Page 44 of Beneath the Blindfold

“You got ticklish feet, Court. Think about if you couldn’t move or get away.”

Oh, God. He was right. That’d be torture. My gaze landed on the black woven handle. I gestured toward it. “Can I—?”

He looked exactly how I felt. Tense with desire, but trying not to show it. His head bobbed in a single nod.

I slipped my hand around the handle of the flogger and pulled it slowly from the drawer. The long leather tails dangled until I circled my fist around them and dragged the bunch through my closed hand. I could only see this tool slapping against skin and causing pain. “How is this one both?”

He sucked in a deep breath. Maybe he was struggling to breathe the thick air as much as I was. “When used right, it can feel good.”

He said it with enough confidence, it sounded like he was talking from experience. Shit, I was going to burn up from the inside. The fire was so intense, it seared away my vocal cords and kept me from asking him to show me right now.

Instead, I tucked the flogger back neatly where I’d found it, shut the drawer and straightened. My pulse roared in my body, thumping the hardest between my legs. It pounded out an ache I wanted Julius to satisfy, but I struggled with how to get what I needed.

The first year here in Chicago had been brutal. The other football wives were nice enough, but Tariq had a not-great reputation, which followed him off the field and became mine by association. Julius was the only real friend I had, and I’d leaned on him hard when I discovered Tariq’s cheating. He’d helped me get through the divorce, which had driven a wedge between the men who’d played ball together in college. I felt bad their friendship ended, but secretly I was thrilled Julius had chosen to stick by my side.

I laid my nervous hands on the cushioned top of the table and stared at my splayed fingers, searching for courage. I didn’t want to screw up what we had, but couldn’t fight my feelings any longer. I longed for him with every shallow breath I took.

I hoisted myself up, turning around to sit with my legs dangling over the side.

Alarm coasted through Julius’s handsome face. “What’re you doing?”

“I want to see what it’s like,” I said in a rush.

His concern shifted to confusion, and in a few steps, he was right in front of me. “C’mon, don’t play like that.”

Only his statement was filled with cautious hope. When he set one of his large hands on my shoulder to help me down, it was the connection we needed. It turned the key in the lock on my desire, and set it tumbling free. I reached for him, grasping his face in my hands, and pulled him down into my kiss.

FOUR

COURTNEY

I hadn’t kissed another man in seven years, and bringing my lips to Julius’s was fireworks. It was everything I’d hoped it'd be, and then some. My fingers bristled against the rough ends of the whiskers darkening his defined jaw when I pulled him closer. He had on cologne or some type of woodsy scent that smelled amazing.

His soft lips pressed to mine, stunned at first, and then the intensity of the moment hit us with its full force. I was kissing Julius King . . . and he was kissing me.

Oh my God, how he was kissing me.

His mouth was passionate and commanding. His hot tongue moved past my lips, seeking mine, and its sexy, slow movement was the same as if he’d stroked his hands between my thighs. I felt it along every nerve ending in my body.

His hands seized my waist and hauled me to the edge of the table, causing me to wrap my legs around his hips. We were wild. Out of control with lust. I’d worried about making the wrong move, but this felt so goddamn right, I was mad I waited so long.

The softest of moans slipped from me as his kiss intensified another layer. The ache for him grew like an unpredictable tornado and left me spinning. I clung to him, holding on for dear life. Would I ever be able to let go?

It was easily the most passionate kiss of my life, and I let out a hushed cry of displeasure when he ended it. His hands still circled my waist and he didn’t go far. His warm forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed, and for a long moment we stayed like that, working to get our breathing back under control.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

His single stunned word announced how much this kiss meant to him, and it was powerful. It had meantsomuch to me. I slid my hands down his neck until I had my palms flat against his broad, hard chest.

“Maybe you should,” I said between two gulps of air, “shut the door.”

His eyes popped open, but he seemed foggy. “What?”

If I said it fast, I could get through it before I lost the courage. “I want to see what it’s like for the girl on the table, and you said she’s naked.”

My statement literally knocked him back, and I’d never seen my friend look more surprised. Part of him liked this idea a lot, but the other part was conflicted. He wiped a hand over the smooth dome of his head, considering how to respond. As words failed him, a stone of embarrassment grew to the size of a boulder in my stomach.

“You don’t want to?” I whispered.

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