He cleared his throat. "Moe—just to be clear . . . it’s not you, right?"
The kid’s face reddened. "Nah—I’d rather put this bitch to bed so we can start something new. At this point, I’m kinda over it, you know?"
His mind splintering off in a million directions, Travis sighed. "Me, too."
Chapter 12
"Okay, MaryJo, you have my attention. What the hell is going on with the hack? I figured you'd be done by now."
"Are you back?" Relief trickled through her at the familiar growl on the other end of the line.
"No. I'm still on the road. I hope to be home by the weekend, although Maddie's got a dinner party lined up with a few of her high-brow friends, so that would be a great reason to stay away an extra day."
Smiling over his prickly description, MaryJo knew one of Sean's least favorite things to do was hang out with Madeline's rich, corporate, banker-type friends. Yet, she also knew he'd do just about anything to please her, so his complaints were never voiced to Maddie. And it wasn't as though he was the only one making concessions. Maddie was a great sport with her father and all his sketchy friends—informants, dealers, hookers, and the weirdly eccentric crew of versatile and talented guys Sean favored for his investigations. The woman who presided over Boston's social elite at her renowned parties was equally comfortable riding shotgun on a stakeout team. Though her father protested, MaryJo knew he secretly loved having her along with him. Surprising everyone, Madeline also enjoyed hanging out in low rent bars, usually shooting pool better than half the retired cops they met there. After several years together, Sean and Maddie's worlds had become second nature to each other.
"I need more information from your client. Can you double-check with them about the beta?"
"MaryJo—seriously?"
It wasn't every day she took a stand with Sean. But—her intuition had been flashing warnings for days. "Every time I slip into that system, it feels live. People are working in there, Dad. You said there wouldn't be," she reminded. "I could inadvertently crash them while they work. Or I could shut them out and trap their data."
"That doesn't sound right," he admitted.
"Can you just make sure the client has given you the right specs? That I'm not working in the wrong system?"
"I'll try to catch them this afternoon." Her father's voice was threaded with fatigue. "I'll get back to you tonight if I can. Might be late. If your phone's off, I'll text you a message."
"You okay, Dad?" MaryJo chewed her lower lip, wondering exactly where he called from. Translating her father's encrypted messages took increasing skill these days. 'Late' meant he was likely in a different time zone. Increasingly popular with governments—some of which she suspected were outside of the US, her father had more work than he could handle. Sean had already completed two successful careers - in the military and the state police. He and his buddies had started their investigation company out of boredom with retirement. And then it had taken off. She knew the day was approaching when he would suggest she quit her day job and come aboard. But she'd studiously avoided thinking about it, unsure whether she wanted a career in "investigations", which translated to—just about anything.
"I'm fine, sweetie." His voice sharpened. "The only hair I have left might be gray, but that's more from raising you than from this job."
She let him hear her chuckle, knowing he'd feel better if he believed she wasn't worried. "Okay, Dad. I can still run a few more tests without the information. Once I'm done, I'll work on reports until I hear from you." Disconnecting from her father, MaryJo stared out her office window, unable to shake a nagging sense of unease. Even if Sean confirmed the initial specs, her intuition was relaying a different story. There was something off about the project. She would be glad when it was finally over.
"OKAY, MARYJO—TIME FOR a rematch." Saturday had dawned, a crisp, clear, frigid morning that sharpened Travis' senses. For the first time all week, he'd awakened with an eagerness to start the day. This day—he'd spend entirely with MaryJo. His phone off. His laptop powered down. His brain firmly planted in the present. He couldn't shake the notion that something important was about to happen. But for now, they were shooting hoops in her driveway.
Though Curt's tournament had been team-oriented, Travis had made a side bet with her. And she'd seriously kicked his ass. Their little, Saturday morning pick-up game should settle the score, once and for all. Hoping to intimidate her, he took a few steps toward the basket.
"Today, you’re goin' down." He emphasized each word with a decisive dribble. If the smirk on her face was any indication, she wasn’t very worried. But he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. "Before we start, let’s go over the rules-"
MaryJo lunged in for the ball, leaving him momentarily speechless when she slammed it from his hands. Stealing it, she bolted for the hoop, scoring easily. A grin on her face and the gleam of determination in her eyes, Travis realized this would be no lightweight game of HORSE.
"The rule is—no rules, Lockwood. This is a grudge match. You cheated last time and for that—you’re going to pay." Leaning in seductively, he got a faceful of her hair as she whispered in his ear. "I’m gonna put the moves on you."
Hell, she already had. Her hair smelled amazing. She smelled amazing. Something about that damn ponytail had him imagining pulling it down, freeing her soft, silky hair. Over the past several weeks—endless weeks, he’d been tortured by it. Hell, he’d dreamt of her hair. Visions of it—draped over him—as they made love—MaryJo riding him, her amazing, beautiful hair tumbling over their naked bodies—him clutching it in fistfuls as he came endlessly inside her-
"Bring it on." His voice suddenly unsteady, Travis was grateful for the brisk, winter air as he shook off his raging hormones. But it was damned hard to avoid thinking about sex when she was standing there, a challenge in her eyes, an easygoing smile on her beautiful face. Her cheeks had already flushed pink in the cold. He was having serious trouble peeling his gaze from her legs. The glimpse of soft, satiny skin covering sleek muscle. She’d worn the damned yoga pants again. Short ones. Her gorgeous, curvy butt was crying out to be cradled in his hands. For a fleeting moment, he wondered whether she’d worn them deliberately, just to distract him.
"Okay, Mullaney. Let’s see what you’ve got." Tossing her the ball, he nodded. "Take it out." She came at him from the left, his weaker side, dribbling close in to her body. When he reached for it, she spun away. "Fancy move, babe." Damn, she was good. When she came at him again, he read the determination in her smile. And something about her confidence made him reach in, his fingers deliberate as they raked lightly across the tantalizing skin of her briefly exposed stomach.
Caught completely off guard, MaryJo dropped the ball as his tickling fingers found their mark. She huffed out a laugh. "Illegal use of hands. If I had a whistle, I’d be blowing it."
Oh, God. Not that beautiful, sexy mouth. In seconds, he had an erection. A big, painful one. "Your rules, Mullaney," he reminded as he retrieved the ball, taking it in for a quick layup. "You said no rules."
Her eyes narrowed, she hustled to retrieve the ball from its resting place near the garage door. "Fair enough."
He liked that about her. Nothing seemed to faze MaryJo. She merely adjusted her strategy and played even harder. Her gaze locked with his, she approached him head-on. Not a smart move, sweetheart. He would steal it easily. Still coming straight at him, Travis visualized a full court press in his head. She'd set her pick and he'd bank right.
She came at him, dribbling with one hand, while she reached at him with her free hand. What was she thinking? She'd left herself wide open to the steal. Before he knew what she was doing, she’d slipped her hand under his shirt, raking her nails down his chest as she took the shot with her free hand. Stopped dead in his tracks, he forgot to breathe. Suppressing a shudder as time ceased, Travis became acutely aware of the singular sensation of her warm hand pressed against his skin. He wanted the rest of her there—naked aga
inst him.
"Mmm—you feel so good, Travis. So warm." Her smile enticing, she whispered. "And that's two points for me."
Her fingers danced over his chest before dipping to his stomach. God, he wanted them lower still, wrapped around him. His abdominal muscles contracted painfully under her touch. "That was t-two . . . penalties, Mariela." Finding difficulty forming words when her fingers were still grazing his stomach, his voice sounded hoarse. Her eyes widened, an obviously fake attempt at innocence, but Travis wasn’t buying it.
"Two? Where do you get two?"
"Unsportsmanlike conduct for groping me." He tried to maintain a straight face, but failed utterly.
"How is it unsportsmanlike when I was only trying to be friendly?"
Looping an arm around his neck, she pulled him in for a kiss. His arms tightened around her as though on automatic pilot. Jeez—she could kiss like nobody's business. Plunging into an erotic hell from which he was no longer sure there would be any escape, Travis tugged her closer, took the kiss deeper. If he hadn't been horny before, her tongue in his mouth succeeded in pushing him completely over the edge. In the middle of her driveway, he wanted to strip her from her clothes and take her under the basketball hoop.
"And the s-second?" Her breathless voice sent shivers of arousal straight to his groin. "Second?"
"Second penalty, Travis."
"That's for . . . delay of game." Her laugh was throaty, seductive and fast overtaking his senses. He’d never experienced anything like this. To be so hyper-aware of another person. Her scent. Her chest rising and falling as she breathed. The luminous, toffee irises—being rapidly overtaken by her dilating pupils as MaryJo grew more aroused. Before his eyes, she revealed how turned on she was by him. Need overwhelmed him, sharp, gnawing. Single-minded. An actual physical ache from wanting her in every possible way.
He’d never known anyone like her. She was sunshine and light. And just when he became comfortable with that, she turned competitive—surprising him by giving as good as she got. And now—she had him twisted in knots—all wrapped up in the most amazing, torturous sexual tension he’d ever experienced.
Forcing himself to release her, he retrieved the ball, his gaze never leaving hers as he dribbled slowly toward her. She lunged in for the ball, but instead, grazed his jaw with a fleeting kiss. Inhaling a lungful of her intoxicating scent, he allowed his free hand to graze a full, luscious breast, chuckling when he heard her indrawn gasp of shock. Though her hardened nipple against his hand was no laughing matter, sending a painful electric current to his aching cock. "No rules, MaryJo," he rasped.
Recovering quickly, she stripped the ball from him, bobbing away before he could retrieve it. "Three second rule, Travis." She lobbed it through the net easily. "You lose again."
Losing a game was one thing. But he was dangerously close to losing his mind. They stood—staring at each other as the ball rolled into the garage. For not actually playing much, he was already breathing heavy. And Mariela’s flush had become more than a response to the cold air. Finally breaking the spell, she turned, intent on retrieving the ball. His gaze locked on the most incredible ass he'd ever laid eyes on, Travis followed her into the shadowy interior of her garage, lured by a magnetic pull so strong he was no longer capable of breaking free. When she rescued the ball from under her car, he was waiting.
"What, you’re quitting already?"
His brain function had all but ceased, so lasered in, so focused on MaryJo, he couldn't think of anything else. At the last moment, he tugged the garage door down behind them. Taking the ball from her hands, he set it on the shelf, not caring if it rolled away. "Just changing the venue before I do something that might get us arrested."
Taking two steps, he closed the gap between them, capturing her face with restless hands, kissing her with all the dangerous need he’d been holding at bay for what seemed like years. Her mouth was hot and wet and so damn good. He captured her breathy sigh as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The incredible heat of her amazing body clinging to his was better than anything he’d ever experienced before. The weight of her against him, the trust she relayed in the tightness of her hold on him.
"Finally. Thank God."
As she peeled his shirt over his head, Travis knew without any doubt—this encounter would be unlike any other.
"Travis-" Her husky voice sent need forking down his spine. Raining kisses along his jaw, she stroked a trail down his back, her fingertips driving him slowly crazy with her kneading caresses. He wanted more. He wanted her nails scoring him, her hands urging him inside her. "Quick. Get your sweats off."
Still holding her, his surprised laugh ruffled into her hair. "Babe—we're in the garage." Her gaze never wavering, she tugged her sweatshirt over her head. "I don't have the key to that door. And I can't wait any longer." Leading him further into the garage, she leaned back against the hood of her car. When she unclasped her bra, Travis forgot to breathe. Unsteady on his feet, he closed the distance, filling his hands with the most amazing breasts he'd ever seen. "God, MaryJo—you’re so—beautiful." Hoisting her to the hood, he paused, a wicked smile forming despite his desperation to get her naked. "You don’t have a car alarm, do you?"
MARYJO WAS AT A LOSS as to why she was feeling so out of control. Never in her life had she contemplated having sex on the hood of a car, especially in the frigid, March air, but today—it had become second choice to taking Travis on the basketball court in the driveway. The wicked glint in his eyes heated her soul. "No alarm." Tossing her head back as he set her gently on the hood, she managed to moan her request. "Please, Travis. Touch me."
Gently parting her thighs, he moved between them, sliding her closer to the edge of the hood. Leaning over her, his eyes flared with heat. With fire. With that amazing Travis intensity. His hands stroking her breasts, he kissed her, an open mouth, carnal, full on kiss that had her praying it would never end. Her control shattered, she latched on to his tongue, the erotic strokes nearly undoing her restraint. His hands were everywhere, skimming her ribcage, trailing her back, before returning to her breasts.
When his mouth left hers to latch onto the soft skin of her throat, she gasped with the incredible rightness of it. "So good. Travis, I want you." When his mouth finally reached her breast, she cried out before clapping a hand to her mouth. Fleetingly, she thought of the neighbors, yet couldn’t make herself care enough to stop. Maddeningly, he continued to suckle her, as though, he too, had been pushed beyond the limits of his control. He'd waited too long. There were no consequences awful enough that could stop them.
As he slowly peeled her yoga pants down over her thighs, she shimmied against his hands as they stroked her everywhere along the way. MaryJo believed she would truly go crazy with waiting. His fingers toyed with her panties, his hand dipping inside them, teasing her, making her gasp. She was already wet for him. His hot, rasping breath on her shoulder told her he knew it, too. "Get your pants off."
"Mariela-" His ragged whisper scraped over her. "You feel so good. So . . . unbelievably good."
His hand inside her panties, his fingers stroked her sex. Smothering a moan against his shoulder, she fleetingly wondered whether she would live through the rest of it. Travis shuddered against her as he worked her pants down her legs. As they slid further, the shock of icy metal against her backside felt amazingly cool to her overheated skin. When his fingers dipped inside her, she nearly flew off the hood.
She fumbled with his irritating shirt. "Come on! What are you waiting for?" When he froze against her, she wondered frantically whether someone had wandered into her driveway to investigate. "What—are we being too loud?"
His breath coming in sharp pants, he rested his forehead against hers. "I can't believe this. Condoms—I don’t have any. I’m wearing sweats, remember?"
"No—this isn’t happening again."
"Do you have any this time?" His voice laden with desperation and hope. "We’ll get dressed and run inside-"
Still out of breath, her smile was triumphant with the knowledge that they wouldn’t be stopping. Leaning in, she kissed him slowly, intimately, her tongue meeting his in a lazy dance of pleasure. And breathtaking longing. His eyes heated with the belief she was somehow going to make this situation better. "No need for that," she murmured against his lips.
"If you don't—baby we need to stop." His hot, panting breath felt amazing against her bare, chilled shoulder.
"I don't want to stop." Her mouth roamed to his ear lobe. When he shuddered against her, she nipped it again. "I won our game. You're my prize."
"I have to get dressed," he muttered. "I have to drive to the store and buy a month's worth. Then we're going to use every last one today." His expression intent, his gorgeous blue eyes blazing with need. With passion for her. She couldn't hold out much longer.
"They're in my car." She tapped the hood she still straddled. "A bag . . . front seat. Get them," she ordered. "And get naked."
Shivering with both cold and anticipation, she heard a muffled curse as Travis tried to strip with his shoes on. Then the clunk of a shoe when he gave up. When he returned to her, he had one shoe on, one socked foot, his sweats dragging around an ankle. And thankfully, he held a fistful of condoms from the box he'd ripped open. Reaching for him, he returned to her arms, both of them grateful for the heat.
Her fingers grazing his chest, she traced lower, until she met up with the resistance of the rigid, heavy, crazy-large bulge in his briefs. "I thought I told you to get these off," she reminded, stroking him through the thin cotton. He was so hot, so heavy in her hand. Travis stumbled against her, his ragged groan echoing in the empty garage.
"MaryJo, you do that again and this will be all over." Shoving his briefs down, he kicked them loose, his cock springing free from the restraint. Snatching a condom from his hand, MaryJo nearly slid from the hood as she ripped it open. "Easy, sweet. We've got all day," he said, his voice nearly hoarse with desire.
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