Scored (29 page)

“Just for tonight.” My hands looked ridiculously tiny holding the thick tendons and muscles of his wrists. Whereas he could hold both of mine in a single hand, I couldn’t even circle one of his. Plus, the bulging muscles in his biceps were at least twice the thickness of my arms. It would take Lewis only a smudge of effort to shake me off. But he didn’t, he lay there surrendered, trapped, while I eased up, so just the tip of his cock sat at my entrance.

It was a teasing gesture and extracted a prolonged moan from him that rumbled from his chest and into his throat. I kissed him and caught the sound in my mouth, swallowed it and mixed it with my own groan.

“More,” he said onto my lips. “Please, more.”

“Say it,” I said, in my best masterful voice. “Say fuck me more, Nicky.”

“Fuck me more, Nicky.”

I giggled but the noise turned into a gasp as his cock hit my cervix. I’d dropped hard and fast onto him, surprising myself.

He twitched his arms and pressed his head into the pillow. He gritted his teeth and his nostrils flared with each breath.

I closed my eyes and became lost in sensation. Set up a wonderful grinding rhythm that kept him buried deep but stimulated my clit on his concrete-hard pubis. Sweat popped on my back and chest, and my panting breaths were hard to catch. My arms trembled and my breasts jigged and jostled. Pressure was building, sublime orgasmic pressure that I knew would detonate soon.

“Fuck, you’re going to get me to the finish line too early if you keep going like that,” he said.

“I can already see the finish line.”

He was staring up at me, his body perfectly still, apart from his rapidly rising and falling chest. I felt completely wild, feral, gyrating on top of him, seeking my satisfaction as I crushed my clit against solidity. I didn’t care. This is what Lewis did to me. He allowed me to be the passionate, confident, sexual woman that I wanted to be. There was no reason to hide, or pretend I was anything other than who I was.

His cock was so hard now—as hard as it ever became. He was just about to come. His arms had lifted from the pillow, even though my full weight was pressing onto them. His face had contorted and he held his breath.

Luckily my climax was there for the taking. Pushing upright so I could spear myself onto him, I took him as deep as was physically possible, and came with soul-aching intensity, crying out my pleasure. My pussy throbbed around him and my clit pulsed deliciously.

He shot forward and squeezed me against his chest. Heat burst from his cock, spreading its warmth into my core. I tried to catch my breath. I couldn’t—I was frozen in ecstasy.

“Ah, ah, ah, yes,” he groaned into my ear. “Oh, fucking hell, too damn good.”

I gripped his shoulders, managed to pull in a ribbon of air. Nothing had ever felt so perfect. So completely wonderful.

“It just gets better,” he said, tugging my hair and tipping my head back. He kissed down my neck to my collarbone. His breaths blew like a storm onto my tingling flesh. A shockwave of pleasure radiated from his kisses to each corner of my being. My pussy clamped around him again, eking every last drip of pleasure from his cock.

He groaned. “Oh, God, Nicky. I’ve never felt like this. As soon as I’ve made love to you I just want to do it all over again.”

I tensed at the ‘L’ word. Love. Is that what we were doing? Making love? I thought we were just fucking. But he’d definitely just used the love word.

He didn’t appear to notice my body stiffen. After easing me off his cock, he pulled me down and tucked me into the curve of his arm. The way we’d slept when we’d been together at the Donbass those few precious nights.

“But I might just need ten minutes to recover from you riding me like a rodeo champion,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Before I’m ready to go again.”

I spread my palm on his chest and nuzzled close. I did love him. So much. I was making love to him each and every time I let him enter me. It wasn’t always gentle or soft, we allowed each another to be free in expressing desire, but that didn’t stop it being love. But of course, that led me to the biggest question of all.

Did Lewis Tate love me or was this just some wonderful, fantastical bubble that would burst and leave me a ragged heap on the floor with nothing but memories?

And if that happened. Would I ever recover?

I woke before Lewis the next morning, pulled a tubigrip onto my ankle and hobbled to the bathroom. When I came out, Lewis’ cell was ringing. Vibrating on the bedside table where he must have set it the night before when he’d sneaked in.

Once glance at the screen and my blood ran cold. It was Fellows.

“Lewis,” I said, shaking his shoulder.

“Mmm…” He shifted away and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

“Lewis,” I said a little louder. “You’d better answer your phone. Fellows is calling you.”

He opened his eyes wide then blinked rapidly. “Shit.” He sat, grabbed his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Yep.”

“Where the hell are you? Everyone is in the lobby about to catch the flight back to Kiev. I’ve been banging on your door but you never fucking answer.” Fellows voice was so loud it rattled around the room. There was no point pretending I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. It was like he was standing next to us, which was more than a little unnerving. “It’s just not on, you know. They won’t hold the flight.”

Lewis shoved his hand through his mussed up hair. He looked beyond adorable. “It’s okay. Just go.”

“Are you nuts? Of course we’re not going without you. Get the hell down here. The sooner we’re all back in Kiev the sooner we can start preparing for the final.”

Lewis sighed, reached for my wrist and gently tugged me onto the bed next to him. “I’m already in Kiev. I traveled back last night.”

There was a long, stony silence, then, “You did what?” Fellows’ voice was low and dangerous. I could just imagine an angry red blush attacking his cheeks and his eyes narrowing to thin slits.

Lewis pulled me closer and I nestled into his chest. His skin was bed-warm and he smelled of sleep and sex. “I came back last night, there was something in Kiev I needed to do.”

“Something you needed to do or
someone
you needed to do?”

I felt him tense. “Don’t be so crude, Fellows. Your job is to manage the team not manage my life.”

“My job is to lead the country to victory. Have you any damn idea what kind of pressure is on my shoulders, and then, you…you fucking disappear? My goddamn captain.”

“Actually, I do have a pretty good idea of the pressure you’re under, it’s the same as me, except I actually have to perform on the pitch. Also, I haven’t disappeared, I’m in Kiev, which is where you will be, with the team, in a couple of hour’s time.”

“And what the fuck am I supposed to tell the players? That their captain jogged back?”

“No, tell them I had something to sort out and I’ll see them at the training ground.”

“And you think they’ll buy it. This will cause chaos, you know. It can’t be one rule for them and another for you.”

“Well that is how it is today so you’ll just have to live with it.”

“No, I won’t. I am so fucking mad at you. You just wait until I find out where you’ve been and who you’ve been with—”

“I am not going to discuss this now. I’ll see you later.”

“You can’t talk to me like that. If I say we are going to discuss this now then that is what we’ll do, I—”

Lewis flicked his cell off. The room fell silent.

I looked up at him. His jaw was set tight and that little muscle in his cheek was twitching. “He’s so up his own backside,” he said eventually. “Take no notice of his threats. They’re completely hollow.”

A memory of Fellows warning me away from the team came to mind. The menace in his voice had been palpable. I was under no illusion that he’d meant every word. There was nothing hollow about it at all.

Lewis rubbed my arm. “I’ll never let him hurt you.”

“But I don’t want him to hurt you either.”

He laughed. “He can’t and he won’t. You really think he’s going to risk upsetting me two days before the final? Nah, he’s just blowing off steam. He’ll be all blustery and irate today but by tomorrow he’ll be calm again.”

“Do you think so? He sounded really mad.”

“He is, but I can handle him.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned. “What I did find hard to handle was your delectable dominant streak last night.” Suddenly he tipped me flat onto the bed and pressed himself over me. “But it’s my turn now.” His eyes flashed and his cock nudged at my entrance. “Though we’d better make it count, I really have to go and you still have to interview me to keep
your
boss happy.”

I wrapped my legs around the backs of his thighs, willing my pussy to relax as he pushed in. “Oh, yeah, that,” I said, thrilling as he pressed my wrists into the pillow the way I had his last night. Except his hold was vice-like. There was no way I could ever have got out of it. He had me where he wanted me, and luckily I was more than happy to be there.

Finals day had been bright and sunny and Phil and I made our way to the Olympic Stadium early evening with time to spare. Security was high; swarms of police in riot gear manned the streets. The thought of violence made me shudder and I hoped only true fans would be in attendance to enjoy the skill of the players and support their teams with decency.

We were facing Spain and there seemed to be as many Spanish voices around us as Ukrainian and English. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I was beyond nervous for a multitude of reasons. I desperately wanted England to win for myself, the fans and for Lewis. Also on my mind was the concern that Fellows had sussed out it was me Lewis had flown back to see. Lewis told me over the phone that Fellows had just about stroked out when he’d got to the training ground. He’d been furious and after his outburst hadn’t spoken to Lewis for the rest of the day. Lewis was characteristically calm. His players were fine about his brief absence—no one had made more than a passing comment and that was what counted to him.

“Jesus, it’s hot in here,” Phil said.

We were standing by our seats in the press stand and the evening sun was still beating down.

I fanned my face with my program. “Shall I go and get us some drinks?” I nodded at a man guarding an ice bucket packed with plastic bottles of water.

“I’ll go, you wait here.”

He headed off and I switched my weight onto my good ankle.

“Hey,” Ted said, coming to stand next to me. “You feeling better?”

“Yes, thanks. Much.”

“It’s going to be a great match. I just hope Tate keeps his eye on the ball.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rumor from the camp is he and Fellows have been at each other’s throats.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Really?”

“Yeah, don’t know why, but a source told me they’ve been really going for it.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Do you know why?”

“Why what?” Phil asked, handing me an icy bottle.

“What Fellows and Tate have fallen out about?”

“I didn’t know they had.” Phil took a sip of his drink.

Ted shrugged. “It’s the gossip on the grapevine.” He paused and settled his attention on me. “I just thought Nicky might know something since her exclusive interview with Tate came hot off the press less than an hour ago.”