“Okay, sugar, come for me,” he whispered beside her ear. He increased the pressure of his thumb and inserted a second finger into the hot, moist center of her with a hard, swift thrust.

She went absolutely still as she felt the exquisite moment of suspension before she began to fall over the edge into her release. Then he curled his fingers inside her and every muscle in her body seemed to convulse around the detonation within her.

The breath screamed out of her lungs as she bowed upward, her spike heels digging into the carpeting while she rode his hand to another explosion. And another. He found a new way to touch her and triggered one last burst of radiating pleasure before she sagged back onto the chair’s seat, her heart beating furiously, her lungs laboring to refill themselves.

He slowly withdrew his fingers, sending little aftershocks of delight rippling through her. “Ahh.” She let her head fall back against the chair and closed her eyes.

She felt his breath on her cheek before his lips touched hers ever so lightly, an acknowledgment that she needed time to come down from her orgasm, but he wanted to be there with her.

“You can let go now,” he said.

Her fingers were still clenched around the chair posts, the anchors she’d been clinging to as the storm of sensation broke over her. She released her grip, flexing and stretching her fingers.

And then his hands were under her knees and around her back, and she was sailing upward. Her eyes flew open, and she started in surprise as she landed against the wall of his chest.

“Easy,” he said, walking away from the table. “We’ll be more comfortable on the couch.”

He strode to the giant sectional sofa and settled onto the gray cut-velvet upholstery effortlessly, as though he didn’t have a benchworthy injury and a full-grown woman in his arms.

His touch was undemanding as he eased her onto his lap, but she felt the rock-hard length of his erection against her bottom. It sent another tremor through her.

“Cold?” he asked, seizing a throw blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and draping the whisper-soft cashmere over her exposed side.

“No, just getting a little extra thrill.” She snuggled under the blanket anyway, feeling self-conscious about being nearly naked while he was fully dressed.

He wrapped his arms around her over the blanket, one thumb stroking against her shoulder, the softness of the cashmere caressing her skin. She nestled closer, reveling in all the textures of his body against hers. The heavy silk of his shirt pressing against the side of her breast as he breathed. The warm steel of his thigh muscles covered with fine wool. The bands of his arms encircling her in a shelter of protective strength.

Odd that she felt protected even as his cock pushed against the V of her panties, reminding her that his needs had yet to be satisfied. The fact that he had taken care of her with such exquisite attentiveness made unshed tears burn behind her eyes.

She turned her face in to the hollow of his neck, inhaling the fragrance of aroused man and fresh, tangy aftershave. “You smell like Texas,” she murmured.

A chuckle rumbled against her ear. “You mean like bluebonnets?”

She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. “Like a hard-riding cowboy.”

“You were the one ridin’, sugar.”

“And it was one heck of a rodeo.” She started to shift on his lap, but he held her in place.

“Rest a spell. I like having an armful of warm, satisfied woman.”

He seemed content to do no more than sit. Maybe his injuries were worse than he let on. Although he hadn’t demonstrated any difficulties with carrying her or bending over the chair to make her come. Memories of how he’d touched her sent tendrils of excitement curling through her all over again. “I want to unbutton your shirt.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, “Go right ahead. Just don’t be surprised at the color of the bruising. It gets uglier as it heals.”

She levered herself onto her knees and lifted one leg over to straddle his thighs. The blanket slipped off her shoulders, and his gaze zeroed in on her breasts, making them throb with the desire to be touched. But he raised his eyes and stretched his arms out along the back of the couch, so she had access to the buttons running down the front of his shirt. The expression in his eyes was almost challenging, and the corners of his mouth turned up just enough to bring out his dimple.

It was impossible not to brace her hands on his shoulders and brush her lips over the indentation in his cheek. That brought her aching nipples into contact with his chest, and they both inhaled audibly.

“That dimple is so disarming.” She kissed it again. “Not what you’d expect on a rough, tough football player.”

“I got it from my grandfather, who was a rough, tough insurance salesman. According to the family stories, it was an effective sales tool with the ladies of the town.”

She dragged her hands down from his shoulders and leaned back to flick the first button from its hole. “You should smile more when you’re on the sideline. You’d convert a lot of women to being football fans.”

“Grinning like an idiot would go over big with my teammates.”

She walked her fingers down to the next button, slipping it out before she looked up at him. “It might make your opponents wonder what you knew and they didn’t.”

“That kind of smile doesn’t bring out my dimple.”

“Show me.”

Right before her eyes, he went from red-hot lover to brutal gladiator with ice water flowing through his veins. His eyes froze to glacier blue while his lips thinned and drew back in a near snarl that held the promise of pain and defeat.