Coach Love(17)
He got to his feet, wishing he could just lie down on the couch and sleep. “Okay.”
“Wait, don’t be going to that...to her looking like something a cat coughed up. There’s plenty of ironed clothes down in the laundry room. Go find a shirt with a collar, at least.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, making his way to the steps. When he glanced over at her, catching her gripping the edges of the sideboard, her face contorted in pain, he ran around the couch to grab her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Get on, now. I’m fine. Sometimes this old hip cries out then it gets quiet again. Stop hoverin’.” She shoved him away. He backed up slowly then headed down to the basement laundry for a shirt with a collar at least his heart heavy and his mouth watering for more brown liquor. As he tugged the shirt over his head, he framed the explanation to Melinda. And every time he figured a new way to say it, she found a new way to be pissed off at him, at least in his imagination.
Chapter Eight
Cara rolled over and bumped into a warm expanse of skin. She blinked and rubbed her nose, trying to sort out the strange, lumpy bed. Kent never slept at her place, and the few times she’d stayed in Louisville at his small, hyper-organized condo she’d felt like a serious interloper.
Still half-asleep, she curled around his warm, nude body, letting her arm drape over his hip. He smelled warm and familiar. It comforted her, and she allowed herself to float in and out of a strange dream state. Right when Mickey Mouse gave her a basket of laundry to hang, Kent shifted and her palm landed on something warm and hard. Her own body tingled in anticipation by the time he flipped onto his back and pulled her over so she straddled him.
His hot, urgent flesh found hers, responding in a primal way, requiring him inside her so badly it hurt. “Yes,” she gasped when he gripped her hips and thrust with little preamble, his fingers dug deep into her thighs. He yanked her down so her hair curtained their faces.
“Kiss me,” he croaked out, and tilted his hips, providing her with exquisite friction. She met his movements, grinding down on him as she slanted her lips over his, needy in a way she didn’t comprehend but couldn’t control. Their bodies joined, moving together with the sort of rhythm they’d never found before.
She broke from his lips then propped her hands on either side of his head. He sucked her nipple into his mouth so hard she cried out and the orgasm burst across her nerve endings, shutting out light and sound, everything but the sensation of her man, making love to her.
Slowing her movements, thinking he’d come with her, she realized the sight of his red, sweaty face didn’t bode well for that assumption. She kept moving with him, well past her own release, attempting to recreate the moment, to perhaps find another orgasm somewhere in all the wet-sounding grunting.
“Roll over,” he said, pulling out of her, his face a mask of frustration. He still had a rock-hard erection. She lifted off and dropped onto the bed, smiling and pulling him to her.
“No. Roll all the way over.”
Willing to do anything at that point to get him off so she could shower and go home, she obliged. Her mind drifted to her to-do list, and to how she needed to regroup and think about Kieran, and Kent and....
“Oh, Jesus,” she gasped when he yanked her hips and rammed into her over and over. She grabbed onto the brass headboard to keep from hitting her head on the wall and held on for dear life, arching her back, hoping the angle would help.
He draped over her and bit down on her shoulder, reaching around to rub out a small climax for her at the same moment he groaned and shuddered. She stayed still, hoping he could finish, shivering, confused by how she felt and why her own body clamored for so much sex. The bizarre realization that she wanted to throw him down and do it all over again made her dizzy.
Finally, he pulled out and flopped down on the bed. She fell the other way onto her side. He stayed still, holding onto his dick, glaring up at the ceiling. Replaying all the sex they’d had lately, outnumbered by all the times they’d tried and failed thanks to his recent problem, she studied his profile.
Finally, she reached out and put her palm on his chest, making him flinch as a strange, unknown expression flickered across his face. Unsure and suddenly very uneasy, she moved away, but he lunged for her, pinning her underneath him, her arms over her head. His gaze darkened. She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do next while he glared down at her, his breathing heavy, his angular handsome face sweat-slicked.
It filled her vision then he slanted his lips over hers, probing, teasing, gentle, yet sexy at the same time. She tugged at her arms, wanting to hang onto him but he pressed down on her wrists, grinding his still-hard cock against her body as their tongues tangled and wet skin slapped together.