The Trouble With Quarterbacks(86)

“Don’t ask.”

“Did you see the doormat?” she whispers.

“I missed it.”

“Make sure you look on the way out. It’s totally whacko!” she continues, keeping her voice down. “Have they fallen off the deep end?”

There’s a groan of pleasure behind us, and we both turn to see Jay spooning some potatoes into Kat’s mouth while she flutters her eyes in ecstasy.

“Oh, blech,” Candace groans. “I’ve totally lost my appetite.”

“That’s fine. Let me take you on a quick tour while they finish dinner.”

“I don’t think I want—”

I’m already taking her purse from her and setting it on the couch. Then I push her down the closest hallway, shouting back at Kat and Jay, “We’ll be right back! I just want to show Candace your view, Jay.”

“Cool, man. Dinner will be ready in about ten.”

“All right, easy there,” Candace says once we’re walking down the hall. “Sheesh, you haven’t got to push me around like that. I’ll call one of my bodyguards and have them come up here if I have to.”

“I gave them the evening off since you’ll be with me.”

“Oh my gosh. The arrogance! How do you manage to fit that big head of yours into a football helmet? I’m surprised your brain doesn’t explode out of the sides.”

I laugh at the visual and prod her along.

She looks so hot in her dress, and now that I know she’s healed up, I don’t feel so guilty about the plans I have for us.

We reach a door at the end of the hallway and I push it open. It’s Jay’s lounge, where a group of us usually gathers to watch basketball and golf. It has sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows covering the side wall, showcasing an expansive view of New York City.

Candace gasps. “Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding about the view! Look at it.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” I say, sounding bored as I turn her away from the windows so she’s facing me instead of them.

“What are you doing?” she asks hurriedly. “Don’t kick the door shut!”

Too late.

“Are you still mad at me?” I ask, tightening my hold on her waist as I start to walk us backward.

“What?” Her blue eyes widen in alarm. “Yes! Of course.”

She looks panicky, like she’s trying to figure out some way to bolt.

I bend down and kiss her cheek, gathering her close. “Are you still mad at me?” I ask again, this time quietly against the shell of her ear.

“I suppose…yes…”

Her voice has turned soft and less convincing.

I move lower, letting my mouth fall to the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, right beside the thin strap holding up her dress. Then I kiss her there before repeating my question.

“I… Maybe we could talk it over…” she answers.

“I don’t feel like talking.”

We have ten minutes, and I haven’t touched her in a week. I’m going crazy. Pretty soon I’ll be ordering her personalized doormats and calling her Pookie.

Her hands slide up over my arms and she grips my shoulders. “I suppose I could find it in my heart to forgive you,” she says, her gaze heavy on my lips.

She wants me to kiss her.

I think she’s dying for it as much as I am.

“And you’ll consider moving in with me,” I add, lowering my head.

“Maybe,” she says, pressing up on her tiptoes to kiss me before I can kiss her.

She doesn’t kiss like she’s still harboring any ill will toward me. She kisses me hard and presses her small body up against mine like she wants to fuse us together. I gather her dress in my hands and let it slide up around her waist so I have better access to her body. My hands drift down, over her butt, and I squeeze. She lets out a little squeal, and I smile against her lips.

We don’t waste any time. Our mouths go right back together, and I deepen the kiss, demanding she let me sweep my tongue against hers. She rubs her body against me, and I’m hard. Of course I’m hard. I’ve been desperate for her all week, and now here she is, pliant in my hands, ripe for the taking.

She groans impatiently then quickly shoves away from me, breaking the kiss.

She presses the back of her hand up to her mouth and looks at me with a wild, unreadable expression.

“I absolutely cannot stay for dinner.”

I frown. “What?”

“Yeah. I just can’t. I can’t sit across from you at the table for an hour and pretend I’m not imagining you totally naked, on top of me. And worse! I’ll have to listen to those two drone on.” She points to the door. “Take me back to your place so we can have proper sex.”

“We can’t just leave.”

I say it just so it gets said, though I don’t really mean it. I want to leave as much as she does.

“Like hell we can’t. C’mon, let’s go. Either you take me to your flat or we’re having sex on Jay’s sofa while they listen, and if I were him, I know which one I’d prefer.”

Then she scurries over, yanks my hand, and starts to drag me back into the hall. She’s pretty strong when she puts her mind to it.

“Hey, listen gang,” she says once we’re back in the kitchen. “Something’s come up and we’ve got to go actually.”