Page 26 of Tumbling the Cornerback

"That's a surprise for later."

Lucas's startled squawk made me laugh as I let myself out of his older-model hatchback. "Come on. Don't forget your book."

The trip up to my floor was mostly quiet. Once we were confined in the brightly lit elevator, a sudden nervousness overtook both of us. The building played a 24-7 loop of local news and what Rye referred to as yacht rock in the elevators, which meant we were both awkwardly listening to a report about a horrible accident on MoPac followed by the opening strains to "Summer Breeze."

"I have to admit," he said as the doors finally opened on my floor. "I didn't picture you living somewhere like this. Most of the players I've known either go embarrassingly big or they get a freaking farm."

I snorted, leading him down the corridor to my apartment. It was nice—like, way nicer than most apartments I've been in—but it wasn't ridiculous. Or at least, I didn't think it was. As I unlocked the door I had a moment of anxiety—what would Lucas think of my place? Would it put me in the ranks of 'most of the players he'd known?'

"Oh, wow, this is nice," he crooned. "Beautiful view of the park! I bet you can see that Trail of Lights thing they do at Christmas from here."

I nodded, locking the door behind us and following him to the picture window overlooking part of Zilker. Lucas dropped his bag from Sonny's shop on the sofa, staring out at the darkened park. A few lights picked out trees and part of the nearest foot path, but twilight swallowed most of it, never fully dark thanks to Austin's glow but a nice little island in the night, somewhere not busy and loud. "That feeling I was talking about earlier? Being the only ones in the world?"

Lucas nodded, craning his neck to look up at me. I stood close behind him, looking out over his head at the dark blotch of the park and the bright lights of the city. "You feel it here too."

"Sometimes. Right now."

"Sometimes right now?" I loved his smile, the puckish tilt, the way it smoothed out the worry lines he wore like a hair shirt. "Sounds complicated."

"It doesn't have to be," I whispered. Lucas closed his eyes on a sigh, a shiver racing over his body. "Lucas..."

"We shouldn't do this," he said quietly. "We shouldn't. I could lose my job, my reputation, the nonprofit would stop working with me..."

"Or," I interrupted, pressing my fingers to his lips, feeling the firm muscle and soft skin, the way it sent a pulse of need you now and please please please straight to my cock. "Or maybe nothing bad happens. Because this is ours. And for us."

He huffed a tiny, helpless laugh against my touch. "People always find out."

I dropped my hand, let him take a step back before I spoke again. "We'll stop then. It’s... it's just two adults acting on impulse, acting on attraction. We?—"

My words ended in a started grunt as Lucas flung himself at me. One thing about cheerleaders—they can fucking jump. Lucas was airborne from a dead standstill in just a heartbeat, and then in my arms before I could do more than process motion means grab!

"Stop talking for a minute," he ordered, lips brushing mine as he spoke. "Nice catch, by the way. I see why the team shelled out the big bucks for you."

My startled laugh rang off the high ceilings and bounced between us. "Warn a guy next time?"

"I like to keep you on your toes."

Lucas felt good in my arms, right even. We kissed in the middle of my living room until I couldn't hold him up anymore; then we moved to the couch. Somewhere, my phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Whatever it was could wait until I damn well felt like talking to anyone other than Lucas.

As we made out on the couch, Lucas's breath mingled with mine. The creak of springs and rustle of fabric were all but lost under the tiny noises he made, the whimpers and gasps as I found spots on his throat and behind his ear that made him arch into me, cling to my shoulders and back, stretch and drum his heels in pleasure. Our hands roamed freely, exploring familiar territory and new discoveries alike. I trailed my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, coiled between myfingers and begging to be touched.

Breaking away, he looked into my eyes, his face flushed and his cheeks damp with sweat. "We both know why this isn't a good idea," he whispered, "but I think we also know why it's a very good one."

I nodded, braced above him and wanting nothing more than to trade places, be the one held down. Held down by Lucas Ortiz, at his mercy even if only for a few minutes. "God, yes."

He tilted his head and pressed his lips to my ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers through me. "We need a code word," he said, his voice barely audible, "something that means..." he hesitated, his eyes locked onto mine, "This needs to stop." At my stricken expression, he reached up and pressed his palms to my cheeks, “No, no, no… I’m not saying…” He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine, then huffed a frustrated laugh. “If I say handspring, we need to stop, okay?”

I nodded. “If I say…”

Eyes still closed, he smiled. “Fumble.”

“Don’t jinx me,” I teased, pressing a kiss to that damn dimple. “Fumble.”

Lucas opened his eyes, and I fell into that deep gaze. “Coop?”

I nodded. “Yeah… yeah…”

He closed the distance, craning his neck to kiss me. Everything melted into a haze of pleasure and need. Lucas’s body was smaller than mine, but he was strong, a fact which shouldn’t have surprised me but did. He looped his arm around my shoulders and did some maneuver, ending with me on the floor and him on top of me. At my startled yelp, he grinned. “I spend most of my time training to catch people flying through the air. Flipping you on your back is nothing.”

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