Delly's Last Night (Go Get 'Em Women) (5 page)

She threaded her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “Would you think me too much of a pig if I said yes?”

“I’d think you were training too hard,” he said, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

She was sitting cross-legged on the tiny chair when he got back from the serving counter, her feet tucked under her, displaying an unconscious flexibility and balance that made him smile. He put the burger in front of her. “Eat,” he told her. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

She looked up at him with one of the knock-out smiles he had seen in the arena. “My hero.”

Neal sat and tried to return to eating, but his appetite wasn’t for food, anymore.

“So, if you’re not into Olympic sports, what
are
you doing in Golden right now? Do you live here?” she asked.

“I’m a freelance graphics designer. I flew in to deliver some work and get paid.”

“Flew in from where?”

“Seattle.”

“It’s still quite a way to come just to deliver and get paid.”

“It was a big job,” Neal assured her.

“So you’re not going to be here for long, then,” she said.

“I have a seat on the United Airlines flight to Seattle at four.”

Delly put down what was left of her burger. Not much of it remained. “That’s a pity,” she said softly.

Something in her tone or her eyes made his gut clench and his breath catch. Neal fought to stay still and not give away how much she was affecting him just by the way her hair streamed down her face and shaded one eye, so that she peered out from behind the shield to look at him with that frank stare.

Or that her lithe, strong body was calling to him like a siren song.

He picked up a packet of table salt and turned it in his fingers. “Why is it a pity?”

“You’re the first man I’ve met who has absolutely nothing to do with sports or the Olympics, and has zero interest in them...but you still have empathy enough to understand where I’m coming from. Hell, you’ve even fed me.” She gave a small smile. “Do you know how much of a relief it is
not
to talk about training, about the Olympics, about the gym, about any of it? To be able to switch off and just be...normal, for a while?”

Neal shook his head. “I don’t. But there was a man at the arena. He said something about your age, that at twenty-three, a gymnast’s career was almost half-over. I imagine you’re feeling enormous pressure right now to prove yourself and justify the years of training.”

She nodded. It was a small movement of her head. “See, you get it. And I didn’t have to talk myself to death to explain it to you. Sometimes, I feel like I’m going mad with the impossible schedules and expectations. And then I see other woman my age, who just have a simple job, and head out to clubs in the evening. Who have a life...” She grimaced. “I sound incredibly ungrateful, don’t I?”

He reached over and picked up her hand, and his pulse shot upwards when she didn’t pull her hand out of his grip. He held it. “You sound incredibly stressed, Delly. That’s all.”

She reached with her other hand and slid her fingers along his jaw. “Kiss me.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“You don’t want to?”

He realized his grip on her hand was tightening and laid her hand on the table between them. “I want to, Delly. I want more than the kiss. I want...” He let out a frustrated breath, and leaned forward, so that he could drop his voice and lower the chances of being overheard. “I want you so badly, Delly, I’ve barely been able to think of anything else since you stopped in front of me at the top of the stairs in the arena. I want to drag you out of this restaurant right now, throw you up against the side of the building and take you right there. I want to hear you scream as you come around me, because I know you have that sensuality in you. I saw it in the arena. It trumpets from every choreographed step in the routine and the way you perform it.”

Her lips parted and her eyes widened. And the tip of her tongue emerged to moisten her lips. She was breathing quickly. “Neal,” she whispered. “Do it.”

He didn’t think it was possible for his pulse to leap any higher than it already had, but her soft command shot it skyward. His whole body thrummed.

He shook his head. “No. I can’t, Delly. I’m not built like that. I won’t start this when I know I’m leaving.”

She sat up and uncrossed her legs. Sadness touched her eyes. “Then I’d better leave,” she said. “Because I can’t sit this close to you and
not
want it. You’ve opened the box now.” She stood and threw her coat on, shrugging into it. The movement extenuated her body, making the leotard stretched taut over her torso. Neal tried hard not to look, but his gaze was snagged by her breasts pressing against the Lycra.

He stood and grabbed her hand and pulled her through the restaurant toward the glass swing doors. He wasn’t aware of making the decision to move. But Delly didn’t protest, or pull away from him.

Out on the sidewalk, he turned and pulled her along. Delly had no trouble keeping up with him. Her legs were that long.

The service alley turned in right next to the building here. He took five steps into the alley, and pushed Delly up against the wall.

Her breath escaped in a rush. But still she didn’t say anything. She reached for him, instead.

Neal kissed her, and it was heady, like drinking fine wine. Her scent wreathed him, intoxicated him, and made him want more. His whole body was inflamed now. He swept his tongue into her mouth and met hers.

And she moaned.

The sound was another accelerant to his already taxed body. He battled not to grind his hips into her, but her pelvis shifted and thrust, pressing her against his aching, rigid cock.

He found his hands were inside her coat, sliding over the glossy Lycra, down to the sway of her hips and her ass.

Delly gasped as he pressed her even harder against him, her lips brushing his mouth.

The sound was an erotic preview of what his body was aching for.

But it was a reminder of the real world, too.

Neal pushed Delly away from him, letting her lean back against the wall once more. He rested his hand against the wall, just by her head, letting himself recover. He was shaking.

“That would be ‘no’, then,” Delly said. Her voice was hoarse.

Neal forced himself to look her in the eye. The sight of tears brimming there speared his chest with a hot poker. “Delly, you really want to fuck a near stranger, and have him walk out of your life thirty seconds later? I’ve done it before. No matter how great the sex is, you feel wretched after they’re gone. I won’t do that to you. Not now when your life wound up so tight a loud noise could set it off.”

She shook her head and the tears spilled at the movement. “I don’t want to fuck a stranger. I want to fuck
you
.”

“You don’t know me,” he ground out, even though his heart was aching.

“I know everything I need to know and the more you say no to me, Neal, the more I want you, because that makes you exactly the sort of man I want in my life. If I can only have you for a few hours, I’ll take it.”

Neal stepped back. Away from her. Away from temptation. “I can’t give it to you,” he said. “Especially now. If I do, then I won’t be that man.” He allowed himself one more kiss. “Goodbye, Delly Alexander. I won’t wish you good luck. You don’t need it.”

He got the hell out of the alley before his resolve exploded and they both lived to regret it. He tried to pretend he couldn’t hear her crying.

Chapter Four

Golden, Colorado.
 
The next day.

“Stop!
 
Stop!” Olivia screamed over the music and it switched off with an electronic squawk.

Delly picked herself up off the mat and dusted chalk from her hands.

“Where on earth is your
head
today?” Olivia demanded, striding over to where Delly stood. Olivia never took any notice of the “no heels” rule for the floor mat areas. She wore stilettos and high heels and refused to remove them for anyone. She stopped in front of Delly and put her hands on her silk clad hip, pushing the fur coat aside. “You’re completely not there. You’re just going through the motions.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not on your period, are you?”

Delly sighed. “No. I’m just tired, Olivia. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Why not?” Olivia asked, a furrow between her brows. Delly mentally braced herself for the cross-examination to follow. She had never really got used to the complete micro-management of her life that came with Olympic-level training, even down to the food she ate, and orchestrating her periods with the use of birth control pills to avoid competition days. By confessing a lack of sleep, she was waving a red flag. Now Olivia would want to monitor her diet and water intake for a few days, log her sleep hours, and rearrange her accommodations for better sleep inducement, and any number of possible adjustments to ensure Delly’s sleep went uninterrupted from now on.

“I can probably answer that question.”

It was Neal’s voice. Delly spun to look behind her, where the voice came from.

Neal stood in the arena, leaning against the balustrade just past the gate that gave access to the stands. His arms were crossed.

And he was smiling.

He lifted a hand when she saw him. A wave. “I seem to have missed my flight.”

Delly didn’t remember crossing the mat. She threw herself into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Neal held her up easily. She kissed him, pouring all her pleasure and joy at seeing him into it. “How long until your next flight?” she asked, her lips brushing his.

“Let’s see how long you need me for.”

She drew back enough to look him in the eye. “You can do that?” She was startled.

“For you, yes.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Your coach is looking pissed. You’d better go back.”

“Screw her.” Delly leaned in for another kiss.

“No, thank you,” Neal replied and grimaced. He dropped her gently to the ground. “Training first,” he said and turned her to face Sophia. “Then I will take great pleasure in screwing you.” He pushed her toward Sophia.

Delly returned meekly to the centre of the mat. Sophia was tapping her arm with long fingernails. “I see now why you’re short on sleep,” she said. “Do we need to talk about how boyfriends can sabotage your career?”

“I wasn’t with Neal last night, if you’re thinking incredibly hot sex is why I’m tired. But that will be my excuse tomorrow. Ready?”

Sophia made an impatient tsk’ing sound, and proceeded to try and work Delly into sawdust. But Delly could do no wrong for the rest of that training session. She was vitally aware of Neal, sitting on the barricade, watching everything she did, and she kept remembering the way he had called it sensuous.

She floated through the training, nailing everything. Even Sophia unbent enough to nod in satisfaction, although she didn’t quite manage a smile.

* * * * *

Neal took her by the hand and led her across the playing fields onto Washington Avenue.
 
It was a ten minute walk to Eleventh Street.
 
Neal walked into the Golden Hotel and took her up to the third floor and unlock and opened the door.

His room.

“You wanted to get away from your life for a while,” he said. It was the first time he had spoken since her training had finished.

Delly kissed him. “I did. I do. Thank you.” She moved inside. It was a suite. The front room had a table set up for a meal, and there was a meal waiting, under a silver dome lid.

“And I guessed you would be hungry, again.”

Her stomach growled in agreement, and Neal grinned. He took her coat from her, sliding it off her arms. “Sit. Eat. Be as piggish as you like. You’ll need your strength later.” His lips brushed across the back of her neck. She felt his fingers in her hair and her hair loosened and fell.

Delly shivered.

It wasn’t a chicken burger, but it was a chicken casserole, heavy on protein and vegetables, low on fat...Sophia would have approved instantly.
 
Delly wolfed it down, and not just because she was hungry.
 

Neal sat across from her, talking sometimes, but mostly watching her, and the tension in her gut spiralled more. He was extraordinarily good looking. He wore a simple dark sweater with a vee neck, with the sleeves pushed up so she could see his forearms flex with muscles and tendons. And he wore jeans that encased long legs and a very nice ass.

She was used to seeing male gymnasts with their taut, zero-fat bodies and well-developed upper body musculature. Neal was nothing like a gymnast, but he didn’t look weak, or unfit. He looked very good indeed.

His pale coloured eyes, in the right light, turned to silver. And they seemed to see straight through her, like they were now.

She put down her fork. “Could I...would you mind? I need a shower.”

“Whatever you need,” he said.

The bathroom wasn’t a squeezed-in galley with a shower and tub combination.
 
There was a full shower cubicle next to a claw foot tub.
 
She shed her clothing and clipped up her hair, and stepped into the tiled shower, studying the walls.