Page 88 of Hometown Touchdown
“You kept it?” I ask, voice thick.
She nods slowly, her eyes holding mine. “I did. Maybe there was a part of me that never really let you go, Knox.”
I look at her, heart hammering beneath the heat. “I never really let you go either, Brynn.”
Her smile curves into something wicked. Mischief laced with desire. “So…what’s your play, Coach?”
Fuck. Me.
The way she saysCoachsends a jolt straight to my cock. She knows it, too. I see it in the flicker of her lashes, the way she shifts just enough to tease.
I smirk, voice dipping low. “I could call a deep pass, but I’d rather take my time…make a slow, dirty drive down the field. Yard by yard.”
Shesnortsand drops her forehead against my chest, shaking her head.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says through her giggles.
“Ridiculously dedicated to scoring,” I say, deadpan, as I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her hair.
She looks up, eyes still dancing with amusement. “You did not just turn this into a full sports metaphor.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I smile against her jaw, “youwore my jacket. You knew what you were getting into.”
She runs her hand under my suit jacket. “Even though you look absolutely delicious in this suit, I need you out of it, Coach.”
I kick off my shoes, “Gladly.” I unbutton my shirt, tugging off my tie, unbuckling my pants in record time. As soon as my pants and boxers are on the floor, I grip my cock hard, needing relief.
Her lips find mine again—hot, smiling, a little breathless—and just like that, the laughter dissolves into heat, into want.
“Tell me what you want.”
She doesn’t blink. Just walks to the bed and sinks down slowly, legs parting just enough to flash bare skin beneath the hem of my jacket. Her hands rest lightly on her thighs. Her eyes meet mine, steady and sure.
“I want you on your knees, Knox,” she says, voice low and wicked, the kind of command that makes every muscle in my body tighten. “With your mouth on me.”
I blink once—twice—like I need to make sure I heard her right.
When it fully registers, I drop without hesitation, palms sliding up the backs of her thighs as I settle between them like it’s where I belong—because it is. My voice is a rasp when I look up at her, the picture of sin wrapped in my high school jacket.
“For you, Brynn? I’ll live on my fucking knees.”
Her breath hitches, her fingers already threading through my hair like she owns me. And maybe she does. She always has.
I press a kiss to the inside of her knee, then another, higher, slower, until I hear her breath stutter.
“You want my mouth?” I growl against her skin. “Then spread those pretty legs for me and say my name while I ruin you.”
I pull her to the edge of the bed, push the jacket higher, and settle between her thighs like it’s where I was always meant to be. My hands grip her ass as I press a kiss to her center—soft, teasing—and she jerks, breathing strained, hips lifting into me.
“God, Knox,” she breathes, already undone.
I moan into her, dragging my tongue slowly over her, savoring the way she writhes under my mouth. She’s wet, sweet, and already trembling. I suck gently on her clit, then lap in slowcircles, locking my arms around her thighs to keep her in place when she tries to twist away.
Her hands are in my hair, nails scratching the back of my scalp, pulling and tugging every time I push her higher.
“You like that, baby girl?” I whisper against her, flicking my tongue again.
“Yes—fuck, yes.”
