His eyes narrowed. “Oh, you are? Then why do you look like you’ve been crying? Why is your hair sticking up in every direction like you just rolled out of bed? In the middle of the day on a Sunday?”
I reached a hand up to smooth down my untamable mop, but he grabbed it midair and brought my knuckles to his mouth. His lips brushed over my knuckles before he said, “Football is a passionate sport. The fans are passionate. The players are passionate. The coaches. You know this as well as I do. So, you should know that as a professional player, I know passion when I see it. And you, Georgia Reed, are passionate about your job. You were passionate about that bid, about your drawings, about proving yourself.” He smirked. “It’s one of the many things about you that I find so unbelievably attractive. It’s okay to be upset.” He laced his fingers through mine and brought our hands to my chest. “To feel the crushing disappointment right here.”
I sucked in a breath, my eyes filling with yet another round of tears. How was it possible that I still had anything left to cry? More than that, how was it possible that this guy I barely knew seemed to know me so well?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice betrayed me by cracking, and a single tear slipped down my cheek.
With his hand that wasn’t linked with mine, he brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Strap in. It’s story time.”
I raised a brow. “Strap in?”
“This is a story about when I fumbled the ball.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Which time?”
He chuckled and nudged me with his knee, still refusing to release my hand. Not that I’d have let him if he tried. “You’re funny. Close your eyes and picture this.”
When I didn’t close my eyes, he frowned. “Okay, fine. Stare at me and make me feel even worse as I tell you about the worst game of my career.”
“Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” I closed my eyes slowly, then cracked one open. “Or maybe I would.”
He huffed good naturedly and shook his head. “Championship game. My senior year of high school. Our team was undefeated, first time ever. We were up by three points with two minutes left in the game. All I had to do was get the first down. And that damn ball just popped out.”
He shook his head as his shoulders drooped. “It just popped out?”
“There were college scouts there. Everything was riding on me. And I just dropped it. No one around, I wasn’t even nervous, and somehow my hands just decided they were done playing and let go of the ball. Some huge lineman from the other team scooped it up and ran it in for a touchdown and won the game. And I just stood there, like a guy who had never played the sport a day in my life, bewildered.”
“So, you’re telling me that you lost the championship game in high school…to make me feel better?” I smiled, the first real smile I’d managed in days, and asked, “Do you even know how cheering a person up works?”
His fingers finally pulled away from mine, and he brushed a strand of my hair from my forehead. “What, my sob story isn’t making you feel better?”
“It is a sad story. I can almost picture eighteen-year-old you standing there looking stunned while everyone around him celebrated or cried. But you obviously recovered from that fumble. Look at you now.”
His lips curved upward as he stretched his arms out beside him. “Exactly. Look at me now, more zeroes in my bank account than I ever could have imagined, voted sexiest athlete twice in the last three years and living the dream playing professional football.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and finished, “Best of all? I’m sitting next to the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Brittany Smith is somewhere right now, eating her words. Or she should be.”
“Brittany who?”
“Hottest girl in school. Dropped me faster than I dropped that damn ball.”
I leaned away from him. “Who beat you?”
“Midway High School.”
“No.” My hair shook as I tried to stifle the giggle and keep a serious face. “For the third year of sexiest athlete. Who beat you?”
His lips thinned. “Aiden Shaw.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Oh, yeah, I can totally see that.”
His jaw went slack. “Hey!” He leaned over and poked me in the ribs. “You sure have a lot of jokes for a woman who’s wearing mismatched socks.” He squinted as he bent forward at the waist. “Are those raccoons on that one sock?”
I folded forward as his fingers brushed over my ribs and giggled. “Would you stop tickling me! I’ll have you know that trash pandas are the cutest animals on the planet.”
His merciless fingers finally stopped their assault on my sides and slowly trailed up to my neck. He leaned in, his strong hands cupping my jaw, and nipped at my lower lip. “I’m not sure Rocket Racoon would appreciate you calling him cute.”
“Even that cynical cartoon likes a compliment every now and then.”
His lips brushed mine, barely more than a whisper of contact, but it was enough to light me on fire. Eager to taste more of him, I pressed my body against his. When his lips finally parted, a sigh that felt like it had come from my soul slipped out.
We were no longer sitting on my porch but lost in each other, my hands desperate to touch every part of him, his fingertips biting deliciously into my scalp. Maybe it was only seconds, or perhaps it was hours, I didn’t know, but when I finally pulled away to breathe, I was left gasping. And not just because he tasted like peppermint and worked my mouth so expertly. But because there was no way that there was anyone more gorgeous than Quinn Miller.
It was more than just his sharp jawline and defined biceps that felt like velvet under my fingertips. Quinn’s beauty was in the way he got me, somehow after only a week knew what to say to make me feel better, could take my endless teasing in stride, and gazed at me with ocean-blue eyes that seemed to see directly into the most hidden parts of me.
“Brittany was a fool,” I murmured, my cheeks aching from the smile that had barely left my face since he’d arrived.
Quinn flashed a smile that was bright and white, as though I’d just handed him that championship trophy and not just stated the obvious about a girl from high school who had made the worst decision of her life.
Her loss.
My gain.
I slid my hand into his and pushed to my feet, pulling him up with me. “Let’s go inside so you can tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do with this bread.”
9
Quinn
With the bag on the kitchen table, Georgia began pulling items out one by one. Once it was all laid out in front of her, she turned, an eyebrow arched. “Butter? You brought butter?”
I lifted my shoulder slightly. “I couldn’t take any chances that you didn’t have any. The toast wouldn’t be the same without it.”
She blinked at me and then turned back to the gift I’d brought her. “Okay, so cinnamon sugar toast, champagne, and Gene Wilder? This is the most… interesting present I’ve ever gotten.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, despite the fact that your long pause before the word interesting tells me otherwise. Besides, you’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. I couldn’t just show up with a bouquet of roses.”
“Where’s the orange juice?”
I grabbed the bottle from the table and waved it in her direction.
“That’s Sunny D. Pretty sure whoever came up with that drink had never even eaten an orange before.”
“The only person in my town who was drinking freshly-squeezed orange juice was the mayor. When I grew up, even Sunny D was a treat.”
She frowned, her brows scrunching together as she mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Okay, let me tell you how to make the toast, and then I’ll get out of here.” I grabbed the container of cinnamon as her hand came to rest on my forearm.
“You’re gonna make me watch this movie by myself?” She was frowning. “That boat scene g
ave me nightmares for weeks.”
I dropped my voice and leaned toward her. “There is no way of knowing…”
She shoved at my arm. “Oh my god, stop!” She giggled. “Jesus, you know the words to the song? How many times have you watched that movie?”
“I’d like to plead the fifth, your honor.” I smirked. “So, are you asking me to stay?”
She waved her hand at all the stuff on the table. “It would be rude to not ask you to enjoy all of these delicacies with me, wouldn’t it?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, the simple action taking me back to when it was my teeth nipping at her mouth just a few minutes ago. Kissing her was a high that was almost better than scoring a touchdown. I tried not to think about what it would be like to have her in my bed, naked beneath me.
“Hey, there’s only one robe here.” She fingered the pink terrycloth and eyed me skeptically. “Where’s yours?”
“You said you were busy. I assumed I wouldn’t be staying.” I had, however, hoped that she’d invite me inside. Not that I had time to spend watching a movie, but sometimes you had to make time for what was important. And at the moment, being with Georgia was the most important thing in my life.
“Oh.” She frowned.
I held up a finger. “Give me a second. Be right back.”
I didn’t give her any time to respond, just sprinted out the door to my truck and grabbed my robe from the passenger seat. I pulled it on and then made my way back inside.
As I walked toward her, I spread my arms wide. “But I’m always prepared for any situation.”
Her smile was wry. “You look like Hugh Hefner.” She made a show of looking all around me. “You don’t have any supermodels waiting in your truck, do you?”
I turned in an exaggerated circle, my arms outstretched, and looked down at the silk material. “What’s wrong with my robe?”
She laughed. “Nothing, if you’re a ninety-year-old man who enjoys the company of much younger women and smoking cigars.”
“Don’t be jealous because I can pull off a robe better than you can.”
She arched a brow. “Who says I can’t pull off a robe?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, let’s see it then.”
She turned and grabbed the robe from the table and slipped it on as she murmured, “Oh, wow. This is nice.”
I took a step toward her. “I stand corrected. You can definitely pull off the robe.”
“Yes, I can.” Her grin was wicked as she teased. “But the real question is, will you get to do any robe pulling later?”
Dear God, I hope so.
I swallowed the thought down and cleared my throat. “Why don’t we watch this cinematic masterpiece first.”
Georgia grabbed the bottle of Sunny D and the champagne and pushed past me into the kitchen. “That movie is far from winning any awards. But I never turn down a good mimosa and a few hours on the couch.”
“I’ll have you know Gene Wilder was nominated for a Golden Globe for his role as Willy Wonka. Of course, he didn’t win; that guy from Fiddler on the Roof did,” I grumbled.
She handed me a wine glass that was full of a mimosa and motioned for me to follow her to the couch. “What is it with you and this movie?”
I shrugged. “We watched it a lot growing up. Mom loved Gene Wilder. She said he reminded her of her father.”
I settled down beside her and put my glass on the table. She took a sip of her drink and smiled. “Well, who would have known that Sunny D makes a damn good cocktail?” She took another swallow and then set her glass next to mine. After tucking her feet under her, she turned her body toward mine. “So, are you going to tell me what the significance of all of this is?”
It was no great secret that I’d grown up poor. I’d come from a tiny town where everyone was just as broke as my family was. Sports journalists loved my rags to riches story, and I’d had several interviews after being drafted where I’d been honest about the difficulty of my childhood.
There were a lot of times when things had looked especially bleak, and that was when Mom would swoop in with her special pick-me-up to distract us from the reality of whatever the current situation was. As a child, I didn’t realize that she was probably trying to cheer herself up more than she was us. But whatever the motivation behind it was, those surprise days where we would gorge on the sugary bread and artificially-flavored orange juice were some of my fondest memories. I couldn’t believe I was sharing all of this with her; only Jamie knew about our little tradition. But something about telling Georgia just felt right.
Jamie was young when Mom died, but even she remembered the excitement in our mother’s eyes when she would pop the movie in the VHS player and we would snuggle up on the couch together in our bathrobes. The memory of Mom’s scent wrapped around me in a ratty fleece bathrobe that was entirely too big for either one of us was one of the only things that I could remember about her.
“Mom said that sometimes, all you needed to turn your entire life around was a little bit of luck. We weren’t that different from Charlie and his family. Watching him find that golden ticket and then given the gift of the chocolate factory gave her, us, hope that maybe one day we’d catch a lucky break too.”
Georgia’s eyes were soft, her small smile a little sad. She grabbed my hand and pulled it into her lap. “Seems to me that you caught that break. But not because of luck. You’re where you are today because, just like Charlie, you’re a good guy. Contrary to popular belief, good guys don’t always finish last. Sometimes, they come out on top. Just like you have.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my side, kissing the top of her head and inhaling the sweet scent that seemed to seep from Georgia’s pores. “Oh, I definitely worked hard to get to where I am professionally. But it was all luck that I ended up on this couch with you right now.”
She tipped her head back, and I kissed the lips that were curved upward. More than willing, she was almost greedy in the way she pressed against me, angling her head so that she could deepen the kiss. Her mouth was sweet, the citrus tang of my fondest childhood memories mingling with the heat of desire as her tongue danced with mine.
I engulfed her in my arms, snaking one around her waist while the other reached for the ridiculously bright hair tie that was holding her hair up. With a gentle tug, I freed her mess of red hair before snaking my fingers through the locks and anchoring her head in place.
With every lick and nip of her mouth, my shorts grew tighter, the need to feel more than just her hands and mouth growing stronger.
I broke the seal of our mouths, my lips trailing along her chin until I reached the lobe of her ear, pulling it between my teeth with a growl. “If we don’t stop now, I can’t promise that I won’t try to take you right here.”
She sighed, a breathy sound that shot straight to my groin, and then pulled back and looked at me through her lashes. “I vote you don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
I didn’t have a chance to even process what she’d said before her hands came to rest on my shoulders, and with nothing more than a gentle shove, I was flat on my back, Georgia’s gorgeous red hair tumbling around me.
Her skin was warm and silky under my rough hands as I slid them under the hem of her bathrobe, skimming her outer thighs. She shivered and then arched against me, her mouth on my neck as she licked her way to my ear. “I don’t want to stop.”
It had been a long time since I’d been with a woman, longer still that the woman was anywhere near as incredible as Georgia was. I’d have been hard pressed to say no under normal circumstances, but it was impossible with Georgia’s gorgeous body on mine, her breasts pressed against my chest. When her mouth hovering inches away from my ear whispered, “I need this. I need you,” I sprang into action.
10
Georgia
Quinn captured my mouth, his tongue licking at the seam, and I gasped as I rocked my hips, my clit stroking against his long, thick erect
ion. His robe had fallen open when I’d pushed him back on the couch, but there were still two layers of clothing between us and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
“Please, Quinn…” I breathed against his lips, my nails digging into the cotton of his polo shirt. I wanted to see him, all of him. To run my fingertips along the ripples of his abs, watching as his muscles contracted under my touch. I needed to feel his firm chest against my breasts, my aching nipples rubbing over him.
“Sit up,” he rasped.
I obeyed his command, my knees still straddling his waist, and stilled. My breath caught as his fingers untied the belt on the robe he’d brought me. He shook his head. “Don’t stop. I want to watch you come apart.”
I went for the fly of his shorts, but he caught my hands and stilled them. “Not me. Just you,” was all he said as he ran one hand over my thigh, its destination my damp panties. With his free hand, he grabbed my hip, his fingers biting deliciously into my flesh. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”
His thumb brushed over the cotton of my panties, the contact shooting sparks through me, fueling my hips to begin moving again. I was climbing, higher and higher, every part of my body buzzing as he rubbed circles over my clit.
The last thing I saw before my lids drooped in ecstasy was his tongue dart out and wet his lip, his intense gaze focused wholly on my face. “Yes,” he hissed when my neck failed me, my head falling back as my body began to explode, pieces of me shattering, with no hope of ever being put together again. At least not by anyone but Quinn.
My body quaked as the waves of what was the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life washed over me and all the while, Quinn’s thumb never stopped stroking, his hips never stopped meeting mine stroke for stroke as he fucked me, both of us fully clothed.
The Hardest Play Page 7