THE NEXT TWO weeks are filled with double day practices and the next two preseason games. Pink football-mania is in full swing and so is the number nine jersey, which is flying off the shelves. So far, Jordan is six for six with extra points and field goals.

Several nights a week, I join Lane in Jordan's room for dinner. The media is so obnoxious it's impossible for her to go out in public and eat an uninterrupted meal. Things aren't dying down as Jordan had hoped and they're only getting hotter as the first regular season game approaches. The nights I don't eat with Jordan and Lane, I join my teammates to hold suspicions down about me and Jordan. Besides an intense look or two from Mason and Lane, the rest of the team is oblivious. Lane enjoys pushing my buttons and making jokes at my expense, but he keeps his personal opinion about an inter-team romance to himself.

The dinners with the two of them have opened my eyes to another side of Jordan. She's smart, funny, and loyal to the Pronghorns. She's also knowledgeable about football and doesn't limit herself to our team. She knows hundreds of player stats, game stats, and league stats. Back in my high school and college days I cared only about making it to the next level. Jordan spent those years studying the game and the men who play it.

Jordan manages to dig out my life story in an offhanded way that doesn't seem prying. She's a great listener. She also shares the texting marathons she has with my baby sister. The texts are terrifying and humorous at the same time. Terrifying because my sister is sixteen with no filter. Candice has managed to bond with Jordan in a way I never saw coming.

Jordan and I haven't been intimate since the first time and I'm growing weary of my hand in the shower. I feel like a teenager all over again. This is the first season I've had two obsessions: Jordan and football. She's also brought the joy and anticipation of a new season back into my world by allowing me to see the game through her eyes. It's impossible not to be excited when she's talking about plays, waving her hands, and offering refreshing insight into just about every position on the field. She can do a mean impression of Mike Goodwyn too, which leaves me and Lane in stitches.

So far Jordan hasn't taken a major hit during a game or practice and it has me worried. The team as a whole seems to be coming around. I've heard fewer complaints about having a woman on the team from teammates and that's a direct reflection of Jordan's dead-on accuracy on the field. We won the last two preseason games thanks to her.

I played two quarters of our second game, leaving us up by a touchdown. Kelson came in and threw the lead away with another interception. Without Jordan's field goal, we would have taken our second preseason loss. It's not really a big deal because insiders know preseason is more about finding the right mesh of players for your team and less about winning. Our fans need wins, though, and we have Jordan to thank for handing them two.

Larry, Jordan's agent, calls regularly and sets up multiple interviews around late night practices and games. Jordan, like the rest of us, is exhausted. It's her tired eyes and weary expression that keeps me from making a sexual play when Lane heads back to his room after dinners. We need our sleep and when I finally have another shot at Jordan, I want to take my time. So, we play the courtship dance with a touch here and a look there. This building a relationship thing is a first for me but hard dick aside, I enjoy her company.

Tonight is our second to last night in White Sands for training camp and Jordan, Lane, and I are eating dinner out as a way to celebrate. Saturday is our fourth preseason game and first cuts came down today. I've been through it before but this is new for Jordan.

"Few players were cut on my college team. We were too small. This is a horrible feeling," she complains. We take a table at a restaurant about a ten minute walk from the hotel. So far the media hasn't arrived. Maybe we'll get lucky.

We place our orders before I answer. "It doesn't get easier. These guys have dreams and seeing them crushed is difficult."

"I didn't know you had a heart, Patrickson," Jordan teases.

"I do and it's mostly black," I say with a smirk.

"Oh, but it pumps sparkles and it's fighting for change," she teases.

The strangest thing about what's happened these last few weeks is that we've become friends. Not something I'm accustomed to after having sex with a woman. Jordan's different. She's been different since day one and she's slowly changed my opinion about her playing in the pros. Maybe Jordan can find her place on this team. The guys mostly ignore her even in the locker room, which is about all a kicker can expect. I've noticed fewer towels guarding male modesty this last week too. Basically the newness of having a female in the locker room is fading and it's locker room life as usual. Jordan is becoming a teammate.

"Are you aware they're giving away ten thousand pink footballs on opening day?" Lane asks and changes the subject away from players being cut.

Jordan groans. "Don't remind me. I asked Larry if the balls could be preprinted with my signature on them and he said no."

She and Lane get into a deep discussion about autographs and how much hers are worth. I watch her lips as she speaks. I won't deny I'm enthralled by her mouth and have been since the day I met her. Her lips make me think of wild hair, deep red lipstick, and her mouth taking my

"Are you paying any attention at all?" Jordan huffs and brings me out of my lip stupor.

Lane shakes his head. "He's fantasizing about your mouth again. I see the signs often."

I arch an eyebrow at Lane. "What surprises me is your lack of lip fantasies."

"Gross," Jordan says with a laugh. "He can't have lip fantasies. If he does, no more ass slapping."

Lane looks at her with fondness. For three years we've played on the same team and I barely knew him. He's been there for Jordan since the first day. When I listen to the two of them discuss kicking, I appreciate their job more than ever before. Lane is a solid guy and I like him. I also wish he were anywhere but here.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me tonight but each time I look at Jordan, need sizzles inside me and I'm doing a poor job at controlling it. She's wearing distressed jeans and a soft yellow tank top that hugs her breasts. Like always, though, it's her mouth that draws my repeated attention.

We manage to make it back to the hotel without incident and luckily there's no media around. "See you in the morning," Lane says before he heads down the hallway to his room. Jordan and I say goodnight and keep walking toward her room.

At the door, I lean in close and whisper, "Invite me in." She turns from the door and I lift my hand to the side of her head and rub my thumb over her cheek. Her skin is as soft as ever.

"That's not a good idea and you know it," she says softly.

"If I don't kiss these lips in the next few minutes, I won't sleep tonight."

She reaches up and pats my cheek. "You poor thing. It must be hard to have a lip fetish and be unable to fulfill it."

I slide my thumb down and run it across her plump lips. "You have no idea." I take the key from her fingers before she drops it and open the door myself. I lace my fingers through hers and lead her to the couch.

"I thought you just wanted a kiss," she argues once I sit down and pull her on my lap so she's partially cradled in my arms.

So damn sexy. It doesn't matter if she's in jeans and a skimpy tee like tonight or in full uniform with a helmet. One look at her and my dick takes notice. With our last preseason game on the horizon, I need to get my head out of my ass and concentrate on the game even if I'm not playing. Jordan and her damned lips make that nearly impossible.

My fingers weave through her hair. "I claim these lips." I slide my left hand down her waist until I locate the pocket of her jeans. Her eyes grow large when my fingers wiggle in and I take out her lipstick. "Here," I hand her the container. "Let me watch."

"You're weird," she whispers.

"Indulge me," I coax.

She takes the lipstick from my hand and pops off the cap. I watch from inches away as she glides the end along her top and then bottom lip. It's dark red and sexy as hell. She presses her lips together and rubs them against each other in a practiced move I'm sure she's done a million times. Why this fascinates me so much is beyond me.

Fuck, she's impossible to resist and I stop fighting it.