Sacked (Gridiron #1) (25 page)

“Knox Masters.” My father looks the dark-suited figure up and down with disdain. “You’re welcome to fuck my daughter when it doesn’t jeopardize my son’s play on the field.”

“It’s not Knox. It’s his brother, Kintyre,” I say.

Ty smiles at me and straightens his black tie. “It’s the tie, isn’t it?”

Knox has a blue one on—Warrior colors.

“I just know, Ty. You can’t pull those tricks on me.”

“You don’t know how happy I am that I can’t.” He leans in and gives me a soft kiss, then offers his arm to Riley. “May I walk you down the aisle?”

She grabs his arm, but turns back to give me a worried glance. When Jack appears, she gives a sigh of relief.

Jack takes one look at our dad and charges out. “What the hell are you doing here? You told me you wouldn’t come if the commissioner himself showed up.”

I notice for the first time that Jack stands three inches taller than Dad, and that Dad looks…small and weak.

“I thought you’d stop this farce, but I got a phone call from Masters’ parents begging me to attend, and that I would regret not seeing my only daughter get married. What I’ll regret is not saving you from your sister and her idiocy.” He straightens the bottom of his sweater. “I came to put an end to this disaster.”

“It’s not a disaster.” Jack shakes his head in disgust. “You’re the disaster. Get out. Neither of us wants anything to do with you.” Jack turns to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Come on, Ellie. Let’s finalize the new team. I think you made a good decision with your draft pick.”

I let him draw me away, because in front of me waits my new life. Behind us, I hear our dad sputtering, but when we get through the practice facility door, a line of broad shoulders blocks the doors. No one else will come in.

Knox’s mother comes forward. Jack stops in front of her and steps to the side. Mrs. Masters lifts a strand of pearls and hooks them around my bare neck. “Something borrowed.”

I have to swallow rapidly to keep from crying. “Thank you, Mrs. Masters.”

“Nicole, my dear. It’s Nicole.” She pats my cheek. “Or Mom.”

Then she steps away and Jack takes her place again. He draws me forward to stand next to Knox at the fifty yard line. His teammates draw close.

“I’m not supposed to have contact with the football team,” I hiss.

“There's no one here but your family. And your family to be. Amirite?” Knox asks.

“I don't see anyone else,” Jack answers. The two of them look into the crowd of navy and black suits who all turn and look behind them.

Jack turns back and shrugs. “No one here but family.”

The judge marries us. It’s all a blur for me. I say the words “I do” when prompted, but I mostly remember Knox’s strong hands holding me up the entire time.

A
fter the vows
, the hugging, the back slapping, Knox hustles me outside and half carries, half drags me toward his SUV. He nearly shoves me into the passenger seat and then races around to his side of the vehicle. Climbing in, he locks the doors, starts the engine and then turns to me.

His hand comes up to cradle my skull, tilting my head toward his. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too.” There’s no point in pretending I don’t still love him.

He inhales deeply, his eyes shuttering closed for a second before popping open again. A half smile appears on his lips. “Three weeks seems like three years, doesn’t it?”

“It’s been endless,” I admit.

“Baby, I am so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” I jerk back in surprise, but Knox pulls me toward him, only to have my progress stopped by the console between us.

He curses and turns to put the SUV in reverse. “I need to get you out of this car. These victories, the past weeks…” He takes his eyes off the road for a minute to glance at me, and I see real anguish there. “None of it will be right until you’ve forgiven me and I get to hold you again.”

A sob lodges in my throat. I swallow heavily to drive it away, but it makes my voice hoarse when I reply. “I’m so sorry I lied to you about Jack. I’m sorry I kissed your brother. I’m sorry that I placed your team in jeopardy with my actions.” I cover my eyes. “If anyone needs forgiveness, it’s me.”

Knox barks out an abrupt laugh. “And I didn’t put you through the ringer with my stupid fucking test?”

“It wasn’t stupid,” I cry.

He curses again. “I wish we weren’t in this fucking car, because I need to hold you right now.”

“Where are we going?” I use the veil to wipe my tears. I hope mascara comes off tulle.

“Hotel.” He grins. “Gift from my parents.”

“I can’t believe they let you get married.”

He drapes an arm across the back of my seat and tangles his fingers in my hair. “We’re adults. I’ve always known what I wanted since I came out of the womb. They knew better than to argue.”

I suppose that’s right. He’s a bulldozer, forging forward to take what he wants. And somehow he wants me. “I love you,” I whisper.

His hand tightens in my hair and he makes a sharp right into a parking lot of a strip mall that’s apparently closed for business on Sundays, because the lot is empty. In one swift movement, he has the parking brake on and my seatbelt is off. He hauls me over the console and into his lap. It’s a tight, uncomfortable fit. The steering wheel digs into my side. My legs dangle awkwardly over the console. Knox’s seat belt hadn’t fully retracted in his haste, and it pokes into my right butt cheek.

But I’ve never felt better.

I allow my hands to roam over his gorgeous face and into his hair. It’s getting long enough to brush the collar of his suit coat. I take one deep breath after the other, filling my lungs with his scent.

My tears start falling.

“No, no, please stop,” Knox says in a panic. “What can I do?”

His hands try to brush away my tears and the sweetness of the gesture only turns up the waterworks higher. I don't make any effort to stop them or him.

“These are happy tears,” I inform him gladly. “I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to touch you again.” I take his hands, placing them over my sweater covered breasts. Instinctively, his palms curl around the round flesh. His thumbs graze my sensitive tips. “You feel so good,” I moan. “Never stop touching me.

“I won't,” he swears. “I won't ever stop.”

He curls forward, closing the small distance between us. His mouth meets mine with so much tender love I explode in bliss. He tastes minty and male and so wonderfully familiar. His tongue snakes inside to rub against the roof of my mouth, along the ridges, setting off a riot within my taste buds. He’s the best thing on the menu, the only flavor that will ever appease my growing hunger.

I run my hands freely underneath his suit coat. We have a mountain of clothes between us and I’m desperate to get them off. I want that the hair-roughened skin against my more delicate frame. I want to run my tongue over those hard muscles and take the hardest, velvety part of him into my mouth, into my body, into me.

“We need a bed,” I whisper throatily against his mouth.

He groans and tightens his hands around my breasts one more time before lifting me back onto my side of the vehicle. With exquisite care, he reaches over and buckles me in. Satisfied that I’m secured, he reaches a hand up to my face and brushes my hair back. “I love you, Eliot Masters. I still love you.”

Water drips down my face. “If you want me to stop crying, you can’t say those things to me.” I clutch at his hand and presses waterlogged kisses into his palm.

He releases a small huff of laughter. “I guess you’ll cry a lot then.”

“Will you cry if I tell you I love you back?” I nuzzle my cheek into his hand.

“Maybe. Why don’t you give it a try?” The evenness of his voice is an effort.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t cry, but his eyes soften toward me and love shines through; better than tears in my opinion.

Knox puts the vehicle in gear and heads downtown to the hotel. We get there, but I don’t remember the trip. All I know is that I can touch him again, feel him, breathe him in.

That he’s mine again…and forever.

“I feel…discombobulated,” I admit as we wait for the hotel elevator. People stare at us. I suppose we do look a sight. My veil is askew and Knox’s jacket drapes over my shoulders.

“I told Matty that’s how I felt. Thick headed and muddled. We concluded it’s how quarterbacks must feel when they’re sacked.” He ushers me onto the elevator.

“So we’ve gotten sacked by love?” I snort. It’s corny but sweet, and totally Knox. At the core, he’s a romantic. The man saved himself for the
right
girl and somehow,
I’m
her. All my life, I’ve never been anything but Jack’s sister. To Knox, I’m the person he waited for his entire life.

“Yeah, but we’re never saying that shit again.”

I hide a smile. At least now I have something to torment him, and Matty, with. Sacked by love! How hilarious. The elevator stops at the fourth floor and Knox leads me to our room.

My humor turns quickly to something else, because the minute the door of the hotel room closes, Knox has me up against the door. His hands shove my jacket off. His mouth fastens to mine. We each toe our shoes off and leave them haphazardly in the entryway. His jacket gets tossed onto the sofa as we pass by it.

He pulls me toward the bedroom, not once lifting his head. We kiss like the world will end tomorrow. Like we haven’t seen each other in years. Like he’s a soldier returning from an endless deployment.

We kiss like we love each other and don’t know how to express it in words, only in touch. His tongue works against mine in ways both fevered and reverent. I can’t imagine kissing another man. I don’t want to. This taste, this touch, this tenderness is all I will ever want or need.

In the bedroom, we tug at each other’s clothes. Our mouths separate so we can get rid of his suit coat.

“Nice.” Knox waggles his eyebrows as my skirt comes off with one tug of the bow. We both pull off my sweater and bra until I’m in nothing but a pair of pink panties.

He pushes me onto the bed. “I’ve missed your hot body,” he says before lowering his head to pay homage to one very erect nipple. The other nipple gets plucked and tugged by his left hand while his right makes quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

We both groan when his hand finds its way between my legs.

“I love how wet you get for me,” he mutters against my breast. “Wet and hot.” He sinks one finger inside me and I nearly expire right there. “Wet and hot and
tight.
”

“It’s been so long.”
Three weeks has been three years
, he’d said; right on the money.

“Yes,” he starts to dip lower, but I grab his shoulders.

“What is it? That time of month?” He looks anguished and I have to stifle a laugh.

“No. I need you inside me. Now. Because it’s been so long.”

He understands. I see it in his eyes, the way they darken and become hungry. Well, hungr
ier
.

He pushes to his feet. As his hands go to his waist, I suck in my lower lip in excitement. He's so beautiful and I pause to take it in. Everything about his frame speaks of power and strength, from the width of his shoulders to the massive span of his arms. But there’s vulnerability, too, in the surprisingly narrow waist, accented by the hard obliques, and centered by the slabs of rectangular muscles outlining the dark hair arrowing down to the heavy shaft that bobs eagerly in the air as Knox steps out of his pants. He shrugs off his shirt, removes his socks, and then stands motionless before me.

I run my eyes over every inch of him once, and then do it again. It’s hard to believe that all this goodness is mine.

“Like what you see?” he mocks gently.

“Yes, very much so.”

“My turn,” he says and reaches for me. I lie back and let him remove my panties. He reaches between my legs and strokes me lightly, teasing me even after I told him I could not wait. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Ellie. Fucking gorgeous.”

He lowers himself between my legs and runs his big hands along my ankles to my knees, then to my inner thighs, until his thumbs meet at my sex.

“You’re so pretty down here. Pink and wet.” He leans forward and runs the flat of his tongue from my clit to my pucker and back again. “And you taste like a fucking dream.”

“Please, Knox.” I’m not too proud to beg. “I need you.”

His fingers tangle in my curls as he continues to lap between my legs as if I’m not almost dying for the want of him. I dig my fingers into his hair and tug. He pushes his shoulders between my legs, spreading me out in an intensely vulnerable way.

“I want you to come on my tongue, Ellie.” His lips move against my skin and even that contact is so erotic I lift my hips to seek out more. “Every night we’ve been apart, I dreamt of you. I had your taste in my mouth and your scent in my lungs, but it would disappear when I woke. Now that I have you…” He pauses to curl his tongue around that throbbing bit of flesh at the top of my sex. “I want to eat you until I coat my throat with you.”

Above him, I shudder in full surrender. His words are nearly as erotic as his touch. I give myself to him, to his clever fingers and his adventurous tongue. He works me over for what seems like hours, one languorous caress after another, until I come in a flood, my toes curling into the air and my thighs trembling against his shoulders.

He surges upward then, his mouth glistening with the evidence of my orgasm. Between his legs his shaft hangs heavy, and the tip of it is wet with his own excitement.

I reach for him and wrap my fingers around that stiff cock. He allows me to guide him to my center. My release has left me swollen, and despite the wetness he coaxed from me, I’m tight against his generous girth.

His lips pull back in a hiss as I suck him in slowly. He lets me set the pace this time, and I treat him with the same studied deliberateness he inflicted on me.

“Aww, fuck, baby,” he rasps out. “You feel so good. So good.”

He falls forward, bracing both arms next to my head. The languid slide of his body against mine is exquisite. And because I'm not afraid this is the last time I'll ever have him, I take my time reacquainting myself with his very perfect physique.

Each push forward and each retreat is slow and deliberate so that every tiny movement of his shaft inside me registers. The head drags against the softest, most sensitive tissue, eking out more pleasure than I think possible.

I rub heels against his calves, the wiry hair scratching against the soles of my feet. His shoulders tense under my hands and his biceps flex with each measured thrust inside my body.

“I love you.” I turn and press my mouth against one of those flexing muscles. “I love you,” I repeat. I say the words again and again, punctuated by kisses. He growls above me, the cage of his arms shaking with his effort to stave off his own orgasm.

But he’s a world-class athlete, and he uses whatever mind over matter voodoo lets him forget pain during a game to hold off the fire that licks over his body. He employs his strength and unmatchable endurance to work me into an utterly mindless frenzy, where all I know is sensation, pleasure, and never-ending joy.

His head dips to sip at my mouth. His tongue tastes my happiness and swallows my moans of delight. With hardly a break in rhythm, he pulls out and turns me over until I rest on my knees.

When he slides back in, a harsh groan breaks into the silence, punctuated only by our wracked and uneven breathing.

His hand curves over my bottom, lifting me off my knees until all my weight rests on my elbows. He takes me then, with furious strokes. His need has overwhelmed him, to my great enjoyment. I push back with whatever strength I have in me, but his hands clamp on my hips, holding me still as he hammers inside me.

I give myself over to his dominance. His wildness feeds my own until I barely know where he ends and I begin. We are one, infused with the same euphoria, possessed by the same need, bound together by the same love.

He releases one hip and dips between my legs to pluck at my clit until I explode around him.

“Yes, that’s it.” His voice cracks, loaded down by his hunger. “Come for me.”

I do. I convulse around him, hugging his shaft with tiny tremors until I feel him release inside me, filling me, completing me. I give myself to feeling and let it carry me away until all I know is him.

I barely register him pulling out, the warm wet of him on my thighs. He covers me with a blanket and then pads lightly to the bathroom. I hear a toilet flushing and then running water. I should clean up, but I’m too exhausted, too replete.

He returns and does it for me. My eyes flick open to see him running a dampened towel between my legs. He gives me a tender smile and leans down to kiss the freshly washed skin. From a suitcase that I didn’t notice before resting against the wall, he pulls out a new pair of panties and slides it up my legs. I raise my butt.