Devon Drake, Cornerback Page 12

  He lowered his hips, pressing his erection against her belly. Instinctively, she raised her knee, allowing him to nestle between her legs.

  “Stormy, baby,” he whispered, his voice husky with passion, his breath hot on her neck.

  Need filled her veins. She arched against him, rubbing him through his sweats until she heard him groan. He unhooked her bra in seconds and slipped his hands under it, massaging her.

  “You’ve got a great rack.”

  “Yeah?”

  “For a while, I didn’t think you were gonna grow tits. But then…and now…wow.”

  She pushed on his shoulder and sat up. “You what?”

  Color rose up his neck and into his face. “Well, you were a little kid.”

  “I started to develop—that’s what it’s called, ‘developing’, not growing tits—when I was thirteen.”

  “When you were twelve, I never thought you were gonna have any.”

  “You were looking at my chest when I was twelve?”

  “I was fourteen. What did you think?”

  “I thought those games of gin rummy and tag were about being friends.”

  “They were. Of course.” But his blush deepened.

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Was he ever interested in me? No way. She folded her arms across her chest.

  Devon gently moved them down. “Hey, you’re spoiling the view.”

  Unable to stop herself, Stormy laughed. Devon bent down and kissed each breast before taking a peak into his mouth. If he had stuck her toe in a light socket, the charge wouldn’t have been as powerful. The zing from his lips went right to her core.

  He lifted his head. “Forget twelve. You’ve grown…uh, developed, that’s it. You’re well-developed now, and they’re beautiful.”

  She chuckled. He’s never lost his boyish charm. Burying her face in his neck, she inhaled his unique scent. Stormy closed her eyes, remembering the first time she’d smelled it. She had been stuck in a tree, afraid to come down. Devon had coaxed her into jumping into his arms. He’d been twelve, she, ten. She’d landed on him, knocking him to the ground, her face between his neck and his shoulder. That’s when she’d gotten her first whiff of Devon Drake. She’d liked it then, and loved it now.

  He had been her hero throughout her childhood. How natural to love him. But what about now? Was he the same little boy morphed into a gorgeous man? Or was he changed by fame, success, money, and a particular supermodel?

  Stormy stuffed her insecurities down, determined to enjoy these moments with him. The young man had grown up into an expert lover. Don’t spoil it. This may never happen again.

  He removed her top then shucked his sweats and T-shirt. “Come on. Off,” he said, tugging on the side of her panties.

  She stepped out of them and scooted under the covers, hiding her shyness with layers of cotton and down.

  “You can’t get away from me that easily.” Devon followed her. He laced the fingers of both hands with hers and raised them above her head on the bed. Then, he disconnected and slid his palms down her arms, all the way to her breasts. “Don’t run away from me,” he whispered, his gaze seeking hers.

  “You don’t need me. You have famous, sexy, skinny women after you.”

  “I don’t want them. I want you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re real.”

  She laughed.

  “And for a lot of other reasons too. Like, you’re beautiful.”

  “Backpedaling? I get it. I’m here, and she’s in L.A.”

  “You are so wrong. Let me love you, baby. Let me show you how I feel.”

  He stopped further discussion with his mouth on hers. His hungry kiss took her breath away. Dev slid his hands around to her back, moving down to cup her rear, then back around to the front to caress her thigh.

  His touch on her leg spiked her need. She squirmed, anxious to have him inside her, filling her, pounding against her. But all he did was torture her by gliding his fingers up ever so slowly toward her center.

  “Please, Dev,” she murmured, her breathing rapid.

  “Taking my time.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  He snickered as he made contact with her warm, wet flesh. She wound one leg around his waist, pulling him closer with her foot. His erection bobbed against her. If I shift position a little and move. Before she could finish her thought, he thrust forward, entering her.

  “Fast enough for ya?” He pushed in all the way.

  Stormy let out a breath and shut her eyes. “Oh my God. That’s amazing.”

  He grunted, repositioning himself up on his knees as he pounded her. Within seconds, the heat inside her swirled into a tornado-like funnel, intensifying and climbing higher and higher until it burst into release. Stormy saw flashes of light as her muscles clenched and her hips ground in time with his.

  “Oh, baby. I love when you come,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead.

  She opened her eyes to see him staring at her with an expression she hadn’t seen before. Love? Nah. Lust. They look alike.

  He gripped her rear and eased down onto his back, keeping them connected. She was on top. His fingers on her thighs orchestrated their rhythm. She moved as if she was riding a horse, making him groan with every pump. Stormy rested her palms on his pecs and picked up the pace.

  His gaze grew smoky with passion as she increased her speed and used her Kegels, stroking him inside her. Devon cupped her breasts and squeezed then pulled her down. His mouth took her, roughly, aggressively, possessing her.

  Clutching her to him, he rolled them over and pounded into her once more for a few seconds until he came. He groaned into her neck, pressed her hair between his fingertips, and stopped. Slick with sweat, their bodies slid. Stormy hooked her feet together behind his back, as if holding him prisoner would make him love her, keep him with her always.

  He pushed up on his elbows, sweeping a few strands of hair off her face. “Awesome. You’re…amazing,” he said, before planting a tender kiss on her lips.

  “Back at ya.” Lust, love, emotion choked her. She combed his dark locks back from his forehead, kissed him there, and then rubbed her knuckles against his scruff.

  “Do you like that, or should I shave?”

  “Shave, then let me judge.”

  Springing up like a gazelle over a hedge, he was on his feet in seconds. “Last one in the shower’s a rotten egg.” Devon took off, his speed second to none.

  Stormy rolled over and laughed. By the time she joined him, the room was pleasantly steamy, warming her. She stepped in.

  Devon was scrubbing his head, but flicked the suds out of his eyes to look her over. “Get in here. I want to wash you.”

  She hugged his wet, naked body, easing under the warm spray. Happiness spread through her like the heat filling the room.

  He rinsed off the shampoo. “Your turn.”

  She turned her face up to gaze at his. He reached for the shampoo and poured some on her head. Then, his fingers began their massage.

  I’ve died and gone to heaven.

  * * * *

  In Griff Montgomery’s house.

  “You what?” Lauren Montgomery sat up in bed.

  “You need to rest to avoid a miscarriage and with little Hank, well, how can you? I don’t want to hire a stranger. So, this seemed like the logical step.”

  “You invited your father to move in with us and take care of Hank?”

  “Just while you’re pregnant. He’s not coming until a week before training camp.”

  “Do you think you might have asked me?”

  “Aw, come on. It’s a great idea. And I didn’t have to bother you.”

  “Your father doesn’t like me.”

  “He does. And he misses the baby. Hank has a right to know his grandfather.”

  “Of course, but wouldn’t a week’s visit be enough? Moving in?”

  Griff pulled back the covers and slid his long l
egs over the side. “Face it. You’ll need to rest. How the hell can you do that with a toddler in the house? And Hank’s no ordinary toddler. Christ, the kid has more energy than the entire team!”

  “You could have asked me.”

  “And you would have said ‘no,’ like you’re saying now. He’s very excited about coming.”

  “Wish I were. We’ll lose our privacy.”

  “We lost that when Hank was born. The kid comes in here whenever he feels like it now.”

  “But he’s asleep by seven.”

  “Dad won’t interfere. He knows me. He was young once. Damn, did I just say that? Ew, gotta get that idea out of my head.”

  She grasped his upper arm. “The baby’s still sleeping. Come back to bed.”

  Griff turned his gaze toward his wife.

  “No birth control,” she whispered.

  He grinned and climbed back in. On all fours, he approached her, like a panther closing in on its prey. “Lie back, baby. This one’s on me.”

  An hour later, Lauren sat in the kitchen with her feet up on a stool, watching Griff feed cereal to little Hank. The two-year-old had a good appetite. She loved to watch the quarterback with his son. Their connection made her heart sing. After past heartbreaks, she had never thought this intense happiness would be hers.

  Training camp grew closer, then the football season would begin soon after. She treasured this time with Griff and the baby, knowing it would be short-lived. A frown puckered her forehead. As much as she argued with her husband, she knew he was right. They needed help if she was going to carry this second child to full term.

  She didn’t want a babysitter, a woman who might be resentful, cut corners in her treatment of Hank. Griff had a point. The boy’s grandfather was sure to give the boy the love and the attention he needed. Her practical side remembered that Griff’s dad’s services were free too.

  But I have to feed him. Damn, those Montgomery men can eat, all three of them. She chuckled to herself.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Hank inherited your appetite.”

  Griff beamed at her. “Among other things.”

  She slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

  A week later, Griff picked up his dad at the Hartford airport. Lauren tried to relax before they arrived. She took little Hank out in the backyard, and they bounced a ball back and forth.

  Her energy was low now that she was pregnant, or it just seemed that way. Her son, Hank, was a human tornado who never stopped moving. She sat in a chair, instructing him to bounce it directly to her. She rubbed her neck as she waited for the dark-haired little boy with the intense blue eyes of his father to return it.

  Hank, Griff’s dad, had expressed his displeasure at her living with Griff before marriage. He was old-fashioned. She hoped he’d gotten over that. At their wedding, he had been all smiles. He’d danced with the bride, kissed her cheek, and shook hands with Griff’s teammates and coach.

  She grinned at the memory of how happy that day had been. Her brother, Don, had given her away, since her dad had passed. Griff, Lauren, and their guests had danced, eaten, and drunk everything in sight. The couple couldn’t keep away from each other for a moment. Now that the dust had settled, they had one child with another on the way, and she wondered how her relationship with Griff’s father would develop.

  The slamming of car doors alerted her to their arrival. Hank had come when little Hank was first born, and for his first birthday, but hadn’t seen him since.

  “Daddy and Grandpop are here,” Lauren said, rising from her chair.

  “Da!” The toddler squealed, climbing the backstairs to the kitchen.

  The men entered talking. But when Hank laid eyes on little Hank, he stopped. Scooping the child up and into the air, the man grinned from ear-to-ear. The little one shrieked in fear and burst into tears. Griff took the boy from him.

  “He’s a little shy of strangers,” Lauren explained, handing Griff a cloth diaper for his shoulder.

  The child quieted down immediately in his dad’s arms. Hank frowned for a second then stepped up to Lauren. He hugged her and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

  “He’s amazing,” the older man said, turning to gaze at his grandchild.

  “Look at his hands, Dad. He’s definitely going to be a quarterback.” Griff held them out for examination. The men nodded and chuckled. Chesting the child with one arm, Griff patted Lauren’s belly with his other hand. “And she’s working on his wide receiver.”

  “What if it’s a girl?” Lauren cocked an eyebrow.

  “First female to play in the NFL?”

  Lauren started to make lunch when Hank approached her. “Let me do this. I’m here to help you, not to be waited on. You’ve got enough going on in there. Sit down. What did you plan to serve?”

  Lauren concealed her surprise. He’s not a macho pain in the ass? How nice. “Since you asked. I hardboiled some eggs this morning. I was planning to make egg salad sandwiches. Little Hank can have some egg, but not with mayo.”

  “Coming right up.” Griff’s father washed his hands then headed for the refrigerator. Lauren took her seat at the kitchen table and watched Griff ease their son into his highchair. He scattered a few Cheerios on the tray and baby Hank went right for them.

  “It’s going to be a bit confusing if you’re both Hank,” Lauren pointed out, taking a handful of the cereal for herself.

  “Way I see it, the kid’s a chip off his old man’s block.”

  “That’s it, Dad! We’ll call him ‘Chip’ while you’re here.”

  “Chip?” Lauren raised her eyebrows.

  Hank laughed.

  “Why not? Lauren?” Griff faced his wife.

  “Okay. Chip it is.” She smiled as she nibbled.

  The baby gave a shriek of joy as Hank put two small pieces of egg in front of him. He gobbled them down before picking up his sippy cup that Griff had filled with apple juice.

  “After lunch, let’s go down to the stadium. You gotta see the workout room.”

  Hank nodded as he placed plates of sandwiches and pickles in front of the adults.

  “Chip and I take a nap after lunch.”

  “Works for me,” Hank said, taking a bite.

  Griff’s dad cleaned up the dishes after they finished. Lauren lay down while her husband put Chip to bed. She closed her eyes and listened to the off-key lullaby Griff sang to his son. The song made her smile, as she drifted off to the sound of his voice.

  * * * *

  Griff pulled up close to the building. It was cold, for April. The men went straight to the locker room, where they hung up their coats. Griff gave his dad a tour. They ended up in the weight room, and the quarterback was surprised to see Coach Bass on one of the machines.

  “So, you’re the guy who trained our star?” Coach asked, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel.

  “Guess so. He was a natural. Real easy to teach.”

  “You put him back together after his injury too.”

  “Broken collarbone wasn’t gonna stop a Montgomery,” Hank said, eying the equipment.

  “Which machine do you like best?”

  “Treadmill. At my age, it’s the safest.”

  The men chuckled.

  “You’re not old,” Griff piped up.

  “I’m a grandfather now. Gotta be careful. Nice set-up you got here.”

  “Come on, Dad. What can you press?”

  The men swapped stories and a few off-color jokes as they worked out. Hank quit first. Coach Bass was next. The two men sat and guzzled water as they watched Griff tackle the more challenging machines.

  “Have you ever considered coaching?” Pete asked.

  The older man shook his head. “No patience.”

  Coach Bass laughed.

  “I tried coaching the peewee football league in our town. Couldn’t hack it. The kids drove me nuts. I had to peel them off those stupid, effing video games to come to practice. I gave up.”

  �
��How about adults?”

  “Are football players ever adults?”

  The coach grinned. “I’m minus a trainer. We’re going into training camp in a couple of months, and I don’t have a full staff.”

  “Are you asking me to come work for you?”

  “Interested?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. Stop by my office before you leave.”

  Hank nodded. Coach pushed to his feet and headed for the door. Griff toweled off and joined his dad. When the footballer finished two bottles of water, he turned to his father.

  “Would it bother you if I worked here?” Hank asked.

  “It’d be great.”

  Hank smiled at his son and ruffled his hair. “I wouldn’t be interfering?”

  “Not at all. And you could be with the kids.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Besides, I could use the money.”

  Griff smiled. He’d missed having his old man around, and now, they’d be a real family. He wondered how Lauren would feel. Dad’ll have to get his own place eventually. She’ll get used to him.

  As if his father read his mind, he said, “Do you think Lauren’ll object?”

  “You can win her over.”

  “I tried today.”

  “You made progress. She looked pretty relaxed at lunch.”

  “So, it’s okay?”

  “Let’s go up and seal the deal.” Griff clapped his father’s shoulder.

  After an hour in the coach’s office discussing the job, salary, and benefits, Hank and Pete came to agreement. He printed out a contract for Hank to sign. They shook hands then the coach picked up his cell.

  “If you can wait a bit, I have a couple of guys who need training starting last week.”

  Hank laughed. “In bad shape?”

  “Not a disaster, but they need help.”

  “Okay. Bring ’em on.”

  “They’ll be here in half an hour. Did Griff show you around?”

  “He did.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Love some.”

  They chatted as Griff poured. Before they finished their drinks, the shadows of two men filled the doorway.