Quarterback Draw

He gave her a hot look, turned off the shower and tugged her out, barely giving her time to dry off before her threw her on the bed.

He was inside her again before her feet were off the floor.

Grant was apparently a master at condom application, because he’d done it so quickly she’d hardly noticed. She had no complaints about that, because having her hands all over him in the shower had done erotic things to her thought processes, and all she’d wanted was to feel him buried deep.

This time it was quick and dirty. He sucked her nipples and fucked her hard, rubbing his pelvis over her clit.

She didn’t think she could come again.

She was wrong. She came hard and fast and bit his shoulder when she did. He groaned against her and took her mouth in a deep, wholly satisfying kiss when he came, leaving them both out of breath.

When he lifted his head, his eyes looked dark and dangerous, his hair still a little damp. She brushed it away from his face.

“We might need another shower,” he said.

Her lips curved. “I can do this song and dance all night.”

He rolled her over on top of him. “So can I. Should we see who gives in first and passes out?”

“I’ve done all-night shoots on two hours of sleep, Cassidy. You might be surprised which one of us gives in first.”

Around four a.m., they both fell asleep in the middle of sex.

Katrina would call that a joint victory.

EIGHTEEN

KATRINA’S MAKEUP ARTIST HAD GIVEN HER THE EVIL eye the entire day, making harsh comments about the dark circles under her eyes.

Yeah, she’d screwed up.

Grant had driven her back to her hotel at seven that morning. And okay, maybe three hours’ sleep wasn’t such a great idea the night before a shoot, but despite his comments, Carlos had put cucumber slices on her eyes before he’d applied makeup.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone without sleep before a shoot. She’d done late shoots the night before an early shoot and she’d always managed just fine. Maybe not three-hours-of-sleep fine, but she’d done okay.

Today, though, she was sore and tender, and Carlos had asked her about a couple of suspicious “marks” on her body he’d had to cover up with body makeup.

“Is that a hickey on your neck?” he’d asked with mock horror and a knowing smile.

She’d slapped her hand to her neck. “I do not have a hickey. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Though she had recalled, in the fuzzy part of her brain that was semi functioning, that maybe Grant had sucked on her neck while he was moving deep inside of her.

She hadn’t minded at the time. In fact, she recalled that particular maneuver had made her come pretty hard.

Just the thought of it had her tightening all over.

“Quit flushing,” Carlos had said, which had gotten him started all over again about staying up too late and how hard he was going to have to work to mask the effects of her partying.

“I assure you, I was not partying.”

“Well, whatever you did into the wee hours of last night, it’s all over your face. And, apparently, your neck.”

She knew he was baiting her for details, which would not be forthcoming.

The shoot had gone well so far, despite her exhaustion. She was a professional. It didn’t matter if she was tired or sick or whatever, she’d suck it up and do her job. They’d done two sets of shoots today—one by herself and one with bridesmaids. Next up was a change of outfits and they were going to do a shoot with her and a groom.

“I’m looking for—oh, there you are. They said you’d be in here.”

She looked up at the sound of Grant’s voice.

She was shocked to see him there. “What are you doing here?”

“Practice ended early today, so I thought I’d pop in and check you out.”

He looked good in jeans and a white short-sleeved T-shirt. He was tan, his hair looked freshly showered, reminding her of their escapade—okay, more than one—in the shower last night.

“Your face is flushing again, Katrina,” Carlos said. “And who might this be?”

“Carlos Zenera, this is Grant Cassidy.”

Grant came over and shook Carlos’s hand.

Carlos gave Grant an up-and-down critical examination.

“Are you the hickey guy?”

Grant frowned, then glanced down at Katrina. “I gave you a hickey?”

Carlos stepped behind her. “No use denying it now, honey. Hot stuff has confessed.”

She was mortified.

“Also, oh my God,” Carlos whispered at her back. “Well done.”