She lifted her gaze to him while she jerked his shirt out of his pants. “Yes. I loved watching you undress. Tonight I’m going to undress you.”

He shuddered when she reached for the clasp at his pants, damn near lost it when her knuckles brushed against his zipper. His c**k strained against the fabric of his slacks, hard and throbbing and ready for her touch. She drew his pants down, then his boxer briefs. He kicked his shoes off, and she knelt to remove his socks, leaving him na**d and standing in front of her.

Tara sat on her heels, staring up at his cock. “Sit on that chair, Mick.”

He’d stand on his head if she’d continue to look at him like that. He moved to the chair and sat, spreading his legs as she moved between them to kneel. He shuddered when her br**sts brushed against his thighs, then his stomach, as she leaned forward to kiss him.

He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her with a hunger he hadn’t known he possessed. Though he tried not to care, he felt something for Tara, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend that what was between them was something casual. And when she kissed him with a soft moan and a need that matched his own, his c**k lurched against the softness of her belly, and all he could think of was being inside her, of how safe he felt, how right it felt, and he suddenly wanted her to know everything about him.

Whoa. Time to slow the hell down. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the physical, on the way her flavor burst in his mouth whenever she kissed him, on how damn difficult it was going to be to hold off and let her play this game of seduction.

She pulled her mouth from his and dragged her lips over his jaw, his neck, her fingers playing with his nipples. He drew in a breath, realizing how much he liked her hands on him. She kissed his nipples, licked them. He liked seeing her mouth on him, liked watching her flatten her tongue across his chest and snake it down across his abs, knowing what she was doing, anticipating every movement. He shuddered as she slid lower across his stomach, resting her face on his thigh as she looked at his cock, then back at him.

She smiled up at him before grabbing his c**k with both hands. He hissed out a breath. His patience was hanging on by a thread. It cost him to let her do this when all he wanted was to throw her down on the carpet and sink inside her. But this was her game, and he was going to let her play it her way.

“I like you touching me, Tara.”

She licked her lips and rose up between his legs. He leaned over her to undo the clasp of her bra, letting it fall so he could see her breasts, the rosy tips hard as she stroked his shaft, rolling it hand over hand. She seemed to be mesmerized by it as she played with it, taking her time, squeezing it hard, then lightening her touch.

He could watch her touch his c**k for hours, the heat and softness of her hand nothing at all like when he jacked himself off. There was a finesse to her movements unlike his hurry-up-and-get-it-over-with it style. She was all grace and softness, and when she put her mouth over the head of his c**k and swirled her tongue over it like a goddamned ice cream cone, he almost lost it, almost shot his come into her mouth right then as if he were a fifteen-year-old boy with no control.

She licked the length of him, her little pink tongue riding his shaft like she couldn’t get enough of him.

“Jesus Christ, Tara, that’s so f**king good.” He reached for her hair, started pulling all those careful pins out of it, needed it loose so he could tangle his fingers in it. And when it was finally free, he fisted her hair in his hand and gave it a tug. Her gaze snapped to his, and she smiled, then took his c**k deep, seeming to know exactly what he needed.

She let him thrust his c**k deep in her mouth, let him f**k his shaft between her sweet lips hard and fast until he was panting, until he could feel his balls tighten up.

“Yeah. Suck my c**k hard.”

She took him deep, swallowing his c**k head, squeezing him, making the sweat roll down between his shoulder blades. Tension pulled at his spine, and he fought the urge to let go, wanted to savor her sweet lips on him for a few minutes longer. She was a goddess with a perfect mouth and doing things to him that made him grit his teeth and dig his heels into the carpet. He could hold on a little longer.

She swept her thumb over that place between his balls and his ass, and oh fuck, that felt good, to be teased there while she sucked him. He craved more. She was like a drug. He shoved his c**k deep and he knew this ride was going to be over soon, because he wanted to come in her mouth so damn badly he could already imagine what it would be like to feel it spurt on her tongue, to feel her draining him until there was nothing left.

“I’m going to come in your mouth, Tara, so if you don’t want me to, you’d better tell me now.”

But she only hummed around his shaft and tickled his as**ole with her fingers, and goddamn if that didn’t make him shoot right then and there, hard and fast and all the way down her sweet throat. He came with a loud shout, his ass bucking up off the chair, his orgasm coming from somewhere deep inside him. He felt light-headed, cl**axing from his spine, his brain, from every part of him, leaving him shaking and sweaty and utterly spent.

He fell back against the chair, and Tara went with him, her mouth still on him, licking every last drop of what he gave her until she finally let go of his c**k and laid her head on his thigh.

It took Mick a minute or so before he felt coherent again. He pulled Tara onto his lap, and she looked so f**king sexy wearing only her panties and those shoes. He kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue, amazed by what she’d done for him.

She pulled away, licked her lips, and smiled at him. “You tasted good.”

He shuddered. “Christ, you damn near gave me a stroke.”

She giggled. “Good.”

“I’ll give you good.” He lifted her and put her on her feet, then pulled her panties off, leaving those shoes on that drove him half crazy. Then he sat her in the chair and spread her legs. “Your turn.”

He kissed her first, wanted to taste her mouth, lick her lips, slide his tongue in her mouth and suck on her tongue. It made his c**k come to life again, even though she’d taken everything he had.

He kissed her neck, and she shuddered. He knew her neck was sensitive, and he gave it extra attention, dragging his tongue over the side of her throat before sliding down between her breasts, then licking her nipples, sucking each hard berry until she arched her back to feed them to him. He cupped her br**sts in his hands and rolled the buds between his teeth, tugged on them, heard her ragged cry and drank it in because it made his dick hard.

He swept his hands over her belly, kissed it, then shouldered her legs apart, moved his hands down her sweet legs and lifted them, kissing her feet.

“Those are some rockin’-hot shoes, Miss Lincoln.”

She laughed. “I might wear them every day if I get this kind of reaction.”

“Feel free to dig those spikes into my back if you like what I do to you.”

She leveled her pretty brown eyes on him and swallowed when he draped her legs over his shoulders. He moved between her legs, inhaling the scent of her sex. She was so wet, so sweet and enticing, it made him go rock hard.

He swept his tongue over her pu**y lips. She whimpered and laid her hand over his head as he licked the length of her, put his mouth on her cl*tand sucked.

“Oh, damn, Mick. Yes. Lick me right there.”

She made his dick pound when she talked to him, when she told him what she liked, when she lifted her ass and rocked her pu**y against his face. He liked her turned on and out of control like she was now, moaning and talking to him, her pu**y so wet his tongue slid easily all over her. And when he sucked on her cl*tand slid two fingers inside her, she lifted her butt off the chair and came, hard, crying out and yanking on his hair, bucking against his face like she was in the rodeo and he was the bronco she rode to the grand prize.

He didn’t even wait for her to come down off the waves of her orgasm. He grabbed a condom, sheathed his cock, and shoved inside her still-spasming pu**y with one hard thrust. She let out a loud moan, scored his arms with her nails, and rocked against him.

“Yes!” she cried. “Fuck me.”

He drove into her, pulling her h*ps down so he could piston his c**k deep inside her. He wanted Tara to come again. He dropped on top of her, her br**sts against his chest, so he could roll against her clit.

“Mick, that’s so good.” She grabbed his head and kissed him, hard, her teeth mashing to his, her tongue sliding against his. She whimpered, her eyes filled with unshed tears. This is how he wanted her, because this is what he felt, his heart mixing with his body as he rode this incredible wave with this amazing woman.

He held back, his balls tightening as her pu**y squeezed him in a tight vise. Her eyes widened.

“I’m going to come, Mick. Come with me. Come in me.”

He held tight to her as the ragged edges of control tore away. “I’m coming with you. Give it to me.”

She held his gaze as she went out of control and he let go, shouting out as his orgasm roared through him. He dug his fingers into her flesh, pulled her tight against him, and buried his face in her neck, licking her as she screamed her orgasm this time, rocking against him and crying out his name.

It took a while for the calm after the raging storm, as he held her and stroked her and felt her wild heartbeat pulse against his chest.

He picked her up and took them both into the shower, Tara laughing that it would take an hour to wash all the makeup off, then both of them laughing as one of her false eyelashes ended up on her cheek. Once they cleaned up, they dried off and climbed into bed. Tara was asleep in minutes, her head on Mick’s shoulder.

He held her like that for a while, content and just a little bit worried about what all this meant.

And hell, wasn’t it the woman who was supposed to be all concerned about what the whole “relationship” thing meant, anyway? They had fun together. God knew the sex together was great. Maybe he should just stop thinking about it and enjoy the ride. It was too soon to start thinking about the important things, anyway.

EIGHT

TARA OF ALL PEOPLE KNEW BETTER THAN TO START thinking of her and Mick as having a relationship. They were going out, sure. And they were having a good time together. But as sure as hell as she started thinking something good was going to happen between them, it would all end.

Everything good ended. She had plenty of experience with that.

Fortunately, after their whirlwind trip to Los Angeles, Mick had to drop her off and work out with his trainer, then attend a team meeting, and she had to dive back into her own work for the next few days. She’d needed some distance anyway after being with him. He overwhelmed her a little bit, and not in a bad way, but with everything good. She needed time to think, to rehash the night in her mind to make sure it hadn’t all been a dream.

And the reality of work and bills to pay and waiting in the high school parking lot for her kid to come back from camp certainly gave her a dose of reality.

Though Tara had noticed two things when she met Nathan at the bus to pick him up from camp. One, he was happy to see her, which was kind of surprising. And two, apparently her cool factor with her son had suddenly jumped several notches. Not because of anything she’d done but because of the man she was dating.

At this point, she’d take anything as long as he had more than grunting, one-word conversations with her. He seemed animated and happy, and his friends surrounded her and asked her a hundred questions about Mick and football as if she’d suddenly become his agent instead of the woman he was dating.

She’d had to back them off and explain she knew nothing about the upcoming season or what free agents San Francisco might sign, and no, she wasn’t hosting a giant get-together for Nathan’s entire team and inviting Mick’s team.

Good Lord, was this what Mick went through with the media? She could barely handle Nathan’s friends and teammates, let alone hounding journalists.

“So when’s he coming over again, Mom?” Nathan asked her for the fiftieth time as she sorted through his foul-smelling laundry.

“I have no idea.”

“Did he call you today?”

“No, he did not.”

“Does he call you every day?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Well, why not? Did you piss him off?”

She turned on the washing machine and backed her son out of the room. “Nathan, give it a rest.”

Her cell phone rang, and Nathan hollered, “I’ll get it,” before she even had a chance to close the door to the laundry room.

She didn’t even bother to yell at him. What was the point? It would probably be Maggie, and he’d toss the phone at her in disgust.

“It was great. Yeah, we did workouts in the morning, then drills in the afternoon. Coaches taught us new plays from playbooks, stuff we never did before, so it was cool. And the drills were like the real deal, NFL stuff, ya know?”

Had to be Mick. Nathan would not be discussing football camp with Maggie. She went into the living room where Nathan had flopped onto the sofa, making himself at home with her cell phone. And her man.

Not that Mick was her man or anything.

“Yeah, the food sucked, but we didn’t mind. The lake was awesome. Going to bed early wasn’t too bad because they worked the shit out of us the whole day, so we were pretty wiped by the end of the day anyway.”

“Nathan, language.”

Nathan rolled his eyes, listened, then laughed. “Yeah, she gets on me about that sh—I mean about that stuff all the time. Yeah, you’re probably right. Okay, sure. Here she is.”

He begrudgingly handed her the phone. “It’s Mick.”

She smiled up at him. “Oh, really? I thought it might be Maggie.”