she whispered, only a little surprised by the actual truth of that admission.
“Well, that’s some good news.”
It was? “What is?”
“That there’s going to be a first time for us.” His seductive tone, like the evaporating rain, left a fine chill on her skin. And yet she let her hands fall to her sides, the shirt still hooked to her fingertips, her bare breasts completely exposed to him.
He stood about six inches away, making no move.
“Jocelyn?”
“Mmmm?”
“Are you over that moment of panic?”
Not even close. “I am.” God, she wanted to touch him. Just make this about fulfilling her need and taking that crazy ride of complete abandon again. Why did he have to mention love out there on the field?
She was just getting used to the idea of sex and he’d brought up the only thing scarier, the only thing that stole any shred of control.
He took one step forward and they touched. His bare chest to her bare chest. His legs against her legs. His—
Oh God. He was so hard.
He pressed a huge, daunting, mighty erection against her stomach and all she could do was drop her shirt with a soft whoompf.
“So, what happened out there?” he asked. “Are you scared of lightning?”
“I’m scared of…” Love. “This.”
“Of being with me?”
Define being. “Maybe.”
He tipped her chin with his thumb, then cupped her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. The air vent above the door let in a whisper of ambient light, enough to see how serious he was. “Are you scared of sex?”
“It always reminds me of… that night,” she admitted. “And what happened.”
“Oh,” he angled his head, sympathy all over his expression, agony in the single syllable. “Then all the more reason for us to try to make new memories.”
She closed her eyes. “You always know the right thing to say.”
“And do.” He pressed against her, making her nipples pucker against his warm, wet chest. Between her legs, the twisting coil of need tightened again. Her fingers grew heavy and numb. Her head buzzed.
This was like being drunk. Like being helpless. God, she hated helplessness. More than anything.
“It’s also scary to lose control.” Maybe it was both. Loss of control, loss of sanity, equaled pain and misery. Was that the equation that added up in her head every time she felt like this?
Not that anyone other than Will had ever made her feel quite like this.
“I can give you control,” he said softly, kissing her first on the forehead. “You want to call the shots?”
She nodded, slack-jawed at how much need coursed through her.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to… not lose control.”
“Then you take charge,” he said, gently sliding his hands over her bare arms. “You call the game, Coach.”
She wet her lips, but it didn’t help her parched mouth. She put her hands on his shoulders. God, she loved those shoulders. Big, strong, reliable, sexy shoulders.
She splayed her hands over the muscles, dragging her fingers down, closer to what she wanted. Over his abs, closing her eyes so that every sense was focused on the masculine ripples of each perfectly formed muscle.
She could do this. She could do this and not hear the accusations and feel the punches, not relive the night when letting loose had caused her so much pain.
Forcing the memory away, she continued down to her knees, unbuttoning his jeans on the way, scraping the zipper.
He was naked under there, erect and pulsing and as big as she’d always imagined.
And, oh, Lord almighty, she had imagined.
“Joss.” His fingers tangled in her hair. His skin smelled like salt and something sexy she couldn’t identify. Not sweat. Just man.
A stone stabbed her knee and sweat stung her skin. Through the slotted vent above the door, lightning flashed, one second of near-illumination that let her see his swollen, wet, smooth tip as she freed him.
He pushed the jeans down and guided her mouth to him, murmuring, “Please.”
She had control. Complete, utter, blissful control. And she took it, sucking gently at first, then using her hand to fondle and stroke him.
His knees buckled and he swore and begged and plunged in and out of her mouth, over and over again, slow then fast, deep then shallow, long strokes then quick ones. Her hands moved, her tongue licked, and her mouth took him all the way until he lost all the control she held so tightly. With a low, long, helpless growl of release, he spurted into her mouth, grasping her head with two hands and almost