Linebacker’s Second Chance(34)

“Empty words,” she says, holding up one hand. But I can see her mask is cracking.

I push harder. “I swear it. There were reasons I left that had nothing to do with you, and every word my brother said was false.” I close the distance between us, and this time I take her in my arms for real. When I’m close to her like this, I can tell that her not-so-professional side has been wanting this, maybe even since the day she arrived.

I can hear her breathing. She doesn’t ask me to step away. She just looks at me and doesn’t say anything. Those dark eyes are skeptical, full of doubt. But there’s something more there, too. She’s full of the aching, needy desire that we felt so often when we were together at Brooks.

The need, raging through me, makes me want to take her by her shoulders and push her against the chair she’s standing behind, lift that orange top over her head and attack her body like a man starved.

Not yet. Don’t scare her away.

Instead, I tip her face toward mine, and she draws in a sharp breath. The sound sends a shock through my system, a ripple down my spine I haven’t felt for years.

Renata keeps her eyes on mine, giving me that same look. But she doesn’t move away, doesn’t storm out screaming like she probably should.

I cover her mouth with mine, drawing in her pouty lower lip. Her body is rigid, but her lips respond to me, pulling me in even as the rest of her hesitates. Lifting my hand to her cheek, I brush an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

It’s only then that her body responds, arms wrapping around my shoulders, tongue finding mine, body going slack against the chair. I move my hand down her back, and ever so gently, slip it under her shirt. At once, she stiffens again, squirming like she’s thought better of the whole thing. But she moves closer, like she’s drawn to me.

Like I’m drawn to her. Inexorably. Undeniably.

My other hand finds the top of her shorts, fingers crossing the silky smoothness of her skin to find the button, then the zipper. Pausing, I pull away and look at her again. She doesn’t nod, but she doesn’t back away, those eyes locked on mine.

To my surprise, she leans forward and kisses me again, and my hands move lower to work their magic.

Her shorts drop, and I rip the panties away.

She gasps when the air hits her.

Wearing only her red lace bra, she’s a perfect sight. The vision I’ve been dreaming of night after night since the day I left her. My fingers fly to the back of her bra and unhook it, letting her honey-brown breasts fall free. There’s another sharp intake of breath as my mouth and fingers find her dark nipples, teasing and playing, bringing Renata’s long-hidden desires to the surface of her skin. I flick my tongue over the soft swell of one nipple and then the other. Faintly, she groans, and I look up to her again, making sure to go slow, making sure this is something she wants as badly as I do.

“I want you, Renata. I don’t want that silly excuse for a woman. Rumors fly, and I know she’s already sleeping with one of the other guys on the team because I won’t put out.”

She gives me another version of the same look she had before. “You won’t put out? That’s a first.” There’s a smirk on her face, but it’s hard to take her seriously when there’s a pile of her clothes at her feet, and her bare sex is pressing into my jeans.

“I can’t. Not when you’re anywhere around.”

“Then tell me…why…” Her voice trails off, and she watches as I shake my head slowly.

For a second, she looks like she’s about to spring up and leave, but instead, she sighs and draws me closer in, her lanky arms around my neck, lips pressed against my ear. “Then I’m fine with you dropping Kinley after the engagement party, and I’m fine with a little fooling around. But if you want anything more, I expect an explanation.”

Fine with a little fooling around. I’ll take it for now.

I open my mouth to speak, but Renata takes my hand before the words can form, and places it between her legs. My cock jumps when she guides my fingers over her wetness, over her clit. Goosebumps rise on her flesh as I begin to circle that sensitive button I knew so well before.

“Look at me,” I say, and her eyes meet mine as my fingers fall into a rhythm, remembered and familiar. My fingers dart between her folds, finding the ridged place inside, massaging, beckoning as she begins to whimper. Slowly, I begin to move my fingers back and forth, tapping her g-spot softly with each thrust. Her sex throbs gently against my fingers, and she puts her hands behind her on the chair to hold herself up. There’s nothing I want more than to unleash my cock and impale her on my length until she’s begging for more. Instead, I move slowly, using my fingers, drawing her orgasm out of her. My palm rocks against her clit as I work her body, drawing her to the edge.