False Start: A Football Romance (19 page)

Chapter Eleven

Kiptyn

I haven’t had this much fun in . . . I can't remember ever having this much fun. I was worried at the beginning of the date that Skila wouldn’t have a good time, and it crushed me to do so, but turning around and not going to the restaurant was the best decision I could have made. She relaxed instantly when I told her of my change in plans.

“Yes. Beat that, sucka!” she yells into the night after making a hole-in-one on our eighth hole. She’s leading the game, and not because I’m trying to let her. She’s just really good or really lucky.

I glance over at her as she dances around in the fake grass. She ditched her heels after the first hole, claiming they were messing up her game. I chuckle, remembering the sigh that escaped her soft lips when her feet were flat on the ground. It made me wonder what kind of noise she would make if I took them in my hands and kneaded the balls of her feet. My already hard cock twitched. She didn’t notice. She was too caught up in the excitement of her most recent hole-in-one to pay me and my cock any attention. I should be worried.

I'm not.

I'm happy just watching her, my midnight Sky, beautiful and exquisite.

“I'll make you a deal. If you win, I get to kiss you.” She stops dancing around and smiles at me, holding out her hand. I shake it and then line up for my shot. I tap my ball and watch as it rolls straight over the hole.

Damn. My turn again.

This time the ball goes in.

It’s her turn again.

I watch her as she lines up the perfect shot, measuring the distance in her mind and testing the weight of her club. She closes one eye, aims and swings. It’s perfect, just like her. I don’t even bother to take my turn. It doesn’t matter. Even if I score perfectly on this hole, I still lose the game.

I step into her personal space and pull her to me. Her breath catches and then rushes out. Her eyes widen the tiniest bit as her gaze fixes on my lips. I've never in my life wanted to kiss a woman as much as I want to kiss her. But I can't. Not like this. I refuse to force her to kiss me just because she lost a bet.

“I cheated. I tricked you with my bet.” Her eyes dart to mine and then back down to my lips. She licks her lips, and I almost die on the spot.

“I know,” she says, and then she crushes her mouth to mine.

My cock leaps for joy and I moan, low and deep in the back of my throat. Her lips taste like cherries and vanilla. I bite down on her lower lip and she gasps, opening her mouth.

I devour her.

My tongue darts in, hungrily seeking her own. They meet in a passionate embrace and she whimpers, pushing against me. I know she can feel my hardness against her stomach. She squirms, and her dress rides up a little. I run my hands down her back and across her round ass, and I squeeze when I feel her bare skin there.

I try to slow down, really I do, but her soft, silky lips won't let me go. I’m their willing prisoner.

“Kiptyn?” she asks.

“Yeah, baby?”

“We need to stop this. It’s too much, too soon.” I pull back, trying to give her the space she’s asking for, but it doesn’t last. She wraps her arms back around my neck and pulls me to her, latching onto my mouth once again. Our tongues weave a seductive dance on the ninth hole of Suzie’s Mini Golf. I want more than anything to take her in my arms and make sweet love to her, but I don’t want to rush her. I know she needs time, and I’ll give it to her even if it kills me.

“Take me home . . . to your place. Please.” The
please
is not necessary. I've dreamed of nothing more since the moment I met her: taking her to my home, laying her against my satin sheets, and stripping her naked, piece by agonizing piece as she’s laid out before me, completely bare and mine for the taking.

Mine.

I have her. Finally.

The thought settles into me, comforting me. I answer her with a kiss. I put everything I have into it. Everything I can't say at the moment. Everything I feel but don’t have words for yet. I kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. I kiss her like my life depends on it, and in that moment, suspended in time, I wonder if it does. I've never felt more alive than I do right this second. Something about this woman awakens the deepest, darkest parts of my soul and makes me crave . . . more. I need her. I want her.

Scooping her into my arms, I carry her back to the car and then run back to grab her shoes. The drive back to my place isn’t that long, but selfishly, I wonder if she’ll change her mind before we get there. I’ve never had to worry about stuff like this before. If I took a chick home before, we both knew what that meant—I was going to fuck them into oblivion, and they were going to enjoy it and then leave.

Simple, perfect. Until now.

Now, nothing will ever be that easy. I can already sense the change in myself. I won’t be happy with easy, simple sex anymore. I want more. I want Sky.

I climb in the car and start the engine. Skila shifts in her seat. Placing her hand on my thigh, she leans her head against my shoulder. A sense of vulnerability overcomes me, crashing into me so unexpectedly that I swerve a little on the road before righting the car and wrapping my hand around her small, dainty one in my lap. She doesn't even notice. What the hell has the girl done to me?

Chapter Twelve

Skila

I’m beyond nervous. I’ve never been the type of woman to go home with a man on the first date, but Kiptyn has done something to normal, plain me. He’s invaded my body, my soul. I no longer know who or what I am.

I no longer care.

It’s time for me to have a little fun and not worry so much about my image and what other people think of me. Tonight is for me. If I never hear from him again after this, then so be it. I won’t regret a thing. I’m a grown woman with needs, and he is a grown, unattached man, able and willing to satisfy those needs. That’s all I need right now. I’m not looking for my happily ever after. Hell, I’m not even looking for my happy right now. I’m just going with the flow and praying I’m in one piece when the river of life washes me up and spits me out.

We pull in the driveway of a sprawling estate, complete with a bubbling fountain on the front lawn. His house is massive, and for a moment, I question myself again. Do I really want to do this? I don't belong here. He climbs out of his side and meets me at my door, gently pulling me from the seat and wrapping his arms around me.

“If you change your mind, I understand. We can make popcorn and watch a movie. I don't mind.”

His words put my mind at ease. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. He dips down when I pull on him, and I place my lips against his.
I want this,
I tell him without words. He understands perfectly.

He opens the door, and we crash against a wall in the foyer, grabbing and clutching, desperately trying to touch every part of each other at once. The sound of the door slamming shut and Kiptyn’s hands on my body simultaneously startle me. When I jump in his arms, my pulse takes off at a million miles a minute, like a filly in the Kentucky Derby.

The adrenalin rush from the start added to the desire flowing through my blood and has me panting as I tug at his shirt. He pulls me away from the wall to steer me down the hall, back toward what I can only assume is the living room, while I strip his shirt over his head, only parting from his lips long enough for it to pass between us. I feel a piece of furniture against the back of my calves, and I feel as if I’m going to fall. His strong arms circle my waist just in time for us to tumble onto the couch.

I use the situation to my advantage and raise my legs, wrapping them around his hips and feeling his swollen, protruding dick. I can’t breathe. I want him inside of me. My dress is bunched up around my hips, giving him easy access except for the black lace panties that are barely covering me.

“Please. I need it.”

I'm not above begging at this point. I struggle to open his button and unzip his fly while his mouth assaults mine. Finally, I get it open and free him, but before I wiggle enough to get him inside of me, he pulls back, trailing a line of kisses down my chest and over the fabric still covering my stomach to the top of my thigh. His tongue darts out, licking along the top until he comes to my panties. His fingers wrap under them and tug. I lift, helping in the only way I can, and he takes complete advantage of it.

The first gentle touch of his tongue has sparks shooting through my entire body. He flicks it again, and this time he follows it with a wet kiss.

“Oh. My. God.”

He slowly licks up the crease of my vagina until he reaches my sweet nub, kissing it again, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it. I'm about to come undone. I can feel the sparks traveling through my body as they puddle in the center of my core. He releases my nub and flicks his tongue over me, hard and precise. Once, twice, ten times? I don't know.

The pressure is building at a frantic rate, and I know I'm almost there. He stops again, and my body deflates. Then he sucks me into his mouth again, and my world shatters in around me. I can't see anything in front of me, and it takes me a minute to realize it’s probably because my eyes are squeezed shut. I open them and look down at his smug, satisfied grin.

“Fuck,” I say, because I can't think of anything else. I can't form a complete sentence to save my life.

He kisses my thigh again and slowly makes his way back up my body to my mouth. I taste myself on him, and it drives me wild. Our kisses are passionate, full of want and longing. He pulls me up, lifting my upper body off the couch as he tries to get my dress the rest of the way off. I chuckle, low and breathy, holding onto him to steady myself.

My gaze wanders over his shoulder for just a moment to the fireplace in the middle of the room, and I freeze in his arms. Every single muscle in my body tightens. I can't help it. On the mantle just behind him is a photo—a photo of Kiptyn and another man with a sweet older lady in between them. My breath catches and my body freezes. The man in the photo with Kip is none other than Amryn.

Chapter Thirteen

Kiptyn

Skila’s whole body goes rigid. My mind races to try to figure out what the hell I did. Nothing. I didn't do anything.

“Are you okay?” I ask. She doesn't reply. I feel her heart racing under my hand.

“Skila, what is it?” Hearing her name seems to break the spell holding her immobile.

She shoves at me, pushing me off the top of her. “Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?”

Her voice rises with each word. I've got no fucking clue what the hell she’s talking about. My mind jumps back to the last time she ran hot then cold. Maybe she’s fucking crazy. That figures. I find a chick that holds my attention for more than one night, and she ends up being bi-polar.

She leaps off the couch, scrambling to adjust her dress. I sit, hunched back on my heels, and wonder what the hell is going on. I don't realize I’ve spoken out loud until she answers me.

“
You
tell
me
, Kiptyn. How the hell do you know Amryn, and why” —her voice breaks— “Why do you have a picture of him on your mantle?”

“What?”

“Amryn. How do you know him?”

I glance at the picture behind me, the picture of me and my brother. It was taken about six months ago, just before . . .

“Do you mean Camryn?”

I snatch the photo off the mantle and point at my brother. I see the shock run through her. She didn't know his name was Camryn. Figures. Cam always used a different name when he started talking to a girl. He said he didn't want them to only want him because his brother was famous. He wanted to make sure it was genuine before he brought them around the family.

“Camryn?” she asks, sitting back down on the couch, deflated.

“Yeah, he was my brother. How do you know him?” I ask.

“
Was
? What do you mean
was
?” she asks, answering my question with another question.

I let it slide. I'll get my answers later. It’s obvious she knew him somehow. Maybe he was important to her in some way. It's even clearer that she doesn't know that he’s . . .

“He’s dead.” I sit next to her, taking her hand in mine. She lets it go without a thought. Her head jerks to the side, her eyes widening dramatically. Her free hand flies to her mouth, covering it before the silent “no” escapes.

“It was a VBIED. He was deployed a few months ago. It was very sudden. I mean, we all knew he was scheduled to go on another tour, but then something happened over there and they needed all available troops as soon as possible. He was supposed to have another week before they sent them out. He was coming home to see us before leaving, but they upped the date.”

The striking blush in her cheeks disappears, replaced by a sallow, pale hue. She looks like she might be sick any minute.

“He wasn't there twelve hours before the bomber attacked. I'm not even sure how they got to them, but we were told that the bomb struck from the bottom of the Humvee and exploded upward. There were no survivors. He was killed instantly.”

“No. I had no idea. I was so mad at him,” she mumbles to herself, but I hear her, and now shock runs its course through me. She raises her head, and tears line her eyes. “I was supposed to come with him that weekend. I waited for him all day Friday, but he didn't show.”

I can’t believe what I'm hearing. She was the woman Cam was bringing home. She was the ‘One’. I'm disgusted with myself. I almost fucked my brother’s girl. He was fucking in love with her, and I almost fucked her.

I can tell she realizes the same thing. “I need to go home,” she says, standing.

“I'll take you,” I say, although I'm not ready for her to go yet. I can't think of a reason to make her stay. It's been such a shock to both of us tonight that I understand her need for solitude. I pull my pants back up, buttoning them as soon as I have them on my hips.

“NO. I—I can take a cab. I—I think that's better,” she stutters.

I want to pull her to me and tell her it's not her fault. She had no idea who I was any more than I did her. I want to calm her and hold her and tell her it's going to be okay, but my brother’s voice is echoing through my mind, the last time I spoke to him replaying over and over. “I think I love her, Kip,” he said, and as I sit there watching her jaw quiver, with my heart splintering into a dozen different pieces, I wonder if maybe he isn’t the only one.