“And trying to get through school at the same time,” Izzie added quietly. “That must have been tough.”
He nodded. “When I finished college and went to play in New York, Jess came to live with me and my sisters. At first things were great. She loved New York, she loved living the life of a professional football player’s girlfriend, and I loved indulging her. But then I got injured.”
He pulled in a breath at the sudden tightness in his chest. “It’s never a good thing when a quarterback tears his rotator cuff, but my physical therapy was going well and there was every indication I’d recover. Jess, on the other hand, wasn’t handling it so well. She couldn’t handle any kind of uncertainty in her life and the thought of me losing my career made her nuts.”
“Because of her past.”
He nodded. “She’d heard they were worried about my arm. There was speculation in the press they were grooming Gerry Thompson, the backup quarterback, to take my job. We had a big fight the night before a qualifying game for the playoffs. She said I was being naive. That I didn’t see how management was writing me off.”
He pulled the top buttons of his shirt open and paced across the terrace. “I went out and had a few too many drinks...wondered if she was right about Gerry.”
Izzie pressed her fingers to her temples. “And you decided to play.”
He nodded. “I’d been so nervous about my arm and trying to speed my recovery, but I was hurting. A friend told me about this guy who had high-level street painkillers that had helped him through an injury. They worked well, too well for me, and I started to take them regularly, telling myself I could stop when I needed to. That night, when I decided to play, I double dosed. I felt amazing. I was so high by the third quarter I felt invincible. And then I threw that pass.”
“I saw the tapes,” Izzie said huskily. “It was so perfect.”
It had been perfect. It had also been his last. His throat constricted, threatened to cut off the air he so desperately needed. The memory of the ball leaving his hand, sailing through the air in a perfect arc and landing in Xavier’s outstretched arms would forever be burned into his mind. The roar of the crowd, the glare of the lights as Xavier dove into the end zone for the touchdown. He was back. They were winning. And that was all that had mattered.
The illegal hit, long after the play, had been unexpected. The weight of the defender crashing into him, taking him to the ground until all he could feel was the searing pain in his right arm. His throwing arm. The indescribable white-hot burn that had pushed him to his knees. The hush that had fallen over 60,000 fans...the most eerie sound he’d heard in his life.
He blinked hard. The humiliation of being lifted off the field in a stretcher had been the most helpless feeling he’d ever experienced. The knowledge that that night had been the last time he would ever lead his team onto the field excruciating. Because he’d known. He’d known.
The weight of Izzie’s hand on his forearm brought his gaze up. “There was nothing the doctors could do?”
He shook his head. Each surgeon’s diagnosis had been the same. It’s damaged too badly, Alex. Your career is over.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t go to my father and plead for a job. Jess left me and married Gerry a few months later.”
Izzie’s fingers tightened around his arm. “She wasn’t worth half of you, Alex.”
He’d felt as if he wasn’t worth anything in those months afterward. His body broken, his future in tatters, it had taken him a year to pull himself together.
He shrugged her fingers off. “I didn’t tell you this for your pity. I told you because I need you to understand what happened between Jess and me. I can’t be with someone with those types of insecurities.”
“How could you not want her back?” She said it as if she couldn’t help herself. “She’s so stunning. You have so much history together.”
“Because I want you,” he said quietly. “And if you’d ever stop comparing yourself to that mother and sister of yours, you might actually see why.”
A dull red color stained her cheeks. “I know, it’s just—hard to break old habits.”
“You’re going to have to or this isn’t going to work.” He stepped closer and ran his thumb over her cheek. “There’s a part of me that doesn’t believe it has to be the same as it was for our parents.. They made choices. We create our own destiny. But, I am only one-half of this equation, Iz. I need you with me.”
Her gaze darkened. “I can, I promise you I can. I just may not always be perfect about it. You’ve got to cut me some slack.”
He let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Hadn’t realized how important her answer was to him. He dragged his thumb down over the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “Prove it.”
Her eyes widened as she registered what he was asking of her. She pressed her lips shut and took a step backward and he wasn’t sure if she was going to run or stay. Then she deposited her glass on the table and moved her fingers to the buttons of her blouse.
She was shaking, her hands fumbling with the tiny pearl buttons. But he held himself back. This had to be all Izzie.
She released the second, the third button; exposed the rounded curves of her breasts. The dusty blue of the silk that encased her flesh made his throat go dry. Down her hands went, dispensing with the rest of the buttons. She pulled the shirt from the waistband of her skirt, shrugged out of it and dropped it to the ground. The dusky imprint of her nipples protruding through the silk made him pull in a breath.
Kill me now. Except he’d asked for this. Some strange, demented part of him needed to see that she had the self-confidence to be with him.
Her hands slid to the zipper of her skirt. She undid it and pushed it down over her hips. Her curves in the almost-there underwear were pure perfection, the dark shadow of her feminine curls drawing his eye. He ached to bury himself in her. Now.
Any semblance of self-control vanished. “You can let me know when I’m allowed to put my hands on you,” he rasped, his body so hard it was painful. “I’m thoroughly convinced.”
She arched a brow at him. “That quick?”
“That quick,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She stepped back, giving him a considering look. “I’m not sure I’m done.”
He took two steps forward, sank his hands into her waist and slung her over his shoulder. “I am.”
The bedroom had been his destination, but his aching body had him diverting to the flat surface of the pool table. He set her down on the edge, stepped between her legs and took her mouth in a kiss that told her this would be no slow seduction. Tonight he needed to take her hard and fast. To exorcise the demons raging in his head.
She moved against him, her low whimper as she wrapped her legs around him and ground the hard ridge of his arousal against her setting his blood on fire. “I can’t make this slow tonight,” he groaned, burying his face in her throat.
“I don’t want it slow,” she gasped, clutching his hair. He pressed his mouth to the racing pulse at the base of her throat. Spread her silky thighs with his hand and sought out her slick, wet heat. Her low moan as he sank his middle finger into her almost undid him. When he was sure she was ready, he stepped back, tore at his clothes with his hands. His belt, the button on his pants, his zipper; he didn’t stop until he’d freed his rock-hard erection and ripped off the barely there wisps of lace covering her hips. The sight of her wet, glistening flesh as she parted her legs to him was the biggest turn-on he’d ever experienced.