Running Interference (12 page)

“Just sex,” she said.

There'd be no complaints from him.

She lifted his sweats and boxers over his penis, down his legs and ditched the bra, leaving her breasts to hang heavy while she worked. He reached out to hold them, tease them, make her moan again.

She lowered on to his lap, ending up with his hardened length in her hands. Her eyes went dark. Her lips parted. But he had the oddest sense that she was holding back.

Not tonight, sweetheart.
He reached between them and used his thumb to stroke her slippery center.
Let go
.
Stop thinking.
Because while she was even bolder and stronger than he remembered, the overthinking part hadn't changed. And right now, he just wanted her to feel.

He teased her with his fingers and leaned forward for another kiss, but she dodged it with a small smile and a faster pace of her hand. This time, he was the one who moaned, and he rode out each wave of pleasure with a clench to his jaw.
Not yet.
Not until she had hers.

“We need a condom,” she said even as her pelvis pushed against his hand. “You know what they say about professional athletes. They get around.”

It was so abrupt, he stopped and stared at her. “Not this one. Not like that. How ‘bout you?”

She palmed his testicles and circled her thumb on his head. At that point, he hardly cared. Stupid, yeah, but he trusted her.

“We're probably safe, but why take chances?” she asked. “Jill has condoms in her locker.”

Of course she did.

He watched Tanya cross the room. Bold and bare. Her words echoed in his ears.
Why take chances?
Unlike some of his teammates who had a revolving-door policy, his practice of not sleeping with anyone he wouldn't marry had kept him clean over the years. She couldn't know that, of course, and he didn't know if she was on the pill. An unexpected pregnancy was not what they needed. But still.
Why take chances
sounded like it was just another barrier between them.
Yeah, and you put it there, Buddy.
The hint of mistrust. The fact that she didn't know who he was now or what he'd been doing outside of football. That was his fault.

He was hit by the strongest desire to make up for it.

A gold packet glistened between her fingers as she strode through the locker room without a hint of embarrassment. Confidence was sexier than anything he could think of. She smiled as she returned to her straddled position. “You need help with this?”

You bet he did, but not yet. He had a feeling her push to rush right to the main event came from more than a worry they'd be walked in on.

He slipped a finger inside of her, and she moaned. He used his thumb to circle her nub, and the combination of sensations must have been magic, because she closed her eyes, dropped her head back, and rocked against him. Pure satisfaction. And what a show.

“Come for me, baby,” he said.

She froze, but he kept sliding his thumb up and down, and soon she was moving again. Bouncing. Like she'd bounced in the ring. Jiggling her breasts inches from his mouth.

“Come for me,” he said again.

Her hands gripped his shoulders. Her nails bit into his skin. Her mouth opened, and she whimpered.

“That's it.” He brushed the palm of his free hand over her pointed nipple and opened his mouth to breathe. He was dizzy.

She whimpered again. Louder. Her bouncing became a circling of her hips against his hand. And then her head fell forward and her body bucked against him.

Score.
Adrenaline ripped through his body hot and powerful.

He opened his mouth to her shoulder and kissed his way to her neck. “Perfect.”

“Not bad.” Her soft chuckle vibrated against his lips.

He heard the rip of the condom packet and felt her hands on his erection. He was ready. So ready. He eased his back to the cold wall behind him and let her take control. Watching her was half the turn-on. But she didn't seem interested in watching him. She closed her eyes as he entered her. Maybe that should've bothered him, but it was hard to care when she started moving.

Her slow, easy pulses became quick, hard bounces, shaking him to his core. He gripped her waist and drove up and in. Over and over again. Wanting to climax, but never wanting it to end.

She bit her bottom lip, gripped his shoulders, and snuck the smallest peek. It made him smile, and she surprised him by smiling, too. Finally, those beautiful brown eyes opened wide and locked with his.

He drove into her again. The increased connection ripped the orgasm from deep inside.

He emptied everything he had into her. Went soft. She crumpled too, dropping her cheek to his shoulder on an exhale.
A million times better than last time
, he thought. He smoothed a hand over her bare back to cup her neck and settled in to enjoy the closeness he'd never gotten a chance to experience last time. Under the bleachers hadn't been the most convenient or comfortable place, and the awkwardness between them hadn't helped. He couldn't help but compare. They were more confident now,
and
he had a bench. He smiled as he kissed her neck.

He could stay like this forever.

But all too soon, Tanya stiffened and straightened. “I'd call that redemption,” she said. Then she slid off him with a small smile and gathered her clothes. She disappeared behind a row of lockers.

Wait. What? Sure, he'd been having similar thoughts, but the way she just threw it out there and then got up and walked away? Damn, she hadn't been kidding when she'd said just sex.

Talk about anticlimactic.

He roughed a hand over his face. What happened here was more than redemption. He didn't know what to call it, but he knew he wanted to do it again. And again. But if all she felt was vindicated, then he might not get his wish. Nope. That wouldn't fly. He was Cam “damn” Simmons, the Super Bowl MVP. And she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He'd just have to remind her of that.

Tanya had never hyperventilated. Not even during her first playoff game when she lined up opposite a three-hundred-pound woman with a reputation for bone crushing.

She finished straightening her shirt, and then stuck her head inside a random locker to breathe without the risk of being heard.

That man was way more trouble than she'd expected. When her guard was down, the feelings came flooding in. So she tried to temper them. Pretend he was someone else. Limit the kisses. Cut off the cuddling. No matter the distance she put between them. No matter the mind games she tried to play. He still made her feel things beyond the orgasm.

“You looking for something?”

She jerked her head at the sound of his voice and hit the shelf above her.
Son of a bitch.
She groaned.

“Ouch! Are you okay?” He was behind her, rubbing her head and hooking an arm around her waist like he had every right to touch her like that and comfort her like this. Intimate. Caring. Way more than a booty call would do. But that was all this was allowed to be.

So why did she feel like leaning into him and letting him kiss her freaking “booboo”—among other things?

She blinked up at him through watery eyes. “I'm good.”
Liar. Liar.

“Good.”

She turned her back to him, picked up her duffle bag and went back to rubbing her burning head. “I just need to sleep it off,” she said.

There. The opening to walk out. But her feet didn't move.

His smile softened. “Hasn't a trainer ever told you it isn't good to sleep after you hit your head?” His hand slid to her hip again and his thumb strummed a sexy rhythm on her waist.

Her head felt better. Hell, all of her felt better when he looked at her like this. And so it began again. The desire so deep it scared the hell out of her. The lust so loud she couldn't ignore it.

“Then I guess I shouldn't sleep,” she said.

He shook his head and dropped his lips an inch closer to hers. “Someone should keep a very close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.”

She nodded. “Jill is gone.”

“Then I'll do it.” He kissed her, and she melted.

Mmm.
She'd wanted her mouth on his the entire time he'd been touching her, filling her.

Her brain was so fogged over by his kiss that she didn't even bother to look in the mirror before they scrambled out of the locker room and into the empty gym. Overheated and ready for more, she rushed toward the front door, sensing Cam right behind her.

“Hey! I didn't know anyone was still here.”

Terrell?
Tanya turned to see her brother standing in the doorway to their father's office. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Been here. Came in while you two were dancing around in the ring.”

One meeting and the guy thought he ran the place. “Listen, I don't know exactly what happened this afternoon, but Pop's not going to sell. I'm going to take care of things once and for all tomorrow.”

“How?” Cam asked.

For a split second she'd forgotten he was there. She hesitated. She really didn't want to let him in any more than she already had. And that was kind of laughable, because man, oh man had she let him in. But if she had a shot in hell at keeping this just sex, then she had to draw the line somewhere.

“Don't worry about it,” she said.

Hurt flashed in his eyes. “Okay.”

Terrell walked toward them. “Well, I have an idea, too. I've been researching fundraising ideas, and I found one that's gonna make a killing. Hands down. You ready for this?”

No. Her going to the bank was the only idea they needed.

“A bachelor auction,” he said, and then he let out a whoop. “We'll hold it right here, and have Cam as headliner. How about that?”

What a dumb idea.
She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him to leave this to her. She would find a way to save the gym.
He
needed to find a job.

“That could work,” Cam said. “I did a bachelor auction a few years ago, and the charity raked in the cash. We had a lot of fun too.”

He and Terrell shared a laugh that made her skin bristle. What kind of fun was he talking about here? She cut off that train of thought. Not her business.

She looked at her brother with disgust. “Terrell, I appreciate you trying to help, but this is a gym. A serious gym. There's no way Pop would go for something like that.” Her father was as practical as she was. And reputation meant everything. “Just leave it all to me.”

“I would, but Pop put me in charge.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Of what?”

“The gym.” He swung the master set of keys on a lanyard around his neck.

So he
did
run the place? Tanya reached into her pocket for the single front door key her father had given her. Pop really was giving up if he handed everything over to Terrell.

“I don't know what's going on here, but I'm going to talk to him.” He may have put his son in charge, but he owned this gym, and his daughter still had a say. And she wasn't ready to give up yet or to turn this place into a meat market.

She stalked toward the front door.

“T, don't be like that,” Terrell said. “We can work together.”

“Hey, I thought we had plans,” Cam said.

Yeah, she'd thought so too. But suddenly she wasn't in the mood. “Another time,” she said.

She tramped up the steps to her father's apartment and pounded on the door. No answer. It was too early for him to be in bed, but too late for him to be out. Panic mixed with annoyance, and she turned the knob. Unlocked. Unlike her, the man was awfully trusting.

“Pop!”

No answer again.
What the hell?

She pulled her phone from her duffle bag and dialed him.

“Hello.” He sounded … sleepy.

“Pop? You okay?”

He cleared his throat and answered, “Yes.”

“Where you at? 'Cause I'm at your place, and you aren't here.”

“I'm … at a friend's,” he said.

Sleeping at a friend's? Her stomach dropped.
That
kind of friend. Oh God. She didn't want to know this.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. She didn't have a clue. If he would just step up and take charge again, she'd feel a whole lot better. “I saw Terrell at the gym and he's … he has some ideas I don't think you would approve of. It's still your gym, Pop. Please don't give up yet. At least be there with Terrell to guide him.”

He cleared his throat. “I need a break, Tanya. It's been a long time coming. And I believe in Terrell like I believe in you.”

She heard whispering in the background. Definitely a female. The
friend
. She shouldn't have called. “Okay. Fine.” For now. “Talk to you later.” Tomorrow. After she walked out of the bank with thirty grand in hand. Then everything could go back to the way it had been.

• • •

Friday morning, Cam pulled into the roundabout in front of East High with a carload of teenage girls making more noise than a stadium full of diehard fans during overtime.

“Don't open your doors,” Corinne said. “Not yet. Let the anticipation build.” She squealed.

He looked at his cousin like she was an alien, then he glanced in the rearview mirror at her three bouncing friends who were just as wired as Corrine.

“Oh my God! Look at Raylee Santana,” one of the girls said. “Close your mouth, girl, or you're gonna be catching flies. You know she's like, ‘Who is that?'”

Corinne waved a hand over her head. “Oh, she knows who it is. What she's really thinking is, ‘I should've been nicer to Rin when I had the chance.'” She snapped, and her friends laughed.

“She's going to be real nice to you now,” another girl said.

“Wait! There's Wyatt.” Corrine slapped a hand over her mouth and leaned closer to the tinted window. “Deep breath. Okay. On the count of three. We get out, and we don't even look at him. Let him look at me. Ready?”