Fair Game: A Football Romance (27 page)

Putting
me to bed? I sure hope he means he’s
taking
me to bed. I straighten my spine and turn my head to the side to clarify.

“You mean you’re t
aking
me to bed.”

“No,” he says, turning me around to face him. He points at the open spot he’s created in the bed.

“In you go.”

His words are ones I’d use when tucking a young child into bed, but the tone he speaks them in is commanding and assertive.

Without thinking, I stick out my bottom lip and frown. I’m disappointed. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to get into bed unless it’s to be worshiped by this man.

“Don’t pout, sleep.”

“I can’t sleep here. My mother is back at the hotel. She’ll be worried sick, and . . . and . . .” I stammer and wonder what part of my having a sleepwalking problem he didn’t understand earlier.

“I don’t sleep well away from home,” I say. That’s really only a half-truth, because I don’t sleep well anywhere, ever.

“You will sleep fine, trust me. And you can call your mother and tell her you’re having a sleepover at the Major’s house.” He tweaks my nose and gently shoves me into bed. A sleepover? What the hell? I’m not calling to check in with my mother to tell her I’m spending the night with Major. She would have an absolute stroke. I’d never hear the end of it. All week long, it would be,
so Vie, how was it with the Major? How big is his cock? When’s the wedding? How big do you think the diamond will be? Are you going to make a grandma out of me?
No way, uh uh.

He’s across the room now, draping my shirt over the back of a rounded back chair. He’s scooped up my skirt and already has it folded and placed on the seat.

Meticulously.

I’m beginning to wonder if his neatness is a result of the military or if the military is a necessity for his neatness. Most men come out of boot camp knowing how to keep their clothes clean and pressed and their belongings well organized. But Major is a little more than just neat and tidy. He’s obsessive.

“Do you need your phone to call your mother? I can go downstairs and get it for you,” he says, ambling back to the side of the bed where I am still sitting on the edge with my feet on the floor. I’m halfway between spending the night and grabbing a cab back to the hotel. This is weird. How the hell did a one-night stand turn into a pajama party . . . with no pajamas? I need to make a decision. If I stay, maybe I can seduce him, he did say he was going to sleep with me, after all. It’s worth a try.

“Yes, I need my phone,” I say, swinging my feet into bed and pulling up the comforter. I bend my knees and hug them while he leaves to go downstairs and retrieve my phone.

Now I have to think of a lie to tell my mom.

My eyes have totally adjusted to the dark, and for the first time, I take a look around. His lack of decorating is just as bad up here. The bed is huge and comfortable, but other than a night table and a chair, there’s nothing else in his room. I can make out three doors. All are closed, but I imagine one is the en-suite bathroom and one is a closet, with the last being the door that leads to the hallway where the Major just disappeared.

I need to be naked. If I’m going to seduce him, there can’t be a barrier between us under these sheets. Quickly, I shimmy out of my panties and unclasp my bra and work it off my shoulders. I can hear him coming up the stairs, so I stuff my underthings under the pillow behind me just as he opens the door.

I feel busted, but he couldn’t have seen what I was just doing without x-ray vision to see through the walls.

He returns to the bedside again and hands me my phone. It’s dark, but I can see his eyes roaming over my bare shoulders. He knows I’m naked. Good.

I take the phone, trying to make eye contact with him, but it’s no use. It’s too dark. I pull up my mother on my contact list and press
call
still not knowing what my story is going to be.

“Hello? Vie? Where are you? You disappeared from the bar with that hot Marine and I couldn’t find you anywhere. I’m back at the hotel. Do you need me to come and get you somewhere?”

“Hey, Mom, I’m sorry. I totally wasn’t thinking. I’m fine. We just decided to go for a drink somewhere quieter.”

“Quieter.”

“Yes, Mom, quieter.”

“And more intimate? Like maybe back to his place?” she says, her voice rising an octave with each word.

What should I say? What should I say? Fuck, why can’t I be a good liar?

“Mother, I’m an adult and I’m on vacation. I don’t have to check in with you if I want to stay out past my bedtime,” I say lightly so her feelings aren’t hurt.

She laughs, and I know I’ve blown my own cover by being defensive.

“All right, sweetie, go have fun with your Marine,” she says.

“But Vie?” she says, more serious now.

“Yes?”

“Be careful. Tell him you sleepwalk and make sure you can’t drive off or hurt yourself.”

“Thanks, Mom. I will, and I’ve already told him.”

She gasps, and I imagine her hand covering her mouth and her eyes bulging out of her head. I don’t tell people I sleepwalk. She knows I think it’s weird and embarrassing.

“I’ll make sure the doors are locked and his keys are hidden.”

“Is he safe, Vie? I’m not sure if I like the idea of you staying the night with a stranger.”

“We aren’t strangers anymore. We’ve been talking for hours.”

And kissing and grinding on one another, and coming harder than I have in my life.

“Oh well, maybe you’ll get lucky and he will have some handcuffs. He can cuff you to the bed so you don’t wander off in your sleep,” she says, and I hear her clap her hands together with her great new idea.

“Mo-ther, stop. You’re not into things like that, are you? Wait! Nevermind. I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Gross.”

She’s really laughing now, like all out belly laughing. I have to sit and wait for her to get ahold of herself.

“Okay, I won’t tell you, but if you get the chance, ask him if he has a pair.”

“Ew, Mom, I’m hanging up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait, wait, Vie. Tell me where you are just in case. Give me his address.”

“Just in case what?”

“Never mind that, just give me his address.”

I hold my hand over the phone to ask him, but he’s not standing there anymore. He’s so quiet, I didn’t hear him go into the bathroom, where I see a sliver of light coming from under the door.

“Major?” I say, and he swings the door open right away.

“Hmm?” he says, but I lose every thought in my head when I see him standing there in nothing but navy blue Calvin Klein boxers that are doing a marvelous job of showing off his pride and joy. I saw him shirtless earlier tonight on the street, but now, almost totally naked, he makes my mouth water and my brain scramble.

He chuckles when he catches me speechless and strides to his side of the bed. He places his knee on the mattress and reaches out his hand for my phone that I am now holding frozen away from my face like a foreign object.

I hand it to him and watch as he leans back on his knee to speak with my mother about our sleepover.

“Mrs. Washington, it’s nice to talk to you again. I’m sorry I stole your daughter while you’re on vacation. I promise to bring her back tomorrow.”

I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I’d be willing to bet she’s flirting with him.

“Of course, 544 98
th
Street. We aren’t far from your hotel.”

98
th
Street. Well, at least I know exactly where I am now. Thanks, Mom. Unless he’s giving her a fake address, in which case I am probably in big trouble.

Mom says something, and he hands me the phone.

“She gave me permission to keep you as long as I like,” he says with a wink and a smirk.

“Mom?”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Vie. I told him to keep a close eye on you and to bring you back by ten a.m. so we won’t miss the bridal shower. Call me if you need anything, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she sings.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Night, baby.”

The line goes dead, and I narrow my eyes at the Major sitting on the bed too far from me.

“She didn’t say you could keep me.”

He shrugs his shoulders in surrender. “Caught me. What else did she say?”

“That I should ask if you have handcuffs and not to do anything she wouldn’t do—which is pretty much anything.”

“I like your mother.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“Lie down while I shut off the lights.”

He stands up and I lie down. I watch him lift the chair where my clothes are—or were—and carry it to the door. Where are my clothes? And what’s he doing with that . . . oh, now I see. He wedges the back of the chair under the doorknob. He thinks he’s keeping me safe, but if I’m going somewhere in my sleep, I’ll find a way. I’ve tried the barrier thing before myself. Doesn’t work. It’s a sweet gesture, though, so I don’t say anything. Then he walks to the windows and secures the locks on both of them.

He turns out the light in the bathroom and slides into bed facing me.

“I’ve got you all locked up.”

“Now what are you going to do with me?”

“I’m going to watch you sleep.”

“All night?”

“If I have to. Do I have to?” he asks.

“I guess we’ll see. Your house is unfamiliar. Maybe that will keep me in bed.”

“I have a better idea.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He scoots closer under the soft sheets, and a whiff of fabric softener fills the warm air around us. He nudges my shoulder so that I’m lying on my back, breathless with renewed hope. Maybe he’s decided to keep me busy after all. One muscular arm slides under the pillow and the other slinks around my waist. He pulls me against him so that we are spooning, and my mind goes to every naughty place it’s ever been. My back curves along his front, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Instinctively, I press my ass against his solid cock. He has me caged in with his arms locked firmly around mine and his face is nuzzled into my neck.

“You won’t be going anywhere now,” he says in a low growl.

“I won’t go anywhere anyway if you just keep me occupied. I don’t sleepwalk unless I’m asleep,” I say, wiggling against him.

“You’re quite the temptress, but we are going to sleep for now. I happen to know exhaustion exacerbates sleepwalking. I had a private years ago who was prone to taking off on foot during the night. He had to be discharged because we couldn’t keep him in the barracks. He was always worse when he was sleep deprived.”

Earlier he said
sleep for now
. I wonder if that means we can have our one-night-stand after our sleepover in the morning. A one-morning-stand. That’s a new one for me. I like it.

“How about a compromise, Major?”

He groans. “I should have seen this coming. What are we compromising?”

“I’ll willingly try to go to sleep now if you promise to fuck me in the morning.”

I feel a puff of air against my neck when he snorts at my frankness.

“Deal, now sleep.”

I don’t know if I can sleep now. I have so much to look forward to in the morning. I’m too excited to think about sleeping. The minutes literally tick by. I can hear his clock next to my head, and it seems to tick even louder now. His regular breathing becomes deep and easy when he drifts off to sleep. I feel safe in his arms, and for the first time in forever, I’m not anxious about sleepwalking. I couldn’t squirm out of his grasp if I tried. I close my eyes and try to sync my breathing with his.

Tick tock. Breathe in. Tick tock. Breathe out.

My eyelids are heavy, and I feel myself drifting away with thoughts of what’s to come in the morning—pun intended.

Chapter Seven

Major

Oorah Marine

Never in my life have I pretended to be sleeping until tonight. I figured Violet wouldn’t sleep unless she thought I was already out, so I stayed still and regulated my breathing. There are two reasons I will never close my eyes tonight . . . well three, really. Number one is blatantly obvious—the sexy as hell naked woman pressing her creamy soft mocha skin against my body and her ass up against my cock. Number two is also not difficult to figure out—I don’t want her sleepwalking out the front door naked or falling down the stairs. Third is one that wouldn’t bother most people, but it’s making me crazy right now—the chair in my room does not belong lodged under the doorknob of my bedroom. It belongs exactly four o’clock from the head of my bed and turned to a thirty-degree angle. I can’t sleep until it’s in its place, which is a moot point because numbers one and two have me frozen in the bed.

She smells exquisite, like lavender and vanilla. I turn my face into her hair and breathe deeply, taking her in, absorbing her, molding against her body. She is sheer perfection with her soft, round hip under the bend of my elbow and her toned legs tangled with mine. I sigh and settle in, relaxing against her for a long night of listening to my mother’s old clock tick in the dark.

I try unsuccessfully to block out the anxiety building in my chest. That damn chair does
not
belong there. I want to move it—no, I
need
to move it—but I’m anchored in this bed with Violet.

Two hours later, the house is quiet, which is usually soothing to me, but right now, I wish there were a television or radio on somewhere in the house. I could use some mindless late night comedy or an infomercial to distract me from that fucking chair. It’s now a fucking chair after laying here for two hours. At first it was
the chair
, then
the damn chair
, but now it’s graduated to a full-fledged
fucking chair
.

I may get rid of that chair after tonight. No I wont. It completes the room. I drape my shirt over the back of it when I’m getting ready for work. I sit in it when I tie my shoes. But more importantly, the space where it sits would be empty without it.

I don’t know why I can’t just throw a fucking piece of furniture away when I decide I don’t like it or when it’s not needed anymore. I’ve never been able to get rid of things. I’m not a hoarder—quite the opposite. I prefer things simple and streamlined, less is more and that sort of thing.

I think of everything other than this gorgeous woman in my arms and the chair. I think about the horror of public restrooms, The Brady Bunch, broccoli, sweaty locker rooms. It’s four in the morning. In two hours, I’m waking this beauty up for a morning workout that I am hoping does not only last for one morning. In two hours, I am going to slide my numb arm out from under this pillow and get out of this bed and put that fucking chair that’s been tormenting me for hours back into its spot. In two hours, I’m going to slide my hard, throbbing cock between her thighs and worship Violet until she never wants to leave this bed again. Two hours. I’ve got this.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, and a warm slice of sunlight streams across the center of my bed. I blink and turn my head to my right and find an empty space. This isn’t unusual. I sleep alone and I live alone. Something isn’t right this morning, though. Something’s off. The smell of lavender permeates the sheets, and the chair that is supposed to be next to my bed is crookedly positioned, facing the open door of my bedroom.

Violet. Fuck, I fell asleep. Just two hours left on my watch, and I fucking dropped the ball. I jump out of bed and storm through the door. The compulsion to fix the fucking chair’s position almost sucks me in, but my concern for Violet’s safety is more powerful.

“Violet,” I call down the hall that leads to another bedroom and a bathroom. I’m frozen listening for her reply and trying to decide if I should go downstairs first or check these rooms. The doors are closed. That’s a good sign. I decide on the stairs, taking them two at a time when she doesn’t answer.

I call out again. “Violet.”

Nothing.

I’m thinking about the square footage of my house when I remember that Violet was naked when she went to sleep last night. My house isn’t that big, three thousand one hundred and twenty-five square feet, to be exact. I’ll find her. I’m sure of it.

I cross the living room, scanning left and right, searching for her. Nothing. Picking up speed, I tear through the kitchen and down the hall to the garage. Please, God, don’t let her have found the keys. The doorknob cracks the plaster when I open the door with enormous force. I smash my hand against the wall inside the garage and turn on the light. I circle the vehicle, bare feet slapping against the custom coated concrete flooring, looking in every window, checking every door. All are locked and the seats are empty.

“Violet!” I yell this time, my cool Marine confidence wavering ever so slightly. And then I hear her. “Major?” her soft voice comes from inside the house. When I step inside, I see her down the hall. She’s standing with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders on the other side of the kitchen island. She’s disheveled and confused. I close the distance between us in five long strides and wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I figured since I wasn’t at home I might not . . .”

“Shush, there’s nothing to apologize for. I should be apologizing to you. I told you I’d keep you safe and I fell asleep on the job.”

I stroke her long, tangled hair down her back and kiss the top of her head. Why does everything with this woman feel so natural and familiar? I don’t cuddle, I don’t soothe and calm, and I never bring women into my house or my bed. She’s enchanted me with some sort of witchery—a spell, a curse, maybe?

She’s shivering in my arms. “Where were you?” I ask.

She moves her face from my chest to look up at me with bloodshot eyes.

“Right here,” she says, pointing to the floor on the other side of the island. I ran right past her on my way to the garage.

“You weren’t exaggerating about the sleepwalking, were you?”

She shakes her head and nuzzles back into my chest. I scoop her up and carry her back upstairs to bed to warm her up.

When I’ve got her back in bed, I remove the throw blanket from her body and cover her with the thick navy blue comforter. She keeps ahold of my hand when I start to move away. “I’ll be right back,” I say. She reluctantly releases my hand and tucks it under the covers with the rest of her body.

I move my chair back to its spot, adjusting it twice before I’m satisfied that it’s perfectly positioned.

I feel her eyes on me, trying to figure me out, assessing, judging. But I’m used to people messing with me for being anal. I like things a certain way, that’s all. That’s it, no big deal.

I return to the bed on her side, and while she watches me closely, I drop my briefs and lift the comforter to slide in close to her. I’m rock hard—have been all night. Her eyes are wide with surprise as she scoots over to make room for me. When I’m settled, she wraps herself around me like a koala bear, arms around my neck, one leg hooked over my hip, pressing her wet core against my cock. Fuck, she feels good . . . too good, fucking fabulously good. I could slide right in with no effort. She’s right there, ripe and wet for the taking. Just one small tilt of my hips, and I could push balls deep into the sexiest woman I’ve known in years—six years, to be exact.

“Are you warm?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says softly.

“Are you ready for a one-morning stand?”

“That’s what I was thinking of calling this last night too,” she says, surprised.

“Great minds—” I start to say.

“Think alike,” she finishes for me.

“So, are you ready?”

“You tell me,” she says, arching her back and pressing her wet pussy against the tip of my cock. We rock together, eyes locked, my cock sliding between her folds and against her clit until she’s on fire. I claim her mouth and slide my tongue between her lips, exploring, tangling it with hers. She digs her heel into the small of my back, arching and moaning, begging me with her body and her little fuck me gasps between kisses to take her now.

I roll onto my back, never breaking the kiss, taking her with me. She’s flush against my body when I reach out to the night table and blindly search for the handle on the drawer. I find it and slide it open a crack to reach inside for a condom. I put the box in there last night when she was talking to her mother. She was so busy explaining herself to her mother, she didn’t even notice.

When I’ve got the foil package in my hand, I untangle my other hand from her hair and open it over her back. The second I have the wrapper off, I flip her onto her back. She screeches and lifts one corner of her mouth in the most seductive smile when I rise over her to slide the condom over my thick shaft. She sucks her plump bottom lip into her mouth and holds it between her teeth, sliding her hands up and down the tops of my thighs that are straddling her curvaceous hips.

“Major?” she says. I like how she says Major, like it’s my name and not my rank.

“Hmm?” I say, raising one eyebrow and sliding a long finger along her soaking wet slit. Her eyes flutter shut, and a feathery gasp escapes her lips.

I’m not letting up. I continue to drag my finger in a figure eight around her clit and down into her pussy. Her nails dig into my thighs and her back arches off the mattress. She hasn’t tried to ask her question again. I’m betting it exploded into a million pieces in her mind when I touched her. Still stroking her, I lean down on one elbow to tease her stiff nipple with the tip of my tongue. I circle and suck and flick before moving to show the other breast the same attention.

Her hands that were stroking my thighs earlier, the same ones that dug her fingernails into my flesh, have abandoned my skin to grip the sheets of the bed.

“Please, Major, please,” she says, and I can’t help but make her speak in that soft, whimpering voice again.

“Please what, Violet? Tell me what you want.”

Her eyes float open, and she stops writhing on my hand.

“I want you inside of me, fucking me, Major. I can’t wait anymore.”

Fuck, those dirty words coming out of that sweet mouth is such a turn on.

It only takes a miniscule movement on both our parts and I’m sinking into her, slowly, inch by inch, until I’m deep inside her. Her legs are wrapped around my waist like a vise, and her heels are digging into my ass, but I can’t move.

“Be still,” I tell her, running one hand along her silky soft thigh. She obeys, staring at me with her sleepy dark bedroom eyes. I’m glad we waited until morning. This is a sight I would have missed in the dark, and that would have been a crime. Her lips are parted and her breath is coming in short pants. Her flat belly sinks in whenever I find a new place on her body to explore. Her flushed cheeks and the fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead . . . she is perfection.

I hook my hand behind her knee and slide her leg up, pushing deeper into her and moan, “Fuck, you feel so good. How do you want it, baby? Slow and deep, or fast and hard?”

She mouths the word
both
, and I smirk. I like this greedy beauty more and more every minute. I slide out to the tip and hover before plunging back in slowly. Over and over, I circle my hips until she throws her arms over her head and grips the pillow, pulling it around her face on both sides.

“Fast and hard now, please, Major,” she pants, and I release her knee and place my hands on either side of her head and drive into her hard, just the way she asked for it. She releases the pillow and slides her hands around to my ass, urging me on, pushing me, begging me to bring her to climax.

I hate to have this end, but I want to make her feel good—better than good. I want to rock her fucking world. Our sweat-covered bodies slap together at a hungry pace. She begins to arch her back and tense. She’s close. So am I, but I’m holding on to watch her come.

“I . . . oh God,” she yells, and I watch as her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth falls open. Every muscle in her body simultaneously contracts around me while I continue to glide in and out, giving her every last second of pleasure possible. When I’m positive she’s satisfied, when she begins to feel limp underneath me, I power forward and release with a roar.

I collapse to the side, pulling her with me, staying connected, and we lay tangled in each other’s arms, catching our breath.

“You’re amazing,” I say, brushing clumps of damp hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Next time, I’m yelling oorah when I come, Marine. You’re pretty damn spectacular yourself.”

“So this isn’t a one-morning-stand anymore?” I ask, crossing my fingers and toes, willing her to say no.

“Hell no, we can’t just do that once,” she says enthusiastically, and my insides brighten for the first time in six long years.

“I agree wholeheartedly. That is definitely something worth repeating.”

“And repeating and repeating and repeating . . .” she says, smiling.

I kiss her on her forehead and then her nose and then once more softly on her lips. I don’t cuddle or kiss post coital, and my heart never skips a beat in my chest when a woman smiles at me. Violet has me breaking all of my rules, and I am a man who likes his rules.