1ST DOWN
Gillian
THE THOUGHT OF having to eat felt like a chore.
I wanted to stay in my room and have something brought up. At least that way as the time passed, I wouldn’t have to force myself to focus, over and over again. I’m sorry but this obsessing stuff had to stop. I couldn’t take it anymore. At least with my roommate all those years ago, I could shut her out.
Yeah, myself . . . not so much.
My thoughts were once again on Lucas and not the conversation at the dinner table.
It was hard to concentrate.
Then again, that was nothing new. It wasn’t as if trying to plan family-style Sunday dinners for more than one hundred people who should be consuming almost two thousand calories in one sitting didn’t have its challenges, add to it pushing tables together and passing bowls, and well, just picture it.
Chaos.
As head coach, though, my father had declared it a team rule, and no one dared to not show up.
Not even me.
Very aware of this team rule, the nutritionist tried to plan meals that lent easily to this type of serving.
Normally the cafeteria offered an extensive fruit and salad bar, whole grain breads, brown rice, chicken, or fish, and fresh fruit juices. There were never any institutional products normally found in a college cafeteria served to the Bears.
That wasn’t allowed.
On the menu tonight was whole-wheat pasta with lean ground beef and salad. It was delicious, I was sure, I just couldn’t taste it. Not only had I become used to eating this way, I knew it was good for me, so I never complained. Tonight though, I couldn’t find my appetite.
I did, however, snag a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich on my way out. I left only after trying unsuccessfully to locate Lucas. I hadn’t seen him come in and I hadn’t seen him leave. I hadn’t seen him since yoga.
Was he still going to come see me?
It was close to eight-thirty when I got to my room. Tossing the ice cream wrapper in the trash, I collapsed on my bed.
At Sunday dinners everyone was required to dress nicely. Not necessarily dress up, but not in workout gear.
The summer dress I had selected was green. The shift style made it simple and easy. Dresses weren’t necessarily my thing, but after living in Florida for so long, I’d gotten used to them to help combat the heat.
I peered down at it.
Should I change?
No, I thought, I’d keep this on, but I did toe my sandals off and let them drop to the ground.
The underwear I’d selected was done so with care. I wore a black wispy bra and matching thong. Even I could admit it was sexy.
The men I’d been with in the past weren’t men, not like Lucas, anyway. Sure, they were the same age as him, and sure they talked the same, probably even liked the same things he did, but they weren’t . . . I wasn’t sure how to put it . . . like him.
They didn’t make my heart race or my belly flutter when I saw them.
Perhaps that was because I’d stayed clear of athletes, heeding my father’s warning without even realizing what I was doing. And maybe athletes were my type. If I had one. I didn’t even know for sure.
Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until I heard the turn of my doorknob.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw him.
He wore a pair of black dress pants and a white button-down open at the throat to reveal the smoothness of his chest. He’d slicked his hair back from his face and I instantly noticed the angle of his cheekbones that defined his good looks and those full lips.
That mouth.
Oh, God, that mouth.
It was perfect.
And that bottom lip, the way he pushed it out in a pout every now and then, I wanted to nibble it.
“Hey,” Lucas said as he closed the door behind him and pushed the button on the knob to lock it.
“Hey,” I said, sitting up and running my fingers through my hair.
He looked around the small space. “I didn’t see you at dinner.”
I swung my feet off the bed so I could sit up straight and placed my hands in my lap. “There were so many people, it was hard to see anyone.”
There was a picture on my desk, and he walked over to it, and then picked it up. “How old were you here?”
The photo was of my father and me when his team won the Super Bowl. “I was thirteen when the Bucs won the Super Bowl. My father was the quarterback coach and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier. It’s the only time he’s ever gone all the way in his career.”
Lucas set the photo down. “So far.”
I smiled at that. “Yes, so far.”
He turned toward me and leaned against the small desk, pushing his sleeves up high on his elbows.
I took a satisfying look at his forearms, the tendons so very sexy, so very powerful.
When he was done, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I’ll be able to help him with that.”
I cupped my elbows in my hands, uncertain why I felt so nervous. “I hope so.”
We stared at each other for a few long moments until he cleared his throat. “So what’s the story with you and Kutch?” he asked, innocently enough, but I knew he was wondering if I was into Kutch.
For some reason I liked that he was curious, that he had been watching me. I chewed the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. “We don’t have a story.”
“Girl,” Lucas said mockingly, “it looked earlier like you had a story.”
Ignoring the fact that Lucas used the name Kutch called me, because I was certain he called every girl he knew, Girl. I told Lucas, “We met the first day of camp, and I gave him some advice. Now we’re friends. That’s the end of our story.”
Tilting his head, he gave me an assessing look, and muttered, “Friends.”
“Yes, friends.”
That bottom lip pouted out. “And you don’t think he’s after you? That he wants you?”
“No, I . . .” Lucas had stumped me. I hadn’t expected this. “I don’t know,” I said matter-of-factly.
Lucas didn’t seem to like my answer. “Are you interested in him?”
Frustrated with this conversation, I snapped. “No, I’m not. In fact, I have never been interested in any of the players on this team or any other team.”
He put his hand on his heart and feigned being wounded. “Way to strike right where it hurts.”
The way he seemed to know when to take it down a notch, made me snort lightly. “Well, that’s not exactly a true statement. Not anymore, anyway.”
His eyes drifted from the tip of my toes to my face, growing overheated as they did. “I think it’s safe to assume you’re referring to me.”
My chest rose and fell with excited breaths. “I don’t know. Am I?”
“You better be.”
That’s when we both burst into laughter, utterly companionable and uncomplicated. It wasn’t long before my giggle fluttered into a sigh. He was watching me, and his blue eyes were alight. I couldn’t interpret his long, studying look, or the half smile that accompanied it.
I scooted to the edge of the bed. “What?” I finally asked, wondering about his scrutiny.
He looked so full of himself. “Are you telling me that I’m the first football player you’ve ever—” He let the end of his thought hang there.
I didn’t finish the sentence for him. Like him, I let the words dangle. Instead of speaking them, telling him he was the first, I got to my feet.
The pulse at the base of my throat was beating erratically, and I couldn’t wait another minute for what was destined from that first glance a week ago. My breathing was ragged and tight with each slow step I took toward him.
It seemed like forever before I was standing in front of him and even longer before I reached up to pull him down to me. He groaned when my fingers tangled in his hair and practically growled when I nipped at his bottom lip, but he didn’t strike.
Not yet.
He pulled back and stared down.
Searching.
Searching.
Searching.
For what . . . to do this? Not to do this? Did it really matter anymore? It was going to happen. He had to know that.
His hands clung to my hips. “Gillian—”
The sound of my name on his tongue might have stirred those butterflies in my belly, but even the thought of hearing it again wasn’t enough to stop what I was about to do.
When he opened his mouth to speak, I covered his lips with my finger to silence him. “Don’t say it. Don’t say we shouldn’t or it’s wrong or anything else like that.”
Those blue eyes blazed with the same uncertainty, and I think that was what made me feel like this thing between us was real. Sure, we were both torn. Sure, we were doing what we shouldn’t be doing. But we both couldn’t help ourselves.
I stared up at him. “Please, Lucas,” I begged, “don’t say anything. Just touch me.”
He kept me trapped in his gaze.
Looking.
Watching.
Studying.
Deciding.
“Your father is right across the hall,” he whispered.
“And both of our doors are closed. I’m not a kid. It’s not like he’s watching me.”
Lucas took a step back. “Maybe we should put this thing on hold until training camp is over, and he isn’t right across the hall?”
“We can’t wait,” I said. “I’m leaving Chicago as soon as camp ends.”
He stared at me in confusion.
That was when I explained to him about school and my job path before I finally told him, “I won’t be around anymore except to watch an occasional game.”
Again he looked at me.
Watched me.
Studied me.
“It sounds like we don’t have much time,” he whispered.
“We don’t,” I whispered back.
“So this thing between us is short-term?” he asked, a slight hesitation in his voice.
“It has to be,” I answered.
“And it stays between us?”
I nodded.
That’s when his big, strong arms lifted me like I weighed nothing, and before I knew it, I was sitting on my desk and his lips found mine. “Then we better get going.”
It took only seconds for my mouth to be so full of the taste of him, and took even less time for nothing else to exist.
No worries.
No rules.
Nothing broken . . . not yet, anyway.
He whispered my name, but didn’t stop kissing me. His mouth moved with the same power his body did, and he took over what I had started. He was hard, heated, and demanding.
Oh God, I wanted him.
When his tongue pushed inward, hot and sensual, it glided over mine so effortlessly. I sucked in air as I fought for some equilibrium.
His hand flattened on my stomach and he smoothed it upward at the same time his lips moved down my chin, nipping and sucking along my throat. “I like this.”
“Like what?”
In answer, he licked his way back up my neck. “The way you taste.”
I think I stopped breathing.
This was him devouring me in a way no one ever had, and by the way he was eating me up, I think he knew that too.
With his mouth on mine, I pushed to my feet and started to edge back. He resisted though, not liking the fact that I was taking the lead.
That was okay by me. My legs were wobbling beneath me like they never had, and I suddenly found moving difficult. Not that I was going anywhere with his hard body pressing so tightly against mine.
It was warm.
Honed to perfection.
Sculpted like a piece of art.
And all I wanted to do was run my fingers over every inch of it.
I think I might have purred when I thought about it, and that’s when he started moving back toward the bed. Him back, me forward, him back, me forward. I slid my hand to his face to feel his skin there, too. Like the rest of him, his face was chiseled with perfect lines and angles. I could have run my fingers all over him for days and never gotten bored.
All of a sudden his teeth were grazing over my lips and nipping at the fullness in the most delicious way, and still we were moving. Him back, me forward. Him back, me forward.
Our second kiss was harder, rougher, full of hunger. It was way more passionate than that childish peck I had given him nights ago.
This was the real thing.
The back of his legs must have hit the mattress because he stopped for only a second before falling to it with me in his arms.
On his lap, I pulled my legs up to either side of his thighs and straddled him. Lucas pulled back and broke our kiss. I opened my eyes to find him looking at me. His gaze was unwavering as he pushed one hand between us and slid it up the hem of my dress, which had lifted to nearly expose my panties, anyway.
With my thighs already parted, he pushed his fingers up, up, up, until they were at the front of my panties. When he rubbed his thumb slowly over it, I bit back a moan.
Anchoring myself to him, I slid my hands from his face to shoulders. When he circled his thumb against the silk of my panties, I couldn’t stop my blunt nails from digging into his skin. He groaned, and all the while, he kept moving.
Circle.
Press.
Circle.
Press.
I was going out of my mind and used my teeth as my outlet. I nipped at the sensitive part of his flesh at his throat, and when I did, he moved his fingertips up just a little to dip inside the edge of my panties.
“Oh, fuck,” he hissed when he found me soaking wet for him.
Worried about who might hear us through the thin dorm door, I covered his mouth with my hand when he cursed again. When I did, he licked at my skin, and it sent a shudder of pleasure all the way through me. Now I was the one moaning loudly.
I couldn’t believe I was going to come from just this little contact. I didn’t want to come yet, and I wanted to come so badly, I didn’t know what to do. Arching into his touch, I tried to push him down on the mattress.
Shaking his head no, he wouldn’t let me take control, and I couldn’t stop my low cry of protest. Silencing me, he slid his hands up my body and cupped my face. “Patience, Strawberry Fields,” he whispered, and then covered my mouth with his in an earth-shaking kiss that left me breathless.
At last he rolled us both down onto the mattress in a twist of arms and legs that landed me beneath him.
In this position, it was difficult for either of us to move. He looked down at me with that easy smile. “This bed is really small.”
I grinned up at him. “Or maybe you’re just too big.”
He raised a sexy brow. “Not a bad problem to have.”
I reached up and nipped at his lip, hard enough to draw blood. “You really do think you’re hot stuff.”
That cocky look was too much. “What I think,” he said, leaning down to kiss me, “is that you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”
Emotion clogged my throat. No one had ever said anything like that to me before.
Clearly, Lucas didn’t want to give me time to respond because he shifted us again, this time ending with me on top of him and my knees gripping his sides. “Enough talking,” he said.
I was fine with that. Like this, I moved my hands over his belly; pushing his shirt up to reveal the taut muscles beneath. And with shaking fingers, I traced the lines of each one, back and forth. I was mesmerized by the strength and power he possessed.
“Stop looking at me like that or it’s going to get you into some serious trouble,” he growled.
Doing no such thing, I lifted my seductive gaze upward. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to eat me.”
“I do,” I said matter-of-factly. “All of you.”
This stunned him. I think he was literally at a loss for words. I had to admit this thrilled me.
I became impatient with all the foreplay and started yanking at his belt buckle to find the zipper beneath it. It didn’t take long to pull it down. For my hand to be in the front of his pants. For my fingers to be curling over the hot, hard bulge inside.
When I started to slip my fingertips inside his boxer briefs to free his erection, he bucked up and grabbed my wrist to stop me.
I gave him a challenging look. He gave me one right back. I wasn’t strong enough to break free of him, but I kept the pressure of my grasp just enough that he had to make an effort to continue to stop me.
The push and pull only lasted a moment.
“Please,” I whispered.
Lucas bit his lower lip and then repositioned my hand on the thick ridge of his erection.
Hiding my triumphant smile, I moved my palm up and down his boxer briefs. My skin slid so easily over the bright blue fabric of his Pumas, and just this slight touch of him electrified me.
As I continued to move with slow, deliberate strokes, Lucas pushed between my thighs and found my panties again. It took less than a second for him to dip his finger inside the edge and find me even wetter than moments ago, and even less time for him to push his finger inside me.
I bit into my own bottom lip as lust rolled hot through me, leaving me flushed, excited, desperate for more. I pushed myself up a bit to give him more room, and I used this motion to release his erection from the confines of his Pumas. There wasn’t enough room for full access, but for now it would work.
He looked so incredibly sexy on my bed. I leaned down to kiss him again. The bed squeaked as we shifted and moved against each other. Frantic. Needing. Desperate.
The orgasm struck quickly. I closed my eyes and cried out his name as the first wave swept over me. Tumultuous and overwhelming.
The moans and quivers that escaped my throat didn’t sound like me at all. When he reached up to gently cover my mouth, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Not even as I sat back up and arched my body away from his touch because it was all too much. “Don’t move. I want you to feel good,” he whispered, his voice silky smooth.
And so I stayed still and let his touch carry me away. It was as if I had some inner pulse that his touch ruled over because more pleasure cascaded through me. And I lost myself in it. I used him as my anchor as I dug the fingers into the bare skin I found below the hem of his shirt.
He gasped, thrusting harder into my curled fingers that were still on his erection.
Our eyes met, and I had no idea what each of us saw, but it was something that seemed to erase any remaining barriers between us.
I pushed against him. “I want to taste you,” I said, my voice strained and edgy as I stared into those intense blue eyes.
“I’m okay with that,” he breathed out, his own voice husky.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Gilly, are you awake?”
My head jerked toward the door and I froze. Utterly horrified.
It was my father.
At first I didn’t move, and I didn’t feel Lucas move an inch from beneath me, either.
“Gilly, you awake,” he said again, knocking lightly once more.
Quickly, I glanced down at Lucas who looked both pained and amused. “Gilly?” he mouthed, “Like a fish’s gill?”
In your teens, twenties, or even thirties, the last thing any girl ever wanted was for her father to catch her . . . well . . . in this case, literally with her skirt up. Worried that was just what was going to happen, I slapped my hand over Lucas’s mouth even though he wasn’t actually speaking loud enough for my father to hear and drew in a huge breath. “Yes, Dad,” I answered.
“Do you have a couple of minutes? The decorator sent some paint samples over and I wanted to get your opinion on the wall color.
Lucas moved my hand away and his mouth opened wide in a huge grin. “Nesting?” he mouthed with wide, surprised eyes.
I supposed that for the head coach, who had a reputation of being a hard-ass, this was so out of character. To me, this was who my father was, a big softie on the inside that he only let me see.
With a narrowed stare, I shot Lucas a warning look that I didn’t have to. By the way his brow had creased in less than two seconds, I was certain he was way more worried than I was. Him getting caught with me . . . well I had no idea what that would do to his position on the team, and I didn’t want to find out.
This team needed Lucas, and I’d already been the cause of one possible setback. I wouldn’t be the cause of another.
“Sure, Dad, give me a few minutes and I’ll head over.”
“Are you okay, honey? You sound out of breath.”
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.
No.
No.
No.
How could I even answer that question?
I was more than out of breath. There was slickness between my legs, my core still throbbed, and Lucas’s hard dick was beneath me. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I somehow managed. “Just doing a few sit-ups before bed. I ate way too much at dinner.”
That was a lie, and I tasted the bitterness on my tongue.
I was a bad daughter.
“That’s my girl,” he said, and I cringed. “I’ll be in the room I’ve been using to view play footage. Come over whenever you’re done.”
Done. I wasn’t sure we could be done that quickly. But then again, judging by the pale, nauseated look on Lucas’s face now, I was pretty sure we were done.
The ramifications of what we were doing must have sunken in.
“Okay,” I answered, and waited to make sure he was gone before I dared move from the bed.
As soon as I was sure my father was no longer outside my door, I jumped to my feet. Lucas practically bolted to his.
“Fuck,” he hissed, running a hand through that gorgeous hair of his.
Fuck was right.
“It’s fine. He’s gone. I’ll leave first,” I said. “The room he is in is down the hall, so give me a few minutes and then you can slip out unnoticed.”
He nodded.
While he zipped and tucked, I stripped out of my wet panties and hurriedly pulled on a fresh pair. When I turned, Lucas had pulled himself together, clothing wise, but he looked anything but pulled together.
With swift fingers, I twisted my hair into a semblance of a knot instead of the sex-tangled mess I was sure it was, and then I shifted my dress back into its proper place.
I walked toward Lucas, who hadn’t moved. “Everything is fine.”
He said nothing.
I popped up on my toes and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.
He didn’t kiss me back.
The sullen look he wore told me not to ask what he was thinking. I didn’t want to know right then. I was certain I would later, though.
“See you in the morning,” I whispered, but I knew I wouldn’t. I could see it on his face, in his eyes, the sag of his shoulders, and my heart fell.
There was no time to discuss it now. Curfew wasn’t far off, and my father would be back if I didn’t show up soon, so I had no choice but to turn and walk toward the door.
Still, I couldn’t just leave.
With my hand on the doorknob, I looked back over my shoulder to say something, but was struck mute. It hit me then that although I had thought I had it all, I really didn’t. That there was a huge part of life missing—someone to share it with.
At the same time, I also realized why I stayed away from men like Lucas—they were my kryptonite.
Or at least he was.