“No need,” she said softly. “I came prepared.”
She extended her leg slightly, then tugged on her skirt with her left hand. The white silk crept up to her thigh. She reached underneath, and as she withdrew the condom she had tucked in the top of her stocking, she was hit full force by the moral implications of what she was doing. She had deliberately sabotaged the condom, and this was thievery.
Studying particle physics either distanced people from God or brought them closer. For her, the latter had happened, and she was defying everything she believed in. At the same time, she began to rationalize. He had no use for what she wanted, and she wasn’t harming him in any way by taking it. He was merely a device. This would have absolutely no negative effect on him.
Setting aside her qualms, she peeled apart the package and handed the condom to him. Even in the dim light, she wasn’t taking any chances that he would notice the package had been tampered with.
“Well, now, aren’t you an efficient little thing.”
“Very efficient.” Drawing a steadying breath, she tugged her skirt just high enough so that she could kneel on the edge of the mattress. Then she straddled his thighs, determined to get this over with as quickly as she could.
He gazed up at her, his arms crossed behind his head, the condom between his fingers. Staying on her knees, she garnered her courage and reached for the open waistband of his jeans. Her fingertips brushed the taut skin of his abdomen, and the next thing she knew, she was flat on her back.
With a hiss of alarm, she gazed up at him. His weight pressed her into the mattress, and the heels of his hands pinioned her shoulders so she couldn’t move. “Wh-what are you doing?”
His mouth tightened into a hard, thin line. “The game’s over, lady. Who the hell are you?”
She gasped for breath. She didn’t know whether it was his weight or her own fear, but her lungs felt as if they’d collapsed. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”
“I want the truth, and I want it now. Who are you?”
She’d underestimated his street smarts, and she knew she couldn’t afford another convoluted explanation. Her only chance to salvage this situation lay in simplicity. She thought of Jodie Pulanski and forced herself to look directly into his eyes.
“I’m a big fan.”
He regarded her with disgust. “That’s what I figured. A bored society bimbo with a hankerin’ for football jerseys.”
Bimbo! He thought she was a bimbo! The novelty of it distracted her, and it took a moment to recover. “Not all jerseys,” she said hastily. “Just yours.”
She hoped he wouldn’t ask her the number because she had no idea. The personal research she’d done had centered on his medical records: low cholesterol, twenty-twenty vision, no family history of chronic disease, only a variety of orthopedic injuries that were of no concern to her.
“I should kick your ass out of here.”
Despite his words, he didn’t move, and as she felt him pressed hard against her thigh, she knew why. “But you won’t.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he reared back, releasing her shoulders. “You’re right. I guess I’m drunk enough to forget that I gave up groupies years ago.”
He moved to the side of the bed and shucked his jeans. With the bars of moonlight falling across his body, there was something primitive about him and elementally male. She looked away as he tugged on the sabotaged condom. This was it, then.
Her mouth went dry as he turned back and reached for the snap that held her jacket together. She flinched and made an instinctive grab for his hand.
He clenched his teeth in something that resembled a snarl. “Make up your mind, Rosebud, and do it fast.”
“I want to . . . I want to keep my clothes on.” Before he could respond, she gripped his wrist and shoved his hand under her skirt. Once she’d done that, she released him, because if he couldn’t take it from there by himself, she was doomed.
She needn’t have worried.
“You sure are full of surprises, Rosebud.” He stroked up the length of her stocking, then moved higher, tracing the path of the garter to the point where it met the lacy belt. Now he knew exactly how little she had on beneath her skirt.
“You don’t believe in wasting any time, do you?”
She could barely force the words through the constriction in her throat. “I want you. Now.”
She willed herself to open her legs, but the muscles in her thighs were so rigid, she could barely force them apart. He stroked them, soothing her as if she were a cat with an arched back.
“Relax, Rosebud. For somebody who wants it so bad, you sure are tense.”