Page 19 of Second Go-Round

Lifting the cold bottle, I acknowledged to myself that I needed to clear my head. The hoppy, bitter brew slid down my throat, refreshing as hell and clearing some of the strangeness from my brain. “Damn, I needed that.”

“Nothing better than a cold beer after a hot fuck.” She tossed a flirty wink over her shoulder before sitting on the couch.

The things that came out of her mouth. I’d never met such an uninhibited vixen, and I swore witchery was at play with how she stirred me up inside like a bubbling cauldron ready to spill over.

“You just gonna stand there all night?” she called to me.

Put one foot in front of the other, I coaxed myself as a sports announcer started in on the day’s highlights.

Reality settled over me, and I blinked fully into the present. I’d read Christine’s file but hadn’t actually thought a woman would be that much into sports she’d enjoy watching a nighttime talk show about them. Especially while sucking down a beer.

“Are you shitting me?” I asked, collapsing onto the couch beside her.

“What?”

I lifted my bottle and pointed to the TV.

“Two of my favorite pastimes.” She sipped from her drink, her swollen lips kissing the rim and drawing my focus.

“Are you for real?” I heard myself ask.

Christine flicked her gaze to the wide flatscreen hanging on the wall across from us. “Nope.”

Her profile held my attention, and I ignored the drone of the announcer’s voice. Barely any makeup painted her face, allowing the darker star-like spots across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones to stand out and demand appreciation. Naturally shaped eyebrows, auburn in color arched over her eyes without a hint of that fake line shit. Pink still flushed her cheeks, and moisture glistened on her full bee-stung lips.

“Goddamnit.” Christine scowled.

“What?” I glanced at the screen, realizing I’d been staring in awe-like stupidity at her.

“Jackson definitely won’t be ready for tomorrow’s game.”

The Pats’s rookie…right. “They told us that late last night,” I said, once more lifting my beer and forcing my attention on the update on the Pats’s lineup for their game against the Steelers the following afternoon.

“A girl can hope, though,” Christine murmured, totally caught up in the host’s words. “It’s going to be a tough game. Pittsburgh has the same undefeated pre-season record as us.”

“3-0,” we both said at the same time.

Christine cast a smile my way, and goddamn, did I feel like the sun shone down from the heavens, shooting beams of heat through every cell in my body.

“You’re beautiful.” I heard myself say the only thought in my head.

“So are you.”

My own smile twisted. “I’ve never been called beautiful before.”

“Oh, please.” She ran a hand through my hair she’d messed up and down along my jaw. Staying still rather than leaning into her caress like a needy kid didn’t come easy. Her fingertips traced my lips before dropping back to her lap. “I’ve never seen a prettier man. God created Colin Farrell, tweaked a few things, and made pure perfection with you. I’m sure he had no choice but to crush that mold once you emerged.”

I chuckled and took a deep pull of my beer, needing the coolness to release some of the warmth Christine flared inside me. “You’re funny.”

“It’s true.”

My lingering smile faded as did hers, our gazes locked. A buzz started up in my ears, or maybe it was simply the heightened pulse of my heart rushing blood through me. Couldn’t look away.

“You are so fucking hot it’s sinful,” Christine murmured, her focus on my mouth. “No man has ever made me come that hard. Shit.” She huffed a small laugh, glittering eyes lifting to mine once more and stealing my breath. “My legs almost gave out when you set me back down.”

I aimed to please, but I hadn’t noticed she’d been that unsteady while my body had been reeling from the climax of a lifetime. “You seemed to stroll away from it without any difficulty.” Could I sound any more pouty? I didn’t do that shit—ever. But knowing she’d been off-kilter too? That sent blood to pool in my groin, making me needy as fuck. I wanted another go-round with the siren reeling me into the type of high that came along with the possibility of danger. Pain. My thickening dick didn’t give two shits about the unease curling in the base of my spine.

I needed more.

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