Never accuse Coach Tony Peterson of being a quitter, on the gridiron or in his personal life. For a year, his attempts to date Lowell High's hot little choral director have failed. Melanie Ward is convinced that touchdowns and tempos don't mix, despite Tony's irresistible charm. When Tony finally wrangles a date, he schools Mel in blazing explorations of the physical kind. But for Tony, the night isn't just about scoring--he's playing for keeps.
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Ellora's Cave Publishing, Incorporated
November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Scoring by Mari Carr
Melanie put her head against his chest, listening as the steady beat of his heart accompanied the music. He tightened his grip and she struggled not to stumble as his hard cock brushed against her stomach. He obviously felt no embarrassment about his arousal. He wanted her to know.
After all the months of flirtatious banter, the truth came crashing down around her. He hadn't been lying. He did want her.
The realization sent a surge of hot juices to her aching pussy. She'd denied herself the joy of believing his claims of wanting her, unwilling to let herself hope that their friendship could ever be anything more.
Tony's hand drifted slowly up her back and she was surprised when he wrapped his fingers in her auburn curls, lightly tugging her head back until her face was inches from his.
She parted her lips to speak but no sound emerged as he leaned down and kissed her. She expected his kiss to reflect his personality--strong, overpowering, intense. Instead she was assaulted by the utter tenderness of his lips on hers. He wasn't taking, he was giving.
When he pulled away, she had to fight not to grab his head and demand more. She slowly opened her eyes. Rather than the smug, gloating look she anticipated, he was smiling at her so sweetly, so kindly, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.
"Tony," she whispered.
He placed his finger on her lips to halt her words. "Too many more of those sweet kisses of yours and my dinner won't be worth eating by the time I'm finished with you."
"I don't care about dinner," she blurted out, secretly pleased by the look of lust that suddenly clouded his eyes.
"Dammit, Mel. Don't joke around. I'm a man teetering on the edge here."
She ran her hand along his chest seductively, not stopping until her fingers rested on the waistband of his jeans.
"Jump," she dared.