Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(55)

He knelt down on the hard floor of the alley, between the chairs and the lane, and laid her on her back. Even through her shirt, the wood was cool. She shivered, and he kissed her again, as if that would heat her back up. When his hand cupped her breast, she laughed nervously.

“Killian . . . seriously? Here? Now?”

“Apparently,” was his mumbled answer while his lips worked down to her throat. “You’d make me hard anywhere. Doesn’t seem to matter where I am or what we’re doing, just thinking about you has my libido ready to play.”

“I think that’s supposed to be a compliment,” she said, her voice trailing off as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her bra and the league shirt were no protection against the friction he created. She arched into him, her head hitting the wood planks harder than she’d thought it would. She grimaced as he lifted his head to look at her.

“Are you okay?” His second hand cupped the back of her head, fingers sifting through her hair looking for bumps.

But his first hand, miraculously enough, continued its work on her breast, fanning the flames of her desire past the point where a small bump would pull her back. She pulled him back down to kiss him. He lifted his head once more to check her, but she brought him down again and silenced him with her lips. And when her tongue entered his mouth to tangle with his, the last of his resistance faded. His body relaxed against hers, the perfect weight on top of her.

One knee came up to part her thighs, then rubbed against her center until she was ready to moan at the heat of it. Killian’s hands were busy, pushing up her shirt and the bra she’d worn beneath to reveal both of her flushed, swollen breasts. Then his mouth was on one, and she moaned. The sound was indecent as it echoed. The thought of someone else hearing them—though it was most definitely deserted save for them—had her laughing.

Killian raised his head, staring at her through stray hair that had fallen over his brow. “This is funny?”

“What, that we’re rolling around on the floor of a bowling alley in polyester shirts? Yes.” She couldn’t help another giggle. “I was just wondering what my fellow leaguers would think if they knew . . .”

“Let’s be finished before they show up tomorrow and find out,” he said with a growl, then went back to suckling at her breast. One hand cupped the other breast, while the free hand went down to unbutton her pants. He pushed and pawed until the button and fly were down, then slithered in to touch her clit.

The contact electrified her nervous system, making her jolt. She breathed and tried to recite all the reasons their being together like this was a bad idea.

“Stop thinking.” Killian brushed a featherlight kiss over her lips. “Isn’t that what you told me? Stop thinking and just let go.”

“That was bowling. This is . . .” This isn’t a game.

“I know,” he whispered, kissing her again.

Was he saying he knew it wasn’t bowling? Or had he been reading her mind, knew what she was going to say . . . knew what was happening to her heart?





Chapter Seventeen




She kissed him back without question, fully giving herself to him. Every time he moved, she moved with him, opened for him, gave herself more to him.

That had been close. Killian had been afraid to see if she’d read the truth in his eyes, heard it in his voice. That whatever they’d become, they’d left behind any hope of remaining professional acquaintances in the dust and had stepped over into some unknown territory. A terrifying one where neither of them seemed to know the rules or where the scrimmage lines were drawn.

So instead, they both put the whole thing on mute and dealt with what they did best . . . make each other crazy with lust.

Working his way down her stomach with kisses, he said, “Take off your shirt.”

“It buttons, you know,” she said primly, and pushed it down far enough to undo a few buttons.

Nope, hadn’t noticed. Still wasn’t noticing as he slipped his hand once more between the waistband of her pants and found her wet center. Easing two fingers in, he circled her clit with his thumb. She wrapped one small hand around his wrist and squeezed hard.

“No . . . no foreplay. No time,” she gasped out as she let her shirt fall open and away from her. “I don’t know if the cleaning staff comes in tonight.”

“Guess we’ll find out.” He reached for his back pocket and found his wallet. Conveniently stuffed in there was the condom he’d started carrying around since the first time they’d kissed in his apartment. He pushed his own jeans down far enough to get the condom on, and then was in her with one quick thrust.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered in awe. He nearly smiled, because he knew just how she felt. The two of them, connected together so intimately . . .

“The floor is so cold on my ass,” she finished with a giggle.

Hmm. Not quite where he’d been going with that. “Let’s heat it up, then,” he said, and concentrated on angling his body so he’d hit just the right spot inside her that would—

“Ah!” Eyes closed, she gripped him like a fist. “Yes! Right . . . right there.”

Yup, there it was. He did it again and again, nudging the head of his penis up and along that one spot inside that was nearly impossible to track down, but so gratifying when he did. He rolled his hips so the length of his cock rubbed against it, and she came with a low moan. Her nails raked down his back, and he took that as his sign to let go and release his own climax.