Page 67 of Trade It All

I don’t wait for an answer.

My hand slides behind her head, steady and protective as I guide her back until her shoulders meet the wall, my body following, pressing in just enough to hold her there without trapping her.

“You have to be quiet, Baby,” I murmur against her lips, my voice lower now, rougher at the edges. “Think you can do that?”

She nods, that smile still there, something teasing in it that hits me exactly where she knows it will.

And that’s all I need as I kiss her again.

Chapter 29

Maddie

TheairinDean’soffice is thick, smelling of his cologne and the faint, lingering scent of my own shampoo. Behind the heavy oak door, I can hear the muffled chaos of the team—the rhythmic thud of equipment bags being hauled, the sharp bursts of laughter, the heavy footfalls of the players I have to face in ten minutes. It should be terrifying. But with Dean’s body pinning me against the wall, his weight a solid, unyielding heat, I’ve never felt more centered.

"Quiet," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my lips. "Can you do that for me, Baby? Can you stay completely silent for me while they're out there?"

I nod, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his chest. I want this. I want the risk of it, the secret of it, the way he looks at me like he’s about to dismantle every wall I’ve ever built.

"I mean it," he rasps, his hand sliding behind my head, his fingers tangling in my hair to hold me steady. "Not a sound."

He drops to his knees with a fluid, predatory grace. I bite my lip as he bunches my skirt up, his hands—massive and warm—smoothing over my thighs with a possessive intensity that makes my knees go weak.

"Dean," I whisper-hiss, my eyes darting toward the door. "They’re right out there. Someone could—"

"No one is coming in here," he interrupts, his voice low and vibrating against my skin as he hooks his fingers into the lace of my undies. "I’m the Coach, Baby. No one enters without my word. You’re safe. But youaregoing to be silent."

He peels the lace down and tosses it aside, his eyes widening as he takes me in. He looks at me like I’m a masterpiece he’s about to ruin me.

"God, you’re beautiful," he whispers, his eyes tracking the reveal of my skin with a look of pure, unadulterated worship. "I’ve spent three years sitting across from you in meetings, watching you walk past me in the halls, and I’ve replayed this exact moment in my head a thousand times. I’ve imagined how you’d look, how you’d smell..."

He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over my inner thigh.

"The reality is so much better," he mutters, his voice thick with a hunger that makes my vision blur. "None of those thoughts did you justice, Maddie. Not even close."

He doesn't wait. His tongue finds me with a rhythmic, demanding pressure that forces a muffled whimper into the back of my throat. I bury my face in my shoulder, my teeth sinking into my own sweater to stifle the sound. Every time a locker slams in the hallway or a voice drifts through the door, my internal muscles clamp down, and Dean only pushes harder, his hands anchoring my hips to his face.

"Stay with me," he commands, looking up at me, his face flushed and his eyes dark with a terrifyingly beautiful focus. "Ignore them. There is no one else. Just me and you. Now, take it. Take it all and don't make a sound."

When I’m shaking, right on the edge of breaking, he stands up in one powerful motion. He doesn't give me a chance to catch my breath. He lifts me, my legs instinctively winding around his waist, and he slams his hips into mine, pinning me back against the wall.

"I’m not done," he growls, his mouth finding the sensitive hollow of my throat. "I’m going to make sure you’re thinking about me for the entire flight, Maddie. Every time you look at me on that plane, I want you to remember exactly what’s happening in this office right now."

He frees himself, the friction of his skin against mine sending a jolt of electricity through me. He guides himself to the entrance, his eyes locked onto mine, dark and heavy with obsession.

"You're taking all of this," he commands, his voice dropping to a lethal, low register. "Tell me you want me to fill you up right here. Tell me you want the man who’s been yours since the day you walked into this arena."

"I want you," I breathe, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my head thrashing against the wall. "Dean, please. I want all of it."

He drives in. The air leaves my lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. He’s thick, heavy, and stretches me until I’m sure I’m going to break open. He doesn't move right away; he just stays there, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting against mine as he tries to find his own oxygen.

"I didn't think I'd ever get this," he confesses, his voice a pained, beautiful rasp. "I thought I’d spend the rest of my career just watching you from a distance. But you’re here. And you’remine."

He starts to move—a slow, punishing rhythm that vibrates through my entire body. I’m lost in him. I’m lost in the way he handles me, the way he looks at me, and the sheer, overwhelming power of his presence. I can hear the guys laughing right outside that door, but as I wrap my arms tighter around Dean’s neck, I realize I don't care.

I’m already thinking about the hotel. I'm already figuring out how I'm going to sneak into his room tonight, how I'm going to get him behind a locked door where we don't have to be quiet.

"That's it, Baby," he murmurs, his pace getting more frantic as he feels me start to peak. "Give it to me. Take it all. Everything I've been saving for you for four goddamn years."