Page 26 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)

TWENTY-SIX

ROB

I tilted my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. Distantly, a warning sounded at the back of my mind. This was a fucking mistake. This was the entire reason I told Astrid I only wanted to be friends.

Because this sweet, innocent kindergarten teacher made me want to do the dirtiest things to her. And just the knowledge that she’d been thinking about me made me half hard.

“Have you wondered what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted?” she asked.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her she had me so worked up, I wouldn’t have lasted much longer. But given the chance, I would have made her cum until I was ready to go again.

“I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted it to go,” I admitted, raking my hand down my face. “Probably better that it ended when it did.”

“Hm? Really?” Her voice pitched dangerously low and coupled with the visual of her wearing only silk and lace, a smarter man would have stopped the conversation dead.

Or encouraged it.

“What are you doing, Astrid?” My fingers flexed on my thigh, pulling my pants into a fist.

“Just talking,” she said, as if sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Unless you want me to hang up.”

I blew out a breath. “No.”

“So, where did you want it to go?”

“Back to my bedroom.” I closed my eyes. “I should have done that first. Thrown you over my shoulder and carried you upstairs.”

She exhaled. “You didn’t want to finish messing around in the kiln yard?”

“And get interrupted? Fuck no.”

She laughed, sending shivers over my body. “So, you’ve thrown me over your shoulder, caveman-style, taken me upstairs. What next?”

“Strip you naked.” My dick strained against my jeans. “Your body is so fucking hot, and I never got to see it.”

I try to conjure up the exact feel of her skin under my touch, the soft mounds of her breasts, the taut muscle of her back, the hardness of his hipbone. The memory wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing.

“What are you doing right now?” I asked as she let out a soft moan.

“Touching myself where you touched me,” she admitted, voice breathy. “Over my stomach. I love how you cupped my breasts, running your thumbs over them to make them hard.”

I unbutton my pants, my dick painfully hard as I release it from the confines of my jeans.

“Do you know what I really wanted to do?”

I gripped my shaft, pulling up. “What?”

“I wanted you in my mouth. To sink down onto my knees and take all of you.”

“Hell, Astrid.” I loosened my grip. Even five minutes down the road, this woman could make me come.

“What happens once we’re in your bedroom?” Her breathy voice spurred me on.

“I lock the fucking door, for one.”

She chuckled. “That’s a good start.”

“I tear your clothes off before I put you down.”

“I like it.” She exhaled in short, breathy bursts.

“I kiss you until you’re begging me for more.”

“That wouldn’t take long.”

“I kiss my way down your naked body and lick you until you scream.” I stroked my dick slowly. “Where are your hands?”

“One on the phone, the other on my pussy.”

“Fuck, I love the way you say that.”

“I wish it was your hands. Your mouth. Your cock.”

I pressed my head against the cool window, tempering my breath even as the speed of my hand quickened. “I’d want you on top. I’d want to watch you perfect body while I came. Touch you while you use me to come.”

“It wouldn’t take long.”

“Tell me when you’re going to come, Astrid.” I bit my lip, waiting for her. Wanting her.

“I’m close,” she whimpered on the other end of the line.

I tightened my grip, closing my eyes to a vision of her, absolutely fucking perfect on top of me. “Come for me, baby.”

“I am.” Her breath caught. “Rob.”

At her moaning my name, I came over, white hot ejaculate spilling onto the steering wheel and my pants, and I didn’t fucking care a single bit because everything in my head was Astrid.

The faint smell of flowers on her body. The exact shade of her green eyes.

Her laugh. How good she felt in my arms.

I sucked in a breath, tipping my head back as everything cleared.

“Is it out of your system?” she asked, breathless.

“No,” I admitted, my body spent and my mind too addled to care about telling her anything besides the truth.

“Me neither.”

The regret hit me like a train. I groaned, raking my hand down my face and tipping my head back. “We can’t do that again.”

She sighed, a tiny exhale that pierced my chest.

“We shouldn’t do that again.” I closed my eyes. Before Mila was born, before Jackie left me, I would have romanced the shit out of Astrid. I would have taken her out to dinner, dancing, concerts, weekends away. But that was a lifetime ago.

I couldn’t give her half of what she needed now. And I didn’t want to break her heart when she figured that out.

“When will I see you again?” Her voice sounded hollow and resigned.

“I’m leaving town Wednesday for a game. I’ll be back Friday.” I clenched my jaw, pressing my forehead against the window. “There’s a team event on Saturday, family and friends type thing. Are you free?”

The pause on the other end of the line kept my heart in a vise even as I hoped she’d say no.

“I’ll see you Saturday, then. Goodnight, Rob.”

The game film room smelled like dirty socks and sweat. Too many gigantic bodies crammed into too small of a space while Coach Simmons ran through his game plan for the Thursday night game before he let us go.

“At least we get the weekend off, right?” Isaiah Cooper leaned over and elbowed me in the side with a grin.

My body still ached from the beating we took on Sunday, and I’d dreaded the four-day turnaround from one game to the next since the season schedule had been set.

“I’m gonna need it,” I admitted with a frown, surveying the other defensive players for signs of wear and tear. With most of them only a year or two out of college, outwardly, everyone appeared ready, if a little stressed.

“Alright, I won’t keep you all here any longer. You all have the flight information for tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.” Coach Simmons collected his papers and signaled for the rest of the coaching staff to follow him.

“Players, I need you to stay here for a just a few more minutes!” Diego announced, taking Coach Simmons’ place at the podium.

He nodded his head, urging me to join him, but I shook my head.

No reason for me to be up there. I’d send out a text to my defense, and Mom had already agreed to help me prepare the studio.

A few grumbles went up from the room as Lakeland, Noa, and Trent moved to the front of the room.

Reluctantly, I stood and joined them, staying on the periphery.

Fieste sat at the back of the room, crammed in the “standing room only” section of a game film room not built to withstand the fifty-three active roster players and select members of the practice squadron.

I sucked in air, my stomach turning at what had to happen once Diego stopped running his mouth.

To his credit, he explained the plan quickly.

The special teams players cheered when they found out they got to bring the beer.

The offense only mildly bitched about t-shirts.

And the defense players stayed the fuck quiet when I told them they’d make steins and like it.

Diego called the meeting to a close with a reminder that Coach Lionel’s barbecue was that weekend and not to miss it.

“Fieste,” I called, stopping him as he filed out with the other players.

He startled, eyes wide. I jerked my head, and he wove through his departing teammates to the front of the rapidly emptying room.

“Yeah, captain?” he asked.

I inhaled, steeling myself for what I planned to put in place. “You still want to make that cheap hit up to me?”

“Yeah,” he stammered. “I mean, sure. Of course. What do you need?”

“Are you single?”

He cocked his head, eyes growing wide with concern. “Um, yeah?”

“Great. I need you to get someone off my hands.” I winced at the phrasing, even as I knew it had to happen. I couldn’t trust myself around Astrid.

“Get someone off your hands?”

“Are you a fucking parrot? Or just can’t hear me?

” I growled, all too aware that I was acting like a dick.

But to be completely fair, I also felt like a dick, so this conversation was very on brand.

“Her name is Astrid. She’s my kid’s teacher and my mom’s friend.

And she’s too fucking good for you, so don’t be an asshole to her. ”

He shook his head. “Wait, so what exactly are you expecting me to do? I’m not sleeping with some stranger.”

I reared back, red blotting my vision. “You’re not fucking touching her. Not so much as brushing against her. I don’t want your hands anywhere near her.”

Fieste blinked, pursing his lips as he blew out a breath. “I gotta be honest. I’m a little confused.”

“Shit, do I need to do everything around here? You make her laugh. You’re nice to her. You take her out to dinner.” I raked a hand through my hair. “Just…just don’t tell me what happens, okay? I don’t want status reports or updates. I…I can’t have her around me.”

“Do you have a picture?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

He shrugged. “I want to know what I’m working with here.”

“You’re not ‘working’ with anything. You’re barely doing me a favor. You should thank me.”

He held up his hands. “Okay. If you’re saying she’s hot, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Don’t call her hot.”

“Attractive?”

“I catch your hands on her, Fieste, deal’s off,” I warned him a final time. “She’s coming with me to Coach Mack’s barbecue.”

“So, introduce myself, charm her, don’t touch her?”

“Think you can handle it?”

He shrugged. “Sure. I don’t understand it, but I got you, captain!”