The VIP Doubles Down (Wager of Hearts Book 3)

by Nancy Herkness

  “One drawback to sex underwater.” She let her legs float apart in a shameless invitation and was rewarded when he slipped two fingers inside her, pushing them deep as he rubbed his thumb against her clitoris. There was pressure but no friction, making his invasion feel sensual and languorous.

  “Ahh,” she sighed out, tilting her head back to rest on his shoulder. With her pelvis locked in place by his hand and his cock, she could do nothing but drift in the sensations his questing fingers evoked.

  He rolled her nipple between his fingers, making it tighten and peak. “I love that the water makes you slippery so I can go harder,” he said. She felt as though he played her body like a violin with the strings stretched from her breasts to low in her belly.

  The wet skin of his chest slid against her back as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of her, making her buoyant body shift in the water. He flexed his hips in the same rhythm so his cock slid against her bottom. The motion created wavelets that stroked her skin, adding another sensation. His breath rasped past her ear as he moaned out her name.

  He crossed his arm over her breasts like a band. The strokes of his fingers drove her sensitive skin against the flat of his powerful forearm so the pressure eased and strengthened, eased and strengthened. Flares of pleasure added to the coil of arousal his skillful fingers were winding ever tighter.

  As she felt herself beginning to crest, she seized his wrist. “Not yet. I want you inside me.”

  “I don’t know if I can hold on long enough for that,” he said in a guttural voice she’d never heard before. She felt the heave of his lungs, but then he withdrew his fingers, the motion nearly sending her over the edge. She arched and gasped but clung to her control.

  He towed her with him to where their clothes lay and pulled a condom out of his trouser pocket. When she tried to take it from him, he moved it out of reach. “If you touch me, I’ll be gone.”

  As he rolled it on, she could see the tendons in his neck standing out in his battle to keep himself from coming. She relished knowing she had brought him to that point.

  “The shallow end,” he said, once again pulling her against him and plowing through the water.

  When the water was at his hips, he stopped. Allie liked what he was thinking and faced him, running her hands up his chest, just to feel the planes of his muscles. She smiled into the blazing green of his eyes as she slowly lay back in the water, letting it support her while she opened her thighs on either side of his.

  “My mermaid,” he murmured before she felt his hands curl around the outside of her thighs, pulling them wide as he positioned his cock between her legs. For a long moment, he stood there, gazing down at her, the tip of him brushing gently against her as the water lapped around them. The anticipation was exquisite as she waited to see whether he would take her fast or slowly.

  Gavin tightened his grip on Allie’s thighs as he fought the desire to drive himself into her with one hard thrust. He wanted to feel the connection she’d asked for. To be inside her. Her simple request had taken on more than the physical meaning.

  When he had regained enough control, he eased the tip of his cock into her slick heat, feeling the slide and clasp of her around him. As he pushed deeper, soft little gasps came from her throat, and he felt tremors run through her body, echoing the shudders shaking his own. He sank his fingers into the flesh of her thighs and opened them more so he could go in farther. When his balls were pressed against her, he stopped, feasting on the sight of her impaled on him, her thighs creamy against his darker skin, her red hair waving around her head like silk ribbons in a breeze, her breasts glistening like rain-wet peaches.

  She opened her eyes a slit and caught him staring. Her lips curved into a siren’s smile, and he felt her internal muscles tighten around his cock like a fist in a velvet glove. Every molecule in his body screamed for him to move.

  But he wasn’t ready to let go yet. He wanted to stay joined with her, part of her.

  She closed her eyes again. “I like having you there,” she said, almost as though she had read his mind. “You fill the longing.”

  “Tell me how it feels.”

  “It’s like a hollow ache, an emptiness that needs something inside it. Yet even when you’re there in me, it hungers for more.” She used the leverage of his hands on her and rocked against him. “It wants the motion, the release.”

  Her movement sparked a searing flare of desire. “And I want the same,” he said, pulling out of her and then thrusting back in so fast and hard he felt the resistance of the water between them.

  “Yes!” Her cry echoed off the glass walls. “Again!”

  He was nearly crazed with the effort of withholding his climax, but he flexed his hips back and forward again, making her breasts bob and her hair ripple.

  He rotated his hips so he hit her clit, and he felt her go still as she balanced on the edge of orgasm. Then she convulsed around him and triggered his release so fast that he barely had time to brace himself. He threw back his head and shouted as her clenching muscles seemed to pull his climax from every corner of his being.

  She gasped his name over and over, her body seizing and letting go, seizing and letting go, magnifying his pleasure.

  Finally, all he could feel were tiny shivers running through her, so he gently eased out. Even that movement made her moan.

  “Don’t let go of me,” she said, her West Virginia accent strong. “Or I’ll sink like a stone.”

  The ordinary request struck deep. He wanted to tell her that he would never let go. He was becoming a maudlin idiot.

  “There’s a lounge for two that has our name on it,” he said, shifting his grasp to her waist and tipping her upright.

  She draped her arms over his shoulders and buried her face against his chest. “You exploded my insides.”

  “That sounds gory and not at all pleasurable. And yet you seemed to enjoy it.”

  Her breath tickled his skin as she chuckled. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  “If you thought that was punishment, I guess handcuffs would be out of the question.”

  “As long as there are no whips in the room. I see enough real pain to find inflicting it the opposite of sexy.”

  He had a vision of her arms stretched up over her head with handcuffs gleaming on her wrists, her naked body stretched taut over a black velvet bedspread, and felt his cock begin to stir again.

  “I’ve always wanted to play bad cop.” He slipped his hands under her bottom and lifted her so he could walk up the steps of the pool. The feel of her most private parts against his abdomen added to his cock’s interest.

  “Does that make me the good cop?” Her head lay on his shoulder, and her wet hair streamed down her back like wet satin.

  “That makes you my prisoner to do with as I will.” He made it to the wide chaise longue and laid her on the striped canvas cushion. She curled up on her side. He stared down at the soft curves of her bottom and thighs. “And I will do many, many wicked things to you.”

  “Promise?” Her voice was sated and sleepy.

  “I considered it more of a threat.” He stretched out beside her and dragged the terry-cloth throw up from the foot of the chair to cover them. Sliding one knee between hers, he wrapped his arm around her waist to spoon against her back.

  She snuggled in close to him with a happy little hum, her skin still damp and slightly cool in contrast to the heat between her legs.

  As he lay there, Gavin felt as though the water had drained from his moat, the archers had wandered off the ramparts in search of some ale, and Julian had disassembled and packed up his sniper rifle. One small red-haired sprite had rendered his defenses useless.

  Chapter 22

  Allie came slowly awake in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, but with a familiar purring sound in her ears. She also recognized the feel of the male body she was cradled against. Then she remembered that they were in Southampton, in Gavin’s gigantic bedroom that faced the Atla
ntic Ocean. Which was why the morning sun was spearing brilliant rays of light through the french doors.

  She rolled within the circle of Gavin’s arm to discover that he was lying on his back with Pie ensconced on his chest, where the cat was enjoying the strokes of his clever fingers.

  “Morning,” he said, his voice rumbling under Pie’s purr. “I told Pie to keep it down or she would wake you.”

  “It’s your magic touch,” Allie said, fascinated by the sensuous way he caressed the little cat. “We can’t stop purring when you pet us.”

  He crooked a smug smile at her. “Your vocalizations last night were significantly louder than a purr, even Pie’s.”

  “You weren’t exactly Silent Sam yourself.”

  “I’m a writer. I feel the need to communicate.”

  “Most of your communication didn’t have any intelligible words in it.”

  After their romp in the pool, they’d made love on the chaise longue before returning to the house to greet Pie. The cat had made the trip with only one “incident,” which Ludmilla dismissed as nothing, but Allie still felt guilty.

  Despite Gavin’s assurances that they would work like dogs, they’d frittered away the rest of the day on a tour of the spectacular mansion, a walk on the wind-smoothed beach, and a candlelit gourmet dinner for two. It was like a deliciously romantic movie with Gavin cast as the hero, his mockery turned to charm, his snark turned to laughter, and his pain banished to a mere shadow lurking in the depths of his eyes. She felt herself falling deeper and deeper under his dark wizard’s spell.

  Through it all he’d never stopped touching her, which had led to uninhibited lovemaking in his huge bed for half the night. Allie stretched, feeling a few sore spots, but mostly utter, bone-deep satisfaction. As the emotional barriers came down between them, the physical connection became more profound and intense.

  She must have made a noise of some sort, because Pie reached out and patted her cheek with one soft paw. “I can see that she’s having a tough time settling in here.”

  “Wherever you are is her home.”

  “Me and some tuna.”

  “Don’t undersell yourself,” Gavin said in a surprisingly serious tone.

  “You notice who she’s lying on top of.”

  “I’m simply a large flat surface generating heat . . . and petting.” He picked the cat up with one hand and gently set her down beside him before dragging Allie halfway on top of him to kiss her. His hands drifted up and down her back, each stroke going lower until he was caressing the curve of her bottom. “But I’d much rather pet you.”

  She had enough sense left to pull her mouth away from the temptation of his firm, warm lips. “Nope. Today we have work to do.”

  Ignoring her protest, he slid one finger between her legs from behind, sending a tendril of arousal spiraling through her. “Stop,” she gasped as he grazed his fingertip over her most sensitive spot. There was nothing she could do to prevent him from feeling the liquid heat of her reaction.

  “You’re saying no, but I’m getting another message here,” he said, slipping his finger partway inside her.

  Her body betrayed her utterly as her nipples hardened against the solid planes of his chest.

  He whispered against the whorls of her ear, “Let me give you just one little orgasm. Think of it as a prebreakfast treat.”

  His finger was doing wicked things against and inside her, and she felt the tightening deep within. She nodded against his chest, her cheek rasping against the dapple of hair there. “One . . . little . . . orgasm.”

  He shifted her farther up his body and spread her legs open so they lay on either side of his. Then he used his hand to drive her to the crest and over the edge of release as he told her how much he loved to make her come.

  As she lay gasping, her body draped over his like a blanket, he sucked her liquid off his fingers. “More delicious than the finest brandy,” he said, licking his lips.

  “This time of day it should be orange juice,” she said.

  His fingers found her buttock with a light squeeze. “I’m trying to be seductive, and you talk about Tropicana.”

  “Hey, no bruising the fruit.” She rolled off him to sprawl on her back. “You keep turning my bones to jelly, so I can’t move.”

  “That’s my nefarious plan. If you can’t move, then I can do this.” He rolled over and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

  She’d thought her body was entirely wrung out, but the heat of Gavin’s mouth made her arch up into him as electric sparks showered through her.

  He lifted his head to grin down at her. “You moved.”

  “Pure involuntary reflex.”

  “What would happen if I kissed you down—”

  As he began to scoot lower, Allie twined her fingers in his hair and tugged upward. “Have mercy.”

  He kissed her belly button. “Begging now. That’s what I like to hear.”

  “Go take a shower and leave me alone to recover.”

  He lay propped on his elbow, looking down at her. “The shower is plenty big enough for both of us. In fact, we could invite several friends and still fit in it.”

  “A shower orgy?” Allie shook her head. “Nope, solo showers only today. I remember what happened the last time we got wet together.”

  “Ah, you’re always wet when we’re together.” His eyes gleamed with a wicked light, but he gently pulled the sheet over her and rolled out of bed.

  She wasn’t so wiped out that she couldn’t enjoy every stride he took across the room, the muscles in his tight butt flexing, his long thighs thick with sinew, and the back she knew so well rippling as he turned his head to catch her watching him. He grinned and kept walking.

  Pie climbed onto her stomach and sat down to blink at her. Allie had a moment of disorientation at the sight of her gray rescue cat in the midst of the luxurious furnishings of Gavin’s bedroom, with its multimillion-dollar view. Neither she nor the cat belonged here, yet they were both making themselves at home. “We shouldn’t get too comfortable,” Allie warned Pie. “Fairy tales never last.”

  After breakfast in another sun-drenched room that overlooked the beach, Allie dragged Gavin into the office. As had happened in the city, a second desk had been set up for her, and she settled into the chair with a sigh of relief. When she had a desk to sit at, she knew where she fit into Gavin’s world.

  He prowled around the room, picking up and setting down various objects. She swiveled her chair around. “Either sit down or find another room to pace in,” she said. “You’re making me twitchy.”

  He looked up from the small glass display case he was holding. “I was considering writing in longhand again today.”

  “Does that actually help?”

  He showed her the case, which held a single black pen. “Stephen King wrote an entire book with this Waterman fountain pen. He says it’s the world’s finest word processor.”

  The case had a small handwritten card displayed in it. Allie peered at the writing.

  To Gavin. In the event of emergency, break glass. Best, Steve

  “Stephen King gave his special pen to you?”

  “We were at an awards ceremony together and got to talking about writer’s block. Back then, I couldn’t even imagine it. He warned me that it gets us all eventually.” Gavin’s lips twisted. “Afterward, he sent me this as a talisman to ward it off.”

  Allie ran her finger along the case. “I’m surprised you haven’t used it already.”

  “I was afraid it wouldn’t work, and then I would have exhausted my last resort.” He returned the pen to the shelf beside his desk and sat down, eyeing his computer as though it were a coiled rattlesnake.

  Allie stood up. “How about I give you a nice shoulder rub? But it’s not physical therapy, just to be clear.”

  His smile mixed gratitude with seduction. “I prefer to think of it as a sensuous massage from one lover to another.”

  “Whatever works for you.” But his words str
oked over her skin as she put her hands on his shoulders. He was wearing one of his seemingly endless supply of black cashmere sweaters over a pair of jeans, a look she particularly liked on him. Not to mention that the feel of his powerful muscles under the soft, expensive fabric was a treat all by itself.

  As she kneaded his neck, she gave herself permission to evaluate his condition from a PT point of view. It was significantly improved from her first encounter with him. His body was coming back into balance, and the knots in his muscles were easier to work out. He should have come to Southampton sooner, since it was clearly good for him.

  He moaned appreciatively as she worked, flinching only once when she hit an especially tender spot. After ten minutes, she switched to stroking him softly and bent to plant a kiss on his nape. “Now you should be relaxed enough to face the computer.”

  He reached back to catch one of her hands in his, bringing it around to press his lips into her palm. “Thank you,” he said. There was such a freight of emotions in those two words. Gratitude, fear, resignation, and maybe, she thought, an acknowledgment that her presence helped him.

  She blinked several times at the tears burning behind her eyelids and slid her hand from his grasp. “Glad it felt good.”

  “Anytime you touch me it feels good.”

  The tears stung her eyes again. She returned to her own desk, swallowing against the clot of longing in her throat. She wanted him to feel more than just pleasure at her touch.

  She opened the files and began to work, although every now and then she slid a surreptitious glance over her shoulder to see what Gavin was doing. First, he clicked through what she assumed were e-mails, tapping out a short burst before scrolling onward. Then he sat scowling at the screen. Either it was an annoying e-mail or he was trying to work on Julian.

  She pulled her attention back to her computer and got engrossed in reconciling some timeline discrepancies. As she finished correcting the various days and times, she realized she was hearing steady typing emanating from Gavin’s direction. She sneaked a look and discovered he was gazing at the screen with fierce concentration but no frown. Angling her chair, she pretended to be searching through some paper notes while in reality, she watched him.