Booty and the Beast, page 22
The woman had no idea how wrong she was.
Good thing I took great delight in telling her.
“You’re still her,” I said. “No matter how much you fight it. No matter how much you hate to admit it. You are the old Charisma. She’s right here. In front of me. And there’s no reason you should ever hide it, because I think she’s pretty damned special.”
Charisma narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare tell me about the person I was. I spent my entire life defining myself through you. What you thought about me. If you liked me. How I could become someone you would respect. So, spare me your platitudes, Nick. You’re the reason I changed. Why I gave everything up. Why I’m still running from my past.”
“And you’re the reason I can’t stop thinking about my own fucking future.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Wasn’t it obvious? Or was I just going insane with lust for nothing?
“Why do you think I train so many hours a day? Why do you think I don’t leave the practice facility until you drag me to my truck? Why do you think I’ve killed myself these past few weeks? Broken my body. Pulled my muscles. Spent half a dozen sleepless nights watching film.” I pointed at her when all I wanted to do was take her in my arms. “It’s because of you.”
She didn’t get it. “Don’t try to pin this obsession on me. I’m the only one trying to keep you grounded.”
Christ. The woman really would drop me to my knees.
“For Christ’s sake, Charisma. It’s not an obsession. It’s the only thing I can do. I’ve been alone my entire life. I’ve never wanted anybody else. I’ve never needed anyone. But now, tonight, when I walked out onto the field, all that mattered to me was you. The only thing I could think about was you. If you were thinking about me. If you would be cheering for me. If you were watching.”
Charisma stilled. “Why would you suddenly care?”
I’ve been asking that ever since the first day I tracked her down, stared into her eyes, and realized for the first time in my life I’d found somebody truly beautiful in body, heart, soul.
She’d mesmerized me.
Enthralled me.
And now destroyed me.
“You said you changed because of me,” I said. “Think I don’t know what that feels like? Think that didn’t nearly ruin me tonight? I was on that field. I had a good game. Jack congratulated me. The coaches complimented me. The team rallied around me.” I gritted my teeth. “But all I want to know is what you thought of me while I was out there.”
She quieted. “Why?”
“I have no fucking idea.” At least that was an easy truth. “But you’re the reason it’s so hard for me to sleep. You’re the reason I’m out there every day busting my ass. You’re the reason I’m trying to prove myself even though I know exactly how good I am. But no matter what I do, what I say, or how hard I work, all you see is that boy from high school. You still think I’m the biggest bastard in the world.”
“You are the biggest bastard in this world.”
For the first time, she didn’t sound certain.
I stepped closer to her. Stared down at her. Imagined her lips, her body. Her eyes studied every inch of me. Cautious. Like she feared I’d tear down her defenses.
That fear came too late.
She’d already crumbled.
“Not anymore,” I said. “I’m not that man anymore. But you’re too afraid to admit it.”
“Why would I be afraid?”
“Because then you have no reason to push me away.”
“You think I like you?”
“No,” I whispered. “I think you love me.”
Her eyes widened. “And what good would it do if I admitted it? Let’s imagine that the Rivets cut you. How long would you stay here? What would happen if you heard about some other team, in some other city, with some other opportunity? What if you knew you could get some other doed-eyed, naïve girl who could sneak you into a tryout?”
“Do you really think I’m chasing you for a quick fuck?”
Her honesty slayed me. “I don’t know why you’re here, Nick.”
Jesus. What the hell did it take to convince this woman to trust someone? Maybe I had hurt her in the past, but she did more damage to herself now than anyone could’ve hoped to cause.
“You hate me,” I said. “And that’s fine. You’re never going to forgive me? That’s up to you. But don’t you dare blame me for everything that’s happened in your life.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Yes, you do. But realize this. I might’ve ruined high school for you, but you are the one ruining your life now. You’re the one who fears being vulnerable with people because you think that any man you invite into your heart or bed will ultimately betray you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“For Christ’s sake, Charisma. You’re stronger than this. You’re better than this. You’re beautiful, accomplished woman. And any red-blooded man in this world would take a blindsided hit by a linebacker for the chance to make you smile.”
She trembled. But of course, she hid her hands. Nobody could see her at her weakest. Nobody could dare confront her about her past. Nobody could see through her mask, call her out on her bullshit, and face the real Charisma.
She had hidden her away. Buried her under a full-time career that she made her entire life. Cloaked her in fancy clothes, perfect makeup, manicured nails, styled hair. Trapped her within a home that was not her own, something sterile and safe and ultimately a figment of an imaginary life that Charisma wished were her own.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered. “Just tell me.”
“If you hate me, get rid of me.”
She answered too quickly. “Fine. Get out of my life.”
The irritation blitzed me with a new impatience. “Sure. I’ll leave. I won’t come back to ask for any more favors.”
Charisma actually smiled. “Good. Because I won’t be stupid enough to agree to help you a second time.”
The woman drove me insane. “It’s such a goddamned shame that you're too traumatized by your past to live your life in the present.”
“And it’s such a shame that you’re so obsessed with football that all you know how to do is live in this moment.”
“At least I’m not afraid of taking a chance.”
She edged closer to me, her voice dagger sharp. “At least I’m smart enough to build a life that doesn’t need to take such reckless risks.”
“At least I’m not a coward.”
She reared back as if to slap me. I grabbed her hand, holding her still.
Charisma sneered. “At least I’m not a narcissist who needs a football jersey and a trophy to prove my self-worth.”
“At least I think I’m worth something. At least I’m out there competing.” I yanked her close, and her chest struck mine. “At least I’m not a recluse like you.”
“I’d rather be a recluse than an insecure, meathead jock who wouldn’t know what to do with his life unless somebody was radioing the play into his helmet.”
She flattened against me. Her body flared hot. Shaking with rage.
Her lips parted. She sucked in a heated breath, and I couldn’t help but taste that indignation.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I said.
“And you’re such a goddamned beast.”
At least I had an excuse for the mistake I was about to make.
Blame it on instinct. Rage. A primal, undeniable urge.
I lifted her into my arms, seized her kiss, and dropped her onto the couch.
She was right.
I had nothing to lose. Nothing to live for. No hope for the future.
But in this moment?
I could have her.
And, for the first time, I wanted something more than football.
17
Charisma
If Nick Hart was a raging, primal beast…
What the hell did that make me?
In an instant, I fell into his arms.
In a heartbeat, he claimed my kiss.
In a gasped breath, we crashed onto my bed.
We clawed at each other. Wild. My fingernails raked his skin, and his teeth nipped my neck. Together, we rolled, riled, and embraced our uncompromising desire as we finally surrendered to each other.
A fury of unrepentant need assaulted my senses. I had no idea what my body demanded, or why it was so damned easy to give myself to this man.
His kiss conquered mine as his hands wove over my body. A sizzling rush of electricity followed his touch.
I’d never wanted anyone more than this man.
I reached for him, but Nick held me down, pinning me as he ground himself between my legs. A premonition of how he planned to take me.
It was primitive. Demanding. Animalistic heat consumed us in a raging blitz of inhibition, and it was all too easy to surrender to his desires.
But why?
Why was I so helpless to resist him? In the deepest, most secret depths of my soul, I knew I needed him. That the only way I’d ever feel whole would be after he’d touched me, tasted me, and taken me.
None of this made sense.
But instinct never acted on rationality, and pleasure didn’t obey our sensibilities. Our bodies acted of their own volition, burning with excitement and drowning in desire.
He dropped me onto the bed, but I wasn’t a passive lover. My own insanity had chipped away, shattered and denied by the constant, unending barrage of confusion and need.
He was the wrong man for me.
Maybe that was why I couldn’t resist. Hating him for so long, denying him, had made him forbidden and terrible…
And yet, I couldn’t get enough of him.
Our clothes created an impenetrable barrier which beat at my mind and twisted my core. I tugged his shirt. Demanded to see every inch of his hardened flesh and sculpted muscle that had been mine since the day he’d returned to Ironfield.
I wish I’d been gentle. I might’ve enjoyed the moment, snuggled against him warm and safe. Instead, I clawed at him. Dragged him over my body. Inhaled his grassy, hard-fought scent.
He fell over me as I scraped my fingernails down his back. With a grunt he answered. His teeth sunk into my neck. He bit. The sting invigorated me, but he kissed where he left his marks.
Then he bit again.
Claiming me. A moment of conquest, victory, and absolute strength.
He tried to pin me down, to render me still and obedient for him.
It didn’t last very long.
In my desperation, I begged for him. I cried out until he kissed me, and then I murmured his name between our lips. I wiggled closer to him. Struggled with myself to get away from him. Ran my fingers through his hair, his beard, over his body.
This is what I’d needed. Something I’d always wanted. That connection. That overwhelming need to allow somebody into my arms and between my legs, to claim the deepest parts of me.
Why did I ever deny this passion? I’d ignored every instinct I possessed, fearing what would happen once I’d been consumed by desire. For too long I’d had pretended that I no need for such rough and wild infatuation in my life.
It was a lie. A twisted, self-sabotaging lie.
And it had taken a bite to my throat and a rip in my panties to realize it.
Nick said nothing, but he breathed pure fire. He stared at me with eyes dark as sin and raging with promise. My tank top never stood a chance. He wasted no time, gripping it beneath the collar before rending the material into pieces. The clothing scattered across the room, and my bare flesh prickled under his gaze.
My nipples budded, chilled and boiling. Without the shirt, I could breathe. Take a full breath, free of constraints and modesty and proper behavior.
He was over me in an instant. So strong. So undeniable. He dove for my breast, capturing my nipple between his teeth. No time to be gentle. He knew it. I felt it. All it would take was a single heartbeat for either of us to come to our senses, realize the mistake, and escape from this pleasure once more.
His mouth dizzied me. Sucking. Biting. Consuming. I leaned up to my elbows, offering him more, staring into his eyes as the monster replaced the man. The starving beast took what he wanted but still demanded more. He pawed at my body and demanded my every shiver.
When was the last time Nick had taken anyone to bed?
He’d never said, and I couldn’t guess. He acted as if he were alone in the world, completely isolated and self-exiled from any reasonable, normal life. But he captured me in his arms as if he hadn’t felt the touch of another woman for years.
And maybe he hadn’t.
He was so obsessed, almost fanatical, about the game. He’d focused on all the wrong things and lived a life that practically punished him for his success.
But his kiss searched through me. Looking for what?
Himself?
If he could find meaning in me, then maybe I could find answers in him too.
He squeezed my sensitive curves, placing me in a better position for him to ravish. My shocked, eager intake of breath was permission enough for him. I dreaded removing his hands from my body, but it was the only way I could make him focus his attention where I needed it most.
Lower.
I twisted for him.
Lower yet.
I begged him.
Lower still.
I beat against his chest as he pinched my nipple.
“Lay down.” His dark words growled the command. “Give yourself to me.”
“Then take me. Hurry.”
He ripped the pajama pants. No words. Only grunts. Just a desperate, guttural bark of approval. He yanked the material over my legs and tossed it away.
Single-minded.
I’d never met someone who could be so completely focused on the object of his obsession.
He might’ve frightened me. A gaze that severe, that fierce, should’ve sent me running…but his attention fixed on me.
He wanted me.
And Nick Hart was a man who always got what he wanted.
My panties slipped over my legs. He tossed them away. The cool air brushed the sensitive, aching parts of me. I shivered, completely exposed, bare and waiting, on display for this raging beast.
“No carrot this time?” I teased.
He said nothing. Like he didn’t even hear my words.
Nick dove upon me, feasting and claiming my slit for himself. My legs spread wide, but his hands gripped me too hard, too rough for what was willingly given. That only heated me more. His strong hands. The urgency. The absolute primitive need. He seized me completely, his mouth descending over my slit.
And the pleasure blinded me to all but him.
He ravished every part of me.
Licked each trembling petal.
Consumed my fading whimper.
Nick took me as though I were his, had always been his, and would remain his forever.
And, in that moment of weakness, worshiped and devoured, a life belonging to this man thrilled me with possibility.
I’d never been so twistedly confused before. He claimed me as his waking obsession, and yet every flick of his fingers and caress of his tongue meant more than just a night of animalistic hunger.
He seized me as if my body, my mind, my moans were all that he could hold onto in this world.
That was a hell of a lot of responsibility to pile onto a woman who could hardly breathe through the pleasure. Especially for someone who had never experienced anything like the crazed, undeniable fervency that was surrendering to a man’s touch.
This man’s touch.
Nick had never been gentle in his entire life. Didn’t understand the word, not when his days were spent in violent clashes of testosterone and muscle. I hadn’t expected his touch to be soft or his kisses sweet. But sex to him was just another facet of fighting, competition, and survival of the fittest. He used my body to prove his strength. And by taking me, ravishing me, he’d satisfy his every need to command and conquer everyone and everything that dared to challenge him.
And the overwhelming intensity of it all nearly had me crest right then and there.
I gripped the blankets, and my nails dug into the material. It wasn’t enough. His feral, unyielding kisses between my legs nearly rocketed me off the bed. I arched for him, offering more if only because I had no other way to survive the power contained within his embrace.
His tongue buried within me. Devouring. Tasting. But he held me down.
Afraid I’d deny him?
“I’m not going anywhere, Nick…” I breathed pure heat. “Just…take me.”
Like he needed my permission.
He knew what I wanted. He could taste it. Feel it. He’d watched me quiver with every long-drawn stroke of his tongue.
A new energy surged within me. That wild and blistering tension raged in my core as his kisses blinded me to the world, my thoughts, and my fears.
I trembled.
So…close…
A rush of molten anticipation drew his name to my lips. I tensed. Arched. Sucked in a gasped breath that couldn’t quell the fire inside me…
But Nick growled. He pushed away from me with a grin.
“Not this time…” The tease of his words sweetened like whipped cream, yet I’d become the cherry on top. “If you wanna come, you’ve gotta get it from me. Not a carrot. Not my tongue. Not my fingers. You’re gonna come on my cock, and you’re gonna thank me for it.”
The man had gone wild with lust, and it only made me want him more.
Who was I to argue?
I had no idea what he’d done to me. My every breath clawed my chest. My body twisted and bumped for yet another touch. My slit ached, utterly dependent on his fierce generosity to ease that heat.
My entire being cried out for this man, until I could no longer understand or hope to hide those urges.
