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“It’s probably not smart if someone catches us,” she murmured minutes later, when it was her turn to come up for air from another amazing kiss.
“Any media at this event?” he asked. She’d know, since she’d helped schedule it.
Aubrey slowly shook her head, her fingers drifting down the front of his shirt, running along the buttons. He wondered if she wanted to undo them, what she might think if she knew he wanted to strip her naked. “If they’re here, they’re not allowed inside. We made sure this is a private event.”
Breathing deeply, he glanced around the terrace, which faced out toward the street. It was quiet, but they were on the back side of the restaurant. Probably the best spot to sneak out of to avoid the paparazzi.
“Can you leave now? Or do you have to stay and work?” he asked.
“Wait a minute.” Her brows drew together and she pressed her hands against his chest, her touch burning through his shirt. “Are you suggesting we…leave? The restaurant?” She paused, wrinkled her cute nose. “Together?”
He toyed with a loose tendril of her hair, the auburn curl wrapping perfectly around his finger. She watched him with those big brown eyes, and damn if he didn’t want to kiss her again. Drown in her.
“I don’t want to stay. Do you?” He was done putting her off, pushing her away because he was trying to do the right thing. He liked her. He wanted her. For once, he was going to be completely selfish and forget about football. He was always sitting on the bench anyway, and besides, they were trading his ass at the end of the season.
He could focus completely on Aubrey, without worrying he could somehow screw up his game.
“But…” Her gaze cut away from his, and she stared out at the empty street. The air was cold, he noticed her shiver, and he tugged her in closer, pleased at how easily she went to him. “This is a celebration for you. For the entire team. You should revel in it as long as you can.”
She was right. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and he should bask in the glow of the Hawks play-off division win. But spending the night with Aubrey was also a once-in-a-lifetime moment, because he had a deep-down feeling he wouldn’t be in San Jose much longer after the season was over. He might get traded for big bucks. Coach had alluded to it, and Walsh rarely exaggerated.
His career wasn’t over, but he didn’t want to leave. If he were traded, would he be ready to be a starting quarterback? Or would he be relegated to the bench yet again? At least with the Hawks, the spot was familiar. He knew his place. He appreciated everything Quinn taught him. The Hawks also had been his favorite team, when he’d been growing up, and it was still an honor to wear the jersey. Would he feel that way about another organization?
He didn’t know. The unknown pissed him off. Better to focus on Aubrey than worry about his career, at least for the moment.
“Maybe I want to revel in you tonight instead,” he murmured, letting his gaze drop to her mouth. He coasted his thumb across her bottom lip, desperate to taste her again.
Aubrey opened her mouth, ready to protest, he was sure of it. But then she clamped those pretty lips shut, her hands skimming down along his sides to rest at his hips. She hooked her fingers around the leather belt he wore, grabbing hold as if she owned him and was making her claim. “Okay. Give me five minutes,” she murmured, a little squeak escaping her when he swooped in and stole a kiss, leaving the both of them breathless as he pulled back.
“Sounds good. I’ll wait for you out here.” He nodded once, released his hold on her, and watched her hustle back into the restaurant. She paused at the door and glanced at him over her shoulder, drinking him in as if she couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
He could relate.
She offered him a little smile that sent a zing to his gut, then turned and scurried into the restaurant, with a speed that impressed. His gaze dropped to her shapely backside, appreciating the way it moved beneath her dress as she slipped inside.
Damn. He broke out into a sweat, and it was cold outside. He could hardly contain the anticipation that rode him hard, over what was about to happen.
Tonight, he was finally going to get Aubrey to himself. Find out exactly what she liked, teach her what he liked, and then they could get to liking each other all night long.
He couldn’t freaking wait.
Chapter Two
Aubrey couldn’t believe it. Could. Not. Believe. It. Her feet felt as if they were floating on air as, her vision hazy and a little unfocused from a certain man’s potent lips, she entered through the back door that led into the restaurant. She’d kissed him. She’d kissed Flynn Foley, and not only had he kissed her back, he’d told her he wanted to be alone with her.
Right now. At this very moment.
She’d be a damn fool to let this opportunity slip out of her fingers, even though she’d chickened out at the last minute, unable to tell him how she felt. Now she was like a giddy teenager who’d just received confirmation that the guy she’d been crushing on throughout the school year felt the same.
She sagged against the wall and tentatively touched her tingling lips with her fingers, remembering just how thoroughly he’d kissed her. For all that hard, muscled strength, his lips were deliciously soft, his tongue… Um. Yeah. His taste was dangerously addictive. And then there’d been those big, strong arms around her, making her feel tiny and protected and cherished and…
Shaking her head, Aubrey stood tall, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, along her hips. She lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and told herself to get a grip. So she’d kissed the man. So what? He’d probably kissed plenty of women. No way in the world was Flynn Foley as inexperienced and naive when it came to sex as everyone loved to say. He was a superstar. Women threw themselves at him. He had an intoxicating aura no one could resist. Maybe it was his easy smile, matched with that intense focus he had on the field. His broad shoulders and humble upbringing, his charming laugh and the respect he had for his entire team…
He probably couldn’t resist the scads of women who wanted him either, right? It only made sense. He had to be playing up the virgin angle. Harvey had told her she needed to play it up, too, but she’d tried her best not to focus on his sexual history. She represented him as a football player and nothing else. She’d always deflected the sex questions. It wasn’t professional.
Okay. Fine. She was dying to know, had always been dying to know. If everything went as planned, maybe she would finally, finally find out his sex secrets—was he or was he not a virgin?
Well. That sounded downright sordid.
