Win Big:A Bad Boy Sports Romance(29)

"Thanks. Did you work out today? And more importantly, did you do all the exercises and stretching I showed you?"

"I sure did," he said proudly. "Warm up, cool down, heating pad, massage, the works."

"Excellent."

"I'm serious about this."

"I know."

We got to his room and I stopped him before he opened the door. "Do I need to mentally prepare myself for what I heard was the Evan Marshall chamber of indulgent debauchery?"

"Oh, you heard about it, huh? That's probably a good thing … it means you won't be surprised by too much. I did a little rearranging just for you, though."                       
       
           



       

"Yeah? What, did you hide all the whips, chains, restraints and sex swings I heard about?"

"Hide them? With you coming over? Hell no. I brought them all out. Come on in. I'll show you."

I thought all the air got sucked out of the hallway after he said that. Goodness, was he serious?

He opened the door slowly, and for a split second, I thought I'd have to rethink this entire plan. He used his dimmer switch to adjust the light to a cozy level. When he moved out of the doorway, there was just his mahogany bedroom set, a bookshelf, a study desk and a sofa facing the flat screen TV mounted on his wall. It was a large room, painted in a muted camel color. The trimmings and décor were nice too.

No kinky bondage paraphernalia anywhere.

Thank God.

He turned to me and gave me a wink. "Gotcha."

I breathed in a sigh of relief. "Smartass."

"Come on in. Have a seat."

I took a seat on the sofa. Evan twisted off the cap of a beer for me before handing it over.

"Thanks." I took a sip, savoring the ice cool bitter bite to it followed by its semi-sweet aftertaste. Was I really ready to do this?

Time would tell.

He grabbed one for himself and sat beside me, stretching an arm over my shoulder like this was something we did all the time. My mind was on what was to come. I had to keep reminding myself to take it easy and not freak out. I took a few more swigs and rested my head on his arm, looking at his bookshelf. One shelf was lined with smaller books, and I noticed a bright, unmistakable, orange and yellow paperback.

"You've read The Achemist?" I got up and went over to his bookshelf.

"Sure. I read a lot. Nonfiction stuff mostly. A lot of biographies too."

"Mind if I browse your collection?"

He remained on the sofa, starting on his second beer. "Knock yourself out."

This guy.

I swear he should have a warning label around his neck that reads There's more to me than I let on. He had titles like The Talent Code, Thrive, Undaunted Courage, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success, and even a late1970s edition of The Power of the Subconscious Mind. Close inspection of the one I picked up showed they were not just sitting on his shelf. This one was well-worn, with the odd dog-eared pages throughout, creases along the spine and notes on some of the corners.

"You never cease to amaze me, Evan Marshall."

I made to turn and go back to the sofa, but he stepped up behind me. He didn't touch me, but I knew he was there. All that scorching heat radiated from his torso into my back and spread to my core, causing me to ache deep between my legs again.

"Samantha," he whispered, still not making physical contact, except for his baritone voice rumbling in my ear. It instantly made me wet.

"Yes," I breathed out, barely making a sound. I leaned my head back until it touched his firm, toned chest.

Evan reached in front of me and took my beer bottle, placed it on top of the bookshelf. He put a hand on my hip and drew me in. "Tell me what you want," he asked in a deep, thick raspy tone.

"You already know," I said, closing my eyes and placing my hand over top his as he ran it up and down my hip.

"You told me in a text message. Not good enough. I want to hear it from your sweet, sexy lips … " His other hand crept up my arm and he turned me around to face him. "And I want you to look me in the eye when you say it."

Heat rose up my neck as I looked up into his darkened eyes. As difficult as it was to evoke it from deep within me, I was compelled to say it. I desperately wanted to tell him.

Taking a breath, I whispered, "I want you, Evan … I'd like you to make love to me … to be my first. Tonight … with no strings attached."

I shouldn't have squeaked out that last part, but it needed to be said. I wasn't looking to get serious with anyone, let alone a football player who knew how to get under my skin. Besides, even if we did hit it off, I didn't want the stress of dealing with the life of a professional athlete. He could get drafted to God knows where come late April, then get traded to another state across the country a week later. Of course, I was getting ahead of myself thinking this way, but I needed him to know that sleeping with me and being my first was not going to make him obligated in any way. He just happened to be a man whose touch made my body come alive with full-bodied, deep-seated lust, desire, and everything in between.

He nodded.

Good. It was settled.

Taking my hands in his, he backed up to his bed, then he kissed me. That intense, powerful kiss quieted my thoughts, accentuated my resolve, possessed my heart, and was close to making me forget my own name. His lips moved across my cheek and down to my neck. I arched my back, head tipped to one side as I eagerly ran my hands through his hair, overwhelmed already by the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth against my neck and collarbone. Peeling my jacket off, he slid the shoulder straps of my navel-length skin-tight stretchy top down my shoulder, one by one. There was no bra underneath, a detail that made him moan from the realization. His large hands cupped each breast, then he lowered and kissed each one through the fabric, gripping the nipple. He groaned hungrily, and his fingertips slipped under my neckline to pull it down and free them.                       
       
           



       

"Fuck … you're beautiful," Evan growled low as the sight of my bare breasts.

I would have told him I wasn't if I could string together that many words. I couldn't. Not when his lips pressed over my nipple and his tongue began to brush along the hardened peak, then over to the other breast, and back. I bit my lip, back arching further, holding on to his broad shoulders for support. My foot inched up the side of his jeans, wanting more contact with him between my thighs. Acting on impulse, I placed a hand over the crotch of his jeans to feel the thick, hard erection inside his pants. Stroking his thick length through the fabric, I couldn't help my body's response, no matter how hard I tried. The wetness and heat pooled between my legs, and my body shuddered against my wishes as he continued tugging each nipple, sucking hungrily on each one. I struggled to control my breathing, but I knew full well that the time for any type of self-control had long since passed.

His hands snaked around to my ass, and a second later he lifted me off the ground and placed me in his bed. He parted my legs, getting between them. I moaned when he pushed my skirt high up past my hips to reveal my silky pair of thong panties. He kept them on me, kissing the skin at my lower belly. Moving down one side, his tongue licked against my folds and suddenly crashed against my opening. I gasped, wanting to know what that would be like when his thick hardness was there instead. The idea that I wouldn't have to wait much longer drove my need to another level, and my focus return to the wicked way he feasted on my pussy, sucking my clit then licking down across the folds until his tongue was buried deep in my center. I was desperate to strip off my bunched up clothes and rid myself of these panties, but he seemed to get a thrill from keeping me half clothed.

Without moving from his spot, he looked up at me, one arm wrapped under my legs and around to my sides, right along the patch of fabrics that were my mini skirt and midriff top. I hissed when his other hand slipped to my center and entered my sopping wet pussy. He kept his eyes lock on mine and spread me wider, licking and nipping my clit as I clench around his finger. He pulled it back and plunged two fingers inside, sucking hard on my clit. He took me over and over again with his two digits, and used his tongue to circle my now engorged clit.

Christ, that sensation, feeling him inside me and at my throbbing bud had me writhing against his face and bucking against his hand, desperate to feel him deeper. The pressure in my core catapulted through the roof. My chest rose and fell. I was breathless. My legs began to shake. My hand gripped his hair in response to what I knew was coming. That elated feeling of bliss compounded with electricity and the need for more, it all exploded from my center to every part of my body until I was a quivering mass of wobbly limbs when I came.

Evan didn't slow down or stop or change position. He kept devouring me, fucking me hard with those skillful fingers that curled forward and found what could only be my G-spot. I was howling like an animal, in the throes of the knowledge that this wave of my climax would crash into another one that was already overwhelming me deep in my womb.