Page 10 of Personal Foul (The San Diego Storm #3)

Carson didn’t move a muscle, so I reached over his shoulder to curl my fingers around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Before I slammed my mouth back onto his, he put his finger over my lips to stop me.

“I’m not finished.”

Burying my fingers in his hair, I tugged just enough to keep his attention.

“Then hurry it up because I’ve never been happier to be wrong.”

He swallowed thickly as his eyes caressed my face. The heat they held had simmered into a sadness that made my stomach hurt. I couldn’t imagine what he was going to say.

“Third, you’re wrong if you think this can happen between us. We’re teammates, and it’s not right.”

Loosening my grip on his hair, I refused to let go. I needed the contact of his skin on mine. “So you’re saying if we weren’t…?”

Carson nodded. “Yes. Mixing business with pleasure creates too many complications. We have to live together, work together, and travel together. And if anyone found out, it could end our careers.”

At the moment, I didn’t care about my career. In fact, I didn’t have one until after training camp. So I grinned at him.

“Technically, I’m not your teammate.”

Carson frowned and pulled back. “Technically, you are. Of course you are. Why would you think that? Even if you don’t make the first string, you’re still part of the team.”

I took a chance and skimmed my finger over his lips. Pulling down the bottom one, he leaned forward and nipped my finger, sending a pulse of electricity to my cock.

“Carson, I don’t sign my contract until after training camp. And I haven’t been paid so much as a dime. Until I do that, I’m not part of the Storm.”

He assessed me with a furrowed brow, then stood from the chair. My hands slipped from his body, leaving me feeling empty.

Pacing the area in front of me, his breathing labored as he weighed my words. I knew he was warring with the “correctness” of the situation before him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was an honorable man, and I didn’t want to ruin him. But I had to know what he was thinking.

“What’s troubling you?”

He stopped moving and pinned me with another emotion I didn’t know how to read.

“I’m your captain.”

I shook my head. “Not yet, you’re not. Currently, you’re my innkeeper.”

Carson groaned as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Why are you doing this to me? Every bit of this scenario goes against what I have believed about my life. I don’t act on impulse. I think about things and weigh the pros and cons.”

I stood up and moved in front of him. Standing toe to toe, I needed him to see I was serious.

“I understand that. And I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want to do. But think about it this way. Is going after the ball and making an interception an impulse decision?”

He frowned. “Yes. Why?”

“Do you think you would have made the play if you hadn’t gone for the ball?”

He scowled at me like I was nuts. “Of course not.”

I nodded as he threw his hands in the air. “Why are we comparing this to football? It’s not the same situation.”

I shrugged. “Maybe not. But if you never make a spontaneous decision, how will you ever know what might have been?”

Carson stopped pacing and glared at me. “What are you trying to say, Colin?”

I smiled. “I’m saying the season only lasts six months, and maybe you should think about the advantages of acting on instinct.”

Taking a step forward, I held his stare. “We’re both adults here. And we know the score. From the moment I arrived, you’re all I can think about. It’s not easy for me, either, having uncontrollable desire pumping through my veins.”

He froze but kept his eyes on mine. So I kept talking. “Tonight, I’m only your houseguest.”

His eyes darted back and forth between mine, searching for an answer. “What are you suggesting?”

My heart was racing with anticipation. I had one shot to make him see how good this could be between us.

So I took it.

“One night to satiate the desire. Twenty-four hours to forget the world and live like there’s no tomorrow. To fuck and be fucked. To wring out every ounce of pleasure we can from a single moment in time that will ruin us for anyone else.”

Carson swallowed but never broke our connection. I watched as he clenched his jaw, making the muscles tense. But his expressive eyes told me he was struggling.

“What if it’s not enough? What if it only feeds the flames, rather than smothering them? What if I get you under my skin, and every time I look at you, the ache to have you again won’t stop? How do I live in constant need of the drug I can’t have?”

He was right. If it was as good as I hoped, it was going to hurt.

Taking yet another chance, I took his face between my palms. I could feel his heart beating erratically as my fingertips caressed his neck.

Carson’s hands went to my hips. He curled his fingers in the hem of my shirt as if he needed me to steady him.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than live without the scars.”

He winced, then closed his eyes as if absorbing the pain. Leaning into my touch, I swiped my thumb over his lips. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but giving him a moment of proximity seemed more important.

My eyes poured over his face until he placed his left hand over mine. When he opened his eyes, a new resolve was there, along with an insatiable desire that took my breath away.

“One night, then we’re done.”

I nodded slowly, closing the last few centimeters between us.

“One night,” I agreed, then sealed my mouth over his.