Tensed muscles easing, she reached behind her waist to unclip the hook on her skirt.
“Slow down.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed and continued with his buttons. “I’m multi-tasking. I don’t want to miss anything.”
She snickered and slowed at her task, but not because he’d asked her to. She simply forgot what she was supposed to be doing as he tugged the tails of his shirt from his slacks and yanked the material down his arms. Roped muscles bulged as he ignored the buttons on the cuffs, tearing one hand free of a sleeve, then the other.
She stared. He was broader than she remembered, in both his chest and shoulders. The dusting of dark hair across his pecs and surrounding the disks of his flat nipples was peppered with gray that did nothing to diminish the overall effect.
He was beautiful. A natural warrior who may have been denied the field, but obviously hadn’t walked away from the daily regimen of weights and cardio training she remembered him doing.
He caught her staring, and his smile went dark as he rose to his feet. She had an inkling of what was coming by the twinkle of mischief in his eyes, and she was right. Just as he had in Florida on their first night together, he lifted his arms and struck an Atlas pose, then dropped them to lock his wrists at his waist and made his pecs dance.
He winked as he turned to the side in a third body-building pose. “Admit it. I’ve still got it.”
V laughed, but with saliva pooling on her tongue, saying “hell, yeah, you do,” would make her drool all over her lacy tank he seemed to like so much.
He toed off a loafer, then paused. “Hurry it up, Red. I’m one ahead of you.”
Feeling more carefree than she had in years, she followed his lead. Dropping her arms to her sides, she abandoned the skirt zipper and stepped from one of her high heels.
Silent laughter sparkled in his eyes, and he kicked off his second shoe. So did she.
He reached for the button of his slacks. She twisted her arms around her back to her zipper. Five seconds later, with their respective garments pooled around their ankles, they stared at one another. He slid his gaze from her face to the junction of her thighs, where the snaps of her lace tank had already gone damp. There was no missing the impressive erection tenting his underwear.
Then he shuffled toward her like an X-rated penguin in blue boxers, and she burst out laughing. His eyes twinkled with wicked intent, but the humor in them died as he stopped in front of her. Lifting his hand, he traced a fingertip over her cheek, then down around her jawline. “You are, beyond any doubt, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Her eyes flooded and breathing was impossible. He cupped the back of her neck and brought his mouth down on hers as if he were starving and she his sustenance. Bracketing an arm around her waist, he crushed her to him, compressing her ribs with the strength of his desire.
Lifting her free of her skirt, he kicked free of his slacks and turned. Without releasing her mouth, he lowered his knee to the bed, then eased her to her back. He followed, and the weight of his big body pinning her to the mattress was a homecoming V never thought she’d find.
With hands and mouth, Sam worshiped her. Fingertips spread, he traced a path from her shoulder, across her collar bone, to the swell of one breast. Cupping her in his palm, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple, and she was helpless against the full body shiver as fire raced from her chest straight to her clit.
Releasing her mouth, he shifted his body until he was propped on one elbow above her. He turned his head, his hungry gaze following the path of his fingers. She looked down her body, mesmerized by the sight of his large hand against the white lace covering her. As if relearning her form, he traced a path to her other breast, then between the mounds and up until his palm and fingers encircled the column of her neck.
Through the sheer lace, his touch left a trail of fire behind as his hand moved lower, exploring the shape of her ribs, her waist and belly. He swirled a fingertip around the shadowy indent of her belly button, then traveled lower still, moving ever-closer to the throbbing folds between her thighs.
She couldn’t contain her whimper when his hand suddenly detoured and paused at her hip. He turned his head and captured her gaze. The carnal intensity in his eyes made her even wetter.
“Lace becomes you, Red.” He slid his index finger beneath the high-cut elastic band of her tank and traced downward. “Strong, yet delicate.” The back of his finger brushed over the curls on her mound. “Concealing, yet offering glimpses of the woman beneath.” Rotating his hand, he slid his finger between her wet folds. “Cool elegance and burning heat.”
He pressed down on her clit, and she couldn’t help her gasp of pleasure. His lips curved in a dark smile. Turning his head, he lowered his eyelids to half-mast, and dragged air through his nose in a slow, unapologetic sniff. “The scent of your need has haunted me for years. Hot and musky.”
His erection pressed against her thigh, and she needed to touch him. She shifted her arm, but he grabbed her wrist with his free hand. “No, baby. This time is all about you. My time will come later.” He burrowed his thumb beneath the lace to join his finger. “Do you still make that little squeaky sound you used to whenever I made you come with my fingers?”
He plucked at her tightened bud, and the combination of his words and touch was all she needed. She shattered into a thousand points of pleasure, and his laugh was low and deep. “I see you do.”
Sam gave her no time to recover. Dipping his head, he caught her mouth in a ravenous kiss, before sliding his lips across her cheek and jaw to her throat. He grazed his teeth over the tendon running down the side of her neck, honing in on the spot he’d mentioned earlier. She squirmed, her body lost in a tangle of pleasure mixed with near-pain. Over-sensitized and still throbbing, the flesh between her thighs pulsated as he sucked at her throat in an open-mouth kiss.
Holding back her second orgasm was impossible. Lashes of pleasure whipped over her again and again, and she bucked against his hand.
“Sam.” Her plea came out as a throaty cry. Lethargic and heavy, her arms reached for him, but her fingers slid over the firm muscle of his chest and shoulders as he moved free of her grasping hands.
“I’m here, Red.”
The bed shifted, and she opened her eyes. The ceiling of the hotel room was all she saw, until she dipped her chin and looked down her body. On his knees, Sam’s hot blue gaze was focused on the juncture of her spread thighs. With a flick of his fingers, the snaps of her tank sprang free.
His heavy swallow made his Adam’s apple jump. “Fucking beautiful.” He lifted his gaze to hers, and his eyes gleamed with carnal intent.
“No, Sam. I can’t.”
He slid his palms beneath her bottom and lifted her. “Yes, you can.” Lowering his head, he brought his mouth to within a breath of her swollen folds. “Come for me, baby. I need to taste your sweet pleasure on my tongue more than I need my next breath.”
Closing the distance, he stabbed at her clit with the hardened tip of his tongue. Once, twice, then a third thrust, and she dropped her head to the mattress. He closed his lips over her swollen folds and sucked. Wet heat and pleasure enveloped her and she cried his name as she tumbled over the edge once more.
Chest heaving, her body quivering with the latent spasms of her fading climax, she lay wrecked and shattered. God, how was it possible she’d forgotten how expertly he could play her body? Like a master musician drawing perfection from his instrument, he dragged forth the tune he was after with little more than a brush of his fingers, the tone of his voice, and his magical tongue.
V had to concentrate to open her eyes. When she’d managed the feat, her mind struggled to make sense of what she saw. At the foot of the bed, Sam pulled his wrinkled slacks over his hips.
“What are you doing?”
He snatched his shirt from the floor and straightened. “Getting dressed.” Shoving his arm into one sleeve, he tugged the ma
terial over his shoulders.
“I can see that. Why?”
He made quick work of the front buttons as he spoke. “I don’t think Caroline would be pleased if her new offensive coordinator was arrested for public indecency for walking through the lobby of the Marriott naked and sporting a hard-on.”
She pushed up on her elbows. “You’re leaving? Now?”
“I’ve got to pick up Lucy.” Tucking the tails of his shirt into his slacks, he tugged the zipper closed. He covered the obvious bulge of his erection with his hand, adjusting himself more comfortably, before closing the clasp at his waist.
Rolling upward, she sat. “She’s spending the night at CC and Tuck’s.”
He stepped into one loafer, then the next. “No, she isn’t. I spoke to Tuck on my way to meet you. I told him I’d get Lucy on my way home.”
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “If you never planned to stay, then why did you….” A cold chill raced down her spine and made her shiver. She grasped the edge of the comforter and covered herself. “God. If this was some twisted play for revenge, it backfired big time. I had three orgasms and you…” her eyes widened in horror, “you never even took off your shorts.”
Disappointment darkened his eyes. “What happened here didn’t have a thing to do with revenge.” He rounded the bed and sat at her hip, then sighed. “The truth is, I couldn’t resist touching you.”
She crossed her arms, tucking them tight under her breasts. “You did a hell of a lot more than just touch me.”
“And I enjoyed every moment. So did you.” He reached out to brush a curl behind her ear. “I told you this time was about you.”
A good portion of her panic eased at the genuine affection in his eyes. “Well, yeah but, what about you?”
Sam leaned forward, placing his hands on the mattress so they bracketed her hips. “You still don’t trust me, Red. When you do, I’ll be inside you before your heart can take its next beat. Count on it. Until then….” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, stood, and turned toward the door. “I’ll see you at the complex Monday morning.”
Her mouth dropped open as the door clicked shut, and she fell back to stare at the ceiling. “You have got to be kidding me!”
Chapter 18
V sent Caroline the press release first thing Sunday morning as promised, then spent several hours swinging back and forth between confusion, anger, and occasionally, a touch of wonder. Finally, she couldn’t stand her own company anymore, and drove to Jake and Gracie’s farmhouse for some of that moral support her friend had offered.
“He didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, he did.”
Gracie’s eyes went dreamy. “You’ve got to admit. It’s pretty romantic.”
V scowled. “No, it isn’t. It’s diabolical. He said it didn’t matter, then resorted to blackmail.”
“Giving you the option of telling him the truth or not isn’t the same as saying it doesn’t matter to him. Obviously, it does, but he didn’t hold out on you. He held out on himself. How is that blackmail?”
V pinned her with a bland stare. “If Jake gave you multiple orgasms, then walked away hurting in an effort to get you to do something you didn’t want to do, what would you call it?”
Gracie screwed up her face in a grimace. “Okay. You’re right. He’s blackmailing you, but it’s still romantic.”
V dropped her head to the back of the couch with a groan.
“He asked for your trust, V, not a kidney.”
“A kidney would be easier.”
Gracie smiled, then stood and crossed the room to fish a ball out from under the bookshelf. Little Tommy squealed and Jake Jr clapped his hands. “Just tell him the truth. The man obviously cares about you. Whatever your big secret is, he’s agreed to start over, right? You’ve already cleared the biggest hurdle.”
“Yeah, but—”
A solid knock sounded on the door. Jake walked in. “Sam called. He’s on his way to the sports complex. Caroline wants to see you both ASAP.”
V sat up from her slump on the couch. “Did he say why?”
“She’s in damage-control mode.”
“Over what?”
“Apparently there’s an online article claiming to have spotted you and Sam cozying up at a hotel in Times Square. It’s gone viral.”
“Oh, shi…oot.” V’s heart did a manic flip as her gaze snapped to the twins on the floor.
Jake chuckled. “Nice save.”
The Malones had a no-swear policy at the farmhouse, backed up by a row of swear jars on a shelf in the kitchen. Five dollars per infraction. V’s was stuffed with enough cash to send one of the twins to college. She rolled her eyes and bolted from the couch, looking around for her purse to check her phone.
“Why didn’t Caroline call me herself?”
“I take it she did. A few times. When you didn’t answer, she called Sam.”
V tried to recall the last time she’d seen her purse. She’d had it in the car, she knew, because she’d had to search through it to find her keys. Flustered over what had happened last night, she must have left it on the front seat.
Gracie whipped out her tablet. “What website?”
Jake made a pained face. “Eye on Sports.”
V whimpered.
Gracie scowled. “Ted Jaffrey? He’s a chauvinist pig and glorified gossip columnist who doesn’t know jack about football.”
Jake shrugged at his wife’s assessment of the sport’s editorialist. “Maybe so, but he’s got a following.”
While Gracie brought up the page, V tugged on her coat.
“Here it is.” Gracie scrolled her thumb over the screen and read out loud. “With the playoffs kicking off this weekend in the wildcard matchups, The Marauders’ owner, Caroline Wainwright, has scheduled a surprise press conference for Monday morning.” She rattled off the particulars of tomorrow’s press conference, and V paused in the doorway, torn between racing to beat Sam to the complex, and hanging around for a few minutes so she would know what they were dealing with before she got there.
“An unnamed source tells Eye on Sports that Bob Dugan, the Marauders’ long-time offensive coordinator, will soon be announcing his retirement. Dugan joined the team…blah blah blah.” Gracie scrolled her thumb over the screen. “Our source gave no reason for Dugan’s decision to the leave the championship franchise on the eve of post-season play, but named his replacement as Samuel Fitzpatrick, a relatively unknown force in the world of football. EOS can independently confirm, Fitzpatrick recently resigned from his position as head coach of East Texas University’s football program after a respectable six-year run.”
“Where’s the part about the hotel?” V returned and slid onto the couch next to Gracie.
“I’m looking. I’m looking. Here’s some stuff about Sam in high school…State championship...Sam’s injury and his coaching stats.” She read in silence for a moment. “Okay, here we go. While on paper, Fitzpatrick’s stats make him a reasonable candidate for a position with a pro team in the future, offensive coordinator for the reigning Super Bowl champs might be a stretch. Especially as the Marauders prepare for a tough match-up with Seattle next Sunday.”
“Asshat.” V winced and shot a glance at the boys. “Sorry.”
Jake grinned. “Don’t be. I would have said it myself, but you beat me to it. Just don’t forget the five bucks for your swear jar.”
“I’ll get to it as soon as I find my purse.”
Gracie continued reading. “The team’s owner, Caroline Wainwright, who made her fortune thanks to lucky timing and some questionable investments in the early days of the internet…” She looked up at Jake and snorted, before dropping her gaze to the screen once more. “…has seen unprecedented success since she scooped up the troubled franchise seven years ago. Those in the know attribute her miraculous record over the past seven years to the genius of George Tipton, her general manager. Tipton, who put togethe
r a dream team coaching staff for the novice team owner, including Dugan, has brought home four conference titles and two championships in the last four years.”
Jake shook his head. “He thinks Tipton has been calling the shots. Moron.”
“Shh.” Gracie waved her hand and continued. “It appears, however, that someone other than Tipton is making the decisions on staff personnel these days, using a much different criterion than most outfits in the league. According to our source, Fitzpatrick was once engaged to Victoria Price,” Gracie ignored V’s horrified gasp and continued, “the team’s public relations consultant for the past year, and a close personal friend of Wainwright’s.”
“Oh, no.” V’s eyes slid shut on a moan.
“EOS was not able to confirm the details of the personal relationship between Fitzpatrick and Price, but the two…Oh, shit.”
“Five bucks, babe.”
“Shut up, Jake.”
V’s eyes popped open and she leaned over Gracie’s arm to read the words herself. “The two were seen entering an elevator together last night at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square.” V slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh my God. I’m going to be sick.”
Gracie patted her knee. “No, you’re not.” She finished reading the end of the short op-ed. “Which begs the question. Will the Marauders take the field next season with another championship patch gracing their uniforms, or will they settle for wearing their hearts on their sleeves?” She dropped the tablet to her lap. “What a dick.”
“What have I done?”
Jake eyed V with interest. “While I’d pay a thousand bucks to hear what you and Sam were doing at the Marriott, this isn’t about the two of you. Jaffrey’s been gunning for Caroline for years.”
“I know, but Sam….” She dropped her head in her hands. “He’s going to kill me for setting him up the way I did last night.”
Gracie coughed, but V didn’t bother to look up.
To Win Her Back Page 16