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His dark eyes blazed with desire and his grin was wicked. “Okay. As far as getting ahead of the story, the team has an appearance tomorrow at Disney World. Part of the whole I’m-going-to-Disney thing after winning a championship. A lot of the players bring their wives and girlfriends. I’d like to bring you and Cory. We’ll take pictures, answer a few reporter questions and the world will know you and I are dating. Then when the story hits, if our names are mentioned, the reports won’t be about me sneaking in the back with a random bartender, but me sneaking off with my lady.”
She wouldn’t acknowledge how much him calling her his lady sparked pleasure in her heart. She forced her mind back to the other problem that would come from this story. “If they mention our names, then Mr. Cooper will know I work at Sweethearts.”
He shrugged as if that was a minuscule thing. “You were already going to tell your supervisor that jerk Jerry saw you there.”
“Seeing me is one thing. Finding out that you and I had sex in the back room via the local news is another.” Worry hardened her tone. “I’ll lose my job.”
Her breathing sped up. She’d been so worried about Z, she hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking ahead to Monday or the huge impact this story would potentially have on her main source of income.
“Shh.” Isaiah reached over, placed his hand behind her head and pulled her forward. He kissed her gently. “Don’t worry about that tonight. You can’t do anything to change it. Tomorrow, email your supervisor and tell her you need to talk to her first thing. The sports reporters here are going with the team tomorrow and it’ll hit the news that we’re dating.”
“Cory’s spot in camp,” Angela said. “I’ll get him kicked out.”
Isaiah brushed his hand over her cheek. “No, he won’t. It’s the last week of camp. I’ll let Keri know this was all on me and I doubt she’ll make Cory suffer because I fell for an angel.”
He made everything sound so easy and reasonable. He had one thing right—there was little she could do about any of the problems at 1:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning. She leaned into his hand on her cheek and took a calming breath. “I’m glad you’re optimistic. Optimism may not be enough to keep me employed.”
“If it’s not, I’ve got you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need anyone to have me. I can take care of myself.” She would not become dependent on him.
“Oh, really?” He clasped her waist, leaned back on the couch and pulled her on top of him.
Angela adjusted her legs until she straddled him. The hard press of his erection brushed against her sex and she gasped. “What are you doing?” Dumb question; she had more than an idea of what he was about.
“Taking care of you.” He lifted a hand to the back of her head and pulled her down for a kiss. “One problem at a time. We’ll do damage control. The story won’t be as bad, and you won’t lose your job.”
She wanted to argue. To tell him his ability to give her amazing orgasms wasn’t the same thing as taking care of her, but then his mouth bewitched her. Warmth spread over her as his hands roamed up her thighs until her short skirt bunched around her waist. Angela’s hand dived beneath his shirt to play along the tight muscles of his stomach and chest. He gripped her ass and lifted his hips into the pocket of her thighs.
She let him take care of her, pushed aside everything that didn’t matter this late at night. The only thing that did matter was this moment. His lips on her breasts after he tugged down the front of her tank top. His strong hands gently caressing across the skin of her thighs. Their suppressed moans and silent sighs as their passion grew. And when he covered himself, slid her underwear to the side and filled her completely, she didn’t care about tomorrow, Monday, or any other day.
She bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming when the orgasm tore through her body. Isaiah’s body jerked hard and deep within her with his own release. They remained in each other’s embrace, one of his hands beneath her shirt on her back, the other running over her hair. He’d only pulled his pants down enough to slide into her and the front of his shirt was damp where her cheek lay pressed against his chest. Her sweat or his—who knew? Probably both.
