Forward Pass - Desiree Holt Game On

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pressed his thumb to her clit and as if a button opened a magic door, she exploded. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled herself as tight to his touch as she could and rode his hand like a wild horse. When the last spasm subsided, when the last tremor had rippled through her body, she lay there gasping, her heart galloping and her breathing ragged. When she opened her eyes at last, Joe’s face was barely a millimeter away from hers, his eyes still burning with lust.

      And then…

      Reality slammed into her. Ice water dumped all over her couldn’t have shocked her more. What the hell had she done here? Allowed to happen?

      No, no, no, no, no. Big mistake. Huge mistake.

      She pushed at him, trying to move him away from her body. She could tell when his brain snapped into focus again and the look of desire was replaced by shock.

      Abruptly he sat up, shaking his head. “Jesus. Shay, I—”

      “Don’t say a word. Not one word.” If he tried to apologize, she might have to kill him.

      “Listen, I don’t know what—”

      “Shut up, Joe. I mean it. Just shut up.”

      She was hot and cold by turns, mortified and embarrassed by what happened. By what she’d allowed to happen.

      No more hiding your feelings now, Shay, the ones you were so sure you’d buried.

      She scrabbled around for her T-shirt and bra, clutched them to her, and pushed herself off the couch. If she could have somehow melted into the floor she would have. She could tell he was already regretting what happened and she just didn’t want to listen to it. Ignoring the debris from their dinner, she raced to her bedroom and slammed the door.

      She’d never be able to face him again. What in God’s name must he be thinking?

      * * * *

      Joe was actually doing his best not to think. His big brain seemed to have vaporized and his little brain was screaming orders at him. Speaking of his little brain, he was rock hard to the point if he bumped into anything he was afraid his dick would break off and fall to the floor. Maybe it would be best since it seemed intent on dragging him into such trouble.

      What the hell was wrong with him? This was Hank’s baby sister. The squirt. The tagalong.

      Not any more, hotshot.

      That was damn sure. Tonight he’d been seized with the unexpected desire to lick her all over. Because this Shay was a very sexy woman who turned him on full blast. And tempted him. Hell, temptation didn’t even begin to describe her. He only wanted one tiny taste of her. A little something to satisfy him after he’d carried the image of a mature Shay in his mind for so long. Well, he damn sure got his taste. What was the matter with him? Hank would kill him when he found out.

      Maybe Shay wouldn’t tell him.

      As he carried the empty pizza box, the plates, and bottles into the kitchen, he tried telling himself it would be okay. He’d find a way to make it so. He’d apologize to her.

      No, not an apology. No matter how he worded it she’d take it wrong. What was he apologizing for, anyway? The fact he was hot as a pistol for her or the fact he’d acted on it? Would she be insulted? Angry?

      Shit. He was supposed to be the expert on women. Now he realized just how little he really knew. Life had always been easy for him in that department. The Bad Company song she’d teased him about, Feel Like Makin’ Love, could have been his theme song.

      So he’d cleaned up his act. So what? After tonight he was sure nothing he said would do any good. He’d certainly lived up to her image of him, pawing at her the way he had.

      What the hell had come over him, anyway? If he could, he’d kick himself in the ass.

      He sure as hell hadn’t the first idea what to say to her now. Her snarky, get-in-your-face attitude certainly wasn’t going to make it easy. Combine that with her image of him as the ultimate playboy and he had a big wall to climb here.

      Heading down the hallway, he saw Shay’s door was still closed. As hard as she’d slammed it he wondered it hadn’t fallen off its hinges. He raised his hand to knock, then dropped it. What would he say to her? Sorry I’m an ass? I thought you were someone else? Oh, yeah. That would go over like a lead balloon.

      He should go out somewhere. Anywhere. Out of the danger zone.

      Perversity made him head for his bedroom, instead. Anyway, where could he go with such a raging hard-on he could barely walk? Yeah, he definitely should have taken himself elsewhere tonight. Lying on his bed, however, with his arm over his eyes, a thought struck him with alarming awareness.

      She’d liked it!

      Not only liked it, but came apart right there on the couch in his arms with nothing more than his mouth and his fingers touching her. Lifting his right hand, he sniffed the perfume of her liquid, then tortured himself by lapping the traces of it from his fingers.

      Pathetic. Completely pathetic.

      Yet here he was, obsessing over a woman he had no business even touching and hard as a spike because he never had a chance to get past first base. First base? What was he, in high school?

      He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact he wanted to plunge himself inside her, let her wet heat surround him, and ride her until they both exploded. He had to get over this. Especially if they were going to share this house for more than five minutes.

      Chapter 3

      At eight in the morning, after a mostly sleepless night, Shay reluctantly dragged herself out of bed. Her dreams had been filled with images of Joe Reilly and the feel of his hands as he moved them over her curves. She could still feel the scratch of his stubble as she touched her palms to his cheeks. Still feel the abrasion of the curling hair on his chest against her breasts, teasing her nipples to agonizingly hard points. The heated look in his eyes after he stroked her to orgasm still scorched her body. She ached with rising need even as her brain tried to shut everything down.

      She felt stupid. Humiliated. Completely embarrassed as the tendrils of the erotic dream still wound themselves around her. So much for her good intentions and new resolutions.

      But oh holy God. The touch of his mouth, his kisses hot, wet, teasing. The way his hands caressed her. The heat he created in her body. Her teenage dreams had barely scratched the surface of the reality. What was it Hank always said? Oh, yeah. Expect the unexpected. No kidding!

      Never mind. She could handle this. She just needed to keep reminding herself Joe was still—well, Joe. Hot sports figure who never took anything serious except the game of football itself. Ladies’ man. What happened last night was an aberration, in his life as well as hers.

      What prompted him, anyway? She’d give a week’s pay to know what had been going through his mind and what he thought now. For her part she’d just chalk it up to a surge of hormones. That’s all. Her hormones had to be way out of whack. Maybe she could take a pill, or something. Anything to get this out of her system before she made a bigger fool of herself.

      She had no idea how she’d face him today. She wanted to jump back into bed, pull the covers over her head, and stay there until Joe left town. Or found someone to shack up with. Of course, that was totally unrealistic.

      Her cell phone chimed, and she picked it up from her nightstand.

      “Laura out of there okay?”

      Shay ground her teeth at Hank’s text. Laura would have been a lot easier to handle. For a moment, she was tempted just to ignore the message. He’d just text her again until she answered him, though. Crap.

      “She was gone.” She paused a moment, then typed, “Different houseguest. He needs to leave.”

      A long moment passed before Hank texted back.

      “Oh, yeah.

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