ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3)

by Christie Ridgway

  The marriage? Her brain continued to resist understanding. “Is this about the ugly upholstery choice and how I said your plaid furniture and I cannot exist under the same roof?”

  He didn’t appear amused and leaned forward, his gaze trained on her face. “I’m just not sure if we’re right for each other anymore, Will.”

  There was nothing solid beneath her. “You just said you love me!”

  “I do, I swear. That’s never going to change. But…you and me? Man and wife?”

  Her mouth moved and nothing came out. Hot tears stung her eyes.

  “Willow,” he said, his voice hoarse. Pleading. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Is this for real?”

  “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

  “You…you want to break up? Break our engagement?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Maybe…maybe not so drastic. Not yet. Not now.”

  “What’s going on?” She shook her head, trying to understand. “What is going on?”

  He winced. “I think we should take a breather. Like a…like a liberty in the Marines.”

  “You mean not see each other for a few days…weeks?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “A good amount of time to get some clarity.”

  “Clarity.” She felt temper reheating. “I see it all pretty clear already. You say you want ‘liberty.’ That’s freedom.”

  “Willow. Calm down.”

  “Calm down?”

  “I need to get my thoughts in order, okay? I need a little quiet and a little space for that.”

  “It seems to me there’s been plenty of space between us lately. And that your thoughts are saying dump Willow.”

  He just looked at her, a pained expression in his eyes.

  But her mad wasn’t subsiding and his pain wasn’t going to alleviate the temper she felt was more than well-deserved after this sudden need for a change after a four-year engagement. Four years! “How clean do you want this break?” she demanded, rising to her feet. “What obligations to each other do you expect us to have?”

  “After this,” he said miserably, “I suppose I don’t expect anything from you, Will. I know what I’ve done…I just don’t know what to do differently.”

  “Well, then.” Her right fingers went to her ring. What else could she do? With a wrench, she pulled it off her hand and let it drop to the floor. As angry as she felt, the tears gathering behind her eyes were not going to be stopped, so it was time to flee before making herself feel like more of a fool.

  Her throat closed around any final parting shot she had for him, her first love.

  A deep sense of betrayal walked out Brad’s door along with her.

  At full dark, Cooper sat on the dock, jeans rolled up, bare feet dangling in the cool water. Night insects hummed and then he heard a rhythmic swish-splash as a small light moved above the surface of the lake in his direction. Bemused, he watched it approach, finally discerning it was a man standing on a paddleboard. Their neighbor Saul Russell, wearing a ball cap with a miner’s headlight attached, stroked closer, his teeth flashing white as he came closer.

  “Ahoy, Cooper!” A lean seventy, he’d retired to his lakeside property after teaching math at the community college for forty years.

  “Back at you, Saul.”

  The older man balanced easily on the smooth water. “Lots of pretty women draped all over your dock this afternoon. Too bad you missed them.”

  “I was here.” Though after his conversation with the designer in the garage, he’d taken off for a long walk. Via text, he’d asked his sister if she and Willow could catch a ride back to Sawyer Beach with one of the other women.

  “You must be losing your touch, son,” Saul said. “Why I remember you having girls hanging on you since you were fourteen years old. A new one every few days.”

  Cooper shrugged. “That’s me, always somebody new.”

  “Jobs too. Never knew a kid who took on so much and according to your mother, that’s not different now. What are you up to again?”

  “I run a brew pub in Sawyer Beach, one that offers retro games for entertainment.”

  “That sounds interesting. How’d you come up with the idea?”

  “Suits me and my one personal strength,” Cooper said, “of always seeking pleasure.”

  Saul paddled closer. “Now that sounds like your father talking.”

  Ugh. “Don’t mix me up with my brother Beau. He’s the Dad-clone.”

  “You’re not so different from him either.”

  Cooper didn’t know whether to shudder or laugh. “Don’t tell him that, Saul. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t sit well with me, either. We’re not at all alike. Dad did all those decades of Monday through Friday, eight-to-five, behind a desk in an office. That was what he wanted, sure, but it’s never going to be for me.”

  “Because you’re the seeker-of-pleasure.”

  “Right.” Cooper drew his feet out of the water and came to a stand, strangely relieved that the older man understood his nature. “Always looking for a good time.”

  “Seeking,” Saul said in a musing tone. “Always looking.” He lifted his paddle to point it at Cooper. “That sounds like a constant slog to me.”

  Cooper laughed. “Saul—”

  “I’ve known you a long time, Cooper Daggett. You’ve always been toiling whether it be at another job or at charming the next woman.”

  He laughed again, more uneasy this time. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.” Suggesting the old man find himself an engrossing hobby didn’t seem very neighborly of him.

  “You only need to listen.” Saul paddled closer still, nearly blinding Cooper with his cyclops-light. “I’m an old guy, sure, but that means I have important information to impart.”

  Cooper suppressed a roll of his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

  “You need to slow down, young man. Take a breath. Take stock. Pause long enough to see where you are.”

  “It’s the lake house, Saul,” he replied, smiling. “And if I’m not mistaken, we both could use a beer, or better yet, some nourishing food.”

  Saul shook his head, the light moving back and forth like a bottom-heavy firefly. “I’m not wrong, son. Because without me, you’d probably miss that.” Paddle lifting again, he pointed over Cooper’s shoulder.

  With sudden apprehension, he turned slowly. The movement seemed to take a year, and the entire time he knew, to his marrow, who would be there, drifting down the dock toward him. Willow.

  Maybe he’d scented her on the breeze or conjured her from a pool of secret desire. But she was real enough, he decided, as she came to a stop a foot away from him. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, glancing past him.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Another round of swish-splash let him know Saul was already retreating in the direction of his own dock, thank God. Cooper cleared his throat. “What are you doing here? Did you leave something behind this afternoon?”

  She tucked her fingers into the front pockets of jeans that were cropped above the ankle. She wore them with a pale top that showed white in the meager glow cast from a light illuminating the steps that led up to the house. Her feet were bare.

  That seemed significant enough to cause his gut to tighten. “Willow?”

  “Sophie said you’d decided to spend the night here.”

  He moved his gaze to her face, shadowed by the night so that her eyes were unfathomable and her mouth a dark rose.

  “It’s peaceful here. Quiet.” Not that he’d wanted to think. Or remember. Everything he’d said to her in the garage might have been true, but that didn’t make it any less unsettling.

  “Perfect for what I have in mind. We’ll have privacy.” Willow stepped forward.

  Concerned, he stepped back. “Uh…”

  “I want to have sex with you.”

  A jolt shook his nervous system. His ears rang. A hearing problem, that must be it. “I’m sorry…what?”
<
br />   “Let’s have sex.”

  Ignoring the jump of his pulse, he peered more closely through the evening darkness, trying to discern the expression on her face. Then he could feel something, a wave of desperation nearly as easy to scent as her perfume. “What’s happened?”

  Her arms flew out from her sides. “I’m free!”

  “Free?”

  “No longer part of a couple,” she explained with false cheer, her arms dropping.

  “Yeah?” His brows rose. “What does Brad have to say about that?”

  “It was his idea!” The gaiety in her voice held a brittle edge. “We’re on a breather. Broken up.”

  What the hell? “There’s a big difference between the two, sweetheart.”

  “Is there?” She shrugged. “I’ve never been dumped before. This is a first. But he said he wanted time off and there were no obligations between us.”

  Shit, Cooper thought. Simple last-minute cold feet? But it wasn’t like the guy had picked out his tuxedo. They hadn’t even set a damn wedding date.

  “So I’m free to explore my sexual side with someone else.” She sidled up to him, and placed her hand on his chest.

  Burning it, like a brand.

  She tilted her head, whispered, “Don’t you want to?”

  Enough that he’d chew his hand off to have her. Which was terrifying, come to think of it. Effing unprecedented. He groaned. “Sweetheart…”

  She patted his chest, as if trying to comfort him. But that’s what she needed, he figured. God damn that ex of hers. Already doubting, already hurting, Willow had been delivered another blow by the man.

  Cooper’s hand reached for her hair, offering his own solace as he ran it lightly over the cool strands. “I can…make you some tea. Or call Sophie. Someone else like your foster mom maybe?”

  Her body stiffened. “No one else. I don’t want pity tonight.”

  He dropped his head back, took in the sky with the pinpoints of starlight. No help there.

  “I don’t want to think,” she said fiercely. “It’s simple. I want to have string-less, for-pleasure-only sex.”

  Oh, Willow. With his hands, he cupped her face. “Maybe I’m not the right guy for that.”

  “You’re the perfect guy for that!” She wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “No commitment. Fun and games. You’ve said it yourself numerous times in numerous ways.”

  “Yeah, okay, but…” At the moment, with her so near, he couldn’t think himself out of a paper bag.

  “Admit it. You’re the ideal one-night stand.”

  “Not really.” His style wasn’t quite that…loose. Women he bedded were women he actually knew to some degree, not just-met pick-ups. And yeah, he knew Willow, but that made her even more dangerous. “No.”

  “I don’t want to hear that word,” Willow said. “Don’t make me find some anonymous man at a bar.”

  Shit. The terror of that had him sliding his hands to her shoulders and drawing her closer.

  The damn woman took the opportunity to reach for his head and pull it down. “You said you’d show me how beautiful you find my body,” she whispered.

  Then she kissed him.

  Her mouth was soft and tasted like plums. How could that be? But he explored the flavor, his blood beginning to buzz and desire flashing heat across his skin.

  His hands slid down her back to her bottom, gathering her closer to him, so that his hardening cock met the warmth of her, instinct causing it to seek its greatest desire. At the contact, his whole body shuddered, and he thought, I’m in big trouble, then, more.

  Somehow they made it to the house, kissing all the way, as if their mouths couldn’t bear to be apart. He nipped her chin and ran his stubble across her cheek to her ear, biting down as she moaned and clutched at him, her hands finding their way beneath his shirt.

  They stumbled across the threshold like drunks, careening in the direction of the hallway to the bedrooms. The twin bed in the blue room would do, he thought, his brain hazy, as he pushed her inside, then stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. She was staring at him, the low light from the small bedside lamp turning her face golden, the curve of her cheek perfect, the curl of her eyelashes entrancing.

  “Get naked,” he said, making it an order.

  She jumped, then flushed, her hands going to the hem of her own shirt. He watched as she revealed her flat belly, a white bra, and then she pulled it over her head. Her gaze on him again, he saw her draw back her shoulders, her breasts on display.

  Appreciative, and not trying to hide it, he eyed them with all the lust boiling inside him. She wanted this to be a physical event, then he’d take it to that level.

  He had to take it to that level. Keep it only there.

  His pants went next, and she matched him move-for-move, her breath coming fast. He sounded like a freight train in his own ears.

  Her hands hesitated at the belly band of a pair of tiny bikini panties. “Leave them,” he said, pushing down his briefs and stepping out. With his cock standing at full attention, he stalked forward.

  Willow edged back, her eyes wide. She panted as the back of her knees met the mattress.

  With a growl he took her down to it.

  God. He squeezed shut his eyes, the feel of her hot, smooth skin against his so good he felt flames rise inside of him, a consuming fire that made his bachelor instincts sound the alarm. But one taste of her skin silenced them.

  He continued licking her, taking his time, taking the flavor of her into his mouth as she squirmed. “Be still,” he said, ordering again, and she stared at him, body quiet but flesh quivering. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

  All of it. All of her.

  He pulled the cups of her bra over her breasts and touched the tip of his tongue to the tip of one hardened nipple. She cried out, her hands going into his hair and he laved harder, then sucked the sweet treat into his mouth, letting her feel the edge of his teeth.

  Her hips lifted and her legs eased apart. Moving between them, he paid attention to her other nipple, getting it as wet and hard as the first. Another shudder ran down his spine as he lifted his head and took her in, all boneless and blushing.

  For him.

  For tonight.

  With that thought at the forefront, he eyed her with a stern gaze, then reared back, still between her thighs but on his knees. “Take off the rest.”

  She swallowed, but then obeyed, sitting up so she could unclasp the bra. Then she tried to shift her legs to remove the panties at once.

  “Willow,” he said, shaking his head. “Not like that. A single leg at a time.”

  The flush deepened on her face.

  And he watched, avidly, as she edged down elastic toward her hip and then lifted one knee toward her chest to slip that side free. The movement exposed her pussy, wet and swollen, and he breathed in the creamy-spicy scent of it, his cock pulsing against his stomach. The other side was done with more languor—she knew what she was doing to him now, that little smile on her lips was proof of it.

  When she lay back he took his time studying her nakedness—the curves, the colors, the glint of wetness that trickled onto her thighs.

  “Beautiful,” he said, and reached to swipe a fingertip through the liquid arousal. She quivered as he then took it to his mouth.

  “You taste beautiful too.”

  “Cooper.” She moaned his name and he rewarded her by rearranging her legs, spreading her thighs and bending her knees so he could look again. Longer.

  “You promised to make me beg,” she said. “This is me, begging.”

  He met her gaze, smiled, sly. “Nice try, baby, but not even close.”

  Then he started on her. Started again with his mouth on her breasts, then moved his mouth down her arms to her hands. He sucked each finger, laved each fingertip. She squirmed, her thighs closing around the outside of his, until he gave her a look that had her moaning again.

  God, yes, beyond beautiful.

  He ex
plored farther, kissing the undersides of her breasts, tickling her ribs with his tongue, swirling it around her belly button. Her head thrashed from side-to-side and he held her hips to the mattress as he scooted lower.

  She made a noise, half-need, half-protest and he smiled against the skin above the rise of her mons. His tongue slid along soft, wet flesh and he burrowed deeper there, exploring, circling, gently lashing at her clit as she struggled against his hold while making encouraging noises at the same time.

  Moans.

  The sounds of pleasure that fueled his own arousal.

  He lay flat against the sheets, maddened by the brush of cotton against his sensitized erection. His palm slid up the inside of her thigh and he slid a finger inside her lush heat. Her body closed around his intrusion and she cried out. His eyes rolled back in his head, undone by the sensation of her tight wet channel surrounding him.

  God, he wanted her.

  He settled for another finger, then three, lifting his head to watch as she cried out again, her full lower lip sucked into her mouth.

  His heart seized. “Hell,” he muttered. His willpower was failing him. Every cell insisted he rise up, drive in, take what she’d asked of him, but that couldn’t be. So he indulged in another of his desires, putting his mouth to her again, licking in shorter and shorter strokes until only the tip of his tongue flicked the hard bud, causing her to gasp and rise toward his mouth.

  Then he moved his hand, nearly pulling his fingers free of her clasp, and then sliding deep, deeper, as he sucked on her clit.

  Willow convulsed, her orgasm seeming to crash over her, and he didn’t let up until he felt the waves begin to recede. Then he gentled, his fingers, his mouth, soothing her instead of inciting her. When her body quieted, he turned his head and kissed the soft skin of one inner thigh and then the other.

  Ignoring the clamor of his body, he lifted his head and took in her half-mast eyes and flushed face. “Beautiful,” he said again.

  Her hands urged him upward and he obeyed now, trying not to wince as his aching erection brushed the outside of her hip. His mouth touched her chin, her hot cheek, her lips.

  She opened for him, apparently unfazed by the taste of herself on his mouth. He liked that. He liked that a lot, so he rewarded her with a deeper kiss.