The Striker's Chance (14 page)

She yanked his shirt up over his stomach, desperate for the tanned skin and ridged muscles it concealed. Kepler broke away long enough for her to pull the shirt over his head, leaving him with tousled hair and a boyish grin as she gaped at his perfectly toned torso.

“Your turn,” he said huskily, sitting back on his heels. “I can’t wait to see all of you.”

Holly kicked off her flip-flops and sat up across from him. His gaze was so ravenously hot that she could practically feel it raking over her as she eased her T-shirt up and off.

His playful expression faded into something altogether more serious and full of intent. She hesitated as, despite herself, the tabloid images flashed through her mind.

“Do you want me to finish undressing you?”

She shook her head, feeling the need to grab whatever control she could in this situation. “I’ll do it,” she insisted, and reached behind her back to unhook the clasp of her bra. She took a deep, bracing breath and slowly eased the straps over her shoulders then dropped her bra to the side of the mattress.

“I know they’re probably a little smaller than you’re used to,” she offered in what she hoped was a lighthearted tone, but when Kepler clucked his tongue disapprovingly her gaze snapped to his.

He was shaking his head. “You say some crazy things for such a smart girl. I don’t know where you got the idea that you’re not drop-dead gorgeous, or that you need to make excuses for what is possibly the most stunning pair of breasts I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I don’t want to hear talk like that again.”

“Okay.” Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. No one had ever said anything like that to her before, or looked at her with the awestruck desire that glittered in Kepler’s eyes.

“Come here.” He gathered her into his lap, kissing a trail down her neck and across her collarbone. The firmness of his hands on her ribs told her that he was taking the lead and she relaxed in his grip, giving herself permission to relinquish control. No one had ever made her feel as safe and assured as Kepler did. She knew she could be her fully authentic self without worrying that he would reject her.

His hand cupped her breast as her nipples went rigid, straining for his attention. He bent his head to take the pink peak between his lips, and Holly let her head loll back on her shoulders at the streaks of sizzling pleasure that shot through her.

She extended her legs on either side of his, straddling his lap, and the press of his arousal against her shorts set her heart racing. He moved his mouth to her other breast, and she reached between them, lowered his zipper and slid her hand down the taut muscles of his stomach to wrap her fingers around the hot, velvety skin of his erection.

Kepler shuddered at her touch and brought his lips up to meet hers. The ravenous, penetrating thrust of his tongue made tantalizing promises about what lay ahead.

With gentle pressure on her shoulders he brought her back down to the mattress and forged an agonizingly butterfly-soft trail of kisses from between her breasts to just above the waist of her denim shorts. His thumbs pressed into her hipbones as his palms cupped her backside. The heat of his breath on her abdomen made her shiver with anticipation, and she raised herself on her elbows to watch him.

His gaze met hers, and the mixture of ardor, intent and naked lust that glittered there made her breath catch in her throat.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he made quick work of the closure on her shorts and deftly slid them—and the blue-trimmed cotton panties she wore beneath—down her thighs and to the floor.

Her heart beat so hard that she thought he must be able to hear it. She lay bare before him, open to his scrutiny, with nothing between them but trust. His gaze raked her naked body from her tangled hair to the soles of her feet. His expression was intense, yet inscrutable.

Holly had just felt the slightest flicker of doubt as the embers of her self-consciousness glowed back to life when Kepler gripped her knees and spread her legs wide, hunger blazing in his dark eyes.

A clenching sense of unworthiness twisted in her gut as he dropped to his stomach and slid one of her legs over his shoulder. She didn’t deserve this kind of attention, not from a magazine-worthy heartthrob. She was just a plain brunette who barely wore makeup, and now an international soccer star was between her thighs, and—

“Kepler, wait, you don’t have to—”

The words died in her throat as his mouth closed on her hot, throbbing core. A violent shudder ripped through her as his tongue laved the inflamed nub at the apex of her thighs, softly at first, but soon building to a merciless pace that made the arms propping her up feel weak and shaky.

Every last shred of her self-awareness fell away as Kepler lapped unabashedly at the most intimate part of her body. She writhed and moaned beneath his attentions, flattening her thighs against the bed to give him better access and greedily weaving her fingers through his thick blond hair.

Her arousal built to a fever pitch. Every muscle in her body taut and tense, she shifted her weight restlessly from one elbow to the other, simultaneously trying to escape from and maximize each wonderful, agonizing stroke of his skillful tongue.

He clamped a hand on the inside of her thigh, pinning her in place as he heightened his assault on her pulsating center. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and her toes curled from the intensity of the white-hot sensation racing through her body. A tremor began deep in her muscles, and she knew she was careening toward the edge.

“Kepler,” she murmured breathlessly, “I think I’m—I’m going to—”

Suddenly he sank one and then two fingers inside her, and Holly lost control.

She flopped back on the bed, her back arching, her hands fisting in the sheets as molten pleasure roared through her like a volcano. Her inner muscles clamped down on his fingers as her legs trembled and shivered. She moaned his name as the waves of climax rolled over her again and again, numbing her mind and overwhelming her thoughts until she thought she might never be coherent again.

* * *

Kepler’s hands shook as he opened the foil packet and sheathed the erection that was so hard it bordered on painful. He took a deep breath before turning around, intent on concealing his desperation from the woman who lay languidly in his bed, her boneless posture and heavy-lidded eyes attesting to his success.

But he wasn’t done yet.

Her reluctance as she’d undressed to reveal a slim, supple body and the inexplicable excuse she’d offered for her perfect breasts had filled him with anger. He didn’t know who had managed to convince Holly that she was anything less than absolutely stunning—maybe it was an ex-boyfriend, or a side effect of growing up in the shadow of a beauty pageant-winning sister. Either way, he was determined to show her how much pleasure and admiration she deserved.

And that he would be the one to give it to her, for as long as she would have him.

Her eyes widened as she spotted the condom.

“After that last time,” she said hoarsely, “I don’t know if I can...again...”

“Take your time,” he told her, stretching out on his back. He urged her up, then drew one of her legs across his waist so she straddled him, hovering above the arousal that jutted unabashedly from his body.

She looked at him, uncertain, and he smiled his encouragement. “Go on. I want to watch you.”

Holly lowered herself hesitantly. As the hypersensitive tip of his erection was engulfed by her hot, slick flesh, Kepler let his eyes fall shut in a moment of intense bliss. His self-control began to fray at the edges and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on her pleasure, not his.

She took the length of him inside her, and when he was buried to the hilt she released a soft, low moan that told him she was more ready than she’d thought.

She began to rock above him, and he reached out to grip her hips, sweat breaking out on his brow as he held himself back against the tantalizing, rhythmic friction.

Holly’s eyes were glazed, and her forehead wrinkled above her parted lips. She shook her hair back over her shoulders in a move that exposed the long line of her throat and sent a delicious jiggle of motion across her breasts. He licked his lips, and she must have followed the direction of his gaze because she smiled and took her breast in her hand, squeezing the pink peak between her thumb and forefinger.

Kepler groaned, a rough, primal sound that signaled the nearing end of his control. He cursed his arrogance, his assumption that he could keep himself in check when faced with the sizzling, animalistic passion that burned between them.

Just when he thought he would have to flip Holly onto her back and let himself explode inside her, she increased the pace. The gasping breaths that made her breasts rise and fall told him she was getting close, and he coached himself to hang on that little bit longer, so they could finish together.

He pulled her down on his arousal every time she rose up, battling against the tide that threatened to wash him out to sea. He could feel the tremors beginning in her legs where they were clamped against his sides. Dark hair hung over her face, and as her blue eyes locked with his he wet his thumb in his mouth, then reached between them and pressed it to her nub.

Holly shrieked and arched above him, her head thrown back, her body shuddering with the pulsations of her orgasm.

He raised himself on his elbows, every last shred of control dissolving as her inner muscles clenched and throbbed around him. He plunged into her as she continued to climax, the motion of her hips matching every deep, quickening thrust again and again. She reached out to clutch his shoulder, steadying herself, and that slight twist of her body on his dragged him over the edge. His vision blurred, his ears roared, and then he was falling headfirst into a freesia-scented oblivion of dark, snug, wet heat.

* * *

The shrill beep of the alarm cut harshly into Kepler’s deep, dreamless sleep. He fumbled on the floor beside the mattress for the small travel clock and silenced it, then rolled over and pulled Holly’s slim, pliant figure into his arms.

He wasn’t sure how much sleep he’d gotten, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours. They’d cycled through a pattern: lovemaking that ranged from heart-wrenchingly tender to downright wild, followed by hushed conversation in each other’s arms, until the proximity had them both aroused again and the process began anew.

She wriggled to face him, and the brush of her bare, pink-tipped breasts against his chest was enough to make him hard. She flashed him a sleepy smile and cuddled closer, so his erection pressed mercilessly against her creamy thigh.

“I don’t have to be anywhere this morning,” she murmured, subtly grinding her body against his.

The frustrated groan that escaped Kepler’s throat was so animalistic it surprised even him.

“I do.” He eased out of her grip before he could change his mind. “I need to go for a run before training.”

He swung his legs over the side of the mattress and then glanced at her over his shoulder. Holly was sprawled on her back with one arm flung over her head. One leg extended from beneath the blue sheet, which barely concealed the sweet, sumptuous opening that he’d slipped inside so many times over the preceding hours. If the eager peaks of her breasts hadn’t told him she was feeling the same arousal he was, her hungry expression did.

“Maybe I can skip it, just this once,” he muttered, pulling her into his arms.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, Kepler was pouring milk over a large bowl of cereal while Holly placed two cups of coffee on the kitchen table. She was wearing one of his T-shirts, which hung to her knees, and the easy familiarity of her presence—her unhurried movements through the kitchen, the way the collar of the shirt slid down on her shoulder, the comfortable silence as they prepared breakfast—made his heart swell with something much deeper and more permanent than unbridled lust.

“What do you have to do today?” he asked as she took the opposite chair.

She shrugged. “I’ll flip through the national press online, see if anyone followed the Chronicle’s story. Then I’ll make some calls, maybe try to place some follow-up spots. You’re playing away this weekend, so I’ll contact the press in New York and try to arrange a photo op or two.”

“So what you’re telling me,” Kepler teased, “is you get paid to think about me all day long.”

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.” She grinned. “Actually, I was thinking of tagging along to New York for Saturday’s match. What do you think?”

“That’d be great,” he said with what he quickly realized was too much enthusiasm. “I mean, if it works with your schedule.”

“New York Tammany is a big team,” she cautioned. “I can travel separately if you think I’ll distract you before the game.”

“Not at all.” He smiled and reached for her hand across the table. “I play better when I know someone I care about is watching.”

She tugged her hand out from under his and wrapped it around her coffee mug, her eyes downcast. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Kepler’s heart sank. It had been too easy the way she’d appeared on his doorstep, unbidden yet so eager and willing. He should’ve insisted on discussing things last night, as he’d wanted to, but he’d let his raging desire cloud his logic. Now he would pay the price.

“Don’t tell me we’re back to this game.” He sighed in frustration. “Where I never know whether you’re coming or going or how you really feel.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She reached across the table to take his hand again. “I meant it last night when I said I was falling for you, and I’m ready to see where this could take us. But for now, for professional reasons, we need to keep it under wraps. If anyone at Discovery found out about this, I would lose my job faster than you can say ‘goal.’”

He studied her face for a long moment. She had a way of putting him on the back foot, which wasn’t somewhere he was used to being. At times he found it exciting and relished the challenge; now he felt perplexed and unsure, as if he were finding his way through a dark room, fumbling for the light switch.