run, I call something different. Something I’m really good at, something I love to do.”
“What’s that?”
Declan took one hand from Marlee’s thigh and guided himself inside her wet sheath, totally immersing himself in one hard stroke.
“I go deep.”
And he did.
Did Marlee’s gasp drown out Declan’s groan or was it the other way around? He didn’t know, and didn’t care, so great was the sensation of being buried—finally—in Marlee. He only allowed himself a second to bask in the warmth before he began to move. Long, deep strokes that made her hands leave her breasts and go to her mouth and eyes, like her senses were overwhelmed. He knew his were.
Declan’s hands left her thighs and grabbed her waist, anchoring her as he pounded into her, his rhythm picking up speed and intensity. He could feel his balls slapping into her ass as she lifted herself into him, meeting his thrusts.
Knowing she was again close, he forced her to look into his eyes. They were shining. With passion? Desire? Something else? All of the above? Declan wasn’t sure, and, really, he didn’t care. His eyes were on hers and he was about to come inside her. Come with her. His strokes became shorter, fiercer.
“Look at us, Marlee—look at where I’m inside you. Look at how well we fit together. Watch me come, Marlee. Watch me come inside you.” She followed his eyes as they lowered to where their bodies joined, and once again, it was his words that sent her over.
Her body spiraled as it had before, and her body shook, but it felt deeper, more connected. It was connected—literally. To him. His shudders as he reached his release caused a soft smile from her, which he barely registered.
Buried deep in Marlee was one of the best feelings he’d ever had. Right up there with winning the Rose Bowl and the Super Bowl. Maybe even better, because Marlee wasn’t going anywhere, while his playing days had always been finite. He could achieve this…this…whatever it was with Marlee indefinitely.
Had he had any energy left, Declan would have jumped at the unsettling thought. But he didn’t. What strength he did have was spent scooting Marlee and himself to the middle of the bed so that he could touch all of her body. Careful not to leave her, he arranged them on their sides, Declan still buried inside her, her thigh thrown over his. He wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time since this morning at the studio, kissed her mouth. It was warm and soft and she kissed him back. She broke away, looked at him, then leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“Touchdown.”
Chapter Eight
E ven though several hours of lovemaking had passed, it was only ten o’clock in the evening and Declan was hungry. They’d had a very early dinner at the diner, and they had more than worked off the small Greek salads they’d consumed. He supposed it would take a while for his body’s metabolism to come down from his heavy, workout-based existence. He’d have to be careful.
Declan loved to cook, and eat, and was good at both. Without the daily weightlifting sessions and practice, he’d probably get a gut, and then some. The thought of love handles made him mentally shudder. Never one for vanity, Declan still acknowledged that turning to fat would kill him. Plus, if this broadcasting thing worked out, he’d have to watch his weight. He grinned. Just another reminder that he had now joined the everyday ranks—paying attention to his figure.
He slipped out of bed and into his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned and slung low on his hips. An exhausted Marlee barely noticed his movements, and made none of her own. His clothes were scattered all over her bedroom floor where they had been discarded. After some searching, he found his shirt and threw it at her. “Here, throw this on, and let’s raid your fridge.” Marlee’s head perked up instantly and she began finding the sleeves of Declan’s shirt.
“Oh sure, I leave
“What’s that?”
Declan took one hand from Marlee’s thigh and guided himself inside her wet sheath, totally immersing himself in one hard stroke.
“I go deep.”
And he did.
Did Marlee’s gasp drown out Declan’s groan or was it the other way around? He didn’t know, and didn’t care, so great was the sensation of being buried—finally—in Marlee. He only allowed himself a second to bask in the warmth before he began to move. Long, deep strokes that made her hands leave her breasts and go to her mouth and eyes, like her senses were overwhelmed. He knew his were.
Declan’s hands left her thighs and grabbed her waist, anchoring her as he pounded into her, his rhythm picking up speed and intensity. He could feel his balls slapping into her ass as she lifted herself into him, meeting his thrusts.
Knowing she was again close, he forced her to look into his eyes. They were shining. With passion? Desire? Something else? All of the above? Declan wasn’t sure, and, really, he didn’t care. His eyes were on hers and he was about to come inside her. Come with her. His strokes became shorter, fiercer.
“Look at us, Marlee—look at where I’m inside you. Look at how well we fit together. Watch me come, Marlee. Watch me come inside you.” She followed his eyes as they lowered to where their bodies joined, and once again, it was his words that sent her over.
Her body spiraled as it had before, and her body shook, but it felt deeper, more connected. It was connected—literally. To him. His shudders as he reached his release caused a soft smile from her, which he barely registered.
Buried deep in Marlee was one of the best feelings he’d ever had. Right up there with winning the Rose Bowl and the Super Bowl. Maybe even better, because Marlee wasn’t going anywhere, while his playing days had always been finite. He could achieve this…this…whatever it was with Marlee indefinitely.
Had he had any energy left, Declan would have jumped at the unsettling thought. But he didn’t. What strength he did have was spent scooting Marlee and himself to the middle of the bed so that he could touch all of her body. Careful not to leave her, he arranged them on their sides, Declan still buried inside her, her thigh thrown over his. He wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time since this morning at the studio, kissed her mouth. It was warm and soft and she kissed him back. She broke away, looked at him, then leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“Touchdown.”
Chapter Eight
E ven though several hours of lovemaking had passed, it was only ten o’clock in the evening and Declan was hungry. They’d had a very early dinner at the diner, and they had more than worked off the small Greek salads they’d consumed. He supposed it would take a while for his body’s metabolism to come down from his heavy, workout-based existence. He’d have to be careful.
Declan loved to cook, and eat, and was good at both. Without the daily weightlifting sessions and practice, he’d probably get a gut, and then some. The thought of love handles made him mentally shudder. Never one for vanity, Declan still acknowledged that turning to fat would kill him. Plus, if this broadcasting thing worked out, he’d have to watch his weight. He grinned. Just another reminder that he had now joined the everyday ranks—paying attention to his figure.
He slipped out of bed and into his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned and slung low on his hips. An exhausted Marlee barely noticed his movements, and made none of her own. His clothes were scattered all over her bedroom floor where they had been discarded. After some searching, he found his shirt and threw it at her. “Here, throw this on, and let’s raid your fridge.” Marlee’s head perked up instantly and she began finding the sleeves of Declan’s shirt.
“Oh sure, I leave
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