City of Champions (33 page)

"They're so perfect, Wyatt. They are one of the greatest gifts anyone's ever given me."

"I'm glad you like them. I told you I think you should have special things."

"Thank you." Jenna put on the earrings and leaned forward to kiss him slowly. Bing Crosby was singing over the sound system about being home for Christmas, only in his dreams. Yet, Wyatt felt like he'd never been more at home before in his life.

Jenna pulled back and the sense of loss was poignant. She thrust a present in his hands, adding, "Now you have to take your turn."

Wyatt tore into the perfectly wrapped, rectangular present. Inside laid song sheets of Christmas songs, with lyrics in Spanish.

"Wow,
these are awesome, Doc. I can't wait to play them for you."

"That's great. I'm so glad you like them, Wyatt. I was a little nervous. I mean, what do you give the man who has everything?"

"I don't have everything, and what I do have isn't guaranteed to stay with me."

"Don't say that, Wyatt. I know you're worried about the team keeping you. I don't need to be a mind reader to know that. But you've been playing better."

"That's not all I'm afraid of losing," Wyatt muttered, "but, yes, I'm definitely worried about that, too."

"Can I make an observation, Wyatt?"

"Oh, so now you're asking permission, Doc?" he teased, pulling her into his lap so she was straddling him, as they sat on the floor.

"I've watched you play for so many years. You know I think you're an amazing quarterback, right?" she waited for Wyatt to nod before she continued, "thing is, it's clear you don't play like you love the game. You play like it's an obligation."

"That's because it is."

Her mouth set into a stern and stubborn line.

"Tell me. When you stop reminding yourself you want to hate the game and how your dad fell for all of its traps…when you release a great throw and it connects with a receiver for a touchdown, how does it feel?"

"Amazing," he said softly, running a hand down the smooth length of her hair. She leaned almost imperceptibly against his hand and the motion made his throat tighten so hard he almost couldn't breathe.

"Exactly! It's okay to love the game. It's okay to want to be part of the team, a leader of it."

"It's not that simple, all of that can get out of control…"

"You're the most controlled person I know."

"Not compared to you, Doc."

Jenna laughed lightly. "Well, that's true. My point is you won't somehow become your dad if you let go a little. It will be okay."

"That's a big risk, Doc.
I'm not smart. I didn't finish school. This is all I have going for me."

"You've got a lot more than that going for you, Wyatt. You
are
smart. And you've been playing so well the last few weeks, like a totally different man. I know the team has to have noticed."

"Thanks. Maybe I was just waiting for the right inspiration, Doc.
I think you’ve helped me love it."

"Oh, stop buttering me up. You don't need me to do well."

But Wyatt was starting to think that he
did
need her, and not just for the game, or for what a change in her diagnosis about his shoulder could do for him.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and started to make a comment about how surgery could ruin everything he was trying to build, but he bit back the words. He wanted to enjoy this simple moment with her while he could. Moving her hair off her neck, he trailed his tongue across her warm skin.

"How did you learn so much about football?" he whispered as he nibbled at the delicate skin by her collarbone.

"You mean because I'm a girl?" she teased, looking back at him and batting her eyelashes dramatically.

"No, because you know more about it than most of my coaches."

"It was my life growing up. After my mom died, my dad was really depressed. I was just a kid, but I knew. The only thing that cheered him up was coaching — and also, um, never mind. So I started helping him coach when I was about thirteen, until I basically became another coach on the sidelines — even when I was in high school and they were my classmates."

"Did that cause problems?"

"Yes. One problem in particular."

"Tell me about that problem." He was well aware she wouldn't tell him. But Wyatt knew its name now — it was that fucker Chase Matthews. Just the thought of him made Wyatt want to lock her up and shield her from anything in the world that could hurt her, even if that meant hiding her from himself.

"That was a long time ago. Let's keep talking about coaching. Um, anyway, I helped my dad out no matter what. Being a coach was like air for my dad. It's what kept him alive and was his reason for living."

"And you, too. You're pretty special."

"Oh, now you're just sucking up, Mr. McCoy."

"I thought I was being sensitive and supportive, but if sucking is what you want, I can certainly oblige."

Wyatt tilted forward, landing Jenna softly on her back on the floor, eliciting a surprised yelp from her smiling mouth. Kneeling in front of her, he took a moment to enjoy the view of her waiting for him in his home, beside the huge tree and the piles of wrapped presents he'd bought for her. Leaning over her, he slid her tank top off her body, stopping to whisper against her belly, "Enough presents for now. I need to unwrap you."

He licked down the warm contours of her breasts and sucked at the tightened buds of her nipples, before sliding those maddening white panties down her legs. She reached for his boxer briefs with her feet, grunting in urgent frustration, until he backed off to remove them quickly.

"Always so impatient, Doc," he teased, before parting her legs with his hands. Wyatt ran his face across her stomach, scraping his stubble over her smooth skin. She let her knees fall apart and began stroking his hair gently with her hands as she writhed beneath him with anticipation.

Wyatt moved so his face was completely between her thighs. Her smell engulfed him and he could feel himself getting hard and eager to be inside her again. That would have to wait, because he needed to taste her first.

For all the weeks that Jenna fought her attraction to him, she was completely open to him now — at least physically. Since they'd come back to his house, every time he reached for her, she'd been hot and ready for him, and this time was no different.

Separating her pink folds with two fingers of his left hand, Wyatt darted his tongue against her tightening clit. He licked at her in long strokes, sucking at the taut bundle of nerves that made her moan and wriggle beneath him. She pulled at his hair so hard it almost hurt, but it was worth it to see her lose herself with him.

Her legs began to tense and twitch against the floor. Wyatt moved his tongue repeatedly in and out of her warm opening. On a deep flick, he took two fingers from his right hand and plunged them into her deeply, making her shout out loud and bow her back far off the floor. He smiled and moved his tongue back to her clit, loving how loud and wild he made her. She was so wet and throbbing around his fingers he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

After her muscles spasmed deliciously around his fingers, he removed them and raised his body over hers. Careful to put his weight on his left arm, Wyatt paused to gaze down at her face.

Her blue eyes were hooded and unfocused and her lips red from biting them with abandon. Wyatt slid the fingers of his right hand, still wet with her juices, into her mouth. Jenna met his gaze and sucked at his fingers. She scraped her teeth across the skin until he groaned out loud.

Removing his fingers from her mouth, he moved his hand to clasp the nape of her neck firmly before entering her in one smooth thrust. He was still amazed by the sensation of being inside her with no barrier. Every millimeter he felt of her was hot and tight around him — absolutely perfect.

Jenna wrapped her legs around his waist, looking up into his eyes. Wyatt could still feel her juices on his face. She smelled like she was a part of him. Her tight, athletic body met him thrust for thrust, until they were both grunting and moaning as one. With one more hard movement inside of her, Jenna squeezed around him, moaning his name in his ear.

The sound of his name on her lips sent him over the edge and he filled her, his throat releasing a long growl. He fell next to her, pulling her body to lie alongside his. She rested her head on his chest as they looked up at the sparkling lights of the Christmas tree beside them.

Wyatt kissed her forehead and whispered, "Feliz Navidad, belleza."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jenna emerged from Wyatt's bedroom in nothing but the soft, Italian button-down shirt she'd found in his closet. Walking into his kitchen, she caught sight of his bare back and her stomach tightened.

"Are you planning to cook for me again, Wyatt? I swear you're spoiling me."

He turned and handed her a glass of white wine. The movement gave her the pleasure of looking at the chiseled edges of his muscular chest again.

Over the last few days they'd spent more time naked than clothed, intensifying the delirious way he made her feel. He turned her into a puddle of emotions and hormones every time she saw him. Increased exposure was only increasing her dependency on that feeling — rather than alleviating it.

"I like to cook," he answered.

"That's good, because if you had planned on having me feed you, we might've starved. I pretty much only know how to make steak," she said, before taking a tasty sip of the crisp and delicious wine.

"That works for me. I'm from Texas. That's one of our major food groups, you know," he announced with a smile. He stared at her body, eyeing her up and down slowly, making her blood hum with desire. "Now,
that
is an outfit I like you in," he said, taking a step back and sitting on one of the bar stools in the kitchen as he bit his bottom lip.

"I'm glad to hear it. I saw this shirt of yours, and it looked very familiar to me…"

"It's the one I wore the night I met you."

"I know."

"How sweet of you to remember."

"I
am
very sweet, that's true. After how arrogant and cocky you were with me that night, I think I should get to keep it."

"Fine by me. It does look better on you anyway. I like this part the best," he added, grabbing her hand and leading her between his legs. He took her glass and placed it down on the counter next to his. Reaching his hands around to her bare bottom, he added, "oh yes, much better on you."

"You know what else of yours looks better on me?"

"What?" he asked.

"Those lips of yours, of course," she purred, right before she covered his mouth with hers. Her fingers splayed out across his hard back, playfully stroking the smooth skin, pressing herself more firmly against the cotton of his boxer briefs, and his hardening length between them.

They'd spent most of the day apart. He'd gone to a practice in preparation for the last game of the regular season in two days, and she had an eight-hour shift at the hospital. It worried Jenna a little how she'd actually missed him during that brief time apart. Yet, Wyatt had quickly dragged her to bed as soon as they reunited at his house, so it appeared she wasn't alone in her need to share as much time with him as possible.

Jenna began burying her face in the warm skin of his neck. He'd showered after practice before coming home, but she could still catch a hint of the remnants of clean sweat on his flesh. No one smelled like Wyatt to her, and if she only had a handful of days left to enjoy the scent, she was intent on burning it into her memory.

She began to flick her tongue out to taste him and his groan made her smile. The sound of his pleasure became overpowered by the distant click of his front door opening and a woman's voice calling out to him.

"Alejandro…Hola. Surprise! Oh no, where is he? Is he home? Claudia, go look for him."

Jenna jumped away from him, letting out a tiny yelp.

"What's going on? Who is that?" she asked him in a loud whisper.

"Mierda. That's my mother."

"What? I thought you said you weren't spending the holidays with them?" Jenna squeaked out in terror. She darted her eyes around the kitchen as she desperately yanked Wyatt's shirt down a few scant extra inches on her legs, searching for an escape route. It was of no use, because a set of light steps was rapidly approaching them.

"It sounds like it's not just your mother," Jenna groaned.

"Wy, are you in the kitchen? We're here, and Abuela came, too, so you'd better be home," a younger voice demanded.

"That's my sister." He stood quickly, blocking Jenna's body with his own. "I hope you're ready to meet my abuela, too."

"Like this? Of course I can't. Maybe I can sneak out…"

"There you are, Wy, jeez, I know we surprised you, but you don't have to ignore us… Oh, crap. You're not alone."

Jenna hid her face behind Wyatt's back, her fingertips peeking out over the top of his shoulders.