Allie made the mistake of glancing at Gavin. He was smiling, a deeply amused, completely-at-ease kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth flash white, and his striking face relax into softer angles.
Thank goodness Miranda took up the slack in the conversation, because Allie was dazed by the impact of that smile. She swiped up the port she had been sipping and took a large swallow. The sweet, strong wine burned down her throat, making her eyes water.
Miranda smiled, too. “I have something to share about Gavin. He helped bring Luke and me together.”
Gavin waved dismissively. “It was inevitable.”
“We’re both pretty stubborn, so I’m not sure about that,” Miranda said.
“As soon as he won that Super Bowl, he would have swept you off your feet,” Gavin assured her.
“I might not have made it to the Super Bowl without Miranda.” The quarterback strolled up behind his wife’s chair and bent to drop a kiss on the side of her neck. “I wasn’t in great shape when I met her.”
“What did Gavin do?” Allie asked. “I can’t picture him playing Cupid with a bow and arrow, wearing nothing but a diaper.”
Luke lifted an eyebrow. “He told me I was an idiot.”
“That sounds more like him,” Allie said.
“And he told me to admit my feelings to Luke.” Miranda tilted her head up toward her striking husband. “It didn’t go well.”
Luke’s face grew serious. “You had more courage than I did.”
“This is becoming nauseating,” Gavin said, taking her hand and pulling her upright. “Time to get you home.”
Luke put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Miller hates for people to know that he’s a romantic at heart.”
“And Archer likes to kick a man when he’s down. Comes of being a football player, I suppose.”
“I never kicked a man,” Luke said. “I had defensive players to do that.”
Gavin snorted and put his hand on Allie’s back again. She was pretty sure her skin was sizzling underneath his touch as he moved her toward their host and hostess.
They departed with a flurry of exchanged cell phone numbers so everyone could keep in touch. Allie imagined her phone felt like a gold ingot with the weight of all those billionaires’ private contact information.
Gavin was silent as the elevator glided downward to the garage. Allie made a few attempts at small talk, but he had retreated into monosyllables again. That left her to consider the unexpected revelation that he had intervened in Miranda and Luke’s romance in such a significant way. She cast a sideways glance at his brooding profile while something inside her softened at the kind of insight and caring his intercession showed. Not many people would risk involving themselves in someone else’s love affair.
When they stepped out of the elevator, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to guide her toward the Maserati, which stood waiting for them. Allie gaped in astonishment. “Are the valets psychic?”
“Ed called down as soon as he saw we were leaving.” Gavin waved the valet aside and opened the door for Allie.
“What a way to live,” she said, shaking her head as she slid into the leather seat.
“The rich aren’t really different,” Gavin said. “They’re just insulated from the normal wear and tear of life.”
As he folded himself into the driver’s seat, she said, “Where do you park your cars?”
“In a garage down the block.” He steered the car out onto the street. “I’m not going to apologize for having money, Allie, because I sweated for every penny of it. I shared a hellhole of an apartment with multiple roommates for two years before I sold my first book. I choose never to live with cockroaches again.”
“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just—what’s the right term?—overawed.”
“Good word choice,” he said with a flash of a smile.
“High praise from a writer.”
Gavin wove through the late-night Manhattan traffic with the skill of a race-car driver. Too soon they arrived in front of her apartment. Amazingly, there was an empty parking place a few doors down, so Gavin could pull in.
“Thanks for the ride,” Allie said before she remembered the question she desperately needed an answer to. “We haven’t talked about what time I should come on Monday.”
“And we’re not going to.”
Panic and despair felt like fists tightening around her throat. “You said that the treatment is working. Why wouldn’t you want to continue?” She swiveled toward him in her seat.
His hands were still gripping the wheel, but he was staring at her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
“I don’t want to be your patient any longer,” he said.
“I know you feel better, but you have a ways to go before you’re back to normal.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to be your patient,” he repeated, “because I want to do this.”
He released the wheel and leaned toward her, reaching behind her head to cup it in one hand as he slowly brought his lips to hers.
The kiss was a question, asking if she wanted this, giving her time to say no. But the moment she felt the firm heat of his mouth against hers, she knew she wasn’t going to stop him. She might have to share Pie’s cat food when she ran out of money, but she craved the kiss of this fascinating, pain-damaged man the way she craved chocolate. It was bad for her in so many ways, but the flavor was so darned delicious.
She softened into him, putting her hand on his chest so she could deepen the contact. The moment he felt her yielding, he buried his fingers in the coiled bun of her hair and angled her head so he could lay a line of kisses along her jaw and against her neck.
“Allie, you taste like innocence and sin all mixed together.” His breath whispered against the sensitive skin behind her ear, and she purred like her cat.
“Don’t mistake hillbilly for innocent,” she said, turning her face so their mouths met again. She teased his lips with the tip of her tongue, loving the firmness of his skin, the mild rasp of his whiskers against her chin, the crisp, herbal scent of his shampoo. She slipped her fingers into his hair, remembering the thick, slightly coarse feel of it from their treatment sessions. It had a strong texture that suited a powerful man.
In return, he unraveled her bun so her hair cascaded down over her shoulders. “You should always wear your hair down,” he said, stroking it. “No, you should wear it up so men can fantasize about tearing out the pins and watching it fall down like a curtain of fire. And picture it spread over the pillows on their beds.”
He took her mouth again, his hands sinking into her hair on either side of her face. She moaned as the touch of his tongue stirred a deep, simmering longing. She clutched at his shoulders to press her aching breasts against him, the delicious contact sending sparks into her belly.
He lifted his head. “We need more space. Let’s go inside.”
“What?” She thought of the three cramped rooms of her apartment with the treadmill in the bedroom and the kitty-litter box in the bathroom. “No! My apartment will remind you too much of the days before you sold your book.”
“Does it have a bed?”
“Only a double.”
“Then we’ll have to get very, very close together.” He smiled in a way that made her insides turn molten with desire.
“Wait here.” He pressed a quick kiss on her lips and sprang out of the car.
Was she really going to do this? She clenched her hands around the straps of her handbag.
He opened her door and held out his hand, his strength evident in the easy way he pulled her to her feet. She wanted to feel that strength over her and inside her. But she halted as he wrapped his arm around her waist and started toward her apartment building’s battered front door. “If we do this,” she said, “I can’t be your physical therapist anymore.”
He sighed. “I have an alternative in mind. We’ll talk about it later.” He propelled them both forward a
gain, and Allie felt a strange sliding sensation of pleasure. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
When she sorted out the right key, he took it from her and fitted it into the lock, sweeping her through the open door. Starting up the stairs, he asked, “How many flights?”
“Four.”
He laughed and climbed faster, almost carrying her along with him. “So this is how you stay in shape. An aerobic workout with every return home.”
His hard thigh grazed her hip as they continued upward and jostled each other in ways that kept raising her temperature. By the time they reached the fifth floor, she felt as though one kiss from him would make her explode.
As her door swung open, he backed her up against the wall inside, kicking the door shut behind them. Then he gave her the full length of his muscular body, driving his thigh between hers so the friction made her moan, and letting her know the level of his arousal by the feel of his erection against her stomach.
“How’s your breathing?” he asked as he twined his fingers with hers and raised her hands up over her head to pin them against the plaster.
The change in position dragged her breasts against him, and she gasped and rocked her hips without conscious thought. “Breathing? What’s that?” she managed to say.
“You may need resuscitating.” He explored her mouth slowly and thoroughly, making her twist and squirm as desire scorched through her, lighting exquisite fires wherever their bodies touched. The ache between her legs grew overpowering, but still he held her in place.
He released her mouth to whisper in her ear, “This is my revenge for having to lie still while you ran your hands over my skin.”
“It wasn’t easy for me, either.” She deliberately ground her pelvis against him, the pressure lighting up her nerves like a skyrocket.
He groaned and pulled back from her. “Where’s the bedroom?”
She almost laughed. There weren’t many possibilities in her apartment. Then she had a moment of concern. “Are you allergic to cats?”
“No. How many do you have?”
“Only one. I’m not a crazy cat lady.” Yet. She led him through the living room by their intertwined hands. “But she sleeps on the bed.”
Sure enough, Pie was curled up on the pillows mounded under the patchwork quilt. The cat lifted her head and blinked at them as they dodged around the treadmill. Allie shook her hand free of Gavin’s grip and deposited her pet outside the room. “I don’t think we want to share this moment with Pie.”
Seeing the tall, sophisticated writer in her poky little bedroom, filled as it was with just a bed, dresser, and treadmill, made her question the wisdom of this encounter. The radiator clanked and groaned, drawing her eye to the rust-stained, peeling paint on its surface. She grimaced.
“Stop,” he said, covering the width of the bedroom in two strides and picking her up in his arms.
She let out a small shriek and grabbed at his shoulders. “Stop what?”
“Comparing my home to yours. It doesn’t matter.” He carried her to the bed and laid her down before stretching out half on, half off her. He spread her hair out over the quilt. The burn of his eyes as he handled the strands, and the gentle tugging on her scalp, sent little thrills of pleasure dancing through her.
She lifted her hand to trace over his lips and along his jaw. “It doesn’t matter right now,” she said, “but it will.”
“Stop,” he said again. He skimmed his hand over her shoulder until he reached the swell of her breast, his fingers spreading to explore the contours until he brought them in to roll her tight nipple through the silk and lace covering it.
It was like having an electric shock except the sensation was thrilling. She pushed into his hand. “Gavin, yes!”
He pinched harder this time, so her hips lifted as the electricity seared from her breasts to the hollow deep inside her.
She didn’t want a slow seduction. Lifting her head, she kissed him with all the frustrated longing in her body as she ripped the buttons of his shirt out of their buttonholes.
He laughed. The husky sound sent more heat searing through her as he went to work on the buttons of her blouse, giving her a wolfish grin when he discovered the front clasp of her bra and flicked it open. Brushing aside the black lace, he cupped her bared breasts and circled the pads of his thumbs over them.
“Oh my God, yes,” she murmured as his touch made her writhe. She pulled open his shirt to return the favor, running her palms over the springy dark hair she’d been hungering to touch for days, following the line of it over the rippled muscles of his abs down to his belt buckle.
“Ah, Allie.”
She kept going down to run her fingers along the hard ridge of his erection. She stroked it twice, and then he rolled away to unbuckle his belt and yank down his zipper, pushing his trousers and briefs off. She reached for his cock again, but he brushed her hands away, unbuttoning her pants and working them over her hips. She hooked her fingers in her black lace panties and got them to her knees before he took over to drag everything off.
As he shifted back up, he trailed his fingers along her thigh to brush through the hair at the V of her legs, the featherlight touch so close to her yearning that it sent a shudder through her.
“Flame-haired here, too,” he said, his eyes like green glass lit from within. He slid one finger down into the wet heat, finding her swollen clit and nearly making her explode right then.
She opened her thighs to him as he slipped his finger into her aching hollow while his thumb massaged her sensitive spot. Arousal coiled tighter and tighter at every stroke. Her hips bucked against his hand when he added a second finger inside her, stretching and filling her so the pressure built to an almost unbearable point. He flicked his thumb, and she clamped her thighs around his wrist as her internal muscles convulsed and released into a burst of red-hot climax. She dug her heels into the mattress as he drove his fingers deeper so her body clenched and exploded again and again.
As the aftershocks diminished, she relaxed back down onto the quilt and opened her eyes. Gavin slipped his hand from between her thighs and propped himself on his elbow to look down at her before he put his fingers in his mouth. As he sucked her taste from his skin, his eyes burned hotter. When he used his doubly wet fingertip to trace a spiral lower and lower on her belly, she whimpered with pleasure and exhaustion.
“No rush,” he said, the circling gentle but relentless. “I just want to touch.”
She felt her hips rock in rhythm with his caress and groaned. “How is that possible?”
“What?” He splayed his fingers over her abdomen, one just grazing her hair down there.
“That I can be aroused again so soon.”
He smiled in a way that sent arrows of heat streaking through her, then slipped his hand around her hip to wedge it between her and the quilt, kneading the fleshy curve of her bottom. The motion of his fingers made her moan and roll into him, lifting her knee up over his thigh so his erection slid against her wet center.
“Allie,” he rasped, the tendons of his neck standing out. “You can’t be ready yet.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” She rocked her hips to stroke his cock.
“Condom,” he ground out, reaching around her to grab the envelope he’d tossed on the bed as he stripped out of his clothes.
“Allow me.” She took the foil packet out of his hand and tore it open, fitting the condom onto him and then stroking it slowly and sensually down over his erection.
“And that’s where I was imagining your fingers the whole time you were massaging my back.”
“So the therapist-patient relationship wasn’t working for either of us.” She danced her fingertips over his balls just to tease him.
“But this new relationship suits me just fine.” He pulled her knee higher so it rested on his hip and then guided himself into her with a single, strong thrust. They both let out long, inarticulate sounds of satisfaction as he seated himself within her.
> “I like this even better than your hand,” she said with a gasp.
He angled his forearm along the underside of her thigh and gripped her bottom to hold her in place while he flexed his hips to go deeper. For a moment he remained still so she could feel his heart pounding against her, hear his breath rasping in his throat, and look into the green depths of his eyes. It was a strange, profound moment of connection.
His grip tightened and he began to move, his pace slow but building, ratcheting the tension in her body a turn tighter each time he drove in. As sensation piled on sensation, she could no longer hold his gaze, letting her eyelids flutter closed to savor the feel of him filling the yearning inside her. He whispered her name, telling her how good it felt for him, how beautiful she was. And then his breath came in pants as he lost control, bringing them both to the edge with fast, powerful strokes. He came with a shout, pulsing hard inside her, his grip like steel on her buttock.
She shifted to bring her clit against the wiry hair at the base of his cock and ignited her own orgasm, her pelvis pushing into his as she shuddered into glorious release.
He loosened his hold on her behind, smoothing his palm over her skin as though to erase the feel of his fingers digging into her. Then he slipped out of her, sending more tremors rippling through her and dragging a long sigh from her throat. She heard the swish of a tissue being pulled from the box and knew he was removing the condom before he pivoted back and gathered her against him. She snuggled into his neck, inhaling the scent of clean, sweaty, satisfied male as the heat of his body enveloped her.
“Gavin.”
“Allie?” His voice was a rumble in her ear.
“Nothing. I just like your name.”
“Your name is not the thing I like most about you at this moment.” She could hear a smile in his voice, but when she felt the brush of his lips against her hair, tears prickled behind her eyelids.
To counteract her stupid reaction, she fished. “Which thing do you like most about me?”
“That would be hard to choose. I think it’s your entire lovely naked body wrapped around me.” He paused. “But you are focused on my name.”
The VIP Doubles Down (Wager of Hearts Book 3) Page 12