“Winning isn’t everything,” she bit out, fire raging in her eyes.
He leaned in. “Yeah, it is.”
Mr. Tuesday must have sensed the shift in the atmosphere. He scrambled over to a doggie bed on the other side of the room, but not before bumping into a pile of books stacked on the corner of the coffee table.
Her gaze shifted to the books, and she gasped. “I better get that,” she exclaimed and reached over him.
Jesus! What book could have her jumping into his lap to scoop it up? And then he looked.
The Kama Sutra by Vatsyayana: Annotated: English Translation.
“That’s the book with all the different sexual positions, isn’t it?” he asked, craning his head to get a better look.
She squirmed in his lap, knocking it open to…
Hello, reverse cowgirl.
Her cheeks had gone full crimson. “It’s nothing. It’s for research.”
He plucked the book from her hands and held it just out of her reach. “So, this is what Own the Eights is really about.” He flipped a page and glanced at a rather lovely illustration of a couple in the sixty-nine position.
She straddled him, pushing up onto her knees and reached for the book. “It is a lot more than just sex positions. The Kama Sutra is a guide to maintaining a healthy love life and finding emotional fulfillment,” she huffed, clambering to get the paperback.
He flipped a page and glanced up. “And that would all happen in the doggie-style position, according to this.”
“You’re so obtuse, Jordan,” she snapped, grasping his thigh for balance, then stilled and stared into his eyes.
Fuck!
For a third time today, Georgie Jensen had given him an erection. An erection her hand had just grazed.
“Sexual activity is a good stress reliever,” she said, the bite in her tone replaced with a sexy as sin little rasp.
His free hand had somehow made it to her hip, and he pulled her in a fraction closer. “I’ve read a few studies on that.”
Her pupils dilated. “And while the Kama Sutra does include an erotic element, the overarching theme is how to live a fulfilling life with a supportive, loving partner.”
“There’s data that supports that claim, too. You know, science and shit,” he added, on the verge of losing himself in her damned enticing eyes.
“Yeah, all the science and shit,” she replied in a tight whisper as her shallow breaths tickled his chin.
He swallowed hard. “Competitions are stressful.”
“Very stressful,” she agreed.
“And finding a release for that stress would make us better competitors,” he continued, not at all thinking about the peer-reviewed studies that supported his point.
She nodded. “I think there’s science about that, too.”
“Yeah, all the science,” he said, recycling the words because the blood supply to his brain had diverted south.
She glanced up at the open book still raised above his head. “Oh my!”
He followed her gaze to an illustration of a woman straddling a man.
“Looks like we’ve got that one down,” he said and instantly wanted to punch himself in the mouth.
She glanced up at the illustration. “I think there’s more to it.”
He nodded, lowering the book. “Right, they’re naked from the waist down.”
“Yeah,” she breathed as their gazes locked, and then, the penny dropped.
Georgie tore off her cardigan and pulled off her blouse as he unbuttoned the first few buttons on his dress shirt then whipped the garment over his head.
“Wow!” she said, running her fingers down his chest.
“Christ!” he bit out, taking in her sexy as hell black bra and her perfect breasts. She’d done a damn good job of hiding her killer curves under that hideous outfit.
She reached to release her bun, but he stopped her. “Leave it. I like you like this.”
For all the crap he’d talked about hating the messy bun hairstyle, on Georgie Jensen, it was downright alluring.
She bit her lip. “We need protection.”
He held her gaze. “I’ve got a condom.”
“I have them, too. An eight values safety.”
“So does a ten,” he countered.
“Where are yours? Back in your car?” she asked.
“No, in my wallet, in my pocket.”
“Okay, you win. Mine are in my room.”
He grinned. “I told you, tens always win.”
She ran the tip of her tongue across her top lip in a sultry as hell move that kicked his desire into overdrive. “Shut up and take off your pants. Eights value efficiency and uninterrupted attention to the task at hand.”
With speed second only to the comic book character, the Flash, he set the book on the table, shrugged down his pants and boxers, grabbed his wallet, and pulled out the condom.
“Tens go above and beyond, so you better be ready to have your mind blown.”
“Talk is cheap to eights if you can’t back it up,” she challenged.
He tore open the packet and rolled on the condom as she watched. “Georgiana,” he said in a low rumble.
“Yes?” she answered, meeting his gaze.
He ran his hand up her leg to the apex of her thighs, and she gasped as he dipped his finger inside her panties and found her…
Holy hotness!
“You seem to have a marked physical response to a ten,” he said, feeling her sweet wet center.
“It’s not for you. It’s a marked physical response for…stress relief,” she said, then gripped his cock. “Looks like you’re in need of stress relief, too. Luckily, you’ve got an eight on top who can help you out.”
He didn’t care if she was on top, on the bottom, or strapped to the back of a Chrysler, he needed to have her, and he needed her right now.
He gripped her lacy panties. “You mind if I rip these off? I’d really like to start fucking your brains out. You know, for stress relief.”
“Do it,” she gasped, all wide-eyed and blushed cheeks.
He didn’t need to ask twice. He tore off her panties like they were made of tissue paper, and the look of carnal hunger in her eyes made him want to rip a hundred more pairs off her fucking fantastic body.
Panty free, he gripped her hips and positioned her over his cock, weeping with desire. She sank down slowly, inch by delicious inch, their gazes locked as if they were in some crazy Kama Sutra trance.
This wasn’t how he fucked. He was pretty much a take-her-from-behind kind of guy. This eye to eye thing was…incredible.
He blinked, lost in the sea of blue-green, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rocked her hips.
“Georgiana,” he whispered like her name was the answer to every question he’d ever had.
Georgie closed her eyes as if she were allowing his voice with her name falling from his lips to wash over her. He cupped her cheek. Was she always this pretty? He took in the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks and her lips that looked made to be kissed and nipped and sucked.
She opened her eyes. “Hey,” she said gently.
He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Are you okay? Is this all right?”
“I was kind of hoping there’d be some movement,” she said with the dirtiest little grin he’d ever seen.
He matched her expression. “I wanted to give you a sec to prepare.”
Her blue-green eyes darkened with desire. “Oh yeah?”
He nodded. “You better hold on. The earth is about to move.”
A challenging glint sparked in her eyes. “You’re that good?”
He caressed her ass, then squeezed the tender skin. “I’m a ten. Of course, I’m that good,” he growled and pumped his hips.
Georgie rode his cock, rising and falling, as he controlled the speed and set a punishing pace. The friction between them ignited a firestorm, and she was fucking glorious. She arched into him, and he slid a hand between them and ma
ssaged her tight bundle of nerves.
“Jordan, it’s so good,” she moaned, her sweet cries driving him wild.
He captured her mouth, and their tongues met in a dance of lust and longing. Only a few hours had passed since he’d last kissed her, but she’d become like a drug, and he wanted more. Each lick and graze of her lips couldn’t seem to satisfy his need. Heat swelled between them, intensifying their connection. His heart hammered in his chest as he got the best abs and cardio workout of his life, grinding and thrusting. And then, she was there, tightening around him. Her eyes blinked open, and in that second where she met his gaze, she owned him body and soul.
They flew over the edge, their mutual release surging through them, pounding and throbbing as if they were surrounded by a hurricane, whipping their bodies into a sweaty, wet frenzy. And all he could do was inhale her vanilla scent and die a thousand carnal deaths, staring into her eyes.
She rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her. But it wasn’t just her body that he was holding close. It was the moment that felt like so much more than a little stress relief when their phones pinged simultaneously.
She tensed, and he knew why. She’d done just what he had, adding an alert to ring any time the Dannies posted onto their CityBeat blog. She lifted her head and glanced over at their phones on the coffee table.
“You did it, too?” she asked.
“Yeah, we need to know when they post.”
Georgie glanced away. “Do you have an alert set for when I post?”
“Yeah, I do,” he answered, hating that keeping tabs on her now felt like some weird kind of betrayal.
She nodded, more to herself than to him. “I have one for you, too.”
Because here’s what it boiled down to, like the Dannies, he was her competition, and she was his.
Their phones pinged again, and she lifted herself from his lap.
He removed the condom. “Where’s your bathroom? I should take care of this.”
She gestured toward a dark hallway. “Second door on the left.”
Fucking hell! What had they done? He threw the tied-off condom in the trash, then cleaned himself up. Turning to leave, he caught his reflection in the mirror. It still surprised him how he always expected to see that skin and bones teenager and not the ripped athlete he’d become. He had so much more he wanted, no, needed to accomplish to keep putting miles between his old and his new life, and that started with winning the blog competition.
He left the bathroom and found her dressed and staring at her phone.
She glanced up at him. “The Dannies posted an amazing story to their blog about how instead of finding dates for themselves at the grocery store, they reunited two childhood sweethearts. Danielle wrote that she could feel the love pulling them together and that she and her brother served as a conduit to connect two people who still cared for each other while simultaneously making our world a better place.”
He retrieved his shirt and put it on. While he and Georgie were screwing, the Dannies were winning.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I better go.”
She crossed her arms. “Yeah, I need to get to work on my post.”
He gestured to the plates. “Thanks for dinner and the…”
And what? The fucking fantastic sex?
“The stress relief,” she supplied.
He nodded. “Right, it was very…effective.”
Dammit! Now he really did sound like the Emperor of Asshattery.
“We’ll talk soon. We can start your race training,” he added.
She chewed her lip. “Sure, it’s a date. Well, not a date. It’s an appointment.”
He took a step toward her. What was he supposed to do? Give her a kiss on the cheek? The lips? A hug? But before he could decide on the right way to say goodbye to his competition, who also happened to be the best sex he’d ever had, Georgie thrust out her hand.
A handshake. How awkwardly perfect. But entirely fitting for how they had to behave from this point on. No more kissing demonstrations or Kama Sutra stress relief.
He left the bungalow and closed the door on not only Georgie and her shelves of books and her killer body, but a world where she could be his.
“You play to win. That’s what Deacon would do,” he whispered into the night air without even a backward glance.
7
Georgie
“Are you telling us that, two days ago, you kind-of-accidentally-sort-of slept with Jordan Marks?”
Georgie cringed at hearing Becca repeat her admission and placed a tray of vegan chocolate chip cookies on the bookshop’s counter. Becca took one then handed another to her sister, Irene, who’d stopped by to say hello. It was good to see her. Now that she was married to her eight and was not only bartending but also managing the Tennyson Bistro, they didn’t see each other as much as they’d used to when she’d first opened the shop.
Georgie glanced between the Murphy sisters. If she were being honest, it was more like she’d ridden Jordan Marks like a Kama Sutra cowgirl while the two of them had harnessed enough orgasmic energy to power the city for a week, maybe even a month.
But she didn’t need to go into that kind of detail—especially since it could never, ever, ever happen again.
Ever.
Ever, ever.
“Yes, I accidentally slept with him. But we only did it to relieve the stress brought on by the competition. There’s science and shit about it,” she answered, then crammed an entire cookie into her mouth.
“Whoa, Nellie!” Irene said, grimacing at her vegan debauchery. “Go easy on that cookie. It’s not Jordan Marks’ cock!”
Becca pressed her hand to her lips and stifled a laugh.
Georgie took a giant gulp of water to wash down the treat. “You guys, it’s not funny.”
“It kind of is. I mean, how often do you hear about women accidentally falling onto a guy’s dick?” Irene replied, biting back a grin.
“And, kind of sort of having your brain scrambled by crazy hot sex,” Becca added.
Georgie wiped a crumb from her lip then gasped. “I didn’t mention anything about it being crazy hot.”
“Georgie, you walked around this bookstore smiling like an idiot and handing out cookies like a girl scout on crack.”
“They’re vegan!” she huffed. She shouldn’t have even mentioned her stress relief session with Jordan.
“It’s okay if you like him, Georgie,” Irene said and swiped another cookie.
Georgie blew out a frustrated breath. “Actually, it isn’t. He’s my competition.”
“How’s that going? I haven’t checked CityBeat yet today,” Becca said, pulling her phone from her pocket.
The truth was, so far, it wasn’t going well, at least, for her. Just as she’d thought, the Dannies’ post about reuniting childhood sweethearts in the frozen pizza aisle had earned them a tsunami of likes. Jordan’s post about the health benefits of honey and using it to meet a like-minded ten hadn’t done great, but it had garnered more likes than her blog about vegetables bringing eights together.
“The Dannies are in the lead with Jordan in second place and me in third,” she answered. She checked the score every time nobody was looking.
“That was pretty cool how Daniel and Danielle just sensed those two people were meant to be together,” Becca said, glancing at her phone. “And they just posted that the couple told them that when they decided to have kids, they’d name the baby after them.”
Georgie straightened a row of books. “Did they post a picture of the happy couple?”
Becca stared at her phone. “Nope, it’s just an article with a picture of a grocery store. But I’m not sure which market they went to. I don’t recognize this shop.”
Something seemed off. What are the chances of reuniting two lost lovers in under two hours? But Georgie shrugged off her skepticism. Harboring jealousy over the Dannies’ amazing post wouldn’t help her get ahead.
“What’s on the schedule today? Any more accidental fucking?” Irene asked with a teasing glint in her eyes.
Georgie crossed her arms. She kind of accidentally sort of shouldn’t have told her friends anything about her Kama Sutra antics. She mustered up the most neutral expression she could.
“Jordan’s going to teach me how to run.”
“You, the queen of meandering walks, is going to run?” Becca asked with a frown.
“A 10K race is the final event, and Jordan, the super trainer, is hellbent on me running in it. The past two days, he’s sent me detailed workouts to help get my body into shape,” she replied.
“Have you done them?” came a man’s deep, rumbling voice.
The women shrieked and looked toward the door and found none other than the super trainer himself.
“Are you a spy or something? I didn’t even hear you come in!” Georgie exclaimed, her pulse racing.
Jordan glanced around. “It’s a bookshop. Aren’t people supposed to come in?”
“Yeah, but most say hello,” she shot back.
He gave her that damn toe-curlingly hot shit-eating grin. “Hello.”
“Hello,” she barked. She wasn’t a barker, but just the sight of him made her want to rip off his clothes and try the next Kama Sutra position.
The trifecta held up their water cannon, and she derailed the hot and bothered train of thought.
“Did you do those conditioning runs I sent you?”
“Hell no! But I took a meandering walk,” she answered.
Jordan sauntered toward the counter and clucked his tongue. “That’s too bad. It’s going to make today a lot harder for you.” He turned to the Murphy sisters. “Hi there. I’m Jordan.”
Crap! She’d forgotten her manners. Now it was her trifecta clucking their tongues at her.
“Irene and Becca, this is Jordan Marks. He works at that gym down the block.”
They said their hellos, then Jordan took a step back and stared at Irene. “Have you been to Deacon CrossFit? You look familiar.”
“There’s no way—” Georgie began when Irene cut her off.
“Yes, you have a good memory. I dropped my husband off at the gym the other day. He’s working with one of the trainers.”
Own the Eights: Own the Eights: Book One Page 9