And his bed was definitely where they were heading, whether she realized it or not.
"See, that's why your company is so successful. You know exactly how to frame a situation with a few simple words."
"Your point being?"
It shouldn't be this easy. It really shouldn't. "Kisses like this"--he held up the magazine--"are how I've been kissing all my life. It's all I know."
She raised her eyes to the ceiling. "If you were anyone else, I'd know you were joking." He found himself holding his breath for a long second as she paused. "But you, I think, just might be serious."
He held back a smile. An easy five yards on the first down. The next five should be just as easy.
"So, say I'm sitting on a couch with a woman who wants a piece of me. Assume there are cameras and that someone is going to take a picture that ends up in the papers the next day."
"Do you actually think I'm going to do this kind of role-playing with you? I'm starting to wonder what goes on in your alternate reality."
He couldn't help grinning this time. It had been far too long since he'd had such an enjoyable conversation with anyone, let alone the opposite sex. His guy friends mostly drank and screwed around and played video games. And the women were either trying to get into his pants or his bank account, or trying to convince him to hook them up with another football player's bank account and/or pants.
"Sure," he said. "You've got to be the hot babe. And then you've got to teach me how to resist you." He dropped his gaze to her breasts. "Don't worry that you're all natural. That won't throw me off at all. Real, fake, as long as they fit right here."
Hoping he could make her laugh instead of walk out on him, he cupped his hands in the air and moved them slightly, as if he were holding a soft weight.
"You didn't actually just pretend to squeeze a pair of breasts, did you?" Fortunately, she looked more amused than annoyed.
"You know how us jocks are. Now, back to your role as hot babe."
"As if I'm stupid enough to fall for this."
He was all innocence. "For what?"
She opened her mouth. Then closed it.
Her lower lip was plump and he wanted to gently sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh, see if she would shiver, if her nipples would tighten in response.
The thing was, they both knew he'd painted her into a corner. Because she sure as hell wasn't going to say, "You're just trying to get me to kiss you, to sleep with you again."
Not only was she Little Miss Proper, but she had far too much pride to set herself up for the possibility of being shot down.
She also clearly had no idea that no sane man on earth would shoot her down.
"Fine," she finally said in a tight, pissed-off tone. "The things I do for my company," she muttered. She shook her hair out, stuck out her chest, and pouted at him. "Just as you ordered, one hot babe, hold the side of skank."
Ty had never tried to seduce a woman while he was laughing; fucking had always been more of a serious endeavor. Never a challenge, though--he was always trying to answer the question, "How fast can I leave when we're done?" He very rarely had sex with anyone at his own house. Because it was harder to kick a woman out than it was to zip up his pants and drive away.
"Okay," he said, "throw yourself at me."
"You might find this hard to believe, given that we're in 'Ty's Weird World' right now, but I wouldn't have the first clue how to throw myself at anyone."
"Not even your favorite football star?"
"I don't have a favorite football star," she said. "Or baseball, basketball, or hockey. Gerard Butler is kind of cute, though. Maybe i could pretend you're him?"
Ty wanted to crack Gerard Butler's head against a brick wall. He couldn't believe he was actually jealous of an actor.
Clearly, when it came to Julie Spencer, there was a first time for everything.
"Pretend I'm Gerard Butler, then," he forced out between his teeth.
She held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Julie Spencer. Your movies are really great. Especially that foreign one where you pretend to be the little boy's father."
"That's it? What about trying to get in his pants? Where was the flattery? The finger running down his arm? The I-want-to-fuck-you-all-night-long look?"
"You didn't say anything about trying to get in his pants!"
"Duh." He rolled his eyes. "What do you think all of those women in all of those pictures are trying to do to me?"
"It looks like you're trying to get into their pants, not the other way around"
He shrugged. "Sometimes I am. But not as often as you'd think."
Which was true. He tended to be a moving target and women just threw and threw and threw themselves at him until one of them stuck for a night.
Ty had never really wanted any one woman in particular--except for this one. Only Julie. He'd wanted her when he was eighteen, and he wanted her now.
"Try again," he said in his most encouraging voice. "I still don't see how this is going to help," she argued.
"I'm like an old dog. You've got to teach me new tricks, right?"
She chewed on that for a while. He liked watching her face while her mind worked. It was like she momentarily forgot to be in control of absolutely everything, and when her white teeth came out to bite her lower lip she was sexier than any skimpily dressed model had ever been.
"You're definitely a dog."
He was just going to let that one go. "So it's time to throw yourself at me. Don't worry, I won't laugh."
She glared at him. "The only reason you're not doing this little exercise with one of my assistants is because I can't trust you to behave with any of them."
"Their loss," he said. "I'm waiting. And remember, you're trying to get my pants off."
Sighing in resignation, she fluttered her eyelids and said in a high-pitched baby voice, "Oh Ty, you're just my favorite football player of all time, even though I just slept with a bunch of your teammates last night."
He couldn't help laughing.
More eyelid batting. "I hope this doesn't come across as too forward or anything, but would you mind if I just gave you a teensy-weensy little kiss and let my friend take a picture of it so that everyone will believe me when I say that I kissed the great Ty Calhoun?"
Julie's parody was hitting a little too close to home. How many women had he slept with who actually did talk like this, who had the brain power of an ant?
A little more seriously than he meant to, he said, "Why not? I'm game."
Julie came out of character. "You said you wouldn't laugh at me."
He held his hands up. "Did I laugh?"
"No, but if I'm going to act like an idiot, you can't sit there playing the straight man. You need to play yourself."
"Now you're going to tell me how to play myself? All right, I already know there's no point in trying to stop you. Who am I?"
She waved her hand in the air. "You're the obviously jaded yet horny sports star. You only think about your own needs, but you're more than willing to bump and grind with a pretty stranger after a good game to celebrate."
Ty couldn't think of the last time anyone had said anything that unflattering to his face.
"You really believe that's how I am, don't you?"
She frowned, possibly noticing for the first time that she was hurting his feelings with her blunt assessments.
Or maybe she was doing it on purpose. Revenge
and all that.
"It's not just you, Ty. All sports stars are exactly the same."
Ty wanted to disagree, wanted to tell her about all the guys he knew who spent more time taking care of their families, their friends, and the underprivileged than they did their own health. He wanted to tell her that his friend Tim had gotten out on that field every day for ten years as a defensive tackle and let the other team beat his body all to hell, out of sheer desperation to help his whole extended family rise up out of the trash heap of a town they'd been living in.
He knew guy
s who treated football like any other job. They put in the hours, gave their all, and then they went home for dinner with their wives and children. They didn't waste time in bars or hanging out with groupies. They earned their money with quiet power.
But he knew there wasn't any point in trying to change her mind about professional athletes, or about him. Not when she'd made up her mind long ago.
Plus, he had to admit that she wasn't too far off the mark for many of the guys he knew. Even, at the start of his career, himself.
He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay then, I'll play the highly stereotyped version of myself."
He gave her a hard, hungry look.
"A kiss from you is what I've been waiting for my entire life, baby. Come sit on my lap--but only if you're not wearing anything under that short skirt."
She pushed her thighs together, a nearly imperceptible movement that he might have missed if he weren't so attuned to her. Or, more precisely, how much he wanted her.
"That's better," she said. "We'll skip the kiss and get straight to working on your reaction."
He wasn't going to let her get away with that. "Not realistic enough. I thought role-playing only worked if everyone gave themselves over to their characters?"
Her expression said it all. He was right. She was going to have to kiss him in order to teach him the "right" way to behave around overzealous fans.
"Fine," she snapped, and then a few sweet moments later she had transformed again into Wonder-Babe. She slid next to him, thigh to thigh. Was it pathetic that he actually started sweating? Just because he could feel her leg through his jeans?
Yes. It was.
She threaded her hands through his hair and pulled his head down to hers. But at the last second, she looked up into his eyes. In an instant, Wonder-Babe disappeared, leaving Julie behind.
It was that last-second pause that almost did him in. He wanted her. Now. He wanted to take her mouth, could practically taste her.
Tentatively, she pressed her lips to his. A million bolts of lightning shot through him.
It nearly killed him to hold still. Please, he begged, hardly able to believe that he was actually praying, please don't let her stop.
Ty had never been completely certain if any of his prayers on the field had really been answered before, or if he'd just pulled a clutch play out of his ass at the last moment by blind luck. But when Julie began to explore the contours of his mouth with her own, as her tongue came out to taste the corner where his upper and lower lip met, he became a believer in the power of prayer.
Her breath was soft and sweet and he didn't want to move a muscle, didn't want to do anything that would mess up this perfect moment. Her mouth moved to his cheek, to the beginnings of his stubble. One of her hands moved from his hair to his cheek to his neck; then she rubbed her thumb over the hollow beneath his collarbone, then found that skin with her lips.
A groan nearly escaped his lungs, but somehow he held it in. Again she found his mouth, and this time she was less tentative. Her tongue came out, teased him again, sliding into him.
He couldn't keep from devouring her for another second. Just as he was on the verge of taking control of the situation, she stopped kissing him, stopped exploring him with her mouth and hands.
She wouldn't meet his eyes.
"On the contrary, Ty, I don't think I need to teach you anything at all." She sounded like she was going to choke. "You did very well."
If he could have gotten words out of his own constricted lungs, he would have. At long last, he managed a strangled, "Are you kidding me?"
Her eyes met his. "You were the perfect gentleman. Good job."
"Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?" he growled. "And not because of some stupid role-playing. Or because I wish you were a groupie."
She shook her head, tried to pick up her briefcase, then watched in horror as it slipped from her fingers and slid beneath his coffee table.
"I can't do this," she whispered and he wasn't sure if he was listening in on her private thoughts or if she'd meant to speak aloud.
All Ty could think as he stared at her was I have wanted you every single day, every minute, every second since the last time I saw you.
Was that true? Did he really think that? Oh shit. He did. Now that she was sitting here, right in front of him, now that she'd kissed him, he knew the truth.
If she knew how he really felt she'd hold her power over him like a shiny butcher knife and plunge it into his heart to exact the retribution she felt she deserved.
"Don't go," he said instead of admitting the stupid, swirling truth.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She couldn't leave. No matter how desperately she needed to, Ty was her first kiss. Her first orgasm. Her first morning in bed with someone else. The one night she'd spent with Ty had guided her sensuality for more than a decade. She'd tried to avoid men like him, but lost the battle. She'd dated unassuming men, but always ended up having sexual affairs with charismatic charmers.
Yet no one, regardless of how successful or funny or charming they were, had ever come close to matching the few hours she'd spent in Ty's arms.
Only a fool would have actually kissed him in the name of "role-playing."
How could she have forgotten that shame and desire made such a horrible pair? And that desire always won?
She hadn't been able to stop herself. And so she'd licked him and bit at him and he'd done nothing. Nothing.
Then he'd said, "Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?" and foolish hope had leaped to life within her.
She was an adult this time. She could take what she wanted from him and walk away in one piece, couldn't she?
Maybe a kiss was just the thing to break the sensual flight pattern they were in. In all likelihood, they'd both look at each other and realize they'd been building the whole grad night thing into a much bigger deal than it really was.
Once they got the kiss out of the way, they'd simply work together to rebuild Ty's image into one his boss approved of and then they'd happily go their separate ways.
Yeah right, said her heart, but she wasn't listening. She was too busy hoping she could convince him to make good on all that "wanting her" business.
She boldly threw press photos at him, one after .mother. "I can't believe I have to remind you how you really kiss your fans. How can I teach you how to I "have if you don't act like you normally do?"
The corner of his mouth moved and something akin to relief ran through his eyes.
"I've always respected a woman who takes her work seriously."
"Thank you," she said and then the next moment he'd pulled her onto his lap and was stealing her breath from her lungs.
His tongue invaded her mouth and taught hers how to dance again while his big, strong hands cupped her bottom.
"Is that better?" he murmured as he dragged his mouth down to the ultra-sensitive spot at the base of her ear.
She couldn't answer; he was setting her entire body on fire. Thankfully, his hands were just as naughty as his mouth. She felt the heat of his palm through her tailored shirt a millisecond before his thumb brushed across her nipple.
Her body sprang to desperate attention beneath his skilled touch. She reached for him, cupped his heart-stoppingly beautiful face in her hands, and kissed him. All the while that he was fondling her and stroking her and sliding down zippers and undoing buttons, she was losing herself in his kiss.
She couldn't think clearly when he was kissing her, when he was replacing her removed shirt with his mouth, kissing her collarbone, heading for the spot between her breasts as he unhooked her bra.
Finally--oh God, it couldn't be soon enough--he was cupping her breasts in both hands, squeezing them together, laving her nipples with his tongue, with the rough bristles of his jaw, his cheeks.
Funny little gasps were coming from her throat, but she couldn't stop them, any more than she could stop herself from growing wet and heavy between her l
egs. She was this close to begging him to slip one hand beneath her skirt, her panties. One touch and she'd explode. That was all she wanted.
Ty was all she wanted.
His voice drifted up from between her breasts, low and ragged. "You have the most beautiful body I've ever seen."
Julie arched her breasts against him, shifted so that her skirt bunched up at her waist, and straddled him.
She settled down onto his heavy, jean-clad erection with a moan of satisfaction. All she wanted to do was press herself into him like this while he sucked at her breasts.
With a groan, he pulled her even closer against him. Julie loved everything: the way he was whispering her name again and again as he licked and nipped the sensitive skin on her breasts; the way his jeans felt rough against the mostly exposed skin beneath her fishnet stockings; the way she'd never felt so wet, so aroused, so full of need that she was almost bursting from it.
She was close, so close to the satisfaction she'd been missing all these years. She could see the peak, was climbing straight toward it, when Ty said, "Oh no, you don't," and flipped her onto her back on the couch.
She blinked up at him, disoriented and bewildered. Hadn't she just been about to come, with Ty beneath her? Quickly, he answered her silent question.