Game Player

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Game Player Page 11

by B. J. Harvey


  “Matt . . .” she chastises, and I meet her eyes with a smirk.

  “What?” I put on my best innocent look, but I know she doesn’t buy it.

  “Behave. You promised me dinner,” she says, walking over to the breakfast bar and putting her purse on the counter.

  Needing to touch her and definitely needing to kiss her, I walk over and put the Spirelli’s bag on the counter behind her while backing her into it.

  “How are you?” I ask, as I snake my arms around her waist and pull her hips into mine.

  “Good,” she replies, and I drop my lips to hers and give her a soft, slow kiss. She opens her lips and loops her arms over my shoulders, melting into me and kissing me back.

  Feeling the need to stop kissing her before I get carried away, I ease back and move my hands up her sides before cupping her jaw.

  “I need to feed you,” I say distractedly, as my eyes roam over her face and gravitate to her lips again.

  “You do.” She doesn’t move—in fact, she tightens her arms around my neck to hold me to her.

  “How was your day?”

  “Started out okay. Hopefully it’ll end as a ‘bend me over and fuck me till I like it’ kind of one.”

  “Isn’t that every day for you?” I ask, the image of Mia on her knees and my cock pounding into her now forefront in my mind.

  “You saying you can’t help me out with that?” she asks with a sly smile.

  “It wouldn’t be right to leave you hanging in your time of need.”

  “Definitely not,” she whispers against my lips, but when I move to deepen the kiss she moves her mouth out of my reach.

  “But first you need to feed me, remember?”

  “Now that I can do,” I reply, kissing her lips, then the hinge of her jaw before backing away and moving into the kitchen to serve up the food.

  “Noah called today,” I say casually, as I lead her over to my small dining table.

  “Yeah?” She takes a seat in front of the plate of lasagna I’ve dished up.

  I take the seat opposite her and pick up my cutlery. “He told me Zoe thinks Cade stayed over Saturday night,” I continue.

  “Mmhmm.” She lifts a forkful of lasagna to her mouth. I pierce her with a glare, my patience waning.

  “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

  She swallows, and I don’t miss the fact that she looks away from me before she replies, “It’s easier this way.”

  “What way? To make everyone think you’re sleeping with Cade instead of me?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s . . . it’s just complicated.”

  “Then let’s uncomplicate it by telling everyone that we’re seeing each other.”

  “Are we though?” she asks

  “Are we what?” My brows narrow, and I wait for her to explain.

  “You don’t do this, Matt. It’s not your thing. Sex, yes. Dating and relationships? Definitely not.”

  I don’t hesitate in answering her because there’s no question in my mind why I haven’t done it before—haven’t wanted to do it before. “Ever think that maybe I didn’t want to do it with anyone else?”

  “What?” she gasps.

  “You heard me,” I say, taking another mouthful.

  She stares at me, scanning my face. “Matt, you don’t have to bullshit me, okay?”

  Now I start to get angry. “I have not lied to you, Mia. I told you after the hockey game what I wanted. I told you again at Nat’s party. I want to see where this goes between us. I want you to give me a chance too.”

  “I . . . I didn’t think you were serious.”

  “C’mon Legs, there is no fucking way you couldn’t have known. I fucked you without a condom. You yourself guided my cock inside you. There was no mistaking what that was. It obviously meant a fuck of a lot more to me than it did to you.”

  She drops her fork, slides her chair and walks over to me, dropping to her knees beside me.

  “Matt, please look at me.” Her voice is soft and when I feel her hand rest on my arm, I look down at her. “It did mean something. I was an idiot. Do you think we could keep this to ourselves, just for a little bit longer though? I don’t want shit from Zander or Zoe or Dani. I want to see where this goes, but you’re gonna have to cut me some slack. I don’t do this either.”

  I take in her gentle eyes, not missing the silent plea in them.

  With that one look, I know I’ll do anything she wants. If she wants time, I’ll give her that.

  For a little while, at least.

  “Okay, but it’s you and me. No more dates, no other men. Nothing but me and you. Agreed?”

  She gives me a wicked grin. “That goes for you too, player.” Then she winks at me and gives me a lasagna-flavored hard kiss on the lips before returning to her feet and her seat.

  Once we finish eating, we move to the couch and after trying—and failing—to play the gentleman role and watch Netflix without making a move on her, I hook my arm under her knees and pull her into my lap before proceeding to kiss her until she squirms against my cock and her eyes beg me to take her.

  “I wanna ask you something,” I say, trying to calm myself down long enough to get what I want out of her.

  “Anything . . .” she murmurs, her lips moving down my chin, my jaw, and nipping my earlobe. She’s fucking gagging for it, and I desperately want to give it to her. But I need to press forward with this.

  “Mia, I need you to concentrate, just for a second.”

  “I thought I was,” she whispers, sounding amused.

  I place my hand under her chin and tilt her head toward me. “I’m being serious.”

  Her eyes grow wide, and I can’t miss the wariness creeping in.

  “My parents are having a party to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary.”

  “Yeah, Zoe was telling me about it,” she replies.

  “I’d like you to come with me,” I say, my heart beating wickedly as I wait for her answer. What she might not realize is that if she says yes, it will be giving her time a deadline.

  “When is it?”

  “Three weeks from Saturday.”

  “Okay,” she says, sounding unsure before she clears her throat. She touches her lips to mine before repeating, “Okay.”

  “Fuck, you’re every man’s hottest fantasy,” I murmur against her throat, running my lips along her skin and loving the way her pulse speeds up against my tongue.

  “So fucking hot,” I groan. She gives a contented sigh, and fuck if I don’t feel it right down at the base of my dick. “Enough talking,” she says, reaching between us and wrapping her hand around my cock. I swear the fucker twitches in agreement and throbs in her hand in silent request, one which she thankfully grants as her hand glides up and down my shaft.

  “Come with me,” I say, and I nip her collarbone and suck the skin between my lips. I want to mark her, make people see that she’s mine. It’s irrational but our conversation from earlier has stuck in my mind. She’s treading cautiously—I get that—but it also goes against her nature. In the years I’ve known her, she’s never been one to shy away from attention. She lays it out, she doesn’t bullshit anyone, and she may date a lot, but I’ve also never known her to actually be in a relationship with anyone. This is unheard of for a woman as downright gorgeous as she is. I can’t work out what’s causing her reservations when it comes to men in general.

  But I’m sure as fuck certain that I’m going to find out what they are and obliterate them until everybody knows what’s going on between us.

  “Right now or to the party?” she asks with a sly grin.

  “Both.”

  “Deal.”

  Step one—the anniversary party.

  It’s been two weeks since Matt and I became a thing. I don’t know what kind of thing it is exactly, but I know that no penises other than his can enter my vagina, and his cock can definitely not go near any other snatch.

  That being said, it’s also been two weeks o
f freaking amazing, out-of-this-world, blow-the-top-of-my-head-off sex. Just last night I was hanging backwards off the bed while Matt rode me on his knees. Never have I neglected my vibrators for this long, but I’ve had no need for them. In all honesty, some mornings I can barely walk straight, but I at least do it with a huge smile on my face.

  I’m preparing Nate’s lunch when the front door handle rattles. I spin around to check the time, because the last I saw the clock it was twelve fifteen p.m. and there’s no way either Zoe or Noah could be home yet.

  “Hello?” I call out from the kitchen. I look over to Nate, who is busy devouring a piece of apple, gumming the fruit like it’s the best thing since sliced bread.

  “Hey, Legs. It’s just me,” Matt replies loudly, his voice echoing in the large entranceway of his brother’s home.

  “Who’s that, Nate?” I ask my nephew, and he claps his hands and bounces in his high chair just as Matt walks around the corner into the kitchen.

  My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. He’s wearing a black wife-beater and faded blue jeans, and fuck if it doesn’t make me weak at the knees. In his hands is a big white paper bag that I’m guessing has food in it.

  “This is a surprise,” I say. I watch in nervous anticipation as he walks right up to me, wraps his arm around my back and lays a hot, wet kiss on me. The smell of musky, sweaty man mixed with wood and dust overwhelms my senses, and all I can think about are his rough hands dragging against my skin.

  Then I tense in shock that he’s being so brazen and completely open with his public—okay, semi-public—display of affection.

  “Matt,” I whisper warningly, but the grin on his face tells me he doesn’t give a fuck.

  “What?” he whispers back, kissing my neck gently in the exact spot that drives me wild before stepping away and placing the bag of food on the island in front of us.

  “Not in front of Nate.”

  “Why the f-fudge not?” he asks back, and I forget my annoyance for a second at his refusal to swear in front of his nephew. This is Matt, the man who can swear the pants off a pirate, and he has never sworn once in front of his nephew. Mainly because there is a bet going as to who will be the one to teach Nate his first curse word and how old he’ll be when he says it. With Zoe and I around him so much, we have the best odds.

  I throw my hands up. “I dunno. Who knows if Zo and Noah have Nanny Cam or whatever the f—” I catch myself before continuing, “fudge it’s called.”

  “You’re adorable, Legs. If they’ve got Nanny Cam, it would only be so those two kinky perverts could record themselves f—fudging on the couch for future viewing.”

  “Ew. That’s too much information.”

  “Just thought you should know,” he says, chuckling under his breath. He walks over to Nate and picks him up, lifting him high in the air, and my ovaries contract at the sight of a giggling Nate getting raspberries blown on his tummy by my hot as fuck boyf—man-thing.

  “Don’t get him too excited. I still need to get him down for a nap after lunch,” I warn.

  “Do you want a nap, Nate?” Matt asks in a baby voice. If there is anything on this earth that will combust panties and have you on your knees begging to give pleasure, it would be seeing Matt Taylor baby talk.

  Jesus fudging Christ, is it hot in here?

  Nate just giggles at his uncle and I grin a goofy smile, one I unfortunately fail to hide by the time Matt’s put Nate back in the high chair and turned to me. “What’s that look for?”

  I shake my head and try to calm my breathing. “I’m okay. Maybe just a little tired.”

  He smirks and looks to Nate, shaking his head. “Your Meemee is silly. We know she’s thinking naughty thoughts about me, don’t we buddy?”

  He has to stop with the hot cuteness. I’m about to spontaneously combust here.

  “Behave, Matt.”

  “Or what, Legs?”

  “Or I’ll close said legs for business,”

  “You try and you’ll find yourself calling off work because you won’t be able to use them.” Woman down. I repeat. W.O.M.A.N down.

  I stop cutting up fruit for Nate’s lunch and grab the countertop to hold myself up, all the possibilities of how Matt would punish me for closing the downtown playground flashing behind my eyes.

  “Stop,” I say on a groan.

  Thankfully, he gives me a break, and ruffles Nate’s hair before walking back to me. “You hungry?” he asks, seemingly unaffected by the banter that has me needing a middle-of-the-day panty change. I put Nate’s food on his tray and hand him a crustless sandwich to suck on.

  “I could eat,” I reply with a shrug. Matt’s lips twitch, and I know he can see through my attempt and being cool, calm and collected. “Is that why you came over?”

  “Can’t a guy bring his girlfriend lunch?” he asks.

  Girlfriend . . . girlfriend? Guys like Matt do not say words like girlfriend.

  I watch him pull out two Saran-wrapped sandwiches from the bag on the counter and decide that completely avoiding the girlfriend issue is probably for the best at this juncture. “I didn’t think you got that long for lunch.”

  “Aww, Legs, you’re always welcome to come see me at work. In fact, I’d welcome a nooner from you any time.” I narrow my eyes at him and he just winks at me, handing out one of the sandwiches.

  “Matt,” I warn. “I wouldn’t do anything like that on a building site.”

  He laughs, taking a bite of his lunch and chewing before replying. I get lost watching his jaw moving, his throat . . .

  Get a grip, Mia.

  “We both know you’d be game for anything, Legs, but I could never do you on site. It would give the guys too much eye candy, and then they’d never finish on time.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re hot—they’re construction workers and they notice hot women. Doesn’t matter if they know you’re mine, they’d still be thinking about what’s under that skirt and how those tits would feel pressed up against them.” His words may not be pretty, but there’s no denying the meaning behind them.

  “Oh . . .”

  “Fu…fudge you’re cute,” he says, leaning over the counter to grab my neck and hold me still while he gives me a hard and fast kiss. Just the lip touch sends jolts of heat between my legs. Totally not appropriate when I’m looking after my nephew.

  “Behave,” I murmur against his lips as his eyes dance with amusement.

  “Okay,” he replies before giving one last kiss and moving back to his lunch.

  Once Nate has finished destroying his food,, and spreading it as far as his hands can reach, I clean him up, heat his bottle and leave Matt in the kitchen while I go upstairs and put the small child down for his nap.

  Ten minutes later, having left a very dopey-eyed and almost sleeping Nate upstairs in his cot, I make my way back downstairs to find Matt and Dani sitting in the kitchen.

  “Dani,” I say on a shriek when I turn the corner.

  “Meems,” she says suspiciously, and I can’t read her tone—something that normally comes as second nature. “Seems today is visiting day in the Taylor household.”

  “Matt just called ’round to see Nate,” I reply quickly. I don’t miss Matt’s head jerking back, or Dani’s eyes widening and a smirk slowly growing on her lips.

  “Is that so? See, Matt was just telling me how he brought you lunch, seeing as you two are seeing each other.”

  “He what?” I glare at Matt, who just lifts a can of soda to his mouth and shrugs.

  “We’re not . . . seeing each other, that is. It’s not what you think,” I quickly try to explain.

  Danika quirks an eyebrow at me. “Mia Roberts, do not stand there and lie to your favorite sister’s face.”

  “You’re not my favorite sister.”

  “Am too.”

  “Right now you’re not,” I retort, crossing my arms defiantly in front of me.

  “That’s because you’re doing exactly what Matt said you
’d do by denying it.”

  “What?” I say slowly, my voice high-pitched. I deliver an evil death glare to my boy . . . whatever the fudge he is.

  “I think I should go,” Matt announces as he stands up straight and takes his soda can and sandwich wrapping, stuffs it back into the white paper bag and walks over to the trash bin.

  Then he has the audacity to walk over to me, wrap an arm around my shoulders and say, “See ya, Dani. Mia’s just gonna walk me out.”

  “I bet she is,” Dani mutters under her breath as Matt leads me out of the kitchen and toward the front door.

  As soon as I’m out of sight, I shrug his arm off and turn to face him, stopping us in our tracks. “You told her,” I hiss.

  “I did. I didn’t think it was a secret anymore.”

  “You said you’d give me time.”

  He steps forward and wraps his arms around my hips, pulling me into him. My hands press against his chest but he just tightens his hold on me. “We’re good, Mia. This . . .” he says with a squeeze, “is good. How much longer do you need?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to know.” I look over his shoulder and take a deep breath.

  He releases me and moves back quickly. I struggle to regain my balance but steady myself. He runs his hand through his hair, and I don’t miss his tight jaw and tense shoulders.

  “Matt . . .”

  “I’ve gotta get back on site,” he says dismissively. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Matt!”

  He doesn’t answer me; he just walks out the front door.

  I watch him go, my stomach sinking. He was sexy and fun and carefree with me, then with Dani, he was the same. But the change in his body language when I intimated I needed more time makes me uneasy. He’s losing patience.

  What did I expect though? It’s Matt. He’s never been one to move slow; even his conquests are an exercise in smash and conquer. I even witnessed him in action one night at Throb. He didn’t know I was there and I swear to god, it only took him ten minutes to go from hi to hello.

  I remember that I still have a sisterly inquisition to suffer through, so begrudgingly, I return to the kitchen where Dani has made us coffee. She hands me the baby monitor and walks ahead of me through the French doors at the back of the house and out toward the chairs surrounding Noah and Zoe’s pool—waterfall and all. I don’t miss her texting furiously on her phone and hurriedly replying to texts she gets back.

 

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