?” Anya asked, plopping down in one of the cushioned seats in the skybox. “I can’t believe we get to sit here and watch the game. Free food, too.”
Her sister had a plate filled with all kinds of interesting foods. Leo pulled up a seat next to his sister, food in one hand, a can of soda in the other.
He had no idea what was going on with her, but he wasn’t going to walk out and let it end like this.
He stalked over to her and drew her into his arms. “I don’t fucking think so. And I don’t think you want that, either.”
He held her just a breath away, his gaze meeting hers, a storm of emotions in her eyes. He felt the draw, and this tension wasn’t the kind that made her want to pull away.
He put his mouth on hers, felt her surrender even before his tongue slid between her lips. He wrapped an arm around her waist as he explored the softness of her mouth, tasting her, claiming her, letting her know that friendship wasn’t at all what he wanted from her. And when she sagged against him, when one of her hands wound around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair, the other hand clutching his shirt, he tasted victory.
Her moan was as sweet as her taste, and he let his hands slide down over her back, relaxing a little now that he knew she wasn’t going to bolt. He wanted to touch her everywhere, to take his time kissing her neck, that sweet spot on her collarbone, and her back. He wanted to get her naked and explore her skin with his hands, his mouth, and his tongue. He’d seen so much of her body in Barbados, but they hadn’t been alone and it had been for work—his hands on her then had been professional.
Now he wanted to get really goddamned personal with her body, but he understood she wasn’t relaxed enough for that. He needed to get her alone, behind a locked door where neither one of her siblings was likely to burst in at any second. He needed her calm, tranquil, and stress-free, not thinking about anything but what the two of them were doing together.
But right now he enjoyed having her mouth under his, tasting and teasing her lips and having her body snake against him in a way that felt urgent and needy and made him hard. Which he had to agree was probably not a good idea since they didn’t have a guarantee to be alone.
So he was the one to lighten the kiss, to slide his hands from her back to her arms, even though what he wanted to do was grab a nice handful of her sweet ass. He was the one to eventually break away, take a deep breath and rest his forehead against hers, fighting for control when all he wanted to do was gather her in his arms and take what she seemed so willing to give.
She tilted her head back and her eyes were a storm of emotion. Confusion, desire, and regret, all packaged up in a blue purple haze. It took every ounce of strength he had not to kiss her again.
“Grant,” she finally said, her voice a strangled whisper.
“Yeah, I know. I need to go, because otherwise I’m going to take you to your bedroom and I’m not going to give a damn who comes through the door.”
She swallowed. “Yes. You need to go.”
He blew out a breath. “Mind if I finish my water first? I have an issue here that needs dealing with before I go out in public.”
Her gaze drifted to his erection and lingered there before moving back up to meet his eyes. Yeah, that did nothing to help.
“Oh. Sure.”
He needed to get away from her, away from the looks she was giving him. Otherwise he was never going to leave.
He downed the contents of the glass in three gulps, mentally thinking of football plays and strategies for the game as he did. Getting his mind off Katrina and onto the game helped. By the time he turned back to her, she had moved into the kitchen, putting some space between them.
“I’ll get tickets to you for Sunday’s game.”
She nodded. “Great. The kids will like that.”
“I’ll talk to you.”
He walked out the door, feeling like he’d left unfinished business in there.
He had.
Katrina.
TEN
KATRINA HAD NEVER BEEN TO A PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALL game before. She’d watched games on TV with Leo and Anya, and she liked football, but she didn’t know as much about the game as they did.
When the tickets had been messengered over, Leo had been so excited he’d had to text all his friends about going to the game, and that Grant Cassidy himself had gotten them tickets.
He’d even gotten a haircut, which had shocked her.
She was amused by his fanboy attitude. Leo was always so laid back, like he didn’t care about anything. Who knew he was such a football fanatic? She wished she’d known earlier so she could have gotten him into football.
Though she wasn’t sure she would have agreed to it without Grant’s influence and suggestion. She still thought it was a rough sport.
And now she could see all the players up close—though they were in a club box, so it wasn’t like they were on the field or anything. But still, it wasn’t like watching it on television. She was seeing it live, and those guys were so big, so muscular, and as she shifted her attention to her little brother, she couldn’t fathom how he could compete with men like that. To her, he would always be that vulnerable five-year-old, confused about where Momma had gone, and looking to her for love and guidance because she was all he had left.
Maybe she’d been a little overprotective of him and Anya, but they were all she had, too, and she wasn’t about to let anything happen to them.
“Aren’t these seats great?” Anya asked, plopping down in one of the cushioned seats in the skybox. “I can’t believe we get to sit here and watch the game. Free food, too.”
Her sister had a plate filled with all kinds of interesting foods. Leo pulled up a seat next to his sister, food in one hand, a can of soda in the other.
