Most Likely to Score

It makes my blood run hotter. “Leave marks, baby,” I urge.

She scratches harder, and I love the wildcat in her. Love that she wants to claim me in her own way.

I love, too, how she gives herself to me so openly. How she has no hang-ups now that we’re finally tangled together. Swiveling my hips, I push deeper into her. She moans her approval. I do it again. She moans even louder. Her nails dig into me.

“Like that,” she pants.

“Just like that.” That’s the pace I keep up, the rhythm she seems to need, the angle that sends her pitch rising.

And it makes my name rush from her lips in a filthy moan.

I hear my name said all the time. It’s announced during games. It’s uttered on TV. It’s mentioned constantly on sports radio.

Never has my name sounded as good as it does tonight. “Jones . . . so close . . . I’m so close.”

The fact that she’s nearly there already triggers a fresh round of lust in my veins. Unleashing several hard, fast pumps, I drive into her, and she cries out, louder each time.

Raising her knees higher, she opens herself more. I wrap a hand around one knee, pushing up her leg, making even more room. She quivers, her shoulders trembling, her eyes squeezing shut. Her mouth, her lips, her beautiful face—I can’t stop watching as the beginning of her orgasm radiates through her.

Another gasp. Another groan.

Then, the barest whisper from her—coming—and it sends a bolt of heat to my groin as I give her everything she needs, taking her to the edge.

The sound of her climax is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s hotter when she digs her nails in as she keens. That trips the switch in me. Pleasure barrels down my spine, and I don’t hold back. There’s no need to anymore. My vision blurs, and my world spins out of orbit as everything turns white-hot.

I come hard, my orgasm reverberating with an intensity that feels like the end of time. Ecstatic oblivion, and worth every goddamn second. I collapse onto her, her arms still banded around me as we both breathe as if we’ve run a race.

Her hands move up my back with gentle strokes. She runs her fingers through my hair. She dusts a kiss to my sweaty forehead, whispering my name once more, a quiet murmur in the night.

As she glides her hands over my skin, the part of my brain that can still construct sentences is telling me that I could get accustomed to this, to her.

I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.

18

Jones

“Hey.”

The word is soft, but insistent. I’m still in an orgasm haze, even though I’ve already disposed of the condom. “Yeah?”

She runs her hand down my arm, and hell, do I ever love that she’s using her permission slip at last. She can keep those hands on me all night long. I fucking love how she touches me, how much she wants to explore. She makes me feel like a cat, arching, purring, asking for more.

Turning to her side, she props her head in her hand, resting on her elbow. “We should talk. Don’t you think?”

“Sure.” I still sound groggy, but it’s just the drug wearing off. The drug of her. Sobriety doesn’t interest me, though. I need another hit. I kiss her neck, inhaling her clean skin.

She wriggles against me, gliding her hands over my belly. “Mmm. You’re distracting me.”

“I’m good at that.” I nibble on her earlobe, flicking my tongue against her red cherry earrings. “These are sexy.”

“Thank you.”

I run my hand through her silky hair. “Your hair is sexy.”

She smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re sexy.”

She smiles, then wiggles her eyebrows. “And to think I was positively sure you were pretty much a blonde or bust type of guy.”

I scoff. “Well, you were wrong.”

“I suppose I was. What a surprise. A welcome one, since I didn’t think you were into me.”

Time to roll my eyes like I’ve never rolled them before. “You find it surprising that I like you? After we just fucked each other’s brains out?”

A faint blush spreads over her cheeks. “Maybe.” She shrugs.

“Fine. One roll in the hay isn’t enough evidence for you, so clearly we’ll need to do it again.”

“Well, duh.”

“But maybe you’re right. Maybe fucking each other senseless isn’t proof enough, because I sure as hell thought you would never give me the time of day.”

“Seriously?” Her voice goes soft. “I was never mean to you.”

“I know. You were always good to me. But you were also so tough when I tried to flirt with you. When I did things to get your attention. You were so impervious. So professional.”

“I thought it was all just a game. Just you being your playful self.”

“You did?”

She nods. “I figured the towel drop and the flirty comments were just who you were. And if I let myself think they meant anything more, I’d have been an idiot.”

“They meant more,” I say.

“But I had no idea.” Vulnerability flashes in her irises. “I had to be strong. I had to be professional around you.”

“Why?” I prop my head in my hand, mirroring her.

“I couldn’t risk letting on how I really felt.”

A cocky grin spreads on my face. I poke her shoulder. “Admit it. You do like me.”

Nudging my side, she whispers, “Obviously.” She winks. “I mean, obviously I like the orgasm you just gave me. That’s what I wanted to say.”

I flop my head dramatically on the pillow and mime stabbing myself in the heart. “I’m wounded. She only wants me for my dick.”

She bends her face to mine and brushes her lips over my jawline. “I like you and your dick, and I’d like more orgasms.”

“Good, but I’m still filing a report on you.”

Flinching, she pulls back. “For what? For sexual harassment?”

I laugh, my head shaking vigorously. “No. God, no. I wouldn’t even joke about that, not in this climate, and not ever. And it’s a damn good thing we work together, not as one person under the other.”

“But I was just under you.” She gives a sly little wink, and I’m loving this new side of Jillian. It was there all along, and even though she’s been professional, she’s definitely been playful with me at times. But now with the clothes off, the sassy flirt I’ve seen hints of has fully emerged.

I move over her, pinning her beneath me, my palms planted flat by her shoulders. “And you will be under me again,” I say, and she lets out a sexy little murmur. “But mostly I was going to file a report to put myself on the injured reserve, because I think you sent me into an orgasm coma there.”

“One orgasm is all it takes to induce a coma? You’re easy.”

“Easy? Hardly. I still can’t function fully because of the magnitude. It was like a nine-point-eight on the Richter scale.”

If I thought Jillian had a great smile, I was wrong. She has a magnificent smile. She has a heart-stopping smile. Because now I’m rewarded with the biggest grin in the world. “Hmm. That does sound rather intense,” she says. “Is there anything at all to do to revive you?”

I pretend as if I’m devoting deep thought to the topic. “More sex, for starters. A blow job, possibly. Maybe let me go down on you.”