City of Champions (38 page)

Their kisses mirrored the movements of their bodies. As their tongues moved in and out of each other's mouths, Jenna rocked up and down on his rigid length while he arched upward to meet her. His movements became more frantic and out of rhythm as they both gasped heatedly from the passion of the moment.

"Wyatt," Jenna breathed out desperately.

"Yes, Jenna. Now," he whispered. He pulled her down against him until they were completely connected, and she could feel a pulsing rhythm inside her as his release entered her. Her body convulsed above him. The sensation was beyond an orgasm, and all she could do was collapse against his chest as her body relaxed into gentle twitches.

Wyatt stroked her hair and rested her face in the crook of his neck.

"Don't move, belleza. Please."

"Okay," she whispered, against the pulse beating at his throat.

Jenna closed her eyes and breathed him in as deeply as she could, allowing every inch of her body to melt into his.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"How's the hot cocoa? It's my abuela's recipe. I hope it's not too spicy?" Wyatt asked Jenna, making sure she was wrapped up snugly in her coat and enough blankets to keep her warm on the love seat on the veranda outside his bedroom.

He'd spent the last two days trying to focus only on the joy being with Jenna brought him. Yet, he knew that with each second they came closer to the New Year, the pressing reality of all the obstacles they faced waited impatiently in the wings. Her surgery, the machinations he'd made to further his career, and the precarious nature of their relationship, were the evil supporting cast in the play of their lives together. He wished he could close the curtain on all of them.

"Mmm, it's delicious, Wyatt. I love Mexican chocolate. Thanks. But, do you really think we'll be able to see the downtown New Year’s fireworks?"

"It's worth a shot. We may have to lean over the edge, though."

"Um, then never mind. I'd rather stay over here."

"Wait a second," he said, pulling her between his legs and stroking her under the blankets lightly. "You're not afraid of heights, are you? Tough girl like you?"

"No, I'm not afraid of heights. I am afraid of
falling
. That is completely rational and the result of thousands of years of productive evolution."

"I don't buy it. You're scared of heights. Back ba-ba-back," he teased, flapping his arms lightly like a chicken.

"Very mature."

"Hey, you did it first."

"Don't remind me. That was
not
my finest hour."

"I actually thought you were pretty funny."

"You keep teasing me like this, you might lose your nooky privileges."

"'Nooky?' Now who sounds like an eighty-year-old?"

"I'm warning you, McCoy, one more joke, and no more nooky. It’s up to you."

"All right, I give. You're right, Doc. All the time. In every way."

"Much better. Now get those arms back around me and warm me up. I'm out of cocoa."

"I could get you more."

Jenna turned and glanced at the New Year’s countdown on the TV through the glass French doors leading to his bedroom.

"No. It's almost midnight. I don't want to miss the countdown."

"Oh, you're right. Come on. Stand with me so we can try to see the fireworks. I'll warm you up."

Wyatt took the mug from her hand and put it on the small side table before lifting her up and pulling her body tightly to his. From inside he could vaguely hear the voices on the TV indicating time was quickly running out.

He pressed her body close to his as she joined him in counting down from ten.

"Happy New Year, Jenna," he whispered.

"Happy New Year, Wyatt."

The sound of fireworks they could just barely see rumbled in the distance, syncing with their linked heartbeats.

Wyatt began singing
Auld Lang Syne
in her ear. With the last lilt of his temporary brogue across the words "auld lang syne," he kissed her temple. On a quiet breath, he silently prayed they could have the courage to move past the misfortune of old times past, and find the strength to face an uncertain future together.

"That was beautiful. I would have sung along with you, but I think I'd make your ears bleed."

"I won't comment on your singing. Let's just say, you don't have to be great at everything, Doc. You can leave the singing to me," he teased.

"How diplomatic of you," she said softly against his neck, with a light chuckle. "I wouldn't have been able to anyway. I don't know those words."

"It's the Gaelic version. Grandma McCoy taught it to me when I was very little. I only met her a couple of times before my dad was out of our lives. This is the first time I've sung it since then."

"I loved it. Thank you for sharing it with me."

He leaned away from her and searched her eyes for some relief from the anguish that had plagued him ever since she'd told him about her diagnosis.

"Wyatt, you can't will it out of my body," she declared.

"What are you talking about? I just like looking at you is all."

"Don't play dumb," she remarked, lifting a hand to his cheek. "I know that look. I saw it on my dad's face in the months my mom got worse and worse. You can't ever make the bad go away. If it turns out I can't kick this… Then all we can do is hope — hope that I'll get better."

"But it's not fair," he insisted, clutching her shoulders with more force than he intended. Willing himself to loosen his grip before bruising her, he added, "We only just found each other…"

"Before she passed away, my mom told me it isn't about whether life is fair. It's just
not
. You'll drive yourself nuts if you try to make it to be. Life can actually be a real son of a bitch." Jenna kissed the skin of his throat tenderly before continuing, "All you can do is grab at something great when life is willing to give it to you and cherish it. She was right. We need to treasure these moments we have together. We can't worry about what will happen next, or wonder which kiss or breath could be the last. Look at my dad. He didn't get to say good-bye to my mother. She'd promised him she'd be there when he got back, but instead, it all ended while she was talking to me. I took that moment from him, and I didn't even make the most of it."

Wyatt stroked her hair and looked over her head, swallowing hard.

"You can't think like that. Your father loves you."

"I know, but nothing about that day was fair. We let the moments get away from us. I won't let these moments get away from you and me, Wyatt. I refuse to."

She shivered against him and he reluctantly pulled away from her, taking her inside. They tossed the blankets and their coats on the floor. Wyatt undressed her carefully and let her undress him, before they climbed into bed.

He lay alongside her beautiful body and stroked the full length of her curves. She was naked and bare before him, wearing nothing but her mother's locket and the matching earrings he'd given her. Wyatt swore she'd never looked prettier.

After a silent moment, Wyatt felt the need to share more with her. "No one knows the life I’ve really lived, except my family…and you. They all thought I was a spoiled, entitled jerk with this famous dad. I let them believe it. But sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I were just me. Not Wyatt McCoy — son of the greatest quarterback ever, always living under a microscope. But just
me
. Just
Wyatt
.”

"But you're just Wyatt with me, isn't that something?"

"Fuck, Jenna. That's everything," he answered. Wyatt rolled on top of her so that he could kiss her cheeks and eyelids. "I like who I am with you, belleza. The influence you have on me."

"Oh yeah. I like a lot about you, too, Wyatt. I like when you sing to me. In Spanish or in Gaelic."

"Half-Mexican and half-Irish makes for a lot of singing…and a foul temper," he said, between nibbles at her neck.

"I'm okay with that. I also like this little scar on your chin," she said, touching the remnants of a long-since healed gash lightly.

"I got it during a backyard football game when I was thirteen."

"I think it's sexy," she said huskily, before licking the raised flesh. Wyatt felt like he was turning inside out and groaned a little. "You like
that
?" she asked against his cheek.

"You know I do. I like pretty much everything about you. You get that, right, Doc?"

"I think so."

He leaned down against her body more heavily and kissed her lips.

"Don't you mean that you
know
so?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure that I do know so. I like the hell out of you. I don't know how to deal with that, but…"

"I think I more than like you, Doc."

Jenna swallowed hard beneath him, running a silky hand across his face.

"I think I more than like you, too, Wyatt."

"Is it okay if I think I love you?"

"Yes, it's okay. Because I think I love you, too."

If life really were so unfair as to take her from him, then he would relish every little moment of good it was willing to give them together.

He finally accepted that even if it meant being on the practice squad in Pittsburgh until he was forty years old, he'd do it to be near her. She needed him, and he would do whatever it took to be there for her. Wyatt ran his face across the warm skin of her chest before kissing every inch of her breasts and throat. He let happiness wash over him — losing himself in it, worshipping it.

"Wyatt…"

He looked up to her face. Her voice was so tentative he could barely recognize it.

"Yes, belleza?"

"I have a confession to make."

"Yes?"

"I-I'm kind of scared."

"Of course you are. I'm pretty scared, too."

"Wyatt, please know…I also wish life were fair. I don't want to leave you." A sob broke from her chest, the sound was like shattering glass, and he lifted up quickly, rolling on his side to bring her into his arms and held her close. He stroked her hair too hard, as he felt the emotions tearing him apart.

With a rough motion, he squeezed his arms even more tightly around her, trying to use all his strength to keep her safe.

"I know, Jenna. I know. I wish you'd told me sooner, but I'm glad you finally did," he whispered, kissing her hair, her cheeks, eyelids, and every inch of her tear-streaked face.

She leaned back from him, wiping her face and forcing a chuckle.

"Wow, I'm a real mood killer. How about a more fun confession? I wanted to say yes to you from the first day I met you."

"I knew it," he whispered, kissing her cheek with grinning lips.

"Down, boy. That kiss by the car probably confirmed that to you," she said, with a soft laugh. "I was nervous, though — about what it would look like from the outside, since I'd consulted on your shoulder. I also worried you were like another athlete I've known — selfish, dishonest."

"Oh," he muttered out roughly. Wyatt's heart seized with pain at the reminder of those gruesome characters that haunted them. They were trying to take center stage in their lives again and he hated it. The mere thought of Chase Matthews anywhere near her unleashed a whole new slew of protective fury in him.

"But now I see you aren't like that," she said reassuringly, turning her body to face him. She kissed him repeatedly until his body started to relax. "I think I got reminded life is shorter than we realize. I knew that, but I guess I let myself forget for a moment. Maybe these tumors were a blessing? Forcing me to take a risk with you." She paused, before asking, "So, why did
you
agree to this time together, Wyatt? I mean, I know I wasn't exactly sweet as pie to you," she teased, hugging him more closely to her.

"You may have been trying like hell to be a tough cookie on the outside, but I had a feeling I could be your big glass of milk — soften you up."

She groaned at his lame joke, but the sound turned to a moan as he stretched over her body and slipped his legs between hers.

"I think we're a good match, Jenna."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You're aggressive and want to be in control…"

"Hey, that makes me sound…"

He pressed into her harder, his stiffening penis nestling between her folds and rubbing against her most sensitive parts.

"Shh, I like you being strong. But I need to be in control sometimes, too. That's why I'll let you have enough rope to make you happy, but then I'll turn around and tie you up with it."