Blitzed(46)

"Did you think I was going to be like my father?" I ask, trying to keep the fury out of my voice and obviously failing based on the way she flinches. "Did you think I was going to be a worthless piece of shit like he was?"

"No!" Whitney says, and she's not crying but close to it. "I did it because I didn't want you to be forced into a future that you would have been miserable in! We were eighteen, and I knew how honorable you were even then! You'd have given up your future in football to take care of Laurie. Hell, you'd have followed Pete Barkovich into the Navy or the Army or some damn thing and wasted the talent that you've been blessed with! I did it because I wanted to see you become the man you are right now, right here! To become that demon that I saw on the football field a week ago, that I watched in clips and games on the Net for the past five years! I did it because I still love you!"

Whitney stops, covering her mouth as the words hang in the air between us. She looks like she didn't expect to say what she said, and I stand up, coming over and taking her hands again. "Excuse me?"

"Remember when I said that there was something stopping me and Lorenzo? It was you, or more precisely, the memory of you," Whitney says, shy again, like she was when we were first dating. “It's true. I’ve never stopped loving you. Seeing you in that Hawks uniform, it just brought it all back to me, stronger and more intense than ever."

I smile and nod, pulling her in for another hug. "Whitney, I have something to tell you too," I whisper in her ear, brushing a lock of hair behind that perfect shell of pink that has been in my dreams for five years. "I never stopped loving you either. I always have."

She draws her head back, and the pain in my soul flares for a moment before she pulls my head down, and we're kissing, the pain disappearing forever as her lips caress mine, soft and tender. My heart sings, but more importantly, my soul cries out, and I pull her closer. We stay there like that for long, beautiful minutes, my Whitney in my arms once again, and I never want them to end.

When she pulls back, there's a look in her eye that I remember, and she takes my hand, biting her lower lip just like she used to. "Come with me," she says, leading me toward the back of the house. "Mom's gone, and Laurie's at preschool. Come with me."

I stop in the hallway, tugging on her fingers. "Are you sure?"

She stops and nods, smiling that smile that captured my heart long ago. "We've only made love once in our lives, Troy. We've only made love once, and look what we created. I wonder what happens if we make love again? And no, I don't mean another baby."

"I'm carrying protection." I chuckle, patting my back pocket where my wallet resides. "Team policy. The trainers hand them out to every player once a week. The owners don't like scandals. They're fresh and fully tested, too."

Whitney laughs, and comes closer, kissing me tenderly. "Then let's do what we need. Then afterward . . . would you like to go pick up your daughter from school?"

"First, I want her mother," I reply, growling as five years of desire and passion build beyond the breaking point. I scoop Whitney up in my arms and carry her to the room that is obviously hers, both of us tearing at the clothes separating us. "I want you."





Chapter 17





Whitney





We tumble onto my bed, and I'm glad that Mom had bought me a queen-sized mattress back when I was in high school. It's still not large enough for Troy, but it's better than a narrow twin-sized mattress, that's for sure.

Troy twists while we fall, making sure he doesn't crush me under his weight. I'd read his player stats carefully when we watched the game, and I know that he’s at two hundred and thirty-two pounds, and under his shirt, I swear every bit of it is muscle. We're kissing, our lips bruising each other with so much intensity, and I bite on his neck, desperate to taste more. He groans and yanks at my t-shirt, which parts with a purr like a zipper, and suddenly, his hands are on my back, our skin touching again after too many years.

Troy stops, gasping and staring at me with hunger in his eyes, but there's still that self-control that I knew from last time. This time, though, I'm having none of it. "You want me?"

"You know I do," Troy growls. "I've wanted you every day for five years."

"Then take what you want," I challenge him. I may have been an innocent virgin when we first made love, but no longer. I know what I want, and I know what turns me on. And what turns me on about Troy is his strength, which even when he's restrained, is massive and undeniable. But I want to see more, I want to feel at least a taste of the . . . what was it Lorenzo called him? Oh yeah, the gladiator. I want to feel the strength of the gladiator inside Troy. "I can take it."

He grins and reaches for his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly before pulling it off, although I hear a seam give way even as he does, not that it matters at this second. Instead, my breath is taken away as I look at his torso. If he'd been strong and muscular before, he was heavy with thick muscle now, but still just as lean, his arms corded with thick knots of powerful flesh. His shoulders look like mountains and his chest muscles... hot wetness fills the space between my thighs, like my body knows that I'm giving it what it needs after a too-long starvation.