Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(35)

“Yes, you do.” He pulled her a little closer, so her nose was all but touching his chest. “Now try that part about not wanting to share me with anyone.”

His heart skipped a beat as she shook her head. Her nose brushed his pectorals, and he pulled her into him so she had to turn her head and rest her cheek against him.

“You can say it.” He needed to hear it, one more time, without the bite of a fight behind it.

Needed it, to know he wasn’t about to make a horrible mistake.

“I don’t want to share you with anyone,” she whispered, her hands coming up to the soft, worn cotton of his T-shirt.

He leaned her upper body back enough so he could look into her eyes. They looked equal parts horrified and hopeful. And he knew he was going to make a mistake either way.

But damn if he’d regret it.





Chapter Eleven




He kissed her. And as before, she ignited him. He was helpless to stop the moment his lips touched hers. It was as if she were a drug, and he was getting another taste of the kick.

A small part of him—the cautious, loner part—waited for her to push him away. Hoped for it. Needed it.

But she clung closer, fisting her hands tighter in his shirt and dragging him over her, as if he were almost holding her in a swoon. And he wasn’t about to let go and stop now.

When those small hands skirted up and under the hem of his shirt, he shivered. Her thumbs drew small circles around his nipples before smoothing to run up and down his back. Her nails scratched lightly, and his balls tightened in response. Jesus, God, that felt good.

Almost as good as the suction of her mouth, of the scrape of her tongue as she met his thrust for thrust. He was all but mindless to stop from running his hands down her arms, her waist, to grasp her butt and lift her up. She was tiny enough, and it felt like carrying a rag doll as he maneuvered her to the bed and laid her down. Her hips pushed against his groin as he covered her with his body. And even fully clothed, it felt like the most erotic thing he’d experienced in years.

When her hand slipped down to tug at the waist of his jeans, he groaned. Too far gone now to resist, he let her undo the belt and tug it loose before he turned and tossed her onto the bed. She flew with a shriek that bubbled into laughter when she landed with a bounce.

“Killian!” she laughed, but he was already covering her mouth again with his. Dragging his lips down her jawline, to her neck, he tasted the creamy sweetness of her skin. She helped by worming her hands between them, grasping the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head. The shirt fell to the floor as he popped open the clasp of her front-fastened bra and pushed the cups aside.

“You know,” he said, his voice hoarse, “these have been my downfall since day one.”

“Hmm?” she asked while he let his mouth cruise over her collarbone.

He touched the tip of his tongue to one sweet dot directly between her breasts. “These. Your freckles.”

“Those?” She nearly sat up in surprise, but he restrained her with his weight. “You can’t be serious.”

“They’re delicious.” He licked a path from the first dot to another, high on her left breast. Then to another, just on the edge of her nipple. “I wanted to find all of them, just like this.”

His mouth closed around her peak and he sucked hard. Aileen gasped and funneled her fingers through his hair, keeping him close. “That’s . . . that’s not a freckle.”

“My bad.” He kissed the one between her breasts again, then three that rode over her right mound. “Maybe this one?” He took the second nipple in his mouth as she started to laugh. The sound morphed into a whimper of need the instant he sucked.

He wanted to dedicate as much time as he could to every freckle that bedecked her sweet body. But if he didn’t get inside her in under a minute, he was going to lose his mind.

“Freckles,” he panted, his hand racing down her body to unbutton the top of her jeans. “You’ve either got to leave right this second or this is happening.”

“What, and walk out there without a top on?” She grinned when he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not going anywhere, Killian.”

Thank you, sweet Lord.

With about as much finesse as he could physically manage—which was next to none by that point—he unzipped the stiff metal zipper and tugged until her jeans were at her knees. Realizing she was still wearing socks and her Converse, which were tightly laced, he sat back on his haunches. “Yeah, I can’t do this alone.”

She laughed and sat up, kicking at the heel of one foot with the toe of the other until the shoe popped off. She reversed the process with the other, and soon both shoes were on the floor by the foot of the bed. He grabbed her jeans and yanked hard, pulling her socks with them in one hard pull. The motion hauled Aileen with it and she crashed into his thigh with a gasp. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Sorry, are you okay?”

Her shoulders were shaking and her face turned into the comforter. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up gently. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m . . . fine,” she managed between laughs.

She was laughing at him. The little . . .

He growled and pushed her back down, managing to get his jeans off with minimal fuss. They were naked now, skin to skin, and it was heaven. Her front was so cool against him, like cream, easing the heated ache he’d been living with for weeks. He pressed against her hip with his erection and she flexed up to meet him, arching her back.