She raised her eyebrow in question.
“The first was just to quench my thirst. This one’s to enjoy and keep me hydrated.” He nodded at her large cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade as she drank from the straw. “That stuff is nothing but sugar and will only make you more thirsty in the end.”
She moaned in dramatic appreciation as she took a few more sips. “But it tastes so good.”
He rested his forearms on the table, leaning another six inches in her direction. Practically nothing by normal standards, and yet it felt like he’d breached her personal space, causing a frisson of tingles to race down her spine.
The sensual baritone of his voice vibrated the air between them. “O’course it tastes good. The more sinful something is, the better it tastes.”
She knew they were no longer discussing lemonade, and the image of him tasting her—not only her mouth, but her— Oh God.
Clearing her throat, she switched to a safer topic as she methodically marred her cup’s lid with her thumbnail, creating a web of white scars in the plastic. “This was a lot of fun, Xander. Thanks for bringing me. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about this place.”
“Tell me something about your grandmother.”
The plastic cup of lemonade was covered in cool condensation, and she wrapped both hands around it. Reaching across the table, Xander covered the backs of her hands with his and she dropped her gaze to watch his thumbs caress her in tiny strokes, the rough pads lightly rasping.
A nostalgic smile spread over her face. “I loved the stories she used to tell me about her and Gramps. They were total opposites, but they loved each other with a fierceness that defied reason.”
His smile matched hers. “What’s your favorite story she told you?”
“That’s easy. It was how she and Gramps met.”
“Tell me.”
“She lived in Columbia, South Carolina at the time, which was always swarmed with army recruits because of the nearby Fort Jackson. Grams said she and her friends knew better than to fall for the ‘scamps in uniform’ and practically made a game out of shooting down them and their persistent advances when they went out.” Xander chuckled with her as she thought of the way Grams’s eyes would dance as she remembered those days. “One Saturday night, Grams was in the local bar with her girlfriends and Gramps walked in with a group of his fellow privates. She said he stopped dead in his tracks when their eyes met from across the room.”
She sighed. “Neither of them could look away from each other. She described it as feeling like an outside force linked them together in that moment. She watched as Gramps walked over to her and asked if she wanted to dance with him. She said, ‘There’s no music.’ Then he smiled at her as he tilted his head slightly and said, ‘Maybe none that my ears can hear, but my heart hears it just fine. Doesn’t yours?’ Grams said she was a goner for him from that moment on. They slow danced right there in the middle of everyone, with no music playing, and the rest is, as they say, history.”
“Wow,” Xander said with obvious reverence. “That’s an amazing story, Soph. I can see why it’s your favorite. I bet it’s something else to hear her tell it.”
She nodded. “It was,” she said, at once agreeing with him and correcting his statement to put it in past tense. Grams hadn’t told her that story for years. She likely didn’t even remember it. Sophie’s chest tightened, squeezing her heart until taking a breath became difficult.
Rising from the bench, Xander rounded the picnic table and pulled her to stand in front of him. Cupping the sides of her face, he lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was gentle and thorough, not overtly sexual, but one that communicated a level of caring and understanding in the most basic of ways. With only a kiss he managed to express things without putting them into words.
I understand…thank you for sharing this part of yourself with me…I’m here for you.
Sophie snaked her arms around the back of his neck. Since she’d chosen to wear her black Chucks when he told her “casual and comfortable”, she didn’t have the extra inches in heels that helped align their bodies in just the right way. But she didn’t have to worry, because as soon as she opened and encouraged him to take the kiss deeper, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her until she balanced on the balls of her feet and the apex of her thighs fit over the ridge of his cock.
“Fuck, how do you do this to me?” he rasped as he kissed and nipped his way down her jaw.
She tilted her head back and barely held back a moan when he pushed his hips against hers. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t, you saucy wench.”
He gave her a smack on her ass that her thin shorty-shorts did nothing to buffer. She gasped at the unexpected sting and he chuckled as he set her back from his hard body that, from the looks of things, was getting harder by the second.
“Come on.” Xander grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the throng of carnival goers. “As of now, we’re tied. We’ll play one more to break it. Then once I win, we’re going back home so I can enjoy my spoils.”
“Ha! You wish. But don’t worry, I won’t drag it out or embarrass you. I’ll make your defeat quick and I promise not to gloat until we get in the car.”
Chapter Nine
Xander tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. “I still say you cheated.”
“Are all cage fighters sore losers?” Sophie trailed into the apartment behind him and closed the door. “Or just British ones, specifically?”
“You had an unfair advantage,” he grumbled. “I should have been given a two-game handicap.”
“If you’re bringing in bowling rules, then I’m incorporating golf.” She pulled out her small, square piece of paper from her shorts and held it up between her first and middle fingers. “I would have taken a mulligan on the ring toss game. You know, the one where you insisted you didn’t jostle me on purpose to make me miss?”
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and extracted his own folded paper. “It wasn’t my fault. I told you it was that pissed wanker that bumped into me.”
“He was probably mad because he knew you were ruining my game.”
“He wasn’t mad,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “He was pissed. Drunk.”
Sophie held her hand out and he took her square that had her reward written on it. “Then why didn’t you say ‘drunk’? Geez, you Brits sure know how to murder the English language.”
Had she not laughed just then, he would have put her over his knee and spanked her for daring such a remark. “Notice the name of the language is actually English and not American.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Semantics. Are you going to open that up, or what?”
Was he, indeed. Though the entire idea of the challenge was all for fun, Xander could admit to himself that he’d wanted to win for more than just bragging rights and ego’s sake. He wanted what was written on his paper. Badly. But he’d get it eventually. After the kisses they’d shared earlier at the carnival, he knew it was only a matter of time.
“I’ll open it,” he said, then held out his. “After you read mine.”
Her eyes locked on the white square. She licked her lips, and in his peripheral vision he noted that her fingernails started playing over the pad of her thumb. She was nervous. Rightfully so, considering what she narrowly escaped. Because even though they’d had a breakthrough in their physical relationship today—he couldn’t be happier she’d opened the door for kissing—Xander had no misconceptions that they were on the same page.
She flicked her eyes up to his. “Why do you want me to read yours?”
He shrugged, feigning indifference. “Seems only right you should know what you’re beating me out of.”
Squaring her shoulders—ever his brave girl—she opened the paper, unfolding it the required four times. He watched her eyes grow wide and heard her breath catch in her throat. He couldn’t have stopped his
wicked grin if he’d wanted to.
“Read it.”
“I already did.”
“Out loud.” He pinned her with a look that brooked no argument and backed it up by crossing his arms over his chest. “I want to hear you say it. If I can’t have the actions, then at least give me the satisfaction of watching your lips wrap around my words.”
“But—”
“Sophie.” He bit out her name in a sharp command before he could think better of it. His need to take control stemmed from the hard-on he’d been sporting all bloody day thanks to this woman, and now he braced himself for her hackles to raise in response.
When she lowered her eyes to the creased paper, she may as well have just kicked him in the sternum and knocked the wind out of him.
Sophie submitted to a command.
Strong-willed, take-no-shit, feminist-to-the-bitter-end Sophie. Could she actually be hiding a submissive side behind all her bravado and spunk? Just the possibility had him nearly coming undone in his pants like an untried lad.
She cleared her throat then did as he’d asked. “It says, ‘I’m going to toss you on my bed, strip you naked, and make you come no less than three times in as many ways, with my name branded on your lips.’ There,” she said, her sassiness gathering back under her. “Are you happy now?”
“I am, thank you.” His lips twisted in a smirk. “O’course, I’d be happier if I’d won the competition, but fair is fair.”
“Fair is fair,” she repeated. “And I won.”
“You won,” he said with a nod of deference. “Let’s see if it’ll be your laundry I’m doing, or maybe spit shining your precious shoe babies.” Uncrossing his arms, he held up her paper.
“Actually, I’m perfectly happy with your acknowledgment of my win, so we can forget the silly bet thing. I won’t hold you to it.”
At first Xan thought she was trying to be the bigger person and save him from some horrible task. Until she attempted to snatch the note away from him. Unfortunately for her, his well-honed instincts demanded he block any sudden movement coming at him, and his reflexes could take hers on at half speed. While pissed. He caught her wrist with one hand and held the note farther away from her. She’d just tipped her hand.
Sophie didn’t want him to open her note.
“That’s sweet of you, but a man never welches on a bet. I never have, and I’m not about to start now,” he said as he started to unfold its many creases.
“Shit, you know what I just remembered? I left the thing…on—in my office—and I need to turn it off or—”
Xander glanced up to see her walking toward the front door. “Hold it, Sophie. Don’t take another step.”
She froze in place, gripping the handle, the other hand braced on the wall next to the door. Whatever she’d written on her paper had her bolting. Which meant either she regretted what she asked for, or it made her nervous.
Xander unfolded the paper and read the three words scrawled in her slanted lefty handwriting. His mouth ran dry as the desert air and his pulse jackhammered just beneath the surface of his skin. But he couldn’t get ahead of himself. Not yet.
He moved until he stood directly behind her then placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her until her back pressed against the door. Her eyes were closed and Xander took advantage of the moment to admire her beauty.
“I have two questions, Sophie, and I expect you to answer me honestly.” He wished he could see her eyes to tell for himself, but if she needed to borrow courage from the darkness, then he’d allow it. “When you wrote this, did you think it was a possibility that I might write something like I did?”
She dragged her lower lip between her teeth and worked it over until it was swollen and bright red. As sexy as it was, he’d rather be the one doing the biting, and it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “Yes or no, Sophie.”
Keeping her eyes closed, she released a shaky sigh. “Yes.”
He took a couple of slow breaths and fisted his hands at his sides to keep himself from touching her. One more answer. The only one he truly needed. “And now that you’ve read what I wanted, have you had second thoughts?”
Blessedly, her lashes lifted to reveal the endless depths of her dark eyes. Her chest moved in time with his and he wondered if their hearts beat together as well. He wanted to touch her in the worst way, but not until she answered his question. And depending on her answer, maybe not even then.
“Sophie,” he tried again, “do you regret writing what you did?”
She spoke in a whisper so soft, he only knew the word by the shape of her lips when she said it. “No.”
Xander closed the last of the space that separated them. This close, she was forced to tip her head up to meet his eyes. His fingers flexed at his sides, open and shut, like a gunslinger preparing for a high noon showdown. Why wasn’t he giving her what she’d asked for? He didn’t have to hold himself back any longer. She’d all but used a starting gun to signal the start of what he intended to be an all-night marathon, and fuck the sprint.
But hearing her read his words a few minutes ago had been like audible porn, and now he wanted to hear her speak her own. “Tell me what your paper said. Let me hear those three little words straight from your berry-ripe lips. Because the second you tell me, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”
At last, she said them, soft as a feather yet undeniably laced with her desire. “Whatever you wrote.”
…
Sophie seriously questioned her actions from when she’d written those three words on that scrap of paper. The only thing that made any sense was that her libido’s subconscious (if there was such a thing) had temporarily taken over the part of her brain that makes judgment calls. She’d known damn well that Xander would write something sexual on his paper. By writing what she did, she’d ensured that whatever he conjured up would happen whether she won or not.
“Tell me what your paper said,” he ordered, his voice deep and gravelly, sending shivers through her. “Let me hear those three little words straight from your berry-ripe lips. Because the second you tell me, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”
Her mouth was dry, making swallowing a challenge worthy of the Olympics. Biting the bullet, she held his gaze and managed a quiet rasp for his demand. “Whatever you wrote.”
A pure feral hunger flashed in his eyes a split second before Xander pounced. His hands grabbed the sides of her head, his body pinned her against the door, and his mouth descended on hers. He skipped over any closed-lips nonsense and parted them with a sweep of his tongue. Raw and savage, his invasion never let up and she was only too happy to be invaded.
Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck and went up on her toes, trying to get as close to him as possible. Suddenly she couldn’t survive without having a physical connection to him. Like now that she knew how amazing it felt to have that hot electricity coursing through her veins, she never wanted it to leave.
Xander moved his hands down her neck, over her shoulders and sides, then finally crossed behind her. With a growl, he tightened his arms around the middle of her back and lifted straight up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, then rocked her pelvis to grind along his hard cock straining beneath his jeans.
His mouth wrenched away from her. Sophie stared at him in question as she panted for air like she just crossed the finish line of a marathon. “Do that again before I’m seated inside you and you’ll be feeling the sting of my hand on your arse, sweets.” Spinning on his heel, he stalked toward the bedroom. “Then again, I might do it anyway just to see your lily-white backside pink with my mark.”
“Promises, promises.” What? What the hell did she say that for? Spending so much time with her kinky friends must be rubbing off on her.
“Oh, baby, you have no idea the promises I’d like to make to you. Things that would show you what it’s like to be pushed beyond your comfort zone.”
When he reached the foot of his gigantic bed, he toss
ed her into the middle of it. She mini-bounced before settling onto the mattress. So far he was sticking with the script, which meant next was making her come three times in as many ways. Jesus God, was she even capable of something like that? She’d never come more than once per session, not even with herself.
“I like my comfort zone just fine,” she said. Admittedly, her argument didn’t hold much conviction, but whatever. “It’s comfortable. Hence, its apt name.”
He answered with a noncommittal grunt, whatever that meant. “Take your clothes off, Sophie. Unwrap my prize for me, nice and slow.”
She hoped he didn’t notice the trembling in her hands as she followed his command. Acting like a damn virgin on prom night, it was humiliating. She’d always owned her sexuality, exuding confidence and never afraid of taking the lead with previous lovers.
But this man—this alpha male—affected her in ways she didn’t understand. And not only on a physical level. Sometimes all it took was a thoughtful gesture or a sincere compliment to coax old hopes from the shadows. Like he was tugging on the frayed edges of her fairy tale ending to free it from where she’d shoved it in the dark corner of her discarded dreams.
Xander raked his heated stare down her almost-naked body, leaving sensations behind as though it was his fingers doing the roaming. Only her white lace boy short panties remained. As her thumbs hooked into the waistband, he held a hand up. “Leave them. I swear I’ve never seen anything fucking sexier in my life. If I could arrange it, I’d make it so you never wore anything more than lacy knickers.”
Sophie pulled her knees up, dragging her painted toes along the down comforter, and gave him a coy smile. “I’m sure my male customers at the bakery would appreciate me baring my…assets, as I handed them bags of frosted confections.”
Thunder rolled over his face and its low rumble escaped between clenched teeth. “Over my dead body.”
Something pinged in her brain that his reaction was way too proprietary for their casual—and phony—arrangement. But then he started disrobing and she was too busy to analyze anything. Her eyes hyper-focused on him as he reached up and back between his shoulder blades with one hand and yanked his shirt up and over his head before tossing it to the floor.
Sweet Victory (Fighting for Love) Page 11