Draw Play: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 4)

by Jami Davenport

  Trudy came back to the bar and leaned across the counter, making sure that her boobs just about fell out of her tight shirt. Bruiser glanced down and found the entire spectacle boring. What the hell was wrong with him? One night with Mac, and he couldn’t appreciate another woman, especially one with assets like Trudy’s on display?

  Taking a deep breath and begging forgiveness, Bruiser stuck to his script. “Mac’s a piece of work. How well do you know her?”

  Trudy eyed him with enough street-smart wariness to alert him that he hadn’t reeled her in yet. “Not well, just what her sister-in-law has told me.” She slid up next to him, her perfume preceding her, and rubbed the back of his neck. Bruiser stiffened for a moment then willed himself to relax.

  “Yeah, from what I heard from the guys on the team, it’s sorta tragic, but after all the years, time to move on, don’t you think?” Bruiser pasted an innocent expression on his face.

  Trudy chewed on her lower lip for a moment. A slow, malicious smile crossed her face. He’d never done innocent well, but Trudy apparently bought his act. She leaned down and spoke in a throaty whisper. “They’ll never find him.”

  “Is that speculation or fact?”

  “Maybe a little of both.” She crooked a finger at him, drawing him closer. “But I can guarantee he’s never coming back.”

  “I assumed as much.” He shrugged one shoulder as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “Dead?”

  She glanced around the room. Satisfied no one was paying them any attention, she turned back to Bruiser. “I might know more, but you want the info, you gotta pay.”

  Bruiser tried to smile, but his face hurt. He suspected the expression stuck on his face was somewhere between a grimace and a maniacal grin. “The answers don’t really matter to me.”

  She raised both eyebrows. “I close about midnight. What are you doing later?” She ran a finger across his lips, down his chin, throat, and to the collar of his shirt. “One night with you could have me telling all my secrets.”

  The Bruiser of even a week ago would’ve met her later without a second thought. It was just sex, and Bruiser loved sex as much as the next man. But a night with Mac had fucked up his self-centered priorities and left him unsure of his direction. He needed time to contemplate his next move and determine how far he was willing to go for answers that might give Mac and her dad some closure.

  He slapped his forehead in mock dismay. “Oh, crap. I forgot. I need to help my sister with something tonight. How about a rain check?”

  “I’m here every night this week.”

  His acting skills were getting pretty good. “Great, I’ll be back.” Before he could screw things up, Bruiser paid and hustled out of there.

  Instead of heading home—the smart thing to do—he headed for Mac’s house.

  Fifteen minutes later, he broke the remaining promises he’d made to himself since his divorce and rapped on Mac’s door.

  * * * * *

  Mac woke from a sound sleep to someone pounding on her front door. She sprang up from the bed, heart in her throat, not even bothering with a bathrobe over her nightshirt. Middle-of-the-night news was never good.

  She ran for the door, stubbing her toe on the coffee table in the process and hopping the rest of the way on one foot. Throwing open the door, she fully expected her father in some state of insanity, but the muscular blond man standing on her porch was definitely not her father.

  “Bruiser?”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up, and he cocked his head sideways. “Were you expecting someone else? You’re killing my ego, darlin’.” He clutched his hands to his chest, and Mac laughed in spite of herself.

  “Uh, no, I just wasn’t expecting you.” Her heart did a cartwheel up and down her spine.

  “Can I come in?” Bruiser smiled again, not so cocky this time. His apparent uncertainty was winning her over, sucker that she was.

  “Uh, I don’t think this is a good idea.” She knew how this would end if she let him in the door.

  “I just spent the last hour at the bar where Trudy works.”

  “You did? Did she say anything?”

  “Let me in. I don’t want to talk about it out here.” He glanced around as if expecting paparazzi hiding in the bushes.

  Mac let him in and bolted the door. Bruiser sat on the couch and she sat next to him, too anxious about possible news to worry about them sitting too close.

  “What did she say?”

  Bruiser took her hands and squeezed them. “Mac, I— Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting three years to hear this.” Mac leaned forward, gripping his hands like a lifeline.

  Bruiser heaved a deep sigh. “I asked her what happened to your brother. She said you’ll never find him.”

  Even though she’d suspected as much, had prepared herself for bad news for the past three years, hearing the actual words relayed from someone with probable insider knowledge made her stomach drop to the basement of her house. “Did she say how she knew that?”

  “I asked if she knew something or if she was speculating. She said a little of both.”

  “That’s the most we’ve ever gotten out of her.” Mac stared at their hands with fingers intertwined together.

  “Are you okay?” The genuine concern in his voice almost undid her.

  Mac nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “I can get more information depending on how far I’m willing to go.”

  Mac frowned and held his hands tighter. “It’s not worth it. Don’t compromise yourself.”

  “Not worth it to finally find out what really happened to Will? Not worth it to make Sonja pay? Not worth it to set you free of your guilt and give you back your life and your father his peace of mind?”

  Mac considered his words for a moment, and her answer surprised her. “To me, it’s not. I can’t ask you to compromise your integrity.”

  He looked shocked, then pleased. “You think I have integrity?”

  “I know you do. You don’t fool me one bit, Bruce Mackey.”

  “Look, I know what it’s like to lose someone. You can’t change what happened, but I can’t imagine not knowing. That would make me crazy.”

  “How do you know what it’s like?” Mac searched his blue-gray eyes for answers but only found that glimmer of pain. “Who did you lose, Bruiser? Your brother?”

  He set his jaw, and his eyes froze over like a granite lake. “That subject is off-limits.”

  Mac nodded, feeling crappy that he didn’t trust her enough to share his pain. Pulling her hands from his, she rose and walked to the French doors and stared into the night across the wide expanse of lawn.

  Sonja and Ben were sitting down by the lake on the beach around their fire pit, laughing and drinking beer with friends, Will’s old friends. Her throat constricted, making breathing difficult. If she let it, the bitterness and anger would eat her alive.

  Bruiser walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He nibbled on her neck. “I want to do it.”

  “No. Definitely, no.” She fought to keep the desperation out of her voice. She looked over her shoulder at his face.

  “Why not?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he turned her around. “Afraid Trudy will damage my integrity?” Bruiser placed his big hands on her hips.

  Mac chewed on her lower lip and looked up at him through lowered lashes. “Maybe.”

  “Don’t worry about it. If there’s anything of my integrity left to guard, I’ll take care of it.”

  Mac put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push him back. She might as well have been trying to move her house with her bare hands. He swung her around and backed her against the arm of the couch, pressing his erection against her crotch.

  She fought for the words that seemed to be diving overboard at an alarming rate, deserting that sinking ship that was her brain. Oh yeah, it had sunk, right down to the wet spot between her legs.

&
nbsp; Bruiser pulled at the delicate skin on her collarbone with his teeth.

  “You’re not nearly as selfish as you pretend to be,” Mac panted.

  “You think?” He licked his way up her neck to her ear.

  “I know.”

  “That’s your fantasy, so you can keep it.”

  His face was so close to hers she could see a little scar just above his lip. One slight imperfection. It made him more real, more vulnerable.

  “Now I want my own fantasy.” He picked her up and headed for her bedroom.

  Two nights could be considered a brief fling, but three nights would lead to a fourth, and another, and another, and then she’d be left with a broken heart and nothing more. Only she didn’t give a damn.

  Maybe there was a bit of her daredevil brother in her after all.

  * * * * *

  Bruiser set Mac on her feet, stripped off her oversized T-shirt, and tossed her on her bed. A moment later, his own clothes dropped to the floor.

  She stared up at him, looking incredibly seductive and naïve all at the same time, so much like the old Mac before his teammates’ wives had made her over. While the new Mac got his heart thumping and pulse racing, the Mac underneath struck him as a woman he could actually depend on, which would be a first in his life.

  “Do you trust me?” He needed her trust because he thought, in a weird way, it would help his own inability to trust.

  She nodded.

  “Give me a minute.” He knew exactly what he wanted. Hurrying to the mud room, he grabbed a handful of long zip ties out of a box of heavy-duty lawn bags on the shelf by the back door. Yeah, these would have to do the trick. He strode back into the room, dangling them from his fingers.

  Mac lifted her head. Her eyes got big and her eyebrows rose, almost disappearing into her hairline. “What’s that for?”

  “If you have to ask, I’ll need to show you.”

  “You’re not going to use those on me?” She started to get up.

  He pushed her back down, his hand just below her breasts, and pinned her to the bed. “A little more control over the lady on the bed while I’m driving her fucking nuts drives me fucking nuts too.”

  “You’re going to tie me up?” Her mouth formed a big O while her eyes danced with Bring it on.

  “Uh, yeah.” Bruce crawled onto the bed. Mac giggled and made a leap for freedom, but she was no match for Bruiser’s athletic moves. He pinned her to the bed again, this time straddling her rib cage right snug up against her breasts. He took a moment to appreciate those nice breasts as they rose and fell against his crotch and thighs. Mac squirmed underneath him, making a show of attempting to get free but not putting much effort into it.

  Bruiser grabbed her hands and zip-tied her wrists to the headboard, not tightly enough to cut off the circulation but just enough she couldn’t free herself.

  She glared at him but not very convincingly. “I still have my legs free. I could do some real damage to you with my knees.”

  He chuckled and sat back. “Thanks for the warning.” Sliding off her, he pulled the tie off her robe. Opening the closet door, he snagged a belt off a raincoat. He turned and stood by the bed, holding the items up for her to see.

  “Don’t you dare.” She licked her lips and writhed on the bed. Yeah, the lady was liking this game despite her protests.

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands.” Damn, his dick ached. It was so hard, he swore it’d turned to concrete just by his looking at her.

  “You’re gonna pay for this, buster.”

  “Promise?” He loved it when a woman threatened him.

  She kicked out, grazing his chest with her big toe. He snatched her ankle, keeping free of her other foot, and pulled her leg toward the post on the footboard. A couple quick wraps and it was tied. Skirting the bottom of the bed, he managed to grab the other foot despite her wild flailing and kicking, even as she laughed and giggled. He tied the other ankle fast to the opposite post, then stood back to survey his handiwork as he stroked his dick.

  Mac was spread-eagled and ready for his pleasure. Her eyes shot fake daggers through him, even as they danced with pure devilish enjoyment and raging desire. The fight was all for show because they both knew Mac was nobody’s slave, and Bruiser wouldn’t want her to be.

  A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her silky, tanned skin. His gaze slipped down her body, starting with her nipples jutting proudly above those creamy mounds of flesh still bearing his teeth marks from their last encounter, over her flat stomach to the pleasure spot between her spread legs. He liked a woman open to him. Liked to see her glistening juices, signaling how ready she was for him. In fact, he liked every fucking thing about her situation. And his.

  Bruiser crawled onto the bottom of the bed. Holding her thighs apart even farther, he dipped his head downward, slid his hands higher, and parted her with his fingers. A lazy smile split across his face.

  “Mine. All mine.” Oddly enough, he meant it. He wanted to tattoo everything he was all over her body so she’d always smell Bruiser, taste him, see him, feel him. Yeah, that was what he wanted. To ruin her for any other man, so she’d never want anyone but him.

  He slipped his tongue inside her, tasting the salty sweetness of her body. She whimpered, arching her back and pressing her hips upward to meet his mouth. He licked her back to front. Sucking on her clit, he pushed a finger inside her, high and deep, while he tortured that little nub of pleasure.

  Mac wriggled on the bed, making little sounds that made his dick ache. She arched her back and pressed her crotch against his face, while he lapped at her juices, sucked on her clit, and thrust two fingers into her tight snatch. He felt her coming before he heard and saw it.

  Satisfied with the results, he waited for her to return to reality before he took his own pleasure.

  * * * * *

  Mac didn’t know what death felt like, but she did know what heaven felt like. She might as well have been taking straight shots for the past few hours, as drunk on sex as she was.

  “Fuck me,” she begged when she was finally able to put two coherent words together.

  Rolling a condom over his impressive erection, Bruiser slid up her body until their faces were even. His chest rubbed against hers, his cock rested between her legs—not that rested would be an accurate verb. He kissed her, hard and deep, nothing gentle about it, and she loved it. Loved the taste of her on his tongue and lips. Loved how he took charge of her body and her soul.

  Bruiser pulled back and looked at her. The strain on his face was as clear as a Seattle summer day. “I really want to fuck you. Hard. Deep. And long. Till you beg for mercy, and I give you none. I want you, Mac.” He swallowed, and she watched as he visibly wrapped a tight leash around his control. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I’m afraid I will because I’m about to lose every ounce of restraint I have.”

  “Then lose it like a man. I can handle it. I want to handle it.”

  “A man, huh?” His blue eyes raged with lust and gratitude. “You sure you can handle this man?” He spoke through gritted teeth.

  “Positive. Ride me like you’ve never ridden a woman before.”

  “Ah, fucking hell.” He rose up, holding himself above her with his arms on either side of her shoulders. He entered her with one hard, long thrust and slammed inside her balls-deep.

  He went in even deeper when it came to her heart.

  She wanted more. “Harder. Harder,” she yelled, and he obliged, both of them consumed by an animal lust as old as the earth itself, an uncivilized mating ritual of two civilized souls. Over and over he powered into her, taking her sanity and her breath away until the only thing she knew was his name. And she cried out that name as she rocketed out of this reality into another, leaving everything behind and entering uncharted territory. Bruiser was right there with her. She could feel him, not just physically but as an emotional presence deep inside her.

  And then she knew the truth of what she’d been deny
ing all along.

  This wasn’t just about sex.

  Chapter 13—Blindsided

  Bruiser pedaled the stationary bike faster and faster with the resistance set on high, hoping fatigue would wipe out visions of a naked Mac tied to her bed, legs splayed open and vulnerable. Sweat ran down his face, and he swiped it out of his eyes, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. His chest and back were drenched through his T-shirt. His leg muscles cramped, begging for relief, but he pushed harder, relishing the cleansing pain, embracing it, waiting for exhaustion to replace thoughts of one sexy little groundskeeper.

  Instead, images of Mac played through his mind like the lines of a favorite song he couldn’t shake. It’d been a week since he’d first slept with her—not that he’d slept exactly. Once they’d finished the second round, he’d stolen out of the house while Mac snoozed in a pile of rumpled sheets. At least he’d cut the zip ties first. The last thing he wanted was for her father to find her that way. He almost laughed at the thought. As obsessed as the old man was, he wouldn’t bat an eye, if he even noticed. Tragic in a way, but true.

  Only that second night, the one that should have been his limit, hadn’t been enough, and for the last week, Bruiser found himself standing on her doorstep late at night. They fucked each other’s brains out until the early-morning light, then he dragged himself home for a few hours of sleep, as if not waking up with her in the morning would keep his emotions out of it. To make things worse, he hadn’t dealt with Brett either. The entire situation made him feel like a selfish shit, yet he couldn’t stay away.

  So here he was on a Friday night catching up on the workouts he’d neglected, even though he suspected wild sex with Mac qualified as an adequate replacement.

  Bruiser got off the bike, steadied himself on numb legs, and headed for the showers. A desolate weekend stretched out in front of him. Mac promised her father she’d go on an excursion to Oregon to chase down yet another lead, which left him at loose ends.

  He could hunt down Trudy, do some sleuthing, or party with some of the guys.

  After toweling off, he dressed in front of his locker and pulled on his shoes. He looked up as a shadow crossed in front of him. “Hey, Brett, my man, what’s up?”