Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(45)
“You’re welcome to check mine out anytime, Freckles.” As she wormed the shorts down over his ass, he lifted it briefly to give her some assistance. The shorts and his boxer briefs were flung to some far corner, his ankle socks having come off with them. God knew where they landed. And then he had absolutely no thoughts about clothes at all.
She gripped his erection with one hand, her fingers barely making it around the base all the way, and licked delicately at the head.
Killian gripped the sheets for dear life. If he survived her exploration, he was setting the pace for the rest of the afternoon.
She took him in her mouth, pulling hard. He nearly came off the bed in surprise. “Jesus, Freckles. Warn a guy . . .”
“Hmm,” she said, her eyes watching him with an amused glint that told him she knew exactly what he was going through . . . because he’d put her through it five minutes ago.
“I don’t,” he began, then had to clear his throat as she pumped him with her fist. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
She pulled back enough to say, “Maybe I want you to.”
But he didn’t give her the chance to resume. Hooking a hand under each arm, he spun her around until she was beneath him. With some quick work, he donned the condom and was inside her before she could blast him for taking over before she was ready.
Head thrust back into the pillow, she submitted. He kissed below her ear, whispered words he’d regret using in the morning. Words that gave more than a hint at his growing feelings for her. Ones she could use against him easily in emotional warfare.
But if she heard him, if she processed the words, she didn’t let him see it. Her eyes were closed, and she moaned as he rolled his hips on a downward thrust. “So good,” she whispered. “So, so . . . yeah,” she finished with a sigh.
“Almost there,” he warned, his body tight as a bowstring.
“I’m right with you.” Her voice was a breathy whisper, and he wondered if there were some double meaning to it. But then she came in a glorious gasp, her eyes flying open wide with the magnitude of it, and he knew she hadn’t heard him before.
With relief singing through his veins, he let go and gave in to the climax shuddering down his spine.
Chapter Fourteen
Killian reclined against the squeaky headboard of Aileen’s bed. If the thing hadn’t been propped against the wall behind it, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t have held his weight. The woman herself lay draped over him, not at all covered by the one corner of the sheet left on the bed. The result was a wood nymph, napping in the warm sunlight in a field of clovers, unconcerned for her modesty.
She shifted slightly, her elbow narrowly missing his groin. With a wince, he moved her arm away from the family jewels. With that, she blinked her eyes open. No hesitation, no sleepy discovery for her. Just wide-awake Aileen.
“Hey,” she said, her voice sounding rusty. With a stretch, she sat up, then snagged a shirt from the floor and tossed it over her head. It was his, and it swallowed her torso whole. “Sorry I conked out for a bit. All that running, you know.”
He chuckled. She’d run for maybe three minutes, total. “Yeah. One sprint a day will really get ya.” He reached around her and picked up a photo from the dresser. Which, given how tiny the studio apartment was, he could reach without getting out of the bed. It was her, looking similar to now, so it couldn’t be too old. She stood in the goofy wardrobe of a graduate, in front of a large brick building. She was grinning at the camera, and he noticed under the gown that she wore her familiar Converse. “The obligatory cap and gown photo, huh? How long ago was this?”
“Few years. I took five years to graduate. Had to go part time for some of it. Ernie took that.” She held out a hand for the photo, smiling at herself, and he was glad the memory was a good one. “I couldn’t afford to go full time, and I refused to take out student loans. Best decision ever, since I couldn’t do what I’m doing now with student loan debt hanging over my head like an ax waiting to fall. I’d have to take whatever shitty job was around to make ends meet.” She let the photo drop in her lap and grinned at him. “Oh, wait . . .”
He smiled and settled the frame back on the dresser. “You don’t like your job?”
“The job itself . . .” She lifted one shoulder. “I’d like different assignments, more intense ones. I want to be the one on the field flagging down players between quarters to ask what went right, what went wrong. Making the coaches respond to tough questions.” She stretched like a cat coming out of a long nap. As she spoke, she talked around a yawn. “But getting to know the players off the field is fun, too. It’s just not where I want to be in twenty years.”
Since kicking a ball around wasn’t what he wanted to be doing in twenty years either, he could relate. He glanced around the room, found a photo that he could easily assume was Aileen at around age five or six, standing with two adults beside a car. She was an adorable little girl, her hair more red than brown, with two braids and dirt smudges on her knees. Her smile displayed two missing teeth, and her cheeks were dotted with her unloved freckles. “Who are these two? Your parents?”
Just like that, the friendly moments died. Her smile dropped off, her eyes shuttered like someone battening down the hatches before a hurricane, and her shoulders slumped. “Put that back, please.”