The Rivalry

“I don’t mind,” I said.

I took her can of beer and the TV remote, plunking them down on the weird coffee table/construction spool, and then I pulled her into my lap where I could resume kissing her.

“Do you want me to record that?” she said between kisses.

“What?” My mouth moving against hers made it difficult for her to speak.

“You were just on SportsCenter, Jay.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry, my mom records it and save the tapes. My parents have got to be the last people on the planet who still use a VCR.”

Her lips were soft, and I dipped my tongue between them, seeking out hers. When I found it, my heartrate kicked up. Exhaustion from the day dried up, burned away by need. I pulled back and enjoyed how heavy her eyelids were, like my kiss had leveled her. “Where’s your roommate tonight?”

“Out,” she whispered. “He could come home whenever.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ran the tip of my nose along the curve of her neck. There was that familiar coconut scent, the one which drove me insane. Distinctly her. She was so small, but powerful. “What’s he going to do if he catches us fooling around on the couch?”

Her words were slow and seductive as she tilted her head to the side, giving me more access to her throat. “He’s not going to.”

“Are you telling me,” I skimmed my lips over her racing pulse, “to keep my hands to myself?”

“No.” She fisted my shirt, tugging me closer. “Let’s move this discussion into my bedroom.”

I let out a wicked laugh and scooped her up into my arms. My ribs were sore. My knee ached from an awkward tackle right before the half, but I didn’t care now. As long as I had the invite, I’d crawl to her bed if needed.

She climbed out of my lap, and I followed her up off the couch. She grabbed her beer, and then pointed to the corner. “Get your shit, Eighty-Eight, and come on.”

Holy fuck, she didn’t need to tell me twice.

-20-

JAY

I dropped my bag just inside her bedroom, set my beer on a shelf, and kicked the door closed behind me as she turned off the overhead light. A string of white dock lights was draped on the ceiling, and the soft lighting was fucking sexy. The gorgeous blonde in the room had a lot to do with it.

Like last time, it was impossible to keep my hands off her, and she seemed just as desperate as I was. Her hands clawed at my t-shirt, yanking it up over my head. I pulled at her top, trying to tug it down until she pushed my hands out of the way and whipped it up and off.

She wore a basic purple bra with little gold hoops at the straps, and it was the sexiest thing ever. My fingers fumbled to release my belt, but she’d turned into stone. Her gaze was pinned on my chest.

“I’m fine,” I said, when I glanced down and realized what she was looking at. A purple-yellow bruise was still fading from our home opener, just below where my pads sat. A helmet between the numbers could knock the wind clean out of you, and for an opponent playing safety, hopefully the ball too. He hadn’t, though. Ball security was something I’d improved over the last two seasons.

“You sure?” she whispered.

Her concern was sweet, but I wasn’t fragile. “Yeah.” I softened my knees and leaned back against the door, then I threaded a hand in her hair and jerked her toward me. It caused her to fall into my chest, right into my bruise. “See?”

I wasn’t rough, but her blue eyes darkened. They burned, hot for me. I slid my palm down the bare skin of her back and grabbed a handful of her jeans-covered ass. A half-moan, half-whimper came from her lips as I gripped her. Our mouths crashed together. Tongues slashed and stroked.

The wood of the door was cool against my back, and I needed the support. Kissing her was a full contact sport, and I wasn’t sure which play to call next.

A snap decision was made in my head. My hand spanned over her jeans, and I squeezed her ass. “Get these off.”

I pushed her back, and stayed leaning against the door. Did she get it? How I wanted to watch? Once more, my hands went to my belt and worked the leather end free, but I didn’t drop my gaze to my hands.

I watched her. Only her.

Kayla moved slowly. She undid the snap of her jeans and inched the zipper down, then hooked her thumbs in the waist. She barely blinked as she stared at me. One side of her jeans was shimmied down over a hip, then the other, and the way she swayed side to side as she worked them down . . . fuck. All the blood in my body raced to my dick.