Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(51)

“Nobody’s ever offered me everything.”

“I am. And I keep my promises—besides, someone said they wanted to sleep in my bed.”

“Well, I mean you have to be in it too . . .” I slid his trousers down over his hips, eye level with something so smooth and beautiful that I let out a girly sigh, one so unlike me that I was almost embarrassed. I eyed him as I lowered my mouth.

He gripped my wrists with his hands. “Yeah.” He swayed on his feet. “I’ll be in it. We just have to figure out Willow.”

“Let’s not talk about your sister in between tastes.” I swirled my tongue around him and then winked. “Like wine tasting, only better.”

“Except the cork is already threatening to go off.” He shook his head. “Later. I’ve been tortured by every fucking look you sent my way, every argument, every outfit, every practice, every morning since you first arrived at my door with cookies.”

“Ah, he’s an asshole when he’s happy too?”

“Apparently he’s an asshole no matter what.” He flipped me onto my back and kicked off his pants. “And now, now I get to make up for it by taking my time.”

“Oh.” A warm blush spread over my face. “That’s okay, you don’t have to—”

My dress was suddenly over my head, my backless bodice was on, but I was naked from the waist down and his mouth was feasting on me like a girl always imagines, with the same precision a striker eyes downfield, the same artful movement from left to right, a fake, kick deep.

“Aaaagghrmmmphhh!” I screamed into a pillow. “Matt!”

“Sorry, couldn’t decipher that, also I’m super busy right now . . .” He chuckled against my sensitive skin. “Hmmmm, wanted to taste you so bad, knew it would be like this . . . fucking knew it . . .”

I squeezed my thighs as he took me higher. I felt my body shamelessly move against him.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, and then I wasn’t hearing anything but the sound of my own heart as I felt my release and nearly came off the mattress and disappeared into thin air.

“Get there.”

“I can’t—”

“You scored the winning goal at the championships two years ago, you were wearing your hair in a braid, and all I kept thinking when I looked at your tape was, ‘Damn, that woman is too beautiful for words,’ and now I know—now I know, you’re beautiful everywhere, inside, outside.” He licked, he sucked. “You’re perfect.”

I grabbed his head with one hand and let out a scream.

“All you needed . . .” He looked up at me, slowly crawled up my body like a panther ready to stake claim on its prey. “Was someone who cared.”

“No.” I cupped his face. “I just needed you.”

His eyes darted to my mouth.

I lunged for him, tasting myself on him, tasting us, and I forgot all about my past.

It was just us.

In his bedroom.

In his house.

I’d begged Matt for a future without even realizing it would never be complete without him in it.

I didn’t say I love you.

Not with my words.

But with every kiss, with every touch, I tried to tell him what was in my heart.

I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch as I moved over him, taking him in, sinking down slowly as our eyes locked, breathing quickened.

So many tiny breaths.

So many small moans.

Growls.

Touches.

A million of them between us, all meaning the same thing, more and more.

He gripped me with one hand as I held his other above his head, riding him, loving him, feeling our thighs slide together in sync as sweat heated our bodies.

His teeth clenched. “Can’t hold back.”

“Never asked you to.” I lowered my head. The motion created a secret curtain between our mouths as they met gently, as we moved together.

It was just us in that moment.

Nobody else.

And then his eyes were wild as he moved with me. I took him deep as a pulsing sensation shot through us.

There.

Perfect.

Us.

“Matt?” My voice was hoarse, had I been yelling that much?

His hands were still on my ass. “Yeah?”

“I really, really like your bed.”

He slapped me on one ass cheek and let out an exhausted laugh. “Just don’t kick me out of it anytime soon, alright?”

“Just don’t bring your whistle into the bedroom, and I won’t have a reason to.”

“Valid point. I’m burning all whistles. Does that mean every time I don’t have a whistle we have sex? Because I could really get on board with that.”

I smacked his naked chest while he burst out laughing and pulled me to my side, kissing my neck from behind.

“You’re beautiful.”

Being called beautiful by Matt was the highest high, because Matt didn’t give out compliments, so when he said it, I believed it.

“I like your six-pack?” was my counter offer.

Which just got me more tickling of my side.

And then I sobered as he held me close. “Is it wrong to ask what happens next?”