Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(65)

“No, they won’t. If I couldn’t play, that would be different. I’ll play.” He took the bag of ice and put it over his cheek. Kat had a moment of relief he wasn’t the kind of athlete to play down an injury and ignore medical common sense in order to play the tough guy. “It’ll be sore, but it’s not exactly a career ender.”

She started to sit up on the counter by the sink—the only space to sit in the tiny kitchen—then thought better of it. She wanted privacy. “Come this way.”

They walked back out into the lobby. Still no sign of Thomas or Gary, though Gary’s office door was closed. She led him down the short hallway that housed all the trainers’ offices. Thomas’s door was wide open, but the light was off and nobody was there. She came to the last door, the office of the coach who had left before she’d arrived in Santa Fe. The office was empty, and Gary had given her a key to keep some of her things in there for the time being. Wasted space otherwise, he’d suggested. So, it was now hers.

She unlocked the door and waited for Michael to walk by her before pushing it closed. She went to the desk and propped her butt on the edge of it.

“I still feel bad.”

“How bad?” he asked, walking toward her, still holding the ice bag to his face.

“Less bad now than a second ago. Don’t milk it.”

“Bad enough to kiss it and make it feel better?”

This playful Michael… She loved it. Loved him when he was being fun and carefree and not playing the manny card. Loved when they were equals, on the same level because of desire and need and not one in control of the other. She needed the equality.

“Maybe.” She smiled and widened her knees, giving him room to step between them. With a gentle grip, she held his head and guided him down until she could press a featherlight kiss to the cold skin of his cheek. “There.”

“More.” He kissed her then, letting the ice bag drop from his hands into the trash can beside the desk. She heard the wet thud and rattle as it landed in the plastic-lined basket. And then she shut it all out as he gave her his mouth, his tongue, enjoying the feel of his body pressed up against hers. His erection thick and insistent against her core, feeling the heat of it even through both their shorts.

His lips cruised down her neck, and she arched it to give him more room. Her eyes closed, and she simply lost herself in the feel of his hands, his lips on her body. Lost herself in the moment of knowing this man who was so amazing and wonderful wanted her like this.

“God, why do we have to be in public?” he asked with a groan, tearing his lips away.

“Who cares?” she asked. “Nobody’s coming in here. Nobody’s even here, apparently.” As she said it, her hands were working their way down his body to find his shorts, the elastic waistband. She slid her hand inside to grip him firmly.

He moaned, then started tugging at her own shorts. He stopped though, before they’d budged an inch. “Condom.”

“Yes, sure.” She kept kissing him, but he wasn’t kissing back. “What?”

“I meant, I don’t have one.”

“I’m clean and protected. I trust you.” She kissed him once more, then realized, as he didn’t kiss her back, maybe that was a stupid thing to say. “I mean, obviously you might not trust me because…”

Because I got sent here for being irresponsible and impulsive. And you’ve known me all of two weeks. Why the hell would you trust me?

It shouldn’t have hurt. She dug her own grave on that one. But there was a sharp bite of pain at the realization that he had no reason to trust her… and trust was a building block of any half-decent relationship.

But then he hoisted her up under her thighs, pressing her back against the wall beside the desk. Letting one leg down, then the other, he quickly pushed down her shorts one leg at a time until they were at her feet. His forehead dropped to hers, and he breathed in deeply. “I trust you.”

Those three words… they might have been the second-most sweet trio of words she could have heard from him. The number one trio would require replacing “trust” with an L word she had never used with a man before.

Whoa, baby. That’s way too fast for that. Impulsiveness is your downfall. Slow down before you scare the poor guy off.

Then he was lifting her again, back pressing against the wall, and entering her slowly. His mouth found her neck, and his thrusts were sharp, intense, his hands cushioning her butt from the wall. When she began to make a sound, he covered her mouth with his.

“Shh,” he breathed. His hips slowed, and she nearly scratched at his back in need for him to speed up again. Then he moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Touch yourself. I need to feel you come around me.”

That nearly did it without any movement at all. But she reached between them—not an easy feat to do—and managed to just barely graze her clit with her forefinger.

And detonated in his arms. Silently, which only made the orgasm more intense. She bit back every single sound, then he kissed her and she took his own groans of orgasm inside her.

After thirty seconds of heavy breathing, Michael managed a shaky, “Wow.”

She chuckled, then patted his arm. He understood the signal and let her down easily. She wasn’t quite steady, but he held on so she didn’t fall.

He’d never let her fall.