Page 107 of Resisting the Running Back

“What did you do?” I ask.

“Coach Cook, the running back coach, took the running backs to play laser tag.”

I flatten my lips and narrow my eyes at him. “So I was sitting here working all day feeling bad for you that you were also working all day, when you were actually…playing laser tag?”

He chuckles. “It wasn’t exactly like that. It was a team-building activity. He drew parallels to the game—being aware of our surroundings, thinking on our feet, communicating with our teammates.”

He leaves it at that, but that word—“communicating”—feels like it sits heavily in the air between us.

I nod. “Sounds fun.”

“I brought dinner home for you. I didn’t realize you were out.”

I clear my throat. “You could’ve texted.” I only realize how bitchy I sound as the words fall from my lips.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “I know you’re busy. It’s just an adjustment already. I’m used to you being here.”

He moves the tablet and scoots a little closer to me on the couch, and it doesn’t escape me that we haven’t had sex since the night the condom broke.

More and more it feels like the symbolic thing that brokeus, too. It’s one thing towriteabout symbols as I plant them in a story. It’s another thing entirely to keep having to face them.

He moves his arm around me, and I lean into his chest. “I’m used to being here, too. I missed you today. Hell, I’ve missed you since cruise night four.”

I turn and look up at him. “I’ve missed you since then, too.”

He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, and that same heat and passion are still there.

The urgency kicks in as his mouth opens to mine, and suddenly he’s leaning me back onto the couch, hovering over me, his hips seeking out mine as they thrust against me. I’m moaning as I wait for him to do it again, and the ache is back, growing unbearable as the need for him to alleviate it burns bright and hot inside of me.

Maybe we’re not broken after all. Maybe things are just a little bent right now, and all we need is some time to straighten them back out.

He moves his mouth from mine and toward my ear as his hips slam to mine again, and then he murmurs in a deep, raspy voice, “I need to fuck you.”

“Do it,” I beg. “Please.”

He pulls off of me and pushes to a stand. “Be right back.”

He disappears, and I lay there for a few seconds where he left me. I wonder where he went as I sit up, and eventually I stand and head over to the kitchen, where I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and drink some down.

He returns, and he was only gone a minute, tops—probably less, but it felt like forever.

He’s holding a condom between his fingertips, and he wiggles his eyebrows as he shows it to me. I stifle a giggle as he starts to saunter over toward me, and a moment later, he has me pinned against the refrigerator.

His mouth falls to mine, open and hungry, and he kisses me like he wants to devour me whole. And I want him to. I crave the intimacy that so easily came to us once we finally crossed into the territory we’d been fighting against. I cravehim.

He lifts me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he thrusts up toward me. My back is still against the fridge, and he’s holding me around my thighs now as he kisses me like his life depends on it.

His tongue thrashes against mine, the passion new and different while still familiar, and I meet him thrust for thrust, thrash for thrash.

He spins me around and sets me on the counter of the island that was behind him only a second ago, and he breaks the kiss to move back. He reaches for my shirt and pulls it over my head, dropping it on the floor, and he slowly unhooks my bra and tosses it aside.

I tug at his shirt, too, and he pulls it over his head and lets it drop as well. He moves in toward me, pulling me into a hug as our chests meet in the middle. It’s warm and cozy here, and it feels like the sort of place I never want to leave. He pulls back enough to press his lips back to mine, and I sigh into him as I feel like I could stay right here in his arms forever, kissing him just like this.

He reaches into my jeans with a sudden movement I’m not expecting, and he isn’t playing. He isn’t teasing. Instead, his finger moves right inside my pussy, and he hisses when he feels how ridiculously wet I am for him.

“Jesus, Sophie,” he mutters, and as he pulls back, his eyes are glazed with lust. “Lay back.”

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