Delay of Game (The Baltimore Banners Book 6) (4 page)

Val marveled at the wonders of his face, at the mix of boyish charm and rugged good looks that shouldn't go together but did. And underneath it all, that sense of remoteness, of loneliness and sorrow that shouldn't be there.

She squeezed his hand once more, wondering if he was going to speak or if it would just be better to let him go. Tell him goodnight and go home herself and forget about this sudden irrational need to make him smile and laugh again.

She was just about ready to give up when he exhaled sharply, the breath a sharp hiss instead of a sigh. The muscle in his jaw twitched once more then relaxed as he finally, slowly, squeezed her hand back.

"I'm a scratch for personal reasons. Coach thought—" Another deep breath as his eyes drifted to a spot just over her left shoulder. "Coach didn't appreciate the smell of alcohol on me, figured it'd be better if I just stayed home since I wasn't contributing."

"Justin, I—"

"Hey, no biggie. Like I said, I'm a fuck-up. Right? No room for drunks on the team."

Val winced at the harshness of his words, at the echo of her own words earlier this morning when she had called him a drunk. Of her words not even an hour earlier when she had said the same thing to Alyssa. "Justin, you're not a drunk."

"Yeah, pretty sure I am. I think you even said the same thing this morning."

"I didn't mean—" Val snapped her mouth closed, stopping the lie from coming out. No, she may not have meant it quite the same way, but she wasn't going to lie. "You never used to drink quite this much until a few months ago."

In her mind, it had sounded so much better. A little more diplomatic and subtle. Said out loud, the words were still a little too sharp, a little too accusing. But it was too late to take them back, and there was no way to soften them, not now. And Justin didn't seem to be upset by them. If he was, he didn't show it. He just stood there, inches away, his dark eyes watching her with an expression she couldn't read and didn't understand.

"Are you asking me why?"

Was she? Maybe she hadn't planned on it, hadn't wanted to get too personal. But now that he brought it up, gave voice to it and put it out there, she realized that maybe she was asking. Or if not really asking, definitely curious. Was this some twisted way of letting her know it was okay to ask? That he might actually give her an answer?

"Would you tell me if I did?"

"I told you, I'm a fu—"

"Yeah, a fuck-up. I heard you the first dozen times you said it." Val shook her head and released his hand, calling herself a fool for even trying. Had she really thought she could try to help? And why? Why did she always do this, try to fix things and make everyone happy? It was pointless, absolutely pointless.

She pushed away from the desk, intending to walk by him and head back out to the floor. There had to be at least a dozen other things she could be doing, things she could actually accomplish instead of banging her head against the wall on a futile project.

"My divorce was finalized the day before Thanksgiving."

The words stopped her cold, filling her with a variety of emotions she was afraid to examine too closely. Sorrow. Pity. Remorse. Surprise. Definitely surprise. Justin must still have feelings for the woman, if the divorce was enough to send him into a drinking tailspin.

And she hadn't even known he was married.

Val carefully schooled her expression into something resembling sympathy and turned back to face him. She hoped none of her shock showed on her face. "Justin, I'm so sorry."

He laughed, the sound short and almost brutal. He leaned against the desk and stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. "Don't be. I couldn't stand her."

"Then why—" Val snapped her mouth closed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

"Why the drinking? That's what you were going to ask me, right?"

Val shrugged. Yes, she had been going to ask him that exact question. If he didn't like the woman, whoever she was, why would he suddenly start drinking? Why would it matter to him?

But she wasn't going to ask, couldn't quite bring herself to—no matter how curious she was.

Justin laughed again, that short sound that didn't even come close to the warm, rusty chuckle she heard earlier. He ran one hand through his hair, like he was scrubbing his scalp, giving the dark blonde strands a tousled look. He dragged the hand down over his face, releasing another sigh.

"I guess you could say it was the last shred of evidence needed to prove how big a fuck-up I am. You know, just one more failure."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

Something close to anger surged inside her, irrational and senseless. Val fisted her hands by her sides and took a step forward, the movement bringing her within inches of Justin. "Who said you were a failure?"

"I said forget it. It's not import—"

"That is the most insane, pathetic, lame, pitiful thing I have ever heard. You divorce someone you don't like and that makes you a failure? Seriously? That's your excuse for the sudden drinking?"

Justin's jaw clench as anger flashed in his eyes. The emotion disappeared just as quickly as it appeared, there and gone in a blink. He shook his head and looked away. "It's a family thing. You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand family? Really? You do happen to remember that you actually know my brother, right? Don't talk to me about family."

"Somehow I doubt if Randy has ever called you a failure or a fuck-up, okay? He'd do anything for you, so it's not quite the same."

"Maybe not now, but you should have seen us growing up. He was a pain-in-the-ass. Trust me, he called me a lot worse."

"Val, it's not—" Justin pursed his lips together and shook his head. Then he straightened, the move bringing his body nearly flush against hers. But Val didn't move, just stood there and held her ground, tilting her head back so she could look at him. "Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do but you don't know what you're talking about. You don't have any idea what I'm talking about."

"Then tell me."

"Christ, you don't give up, do you?" He shook his head, a frown on his face, like he couldn't figure out why she kept hounding him. And to be honest, she didn't know why, either.

He shook his head again, muttering something under his breath, then placed his hands on her shoulders. He was going to move her to the side, step past her and walk out that door.

And either go to the bar to get something besides iced tea, or go home to do the same. And Val didn't want him to.

No, she wanted to smack him upside the head, like she used to do with Randy when they were growing up. Tell him that whatever was going on, that whoever thought he was a failure, was wrong. Dead wrong.

And then…then she wanted to kiss him. No, she wanted to kiss him more than she wanted to knock sense into him. God, what was wrong with her? Justin was T-R-O-U-B-L-E. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name, knew that nothing good could come of this sudden attraction.

Except it wasn't really sudden. Not really, not when she had been watching him for months, not when she had been aware of him for even longer. That's why she was so concerned, so worried about him.

It was insane. She was insane.

None of that mattered, because she still wanted to kiss him.

So she did.

One minute, Justin was standing there, his hands on Val's shoulders, ready to step around her. The next, her body was flush against his, her mouth soft and warm on his.

For a terrifying second, he didn't know whether to scream, shout, or start singing
Hallelujah
! But only for a second because his body took over, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue darting out and teasing the seam of her lips, urging her to open for him. And then her tongue was dancing with his, sweet, hot, spicy.

Like the woman herself.

Justin leaned against the desk and spread his legs, pulling her even closer, settling her more fully against him. His hand drifted down over the silky soft material of the loose shirt she wore, down further to cup one cheek of her firm round ass. He tilted his head, deepened the kiss, losing himself as his body roared to life.

She tilted her hips, pressing herself against his erection. He heard her moan, tasted it as it flowed from her mouth to his. Soft, warm. Christ, he wanted her. Could lose himself in her.

Right here. Right now.

Voices clamored in the back of his mind, sounding a dozen warning bells. This was Val. His teammate's sister. He shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not with Val.

Why would she want him? She had seen him at his worse, just last night. She shouldn't be pressing herself against him like she was, driving him crazy.

Sending him to the edge.

A small ribbon of sanity uncurled somewhere in the deep recesses of his broken mind. He shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not now.

Not with Val.

He groaned and pulled away, tried to pull air into his lungs. He forced his eyes open and felt the breath he had struggled so hard to take escape him in a rush. Val's head was tilted back, the dark strands of her hair falling behind her, brushing the bare skin of his arm. Her lush mouth was red, full and damp from his kisses. Her eyes fluttered open, wide hazel eyes glazed with the same passion scorching his veins.

"What are you doing, Val?" Christ, was that his voice, hoarse and scratchy, barely above a whisper? It couldn't be. But it was. Because of the woman in his arms, her body soft and warm. Tempting. Irresistible.

Completely off limits.

"Kissing you." She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his once more. Teasing, tasting. Justin closed his eyes, savoring the feel, memorizing each caress for a second. Just a second. He groaned again and pulled away, trying to put space between them, but he couldn't move, not with the desk behind him.

"You don't do drunks, remember?" Why the hell was he talking? He needed to shut up, needed to be quiet and just enjoy. It was a kiss. Just a kiss.

But his body felt like it was so much more. How long had it been? Too long. He'd been too wrapped up in his self-pity, in his self-hatred. It was just a kiss, it shouldn't be sending him over the edge like it was.

"You're not drunk now."

He opened his mouth to argue with her. No, not now. But he was still a drunk. A failure. A fuck-up. He sure as hell wasn't worth what she was offering, even if it was only a kiss. But her lips were on his again, her tongue delving into his mouth, searching, seeking. Mating. Her hips pressed forward, sliding against his erection. Once, twice. Teasing, promising.

He was afraid to move, afraid of doing something he'd regret—something Val would regret. But he didn't ease his hold on her, didn't move his hand from her ass. Even when she ran her fingers along his arms, down his chest, he couldn't move.

And then her hands were inside his shirt, sliding against the burning flesh of his stomach and chest. And shit, her touch felt so good. Warm, lingering. One gentle caress after another, the tips of her fingers blindly tracing the lines of each muscle, running along his breastbone, searing him.

She fanned her hands out, her palms skimming each flat nipple. And still she kissed him, her mouth hot and hungry, setting him on fire as surely as her touch.

Val trailed her hands along his side, around to his back. Hard, then soft. Hard again. Justin's heart threatened to explode from his chest, it was pounding so hard. This, from a freaking kiss. One simple kiss.

Except it was more than a kiss. So much more. It felt like she was sucking his soul from the murky depths it had fallen into. His black shriveled soul. He didn't want her to see it, wanted it to stay buried, safe from prying eyes.

But he couldn't stop her. Couldn't do anything except stand there and surrender as she kissed him, as her hands wandered along the burning skin of his back, his chest, his sides.

Then she was lifting his shirt, dragging it up, up even more. He groaned when she broke the kiss, groaned again when she pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him.

Then her mouth was back on his, soft, warm. Hungry. She nipped at his lower lip, teasing it with her teeth and sending a shudder through him. She dragged her mouth along his jaw, up to his ear where she teased the lobe, pulling it gently into her mouth and nipping.

Justin fell harder against the desk, his knees damn near buckling under him. He tightened his hold on Val, holding her closer, pressing his erection against her, wanting nothing more than to lose himself inside her.

But he couldn't. Not here, no matter how much he wanted to. But he couldn't move either, his body nearly paralyzed with each touch, each caress, each kiss as she dragged her mouth down along his neck, to his collarbone, to his chest.

She pulled away, her breathing fast and choppy, her eyes glazed as she traced the outline of the tattoo on his chest. An eagle, proud and ferocious. Courageous, noble.

All the things he wasn't.

"Valerie—"

"I wanted to do this last night." She paused and looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. Wide, passionate, needy. Justin swallowed, his throat tightening at the look in her gaze.

Why? Why was she looking at him like that? Like she wanted him, like he was someone to be wanted, to be desired. He wasn't. He needed to tell her that, to tell her she should stop.

Then she pressed her lips to his chest, over the delicate lines of the eagle. Over his heart. Could she hear it, he wondered? Could she feel the pounding, fast, hard, heavy? Just there, where her lips grazed his skin.

And then, oh shit, her hands were on the snap of his jeans, on the zipper, easing it down. He needed to tell her to stop, to move, to push her away. If he had an ounce of decency, just a shred, he'd tell her—

She pushed his jeans down past his hips, down to his thighs, and took him in her hand. Her fingers, long and gentle, encircled him. Stroked him. Long hard strokes, from the tip of his cock down to the base and back again.

"Valerie." Her name was nothing more than a moan ripped from his lips. Justin clenched his jaw and let his head fall back. He reached for the edge of the desk with both hands, searching for support, for something to hold him up because Val was on her knees in front of him and holy shit, Christ, fuck. Her mouth was hot and wet, sucking him, in and out, over and over.

He thrust his hips forward, seeking more of that delicious warmth, his mind void of all thought. There was only Val and the pleasure of her hot mouth on him.

His hips thrust faster, deeper, as she sucked, licked. Nails dug into his hip as she cradled his balls with one hand, rolling them in her palm, gently squeezing. And fuck, he was ready to come right now, to shoot off right in her mouth, to empty himself in the hot recesses of that carnal mouth.

No. Fuck. He couldn't.

Somehow he let go of the desk and clasped his hands around her head, easing her away. Her hair curled around his hands, soft, silky, teasing. And God help him, he looked down at her and the sight of her kneeling there in front of him, her mouth parted, her eyes wide and glazed—he wanted her. Now. But not the way she was offering.

He pulled her to her feet and crushed her body against his. His mouth closed over hers, seeking, conquering. She moaned and pressed herself even closer, her nails scoring his back as his tongue mated, tasted, dominated.

He grabbed the hem of her shirt, the material soft in his hands as he bunched it in his fists and pulled it over her head. Her slacks were next, the soft material pooling at her feet before she stepped out of them.

And then she was standing there, clad in nothing but a black lace bra and matching thong and sexy heels. Justin reached out and ran one hand through her hair, the long silky strands teasing his flesh as he ran his finger along the pale creaminess of her skin.

He wanted to touch every inch of her, from the curve of her collarbone and the swell of her breast, down to the delicate bone of her ankle.

But he wanted her more. No, not want. Need. He needed her with a burning urgency he didn't understand. Now.

He pulled her to him once more, his breath catching with a hiss at the feel of her flesh against his. He unsnapped her bra and slid it down her arms, moving back just enough so it fell to the floor between them. His thumbs snagged the wispy band of her thong, dragging the material past her hips. Then he was touching her, his fingers teasing the barely-there curls before dipping lower, spreading her, his thumb gliding over the firm nub of her clit. Christ, she was wet. So fucking wet. Her hips thrust forward, over and over, riding the slide of his thumb and fingers as her hands dug into his shoulders.

"Justin, please."

It was all he needed. More than he needed. With a growl he lifted her to him, her legs wrapping tight around his waist. He reached out, his hand searching for the chair he had noticed earlier. He swung it around and dropped into it, Val straddling him.

Her mouth crashed against his as she rubbed against him, hot, wet, searching. Justin groaned again and leaned forward, trying to untwist his jeans enough that he could reach his wallet. He fumbled with it, got it open, blindly reached for a foil packet. Please God, let there be a condom in there.

His fingers closed over it and he nearly wept, ripping it open and trying to sheath himself with it. But shit, Val kept rubbing against him and she was so fucking wet, so ready, and it would be so fucking easy to just slide into her, to bury himself so deep inside her wet heat.

No. Not yet.

He reached between them, finally sliding the condom down his throbbing length, and he damn near came right there, just from that touch. And then Val's hand was on him, guiding him, and yes, holy shit.

She was tight, so fucking tight, her muscles closing over him, wrapping around him like a glove. Her hands closed over his shoulders and her head fell back, her beautiful firm breasts thrust forward as she lowered herself onto him, taking all of him. Up, down. Slow, exquisite torture. Then faster, her breaths coming in short gasps from between kiss-swollen lips.

"Justin." His name had never sounded so good, so warm, as it did uttered in her voice. He leaned forward and kissed her, needing that extra connection as she set the pace, faster, faster, driving him to the edge, so fucking close.

And then her nails dug into his shoulders as a sharp cry escaped from her mouth to his. Her muscles tightened around his cock, one long hard squeeze that exploded into a hundred more. And holy fucking shit, he couldn't hold back, not anymore, not with the feel of her coming like that, not with her tiny cries and small whimpers.

Justin grabbed her hips and held her still, his hips thrusting up. Once, twice. Harder. Faster. Once more, until his balls tightened and his own climax exploded, flashes of light searing his lids as he forgot his name, forgot where he was, forgot to breathe.

Forgot everything except the woman in his arms, crying out his name.