Gone Country (Rough Riders #14)(93)

They hadn’t made love, but it was still the most romantic night he could remember.


Early January…


“Gavin.”


Come on, come on. “Dammit. It’s not working. Try a different play. God. I cannot believe they called that one twice in a row.”


“Gavin.”


“Hang on. This is third down.” The quarterback faked a handoff and then passed for six yards for first down. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about.” He tossed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, eyes on the game. “What the f*ck? Why are you putting him in? He can’t block for shit.”


“Gavin. Sierra’s not here.”


“I know. She comes home tomorrow.” He watched the handoff and the running back bobbled the ball. It bounced downfield until someone took his head out of his ass and covered it. “Lucky save.”


“Gavin.”


“Yeah, honey, just a sec.” It’s a wonder they won any games with the lousy plays they’d been calling this season. They didn’t have a running game, so it made zero sense why they’d tried that one—


“Gavin, I’m naked.”


Okay. That got his attention. He turned around.


A naked Rielle leaned against the door to his bedroom.


Man, he loved her body. Small and compact, with sculpted arms and shoulders. Her muscular torso flowed into flared hips and strong thighs. And those tits. He couldn’t get enough of those.


A whistle blew on the screen and he turned around to see what’d happened. The camera zoomed in on the ref. “Intentional grounding. Five yard penalty.”


The calls in this game had been lousy.


The quarterback threw a long pass only to get picked off at the twenty-yard line. “Fuck.” He took a long pull of his beer.


Rielle sauntered in front of the TV. Naked. “So. You wanna score with me?”


He glanced at the clock. Three minutes remained in the third quarter. If he could hold her off that long, then he could give her the kind of hard, fast f*ck she liked. Tons of commercials and sportscaster bullshit played between quarters anyway so he wouldn’t miss much of the fourth quarter.


“I saw that! For just a split second you were torn between staying on the couch and watching football or taking me to bed.”


“Hey, I always want to take you to bed. Always. But Ree. Honey. It’s the last game before playoffs.”


“And your team is winning?”


“Ah, no. But there’s a chance they can come back…” He angled his head, trying to see around her. What the hell was that penalty flag about? Jesus. Was it on the damn defense? Were they seeing the signals at all?


Rielle walked off. The door to his bedroom slammed.


No misinterpreting that signal.


Why the hell did she have to pick right now for a tumble? Couldn’t she wait another seventeen minutes and twelve seconds until the game ended?


Really? A stupid football game is more important than hot and dirty sex with the woman you love? You’re an *.


Fuck.


Gavin scrambled off the couch and paused in front of his bedroom door, opening it cautiously in case Rielle decided to throw some shit at him—which he deserved. But the bedroom was dark and quiet and he didn’t see her. “Rielle?”



“Go away,” came from beneath the covers.


He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the blanket-covered lump, but he jerked his hand back at the last minute when he heard a muffled sound. He heard it again. Sounded like a…sob.


Shit. Was she crying?


Gavin pulled the covers back and she curled into a little ball, further away from him.


You’re an *.


“Ree. I’m sorry.”


“Go away.”


“I’m here now.” He put his hand on her butt and rubbed. “We could—”


“No! I will not be a quick f*ck during a break in your stupid football game.”


Tell her it’s not the end of the quarter yet.


He should’ve earned some points for walking away from a game in progress, right?


You’re an *.


“Please talk to me.”


Rielle pushed up and glared at him. “I don’t do this seduction stuff. And whenever I try, I feel like a total idiot because it doesn’t have any effect on you and I’m never doing it again. So go away.”


His gaze dipped to her chest. Damn. She’d already put on her nightgown.


“You’ve got to be kidding me. Now you’re staring at my tits when they’re covered up, but you couldn’t be bothered when they were bouncing right in front of your face? Get. Out.”


Man. He’d f*cked this up. “Look. I’m sorry. I’ve spent a lot of years by myself, watching football games uninterrupted. And I didn’t handle…you wanting my attention, in the best way.”


“Ya think?”


Anything he said would likely piss her off, so he kept his stupid mouth shut.