Chapter 8

They exchanged no greetings. No “Hey, how’s it going?” No air kiss. Not even a nice professional handshake. With her hand tucked firmly in his warm, strong grasp, they came close on the last one. But she felt nothing businesslike in the way he wove his fingers through hers and held on. She followed him through the murky bar. The crowd had thickened in the time since she’d camped out at their regular table. When they didn’t have serious matters to discuss, Millie, Kate, and Avery usually indulged in one round of drinks, then skedaddled before the students started to take over the bar. But given the angle their conversation had taken, this evening was proving to be anything but the usual.

Millie tried to keep up as they plunged into the knot of patrons near the door. A muscle-bound bouncer in a snug Calhoun’s T-shirt checked IDs. He hadn’t been at his post when she came in, but Millie chose to believe he would have carded her too. Young men liked to flirt with her, and she saw no reason not to encourage them.

Ty zigged, then zagged. Her tote bag hit a guy in an oversized rugby shirt and sagging jeans right in the solar plexus. “Hey, watch out, lady,” the kid groused.

Embarrassed, she ducked her head and mumbled an apology she didn’t really mean. If she’d known he was going to call her “lady” in front of God and everyone, she would have whacked him with the bag on purpose.

The bouncer smiled broadly as she passed. He dropped a wink, and her confidence shot straight through the stratosphere. Ty was here. He came for her. She didn’t care what pimply-faced little shits in ill-fitting clothes thought of her. The cute bouncer would have checked her age and maybe even checked her out. She was viable, damn it. Hell, she was beyond viable. She was vital!

Before she could finish her internal pep talk, Ty threw open the exterior door and pulled her out into the balmy, late-summer evening. The sun sank steadily closer to the tree line to the west, but the glowing orb wasn’t going down without a fight. Hazy rays of golden sunlight bathed the trees and student rental homes lining the street. To their right lay the campus quadrangle, with its brick walkways, manicured flower beds, and centerpiece fountain. If they went left, she’d be only seven blocks from home.

But Ty kept moving straight ahead.

Twisting his large frame, he sidestepped between the bumpers of parked cars. Millie tried to haul the straps of her bag up to her shoulder as she trotted to keep up. “Where are we going?”

A sharp chirp and flashing lights drew her attention to a low-slung luxury sedan parked on the opposite curb. She let out an appreciative whistle as he led her directly to the passenger door. “How’d you score front-row parking?”

Ty opened the door wide and gestured for her to take a seat. “Convinced a kid in a jacked-up four-by-four the walk would do him good.”

Millie laughed as she pictured innately elegant Ty Ransom negotiating with the local rednecks. Taking her time, she tossed her tote over the seat, then lowered herself onto the creamy glove leather, swinging her legs in last, like some kind of Hollywood film star. “Did you now?”

“I might have thrown in an invite to sit courtside at the Green-Gold scrimmage next week,” he admitted, then let the door swing shut.

By the time he reached the driver’s side, she’d composed herself enough to start putting a bit of her own spin on the situation. He dropped into the seat with a low groan, then leaned back to maneuver his long legs into the cabin. Fascinated, she watched him unfurl. “Why don’t you have the driver’s seat removed? You could be an actual back-seat driver.”

He slanted her a pained look. “But the rear seat isn’t heated and cooled.”

She smiled, tickled by his practical, if a bit spoiled, rationale. “Oh, well, butt warmers make all the difference.” Millie found herself feeling a bit miffed when he twisted the key in the ignition without saying another word. Or giving her a kiss hello. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked as he began to work the car out of the tight parking space.

Without taking his eyes off the mirrors, he asked, “Is your car parked nearby?”

She blinked. “No. I walk to work if it’s not raining.”

When he was satisfied with the angle, he peeled out of the spot. “Good.” He hit her with another one of those skimming glances that took in everything. “You walk in those shoes?”

Millie looked down at the high-heeled gladiator sandals strapped onto her feet. “I’ve been known to,” she said, tipping her chin up with feminine pride.

“You really are an iron woman.”

A blush flooded her skin with heat. She couldn’t help but revel in his admiration. But she wouldn’t give in to his silent treatment and caveman tactics because he knew exactly how to compliment her.

“Actually, I’ve never done a triathlon. I prefer to do my swimming in cement ponds. Preferably on a raft. With an umbrella drink close at hand,” she added with a sniff. She didn’t tell him she carried a pair of running shoes in her bag at all times.

After all, who was she to shatter his illusions?

She scanned the houses and apartments surrounding the campus dispassionately, all the while trying to get a handle on her erratic heartbeat. She should have been lambasting him about the high-handed way he’d walked into the bar, stolen her away from her friends, then hauled her out of the place like she was some kind of wayward woman who needed to get her mind right. But much to her dismay, her feminist sensibilities were no match for a passel of frustrated hormones.

This was probably the closest she would ever come to an honest-to-goodness An Officer and a Gentleman moment, and if she didn’t get a grip on herself, she might swoon. She mustered up a few scraps of indignation by the time he slowed for the stoplight at University Street. “You didn’t ask if I wanted to come with you.”

Ty tensed, then flexed his jaw. He didn’t look at her. Not even a peek. Instead, he wound those long fingers tighter around the steering wheel and stared at the signal suspended over the intersection. She could almost hear him willing the signal to change.

She looked up at the red light. The lens glowed bright and insistent. As if it were hung at this intersection for the express purpose of keeping them from taking a step they couldn’t take back. Pursing her lips, she glowered back at the light. “I do, of course. But it’s polite to ask.”

He loosened his grip on the wheel, and the skin over his knuckles creased once more. She stared at his hands, fascinated. His blood was as red as hers, but instead of flushing a mottled pink, his skin glowed soft and tawny in the pastel-painted twilight. Wasn’t that just like a man? Not only did the jerk earn a full one hundred pennies on the dollar, but he also scored mile-long eyelashes that curled up at the tips and somehow managed to score the best possible lighting, even when sulking.

It wasn’t fair. She’d worked a full day in the office, coached a couple of Danny’s football players on how to speak in complete sentences when talking to the press, and put the finishing touches on the alumni meet-and-greet set to follow Ty’s precious Green-Gold scrimmage. Her mascara had flaked off by midmorning thanks to a rebellious contact lens, she’d trickled salsa on her top at lunch, and her feet ached more than she would ever admit to any man wearing faded jeans and what appeared to be well-loved sneakers.

The light switched to green, but Ty didn’t step on the gas. No, Mr. Clock Management decided to take the opportunity to check in with her on her wishes. “Would you like me to drop you off at your place?”

“No, you idiot,” she snapped.

One corner of his mouth ticked up, and his size sixteen landed hard on the pedal. The car lurched forward, tires squealing so sharply, a driver in the opposite lane honked in annoyance. “My place it is.”

Her smile spread, slow and knowing. “Missed me?”

“I’m done talking.”

The pronouncement made her laugh. Twisting in her seat, she faced him. “Done talking? We haven’t talked for almost two weeks.”

He tightened his grip on the wheel again. “I told you why.”

“And you get to call all the plays?” Shifting to face forward, she pooched her lips as she stared through the windshield. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or pissed. In the end, pleased won out. By a hair. “The only reason I’m going along with this is I’m a little het up and I think it’s time you put out.”

He drove fast and sure. She let her gaze travel down to the pulse throbbing in his throat. The telltale thrum beneath smooth, brown skin was too delicious to resist. She’d taste him soon. Rev his engine and wind him up. She’d been primed since the night they first kissed. Aching to put the pedal to the metal on this relationship. Now, she was ready for the rush.

Ty reached up and pressed a button on a control panel above the rearview mirror, then he hooked a sharp left into a wide drive paved in sand-colored stone. Ahead, one of the doors on a three-bay garage slid up into the rafters. She barely had time to note the sleek, black motorcycle parked in the center stall of the showroom-like interior before Ty killed the engine. In one smooth move, he pulled the key from the ignition and threw open his door. “Stay put.”

The command jumped all over her last nerve. Fed up with being bossed, she looped her arm through the straps of her bag and reached for the handle. The second her fingertips grazed the lever, the door swung open wide. She looked down to see his gunboat feet planted in a wide stance and an open palm hovering mere inches from her face. She wanted to slap his hand away, but she saw something so vulnerable in the gesture.

He wasn’t simply offering to help her from the car. It was a request. A silent plea for her to take this step. This was more than a red-hot rendezvous. Ty was asking her to pick him.

She took his hand on pure instinct, not caring about what he might think her acquiescence meant or, for that matter, what she wanted in terms of their future. They only had now. This night. Her long-delayed, built-up-in-high-definition dreams seemed paler. Here was an opportunity to take what she wanted.

And she was certainly not a woman to let opportunity pass her by.

Two mildly grimy concrete stairs led from the garage to the door of the house. Millie chuckled under her breath as she mentally compared them to the intricately laid flagstone patio and the dressed-to-impress front entrance. These steps showed signs of life. They were a part of a home. Ty’s home.

She followed him down a short corridor and into the great room, where she’d found him wallowing that fateful night. Until then, she never registered the fact that this architecturally homogenized monstrosity was actually Ty’s place and not just another overpriced accessory chosen by his wife.

Ex-wife, she corrected herself quickly.

Here, all the things he’d comically complained about in his Reno rental would be a nonissue. He’d fit in the bed. With room to spare, if he hadn’t been exaggerating. Thanks to the vaulted ceilings, Ty didn’t have to worry about hitting his head on a ceiling fan or light fixture. A sad smile curved her lips as she recalled the creative cursing he employed on such occasions.

All thoughts of interior design fled when he took a sharp right into what had to be the master suite. Here, the miles of beige blandness were broken up with shades of chocolate-brown and deep ocean-blue. The room itself was enormous. Panes of tinted glass extended the wall of glass from the great room to the roofline. Streamlined lamps graced a set of cherrywood nightstands. He flipped a switch, and circles of mellow gold gilded the dust-sheened tables. One stood empty. The other was cluttered. Peering around his arm, she eyed the detritus. A couple of hardback books anchored a spiral-bound notebook like the students used. She liked the stylistic analog clock. He kept his charger cords coiled in neat loops. She noted a tube of lip balm and a pair of rectangular reading glasses nudged up against the lamp.

“I, uh…” He made a helpless motion toward the bedside table. “I came straight to campus.”

His eagerness pleased her. Stepping into his space, she pressed against his arm and craned her neck to look up at him. “Do not pass ‘Go,’ do not dust the bedroom?”

He wound his arms around her and pulled her closer still, fitting her to his long, lean frame like they were pieces of a puzzle.

“Something like that.” He lowered his head and brushed the barest of kisses across her lips. “Do you mind, or should I go get one of those mop-cloth things from the kitchen?”

She smiled, tickled by his terminology. “I’m not afraid of a little dust, but I am a teensy bit worried about rust.”

His brow puckered. “Rust?”

She stared straight ahead, focusing on the tantalizingly smooth skin revealed by the open collar of his shirt. “Been a while since we talked. Even longer since you left me high and dry in a limo.”

He raised one perfectly shaped brow. “Dry?”

“Don’t even start with the innuendo.” A thirst for revenge gave her the leeway to indulge her impulses. She pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of his throat. His skin was warm, his aftershave cool and citrusy. “You wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone.” She smiled when he swallowed hard. She was getting to him. Like his silent treatment got to her. “What were you so scared of, big guy?”

“You,” he said without hesitation or apology. “Besides, you were the one who started playing the not-talking game. I only saw it through to the end.”

Ty gripped her hips, his thumbs pressing into the dip of her pelvis to emphasize his point. He tipped his chin up even though she’d have to shimmy up him to risk bumping into his jaw. His luscious mouth curved into a smile. Amber eyes glimmered with deviltry. He was enjoying every second of this torture.

The sadist.

Millie opened her mouth to zing him, but once again, he was too fast for her. She yelped as those big hands clamped around her waist and her feet left the ground. Grabbing hold of his arms, she proved she wasn’t above copping a feel when his biceps bulged and flexed. She’d give herself points for holding her own later. When it came to putting a cocky man in his place, she might have come up a bit short, but she had an unerring sense of where to put her hands.

When they were finally face-to-face, she closed her eyes and leaned in for his kiss. A kiss that didn’t happen. Her eyes snapped open, and she pulled back as far as she could, desperate for some distance and the ability to actually focus on him. “What?”

His expression sobered. “I wasn’t kidding. You terrify me.”

“Well, if you don’t shut up and start kissing me in the next three seconds, I’m going to become your worst damn nightmare.”

In a flash, his pirate’s smile was back. She scarcely had time to draw her next breath before her back hit the mattress. A low, throaty moan escaped her when he covered her body with his. The laws of physics said she should have felt crushed or smothered by his weight, but those paltry theories didn’t hold up against the red-hot reality of him. Vertically, they were as mismatched as a gym sock and a thigh-high stocking. Horizontally, they were a perfect fit.

Ty peppered her face and throat with fervent kisses, letting her feel every ounce of his desire with each maddening little peck. He found the sensitive spot behind her ear, and she arched beneath him. “Kiss me,” she whispered urgently.

“I am.”

“My lips.” Cradling the curve of his skull in her palm, she tried to steer him back to her mouth, but the man had an agenda of his own. “Kiss me.”

“I can’t yet.” The ragged edge in his voice was supremely satisfying. He ran one of those big hands down her body, the spread of his fingers teasing her breasts and tickling her ribs. His fingers closed around the side zip of her skirt with an accuracy she might have found disturbing if she didn’t want him so badly. “You wanna know why I didn’t call?” His breathing was nearly as rough as his voice. “Because of your mouth.”

Taken aback, she gave a wiggle. The movement did nothing to dislodge him but did help inch the pesky zip down a centimeter or so. “My mouth? What’s that mean?”

He chuckled against her ear. “I’m obsessed with your mouth, Millie. The things I want to hear from you. The places I want you to put those lips. What I want to do to your mouth.”

This time, her squirm had nothing to do with protest. She had wants of her own, and it was high time the man started filling them. “Tell me.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.”

A threat. A promise. The best possible harbinger of things to come. He’d drawled the words, infusing each one with a deep, dark menace that made her want to giggle with maniacal glee.

“Tell me,” she urged again. As added incentive, she ran her hands down his back, her fingertips trailing along the crevice of his spine. His ass rose up out of the small of his back, tight mounds of pure muscle. He was big and broad and long and lean, but damn, if the sweet curve of his ass didn’t fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. “Tell me everything you thought, every place you wanted me, every way.”

At last, he pulled the zipper down. “I can’t right now.”

“Why not?” She smiled when he lifted his weight enough to start working the fabric down over her hips. “Chicken?”

“Plenty of time for finesse later.” He plucked open the first two buttons on her blouse, then ducked his head to nuzzle the top of her breast. “We’ll play all those games after.”

He was putting her off. Something niggled at the back of her mind. A nagging voice insisted she should be put out by his bossy behavior. But she found herself not paying that pesky, little cricket chirping in her brain any mind. Not when she was so turned on by Ty’s commanding tactics. “But now?”

Ty lowered his body into the cradle of her hips, then peeled back enough to look her straight in the eye. “Now? Well, right now, you and I are going to play a little one-on-one.”

“We are?”

“Hot. Fast. Messy.”

“No blood, no foul?” she asked.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Where’d you learn that?”

“You forget, I hang out with you jockstraps all the time.”

“No blood, no foul,” he repeated, his incandescent smile lighting the dim room.

She held his gaze for the span of a heartbeat, then gave a brief nod. “Ready? Go!”

Lips. Teeth. Hands. Oh Lord, those hands!

He palmed her ass and lifted her off the mattress, grinding against the thin fabric barriers between them until she prayed they’d disintegrate into dust. His mouth was hot, his kisses sweet and sultry one minute, all-consuming the next. She was pretty sure she felt one of the buttons on her blouse pop off. He broke the kiss long enough to sit back and yank the collar of his shirt over his head with one hand. His smooth, muscled chest rose and fell at a flattering rate as he tossed the wadded shirt aside. The patch of dark, curling hair between his pecs beckoned to her. She answered the call, running greedy fingers through the tight spirals, then skimming the heels of her hands over the hard ridges and planes she’d fantasized about night after night.

“I watched you and Kate go at each other one-on-one,” she told him in a breathless voice. “Not like this. On the court.”

“You did?”

“Last spring. She was working off a little Danny frustration.”

“I remember.” One corner of his mouth kicked up. “She kicked my ass.”

Millie’s smile was smug on her friend’s behalf. “She did.”

“Wasn’t fair.” He pressed into his palms and lowered himself onto her once more, leaving room for her to explore but giving them both the proximity they ached for. His lips grazed her ear. Hot breath tickled her neck. “She has a bionic knee.”

“Use whatever excuse makes you feel better, big guy, but she had you on your knees,” she countered. “She also got the shirt off your back. The spectators in the stands will be forever grateful.”

He jerked, then pulled up to look at her. “Spectators?”

“Me, Cassie, SaraAnn from Mike Samlin’s office.” She punctuated each attendance entry with a lingering kiss along the column of his throat. “A couple of the trainers.” She brushed the pads of her thumbs over flat nipples, then squirmed as she felt his flesh pebble and bead. “I bet Kate didn’t buy her own lunch for a month. Grateful public and all.”

She felt the heat rise in his skin. A flush darkened his cheeks, but it had nothing to do with lust. The man was blushing, and it made him look good enough to eat. Scissoring her legs, she clamped them tight around his thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled. All the miles she’d run over the years paid off in more than shin splints and free bananas. Her legs weren’t only shapely and supple; they were powerful. She could crush this big, strong man between her thighs and make him thank her for the punishment.

“On your back,” she ordered.

To his credit, Ty hesitated only for a second. A smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat lit his face as he rolled, dragging her along with him for the ride. “Please be gentle,” he teased.

His gruff acquiescence told her he was hoping she’d be anything but easy on him, which was good. He’d said hot, fast, and messy. Magic words.

Ignoring the fact that her skirt was already unzipped, she grabbed the hem and gathered the fabric up over her hips. She had to shimmy a bit, but he didn’t seem to mind the show. The fabric bunched at her waist, she hooked a finger under the button of his jeans and yanked. It opened with well-worn ease. She was about to grope for his zipper when four more buttons gave way with satisfying pops.

Millie grinned. “Thank you, Lord, for button flies.”

A moan that sounded more like a purr rose from her throat as she slipped her hand into the V. The hard, hot length of his cock strained against the confines of his boxer briefs. Unable to resist, she stroked him through the thin fabric. The cotton was silky smooth against her fingertips. She hummed with appreciation when she felt the wet patch dampening the fabric near the wide waistband.

“Condoms?” she asked.

He nodded eagerly. “I bought some.”

“Where are they?”

He stared at her blankly, then his handsome face contorted into a grimace. “In my suitcase.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Please tell me the airline didn’t lose your luggage.”

Ty wet his lips and shook his head. “The car. I’ll go.”

As much as she wanted to watch him streak through the house with his pants around his ankles, Millie wasn’t about to let him out of her clutches. Not when she finally had him where she wanted him.

“Lucky for you, Avery pilfers free rubbers from health services and hands them out to anyone and everyone.”

Scrambling off the bed, she spotted her tote where she’d dropped it inside the door and made a beeline for it. She didn’t care if her blouse flew behind her like a cape and her skirt was rucked up around her middle like a damn tutu. Frankly, if she had to walk around naked in front of the man, she preferred a little camouflage. Unlike his last lover, she hadn’t been anywhere close to twenty in a long, long time. She plunged her hand into the bag, found the tab for the zipper compartment, and within seconds closed her hand around the foil square.

“Usually, I’d be better prepared myself,” she said, rolling her shoulders as she sauntered back to the bed, triumphant. “If I’d known you were coming home, I would have stockpiled.” She waved the condom at him, then tore the wrapper in two. “Lucky for us, I have what Avery likes to call ‘a little packet of hope.’”

She waited until she saw his gaze drop to her satin bikini panties. Once she was sure she had his full attention, she hooked her thumbs into the band and shucked them. Crawling up onto the bed, she shed the shirt as well, glad she’d chosen to wear a semipretty lace-edged bra that day rather than the jog bra she sometimes wore under her clothes for convenience. The lingerie wasn’t from her top drawer, but thankfully, it wasn’t laundry day stuff either.

“Do this for me?” she asked, handing over the condom.

Ty snatched the coil of latex from her fingers with one hand and pushed at his jeans and briefs with the other. She took over, curling her fingers into the double waistbands and drawing them down. The reveal was at once too slow and way too fast. She stared openly at the length of him as he set to work with the condom. While he was busy, she pulled his worn jeans down over taut thighs and below his knees.

“I say we go for hot and fast first, work on messy later.”

“Good plan,” he agreed. “But, Mil, I’m gonna get you messy. Every way I can.”

The creak in his voice nearly set her off. Abandoning his pants, she crawled up to straddle him. Ty rose to meet her, his hand sliding slowly up her spine and coming to settle at her nape. He drew her down and kissed her. Slow. Deep. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her lips before plunging in to take what she so desperately wanted to give. His cock pressed against the curve of her stomach. He moved his hips, each undulation timed to match the swirl of his tongue and the thrum of his heart.

They broke apart, breathless, panting, and damn near feral with want. Even with her seated on his thighs, they were still eye to eye. Looking directly at him was too much. She wanted him too badly. And having him only for a little while would certainly bring her heartache. Needing to claim a modicum of control, she pressed the heel of her hand into his shoulder and created some distance between them.

He stared back at her, sleepy-eyed and too gorgeous to be real. He must have seen something in her face. A flash of apprehension, a hint of fear, some chink in her armor. She knew that stare all too well. He wore the look of a warrior. A champion. Someone born to win at all costs.

“You still game, Millie?”

The challenge was unmistakable and irresistible. She hadn’t backed down from a dare in over twenty years, and she wasn’t about to start now. Not when she wanted this every bit as badly as he did. If he broke her heart, she’d survive. She had before. She would again.

Sliding her hand to the center of his chest, she lifted her hips as she pressed him back into the mattress and positioned herself over him. “You bet, Coach. You watch how game I am.”