Covering Kendall(8)
She knew he must have been somewhat smart if he wanted to spend his evening listening to Carl Sagan’s biographer in a bookstore, but right now, he was having trouble verbalizing his thoughts.
It took a few seconds, but she saw a smirk spread over his face.
“You . . . you run the Miners? You couldn’t get a job with a better team?” The arch rivalry had reared its ugly head.
“A better team, huh? We beat you how many times last season?” she said, but she smiled at him.
He laughed out loud.
“We’ll be handing your team their asses on Sunday, Kendall. You’re in our house now.”
Drew was still holding her hand. She snatched it away. She couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize her. She’d got an avalanche of press over her new job in the past month. Right now, though, getting Drew out of her room (and hopefully, out of the hotel and undetected) was first on her agenda.
“I’m guessing this means our night is over,” he said.
DREW CONSIDERED HIMSELF a pretty easygoing, uncomplicated guy. He wasn’t a slave to fashion. He wore what felt good. When he had an attraction as strong as the one he was currently experiencing toward the robe-clad woman two feet from him (and he knew the feeling was mutual), he acted on it.
He’d like to hurl himself back into Kendall’s warm and dry bed for a while, preferably with her. He understood the word “no.” He also understood he wasn’t going to be able to go outside and grab a cab to get home while commando beneath a stolen Westin Hotels bathrobe. He could call one of his teammates to haul his ass out of here, but again, buck naked in a hotel bathrobe in the middle of a windstorm: The resulting cell phone photos would be trending on Twitter before he made it out of the parking lot.
He tried pulling his jeans on; they were so wet he couldn’t get them over his thighs. She’d vanished into the bathroom.
“Hey, Kendall,” he called out.
She emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later. God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were pink with lust, embarrassment, or both. She’d brushed her hair. The faint scent of green apples drifted toward him again. Her mouth was a little swollen from his kisses too. If he started thinking about what she was or was not wearing underneath that bathrobe, he’d have to go stand in a cold shower for a while.
She glanced at the jeans stuck halfway up his thighs. She was having a tough time tearing her eyes away from him.
“I’m guessing you might need something dry to wear,” she said.
He kicked the jeans off and sat down on the couch, tucking the robe around him so he didn’t flash her.
“Maybe you have a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt I could borrow in that suitcase.”
“I have yoga pants and—”
“I’ll take them,” he said.
“They might not fit.”
She was probably half his size. They weren’t going to fit at all, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“I’ll make it work. Don’t they stretch?”
She turned to the soft-sided suitcase on a rack by the dresser. “Let’s see here.” She pulled out a pair of black, short-ish yoga pants and a bright orange racing bra thing. “I’m going to have to find you a T-shirt of some kind. I don’t wear them for yoga. I—”
He reached out to take the yoga pants out of her hand. “I’ll try these first.”
He’d had more than one girlfriend who wore these. The brand fit like a second skin, and whatever it was they were constructed out of clung to a woman’s ass. His ex-girlfriend hadn’t made it to a single yoga class when she’d worn them in front of him. He’d removed them as quickly as possible.
He stuck one foot into the pants. He could at least pull them over his thighs. They covered him to just above his kneecap. He was used to wearing short pants on a football field, so this wasn’t a problem. He’d look like an idiot, but he’d be covered.
A grin crossed Kendall’s face. “Maybe they will fit after all.”
He stuck his other foot in and slowly drew the fabric over his thighs and up to his waist. Surprisingly, there was a limit to spandex. He heard Kendall let out a gasp and glanced up to see even more color spreading over her cheekbones. She swallowed hard.
His package looked massive as he looked down. The fabric outlined every ridge and every contour. The entire city of Bellevue was about to learn he was circumcised. His dick wasn’t calming down anytime soon with soft fabric rubbing against it—soft fabric that held Kendall’s green apple scent. Those tights-wearing ballet guys had nothing on him. Holy shit. The shorter pants were the least of his problems. If he went out like this, he’d get arrested for indecent exposure. He wrapped the robe around himself again.