Page 65 of Hard Hitter
Patrick moaned her name, low and deep. Then he gasped and shuddered and thrust into her one more time.
Wow. She put a hand on his sweaty back and took a deep breath. She felt wrung out, the same way she’d feel after an hour of bikram yoga.
But better.
Patrick rolled onto his side, hauling her with him. “I swear,” he said, his voice husky, “gets better every time.”
Her pounding heart skipped a beat. “That’s just because we did it my way,” she teased.
“Liar.” He pulled her face in close and kissed her. “But I’ll take you any way I can get you.” He kissed her again.
“Are we late for work?” she thought to ask.
He lifted his head to see the clock, then dropped it again. “Don’t think so. It’s just eight o’clock now.”
“Good. Because I don’t think I could hurry anywhere right now. How’s your face?”
“What face?”
She laughed. “Should I ask you later?”
His smile made his eyes light up. He looked almost boyish when he smiled. “I got up earlier and took some ibuprofen. I feel okay.”
“You going to practice?”
“Yeah, sure. Unless they keep me back for another concussion evaluation.”
All the mirth drained out of her. “Do you think you have a concussion?”
He shook his head. “But every time I take a beating they need to check.”
“I don’t like it when you take a beating.” She cupped his good cheek in her hand.
He rose up on an elbow suddenly. “Is that why you won’t go out to dinner with me?” His cool blue eyes waited for an answer.
And, damn it, she’d walked right into that one. “I already told you why I can’t date. You don’t really want to start something with me, anyway.”
“Yeah, I really do.”
She shook her head. “The next man who has the pleasure of starting a relationship with me is getting a cynical girl with trust issues and a ticking biological clock. How’s that for sexy?”
“Ari...” he whispered, trailing the back of his hand down her naked abdomen, “in the dictionary under sexy, there’s a picture of you in the warrior pose. And—hell—nobody has more baggage than I do.”
“Awesome. Then we should definitely become a thing.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He leaned over and kissed her, in spite of her sarcasm.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed. “I’ll go out to dinner with you on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You tell me how you started fighting, and why you don’t like to be touched.”
He stiffened in her arms. “Why would you want to hear about that?”
“Because I’m interested in you.”
He rolled onto his back, out of her grasp. “It’s not a nice story, Ari. No need to go there.”
