He knew guys who treated football like any other job. They put in the hours, gave their all, and then they went home for dinner with their wives and children. They didn't waste time in bars or hanging out with groupies. They earned their money with quiet power.
But he knew there wasn't any point in trying to change her mind about professional athletes, or about him. Not when she'd made up her mind long ago.
Plus, he had to admit that she wasn't too far off the mark for many of the guys he knew. Even, at the start of his career, himself.
He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay then, I'll play the highly stereotyped version of myself."
He gave her a hard, hungry look.
"A kiss from you is what I've been waiting for my entire life, baby. Come sit on my lap--but only if you're not wearing anything under that short skirt."
She pushed her thighs together, a nearly imperceptible movement that he might have missed if he weren't so attuned to her. Or, more precisely, how much he wanted her.
"That's better," she said. "We'll skip the kiss and get straight to working on your reaction."
He wasn't going to let her get away with that. "Not realistic enough. I thought role-playing only worked if everyone gave themselves over to their characters?"
Her expression said it all. He was right. She was going to have to kiss him in order to teach him the "right" way to behave around overzealous fans.
"Fine," she snapped, and then a few sweet moments later she had transformed again into Wonder-Babe. She slid next to him, thigh to thigh. Was it pathetic that he actually started sweating? Just because he could feel her leg through his jeans?
Yes. It was.
She threaded her hands through his hair and pulled his head down to hers. But at the last second, she looked up into his eyes. In an instant, Wonder-Babe disappeared, leaving Julie behind.
It was that last-second pause that almost did him in. He wanted her. Now. He wanted to take her mouth, could practically taste her.
Tentatively, she pressed her lips to his. A million bolts of lightning shot through him.
It nearly killed him to hold still. Please, he begged, hardly able to believe that he was actually praying, please don't let her stop.
Ty had never been completely certain if any of his prayers on the field had really been answered before, or if he'd just pulled a clutch play out of his ass at the last moment by blind luck. But when Julie began to explore the contours of his mouth with her own, as her tongue came out to taste the corner where his upper and lower lip met, he became a believer in the power of prayer.
Her breath was soft and sweet and he didn't want to move a muscle, didn't want to do anything that would mess up this perfect moment. Her mouth moved to his cheek, to the beginnings of his stubble. One of her hands moved from his hair to his cheek to his neck; then she rubbed her thumb over the hollow beneath his collarbone, then found that skin with her lips.
A groan nearly escaped his lungs, but somehow he held it in. Again she found his mouth, and this time she was less tentative. Her tongue came out, teased him again, sliding into him.
He couldn't keep from devouring her for another second. Just as he was on the verge of taking control of the situation, she stopped kissing him, stopped exploring him with her mouth and hands.
She wouldn't meet his eyes.
"On the contrary, Ty, I don't think I need to teach you anything at all." She sounded like she was going to choke. "You did very well."
If he could have gotten words out of his own constricted lungs, he would have. At long last, he managed a strangled, "Are you kidding me?"
Her eyes met his. "You were the perfect gentleman. Good job."
"Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?" he growled. "And not because of some stupid role-playing. Or because I wish you were a groupie."
She shook her head, tried to pick up her briefcase, then watched in horror as it slipped from her fingers and slid beneath his coffee table.
"I can't do this," she whispered and he wasn't sure if he was listening in on her private thoughts or if she'd meant to speak aloud.
All Ty could think as he stared at her was I have wanted you every single day, every minute, every second since the last time I saw you.
Was that true? Did he really think that? Oh shit. He did. Now that she was sitting here, right in front of him, now that she'd kissed him, he knew the truth.
If she knew how he really felt she'd hold her power over him like a shiny butcher knife and plunge it into his heart to exact the retribution she felt she deserved.
"Don't go," he said instead of admitting the stupid, swirling truth.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She couldn't leave. No matter how desperately she needed to, Ty was her first kiss. Her first orgasm. Her first morning in bed with someone else. The one night she'd spent with Ty had guided her sensuality for more than a decade. She'd tried to avoid men like him, but lost the battle. She'd dated unassuming men, but always ended up having sexual affairs with charismatic charmers.
Yet no one, regardless of how successful or funny or charming they were, had ever come close to matching the few hours she'd spent in Ty's arms.
Only a fool would have actually kissed him in the name of "role-playing."
How could she have forgotten that shame and desire made such a horrible pair? And that desire always won?
She hadn't been able to stop herself. And so she'd licked him and bit at him and he'd done nothing. Nothing.
Then he'd said, "Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?" and foolish hope had leaped to life within her.
She was an adult this time. She could take what she wanted from him and walk away in one piece, couldn't she?
Maybe a kiss was just the thing to break the sensual flight pattern they were in. In all likelihood, they'd both look at each other and realize they'd been building the whole grad night thing into a much bigger deal than it really was.
Once they got the kiss out of the way, they'd simply work together to rebuild Ty's image into one his boss approved of and then they'd happily go their separate ways.
Yeah right, said her heart, but she wasn't listening. She was too busy hoping she could convince him to make good on all that "wanting her" business.
She boldly threw press photos at him, one after .mother. "I can't believe I have to remind you how you really kiss your fans. How can I teach you how to I "have if you don't act like you normally do?"
The corner of his mouth moved and something akin to relief ran through his eyes.
"I've always respected a woman who takes her work seriously."
"Thank you," she said and then the next moment he'd pulled her onto his lap and was stealing her breath from her lungs.
His tongue invaded her mouth and taught hers how to dance again while his big, strong hands cupped her bottom.
"Is that better?" he murmured as he dragged his mouth down to the ultra-sensitive spot at the base of her ear.
She couldn't answer; he was setting her entire body on fire. Thankfully, his hands were just as naughty as his mouth. She felt the heat of his palm through her tailored shirt a millisecond before his thumb brushed across her nipple.
Her body sprang to desperate attention beneath his skilled touch. She reached for him, cupped his heart-stoppingly beautiful face in her hands, and kissed him. All the while that he was fondling her and stroking her and sliding down zippers and undoing buttons, she was losing herself in his kiss.
She couldn't think clearly when he was kissing her, when he was replacing her removed shirt with his mouth, kissing her collarbone, heading for the spot between her breasts as he unhooked her bra.
Finally--oh God, it couldn't be soon enough--he was cupping her breasts in both hands, squeezing them together, laving her nipples with his tongue, with the rough bristles of his jaw, his cheeks.
Funny little gasps were coming from her throat, but she couldn't stop them, any more than she could stop herself from growing wet and heavy between her legs. She was this close to begging him to slip one hand beneath her skirt, her panties. One touch and she'd explode. That was all she wanted.
Ty was all she wanted.
His voice drifted up from between her breasts, low and ragged. "You have the most beautiful body I've ever seen."
Julie arched her breasts against him, shifted so that her skirt bunched up at her waist, and straddled him.
She settled down onto his heavy, jean-clad erection with a moan of satisfaction. All she wanted to do was press herself into him like this while he sucked at her breasts.
With a groan, he pulled her even closer against him. Julie loved everything: the way he was whispering her name again and again as he licked and nipped the sensitive skin on her breasts; the way his jeans felt rough against the mostly exposed skin beneath her fishnet stockings; the way she'd never felt so wet, so aroused, so full of need that she was almost bursting from it.
She was close, so close to the satisfaction she'd been missing all these years. She could see the peak, was climbing straight toward it, when Ty said, "Oh no, you don't," and flipped her onto her back on the couch.
She blinked up at him, disoriented and bewildered. Hadn't she just been about to come, with Ty beneath her? Quickly, he answered her silent question.