Fourth and Goal (21 page)

Derek's body tightened to the point of breaking. His control snapped. Rachel dug her fingernails into his arms, urging him on. He slammed into her, his frenzied movement a violent storm of physical activity, while the forces of nature buffeted them. Wet leaves fell from nearby trees. Rain and wind raged around them, damn decadent and crazy wild.

Their bodies meshed together and moved in rhythm. Wild and frantic, both of them held nothing back. Derek thrust harder and harder, driving them higher and higher. Their emotions flooded their senses and ran unfettered, slicing through the rain, engulfing everything in their path. He filled her with his body and consumed her with his soul. Their bodies catapulted through the night sky. His groans and her cries of ecstasy rang into the darkness, only to be absorbed by the downpour. Her inner storm broke.

Rachel collapsed against the bench, limp as a rag doll. Her orgasm receded, and her mind decided to rejoin her body. Floating back to earth, a melancholy feeling settled over her. Somewhere in the past few minutes, she'd soared to another dimension with a man destined to be as much of a part of her as she was a part of herself.

Rays of light cut across the parking lot.

"Shit.” Derek's irritation was at odds with the great sex they'd just had. Rachel lifted her head, but he grabbed her around the waist and half carried, half dragged her to the truck. Lobbing her into the seat, he jumped into the driver's side just as headlights reflected around the building and toward the back parking lot.

Starting the truck, he slammed it into reverse, backed up, and gunned out the back exit just as a security guard car drove around the corner.

Derek drove quickly down the wet city streets. Rachel shot glances over her shoulder several times as she scrambled to find her clothes behind the seat. Her underwear and bra were still back at the park bench.

The guard didn't follow. Finding her coat in the dark cab, she wrapped it around her wet body and leaned her head against the headrest. Finally she took a breath.

Shaking his head, Derek grinned at her. “That was a rush. So, where to next in our exploration of sex without a bed? We could try the Space Needle's observation deck or maybe one of Seattle Center's rides?"

"I think I've lived dangerously enough."

"What? This is it? Did your sense of adventure abandon you?” He'd tasted the fruit; now he wanted the entire tree.

"My sense of adventure has become a homebody. That was close. We could have been arrested."

"Yup. Made the morning news. The Internet. YouTube. Full color, full-page spread of you spreading those sexy legs for me."

She shuddered at that. “I'm definitely revisiting stay-at-home sex."

"Ah, you hardly gave exhibitionism a try.” He faked a little-boy pout.

"I'm rethinking my wanton fantasies.” Rachel grinned at him.

"What next then?"

"How about we give it a try in your hot tub? Nice, safe, controlled environment."

"I'm in."

"From cold rain water to a warm, swirling hot tub."

"I've been told I swirl with the best of ‘em. I'm great at mixing the right concoctions too."

"Let's put your stir stick to the test."

"I'll get naked to that.” He faked a toast and downed the contents of his imaginary glass, drunk on sex and something more.

If Derek could take a moment in time and freeze it, this would be the moment. Not his Rose Bowl winning touchdown. Not an Olympic Gold. Not even a future Super Bowl win would top doing Rachel on a park bench in the pouring rain.

Rolling over, Derek propped his head on his hand and stared out the French doors of his bedroom at the moonlight on the pond below. The warm, naked woman in bed beside him stirred slightly, then cuddled against his chest. He smiled down at her and tightened the arm around her waist. He grew hard again but needed his energy for game day.
Down, boy, down
. His dick was getting greedy, just like the rest of his body and soul.

Stretching, Rachel rolled to her back, still asleep. He raised one eyebrow. Opportunity knocked. Nothing wrong with a guy copping a few cheap feels and getting an eyeful of naked flesh. He nudged the sheet down her body. Feeling a bit like a voyeur, he savored every minute of his visual vacation. Her gorgeous tits bore burns from his stubble and hickeys from where he'd marked her as his. Tight nipples stood hard and proud in the cool air. He wet his thumb with his tongue and ran it across each of his babies. Derek traced a line down her body, past her navel. He slipped his fingers into the curls that marked the boundaries of true paradise. He parted her. She was slick and wet. Ready for the taking. Damn, did he want to take.

Shaking his head, he pulled his hand away. One more deep play in her end zone, and his dick would be on injured reserve. His boy protested, insisting it'd go the distance. His dick had game but not brains.

She stirred again and blinked at him. The moonlight bathed her skin in an angel-like luminescence. A satisfied smile played across her face. She lifted her hand and raked her fingernails through the hair on his chest. He stifled the shudder that threatened to slide through his body. His cock begged for an instant replay.

"Hey.” Her soft, husky voice caressed his heart, teased his carnal fantasies.

"Hey yourself, gorgeous.” He rolled lazily onto his back, like a lion after a hard night of hunting and screwing. With a contented sigh, this lion let his lioness work her magic on the king.

She slid on top of him. Her breasts rested on his chest. Her hard nipples tickled his ribs. An erotic vision flashed through his mind of her spread-eagled on his bed, all four limbs tied to the four corners of the bed. Given her recent willingness to melt the ice princess and live life on the edge, he'd talk her into enacting that particular fantasy. And soon.

But first he had a game to win.

Derek shut his truck door and waited. Tyler screeched into the parking spot next to his and got out.

"Hey, man. You ready for number four on
Sunday Night Football
?” Tyler grinned, all brash confidence as he swaggered over to his cousin. “National TV. America is gonna see that we're for real."

"Oh yeah.” Derek grinned back. Right now he straddled the top of the world, and no one could knock him off. Confidence hummed through him, leaving no doubt they'd win this one.

"We're gonna show the Bulls that there's a new game in town. I don't give a fuck if they're eight and zero."

"Yeah, we're gonna kick some Bull ass."

"No bull.” Tyler clapped him on the shoulder as they walked into the locker room together. “How'd it go with Rae last night? Did ya get some?"

"She takes the edge off, and I need that right now."

"Yeah. Whatever she's doing, make sure she keeps doing it.” A group of cheerleaders piled out of a small car, and Tyler paused to watch them.

"Looking for Cass?” Derek teased.

"Hell no. Looking for the lucky girl I'm taking home tonight."

Derek knew Tyler's bullshit when he heard it. “She's happy, Ty. It's probably time for you to move on."

"I have moved on. I spent the night with the Boducci twins."

"What happened to Barbie?"

"She took me home, and I sent her on her way. Big tits but boring. But the Boduccis. Holy shit. I had to kick them out about two thirty so I'd have enough energy for the game."

"Hope they didn't wear you out.” Derek looked his cousin in the eye. Tyler was a lying bastard. Sadness and pain glimmered in his blue eyes before he masked it with his carefree asshole front. Shrugging, Derek followed his cousin into the building.

"Know what? Driving here this afternoon, I heard cars honking at me. I assumed they were pissed at my driving, which happens all the time. Then I noticed some of them waving and gesturing—they weren't flipping me the bird either.” Tyler grinned and entered the back door to the stadium. Nodding to the security guard, they walked down a long hall to the locker room.

"Yeah, some kid asked for my autograph this morning when I was gassing up my truck. Pretty weird. We've been anonymous for so long."

"The team's been anonymous because we've sucked for so long and no one gave a shit. Last year our fans wore Washington potato sacks over their heads. We win this game, and they'll take off the sacks and start noticing."

Derek nodded. A win would only make them four and four. Every win came against teams they had no business beating. Their fans were becoming believers. Tonight they'd play to a sold-out stadium, the first sellout in years.

The locker room buzzed with excitement and anticipation. A far cry from the silence of three weeks ago. Three convincing wins against good teams built confidence. Something special was happening here, and everyone felt it.

HughJack chatted with an assistant inside the locker room door. Unusually relaxed and friendly, he smiled as the cousins strode inside. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope you came to play."

"Play, hell! I'm kicking some ass!” Tyler faked dribbling down a court and went up for a quick layup. He pumped his fist in the air.

"Wrong game, Harris,” HughJack reminded him.

"For me there's no wrong game. I'm the best there ever was at any game.” Tyler strutted into the locker room, bowing and waving to imaginary fans while belting out his rendition of “We Are the Champions.” His teammates hooted and hollered.

Derek smiled at HughJack. “You can't fault his confidence."

"Confidence has never been his problem. Attitude has. Now he's using it to his advantage in a positive way."

"Tyler just needs his energy channeled in the right direction."

"I'm trying, but the kid's a tough one. High maintenance."

"Tell me about it. I've known him since birth. Despite the selfish asshole act, he'd take a bullet for a friend and his team."

HughJack regarded him for a minute with expressionless eyes, then nodded. “I believe he would."

Starting at wide receiver on national TV should have scared the crap out of Derek. In the past, when he'd played on other teams, he'd warmed the bench during nationally televised games but never gotten any playing time. Despite the bright lights and the rowdy Seattle crowd, an unusual calm settled over him.

Derek did his pregame stretches, sprinted up and down the field with his teammates, and paused to scan the crowd for Rachel. He smiled when he spotted her with her brother in their seats. Rachel gave him a thumbs-up. Mitch avoided his gaze, which was an improvement. At least his former buddy kept his finger holstered.

Derek's father and stepmother sat at the fifty, a few rows up from the field. His dad nodded at him. Even at a distance, pride shone in his father's dark eyes. His stepmother, his biggest supporter, waved a small blue and gold Jacks flag and yelled louder than any fan in the stadium.

Tyler swaggered up and down the sidelines. He'd been soaking up the limelight from the second he did the first pregame interview. Raising his hands over his head, he incited the crowd to a foot-stomping, ear-splitting racket. Derek could barely hear his own thoughts, let alone understand his teammate's words.

The Bulls kicked off to the Jacks. Their rookie running back called for a fair catch. As they gathered in the huddle, Tyler leaned forward. His laser blue eyes pinned each man with a sharp penetrating gaze. Focused and intense, determination radiated off his body. His iron will sucked them in. Gave them no leeway and took no prisoners.

Turning, Tyler swept his hand downward to indicate to the crowd to quiet down. The rabid fans quieted to a decibel that would still cause permanent hearing loss, but at least they could hear in the huddle.

Tyler led. His team followed. Within the first few plays, he transformed from a self-centered athlete into a team player. No more renegade, trying to do it all himself. Tyler ran the plays as called unless he read the defense differently. In that case, he'd audible while HughJack ranted on the sideline, but Tyler's gambles paid off and deflated HughJack's anger.

Derek caught an uncatchable pass in the end zone. Even he was surprised when he saw the replay on the stadium big screen. Luck shone down on them, not that it wasn't a battle until the very last second ticked off the clock. Their running game came alive. Bruce “Bruiser” Mackey pounded through the Bulls’ defensive line like running through whipped cream. Tyler threw with uncanny accuracy.

In the end, they squeaked out a win and handed the Bulls their first loss.

And then all hell broke loose.

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If Derek could define an exact time when the Lumberjacks went from goats to heroes, league doormats to possible contenders, beating the Bulls would be it. Their popularity escalated like a snowball rolling down one of Mount Rainier's glaciers. With each win, it gained momentum and size. Their fourth win exploded like an avalanche, happening fast and covering everything in its wake until it was so large it took on a life of its own.

The underdog Lumberjacks, a perpetual rivals’ punching bag, scrapped their way onto the national sports media's radar. The Cinderella team with the young, fiery coach, renegade quarterback, and ragtag mix of linemen, receivers, backs, and rejects, captured the hearts of Seattle and America.

For Derek it started subtly: The barista at his favorite coffee spot complimented him on a well-played game. The bartender at his favorite hangout asked for an autographed picture to hang in the bar. It escalated as strangers recognized him and approached on the street or in a restaurant. Lumberjacks posters popped up in places he'd never seen them before. Blue and gold dominated window displays and fan T-shirts. And on a more personal level, his agent inundated him with promo opportunities and requests, especially charitable contributions in the form of his presence.

Derek and Tyler's evening workouts with Rachel shrank to one night a week, maybe two.

The Lumberjacks capitalized on the ballooning popularity of the homegrown cousins and scheduled them for countless appearances. Heck, he and Tyler even did a radio talk show once a week and a couple of appearances on local TV. A landslide of attention swept him down the mountainside. He hadn't seen it coming and never would have estimated the brute force.