Once he’d noticed her that first time, he’d looked for her at every team function, admiring the way she carried herself. Of course, he’d never seen her carry herself quite this way.
“Me neither,” she agreed readily, taking two steps closer. Putting one creamy thigh within touching distance. “Which is why I opted for a more obvious overture.”
“Maybe we should talk about this with your clothes back on?” He turned to check the door, needing to be sure there were no witnesses. “I’m pretty sure I could get traded for this. Or worse.”
He needed to get her dressed and out of here before his career imploded.
Her mouth compressed into a flat line and he wondered how often the beautiful owner’s daughter had encountered obstacles in her life.
“Is a scantily clad woman throwing herself at you such a common occurrence that you don’t think twice about ending the moment?” She fisted a hand and planted it on her hip.
Damn. He didn’t want to offend her any more than he wanted to be caught in a compromising position. Forcing himself to stand, he reached behind him to retrieve a clean jersey from his locker.
“Hardly.” He tossed the jersey around her shoulders, his number 11 curving around her breasts. “Is having your own way a common occurrence for you?”
After draping the shirt from his road uniform over her shoulders, he found himself trapped within man-snaring range of her perfume.
“I’ve rarely thought about what it means to have my own way, let alone gone after it, actually.” She tilted her head sideways, considering. That long, dark sheet of her hair slipped down her arm with the movement, baring the side of her neck.
She made the admission so softly, her words so full of honesty, that he regretted giving her a hard time. He knew damn well she was the most unselfish woman in the world. She spent her weekends at charity functions, using the team’s name and visibility to rake in donations for good causes. She had gone to work for her old man at the Rebels’ front office at an early age and probably made only half as much dough as she could if she’d taken a gig in finance and international law, both of which she had degrees in.
Ah, damn. He knew way too much about her.
The sudden flood of pink in her cheeks made him curse his total lack of manners. Why embarrass the hell out of her when she’d only been making a brave bid for his attention? God knew, he didn’t look up from his own path in life very often to notice what the rest of the world was doing. What right did he have to judge her motives?
She turned. “If you’d rather I go—”
“Wait.” He took her shoulders in his hands, putting her right back where she’d been. He wasn’t sure what else to say now that he had her attention.
But just about then, his brain started broadcasting updates on all the ways his body wished to capitalize on this moment. She’d taken a huge risk to grab what she wanted. And he couldn’t deny that he wanted her, too. So how could he possibly ignore her sweetly perfumed skin, her long lean limbs that his shirt did nothing to cover? The swell of cleavage that distorted the number on his jersey lured his attention back to her breasts.
And hell, yeah, he knew he was making excuses to follow his libido, but he was also quickly losing the will to give a damn.
“Nobody’s twisting your arm,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
He’d seen her, noticed her in the way a man notices a woman, and yet he hadn’t acted on that in the year and a half he’d been here because he’d tried to throw all his focus on his job.
No more. A shot at a championship wasn’t worth throwing away the chance to touch her.
Delaney Blair had bared more than her body to him just now. She’d bared her desires. Her hopes. And she was—without a doubt—the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Bracketing her hips, he quit thinking and drew her close. Her gasp of surprise fanned the latent heat in his chest.
And he kissed her.
Gently, he brushed his mouth over hers, savoring the soft swell of her plump lips. She tasted like cinnamon—hot and sweet at the same time. Intrigued, he caught her jaw in one hand and held her steady as he conducted further investigation. Her lips were coated with something slick and sweet. But as good as she tasted, her lips weren’t enough a moment later. Heat flared all over his skin, firing his blood and igniting his hunger. Her body brushed up against his as she shifted position—a knee here, a thigh there—communicating tantalizing hints about how good it would feel to have all of her pressed tight to him.
He forgot who started this, forgot anything but the need to have more of her. Anchoring her with a hand splayed against the small of her narrow back, he teased her lips apart for a deeper exploration. She opened to him on a sweet, audible sigh of pleasure, an enticing sound he made it his mission in life to hear again.
Driven by a rush of hot desire, he backed her up a step and then reversed their positions. Guiding her through the break in the benches, he situated her against his locker, needing his hands free.
Heat crawled up the back of his neck, making his freshly showered skin itch with impatience to have more of her. His fingers speared beneath the jersey he’d covered her with, greedy to map every inch of unfamiliar terrain even though he knew every second he touched her was bringing him closer to the point of no return.
“You should stop me,” he warned her, certain he could rein it in on her command, but not entirely sure that he could still accomplish the feat on his own.
He’d had himself on a tight leash for the last two years, determined to finally achieve the elusive career goal of a series title in Atlanta. What if he’d used up all the restraint he possessed in those two years and he didn’t have enough to let go of Delaney?
“I don’t want to stop,” she assured him, her fingers working the buttons on his shirt with slow precision.
His thumb brushed the underside of her breast and she made that sweet sound again, the one he’d hear in his dreams tonight and every other night.
“You deserve more. Better.” He knew that in his rational mind, but that didn’t stop his one hand going to work on the clasp of her bra while the other slipped beneath the underwire to cup the soft, full weight.
Her teeth clenched as she hitched in a breath, her back arching to increase the friction of their bodies.
“I deserve this. Just exactly this.”
He rolled one hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger, knowing he was lost to this. To her. If she wasn’t going to say no, he didn’t have a prayer.
Just then, a flash of light filled the room.
Delaney let out a cry of alarm. What the hell?
Rick turned to see what was happening, wondering if someone from the cleaning crew had returned. But there was no mop cart or floor cleaner inside. Just a brief glimpse of a tall, skinny guy with a camera.
“Hey!” Rick shouted, unable to go throttle the guy without letting go of the half-naked woman in his arms and exposing her to the intruder.
“It’s okay.” Delaney wriggled free of him. “I’m fine. Go get him.”
Needing no more encouragement, Rick sprinted toward the spy, but the son of a bitch was right next to the emergency exit near the stairs. Calling on the speed that made him a stealing threat on base, Rick jumped a bench between him and the door and took off up the stairs.
If he didn’t catch this guy, there would be hell to pay when his picture appeared in the paper with a half-naked Delaney pinned against the lockers. Her father was going to love that.
Rick would be out of Atlanta before tomorrow night’s game.
Turning the corner to take another flight of stairs, he heard a car start in the distance. In the employee parking lot. Spinning around, he went back to the previous landing and plowed through the heavy metal door in time to see a car burn rubber on its way out of the lot.