Game Maker (Game #2)

by BJ Harvey

  I chuckle at her sassing her brother, given what went down earlier—it’s total Dani, or new Dani, anyway. Her eyes dart to mine when she walks in the room, her shoulders slumping when she sees me. She’s probably relieved that Zander hasn’t castrated me.

  She drops her overnight bag on the floor by the door and rounds the couch, moving straight to the seat beside me. She accepts my arm when I place it around her shoulder, and I draw her in close to my side. Forgetting Zan is even there, I kiss her temple gently.

  He sits there frozen, watching all of this go down, his eyes going from scathing to skeptical, then turning soft when Dani puts her hand over my heart and kisses the underside of my jaw.

  It’s my turn to finally breathe easy, witnessing the exact moment when it clicks for Zander.

  “Zach,” he says, and Dani’s head shifts to look at her brother. “Think you can let go of my sister long enough for me to give her a hug and apologize for being a dick?”

  Dani giggles and as hard as I try, I can’t hold back a smile.

  Watching the woman I love move to give her brother—the best friend I thought for sure I’d lose—a hug.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, burying her face in his shoulder and clinging to him. “I love him, Zan.”

  “I know, Squirt,” he mutters. “Just give me a chance to get used to the idea, okay?”

  “Okay.” She pulls back and shoots him a gorgeous, relieved smile.

  It’s then that Cade’s words from a few months ago ring in my ears.

  “Weather the storm and hope like hell he sees what I’m seeing now.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask, holding my breath for his answer.

  “A man who’s willing to risk everything on the chance of something good, whatever the consequences, and from what I saw in there, it’s going to be worth it.”

  We survived the ride, and—as Dani would probably say—”clocked the game.”

  I can’t wait to move forward with her, to do all the normal things we should’ve been doing during the first stage of our relationship. But seeing it through to the other side, I now know we can get through anything. Thick and thin, smooth and rocky, fires, shifts, project deadlines, and game releases—all of it will be a piece of cake and I can’t wait to take a bite.

  I open my eyes to sunlight shining through a teeny tiny gap in the blinds. Of course, it’s at the perfect height to only be annoying to me. Turning my head, I see Zach still out for the count, his rugged face calm and—if I’m honest—even more gorgeous in sleep.

  Rolling to his side, I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder and run my palm over his chest, my fingertips tracing the faint outline of his abs. With Zach now having other things to do—mainly me—he’s cut back on the time he spends at the gym but even without all the workouts, he still looks just as hot as he’s always been.

  “You gonna keep exploring or are you actually going to do something with me?” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.

  Leaning up on an elbow, I look down on him. “I’m going to explore and leave you hanging.”

  He looks down his body then back up at me. “There’s definitely nothing hanging right now,” he says with a knowing smirk. “You’re more than welcome to check though . . .”

  “I might just do that.”

  He lifts his hands up, crossing them behind his head. “Go ahead. Dazzle me with your exploration.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Your smartass.”

  “My only smartass.”

  “Well your ass is pretty good too, just saying.”

  “Why are we talking about asses?” I say, lowering my head and running my fingers through his hair.

  “No asses?” he asks, his eyes darkening.

  I tilt my head to the side, a grin playing on my lips. “I never said that.”

  I don’t get a chance to do any more exploration because he growls and then jumps me. He goes from flat on his back to having me flat on mine in the blink of an eye.

  I’m spread out on top of Zach, his cock still buried deep inside me after a spectacularly energetic double orgasm. Peppering kisses along my jaw, he moves his mouth to my ear. “I want you to wake me up like that every morning.” Pushing up on his hands in the bed, he hovers over me, his eyes soft and sated but also sharp.

  “I pretty much do now,” I reply, telling him something he already knows.

  His lips quirk in that way they do when he thinks I’m being cute. He dips his head and brushes his mouth against mine. “Move in with me, Little Grasshopper.” My lips form the word ‘oh’ against his and he smiles brightly. “Oh isn’t a yes, sweetheart.”

  “Then yes,” I say, barely able to see through my tears.

  “We can tell everyone at Rose’s birthday party this afternoon if you want,” he suggests.

  “I bet Zan would love that,” I muse.

  “He’s fine. He’ll be happy for us. They all will.”

  “Then yes, yes, yes!” I squeeze him and bounce on the mattress.

  “Jesus, you should stop doing that if you don’t want round two.”

  I giggle and pull his head down to nip his bottom lip. “You up for the challenge, old man?”

  Growling into my mouth, he doesn’t answer, but then again, what he does for the next hour says it all.

  I’m jumping out of my skin to tell Abi that I am moving out, so I send her a text asking her over to Zach’s for coffee.

  When she arrives thirty minutes later, she’s in fine Abi form. “You summoned, your highness?” she says when I open the door.

  “You came didn’t you?” I reply with a raised brow.

  “You just happened to offer coffee on the same morning I’d run out. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth in my time of need,” Abi says, making a beeline for the kitchen.

  “Right. It’s because you know Zach’s got the good stuff, right?” I follow her and lean a hip into the counter, watching her do her thing. That being, making herself at home and setting about pouring herself a cup from his Keurig.

  She takes a long sip and sighs loudly in contentment. “Much better. So what did you want to tell me?”

  “Let’s move to the dining room.” I pour myself a cup and walk out of the kitchen.

  “Dani . . . What. Did. You. Want. To. Tell. Me?” she says, following me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t just called me over on a Saturday morning for shits and giggles, so spill. What’s going on?” she demands, her narrowed eyes pinning me in place.

  I look at her and seeing her lips twitch, my nerves vanish. “Zach asked me to move in with him this morning.”

  Her head jerks back and she makes a show of putting her coffee down on the table, then flattening her hand against her chest and emitting a dramatic gasp. “Oh heavens above, whatever will I do?”

  I scowl at her. “You’re so funny,” I reply sarcastically.

  She grins. “Seriously, Dani. You’re together all the time anyway; it makes sense. To be honest, I thought it would happen as soon as you came out as a couple.” She shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee.

  “Are you going to be okay though?”

  She scoffs and shakes her head at me. “I’m a big girl, Dani. I’m twenty-six years old; I might get another roommate or just live alone.”

  “Got any plans later?” I ask casually. Too casually for Abi’s liking.

  “Why?” she asks slowly.

  “We’ve got Rose’s birthday today . . .”

  “You’re not dragging me along to some five-year-old princess party. No way. No fucking how,” she says, shaking her head. “I’d have them all swearing like pirates by the end of the day.”

  “But she loves ‘Aunty Abi.’”

  “Nope. Nuh uh. There‘s no way in hell you’re going to talk me into this. Not this time, Danika ‘I can bat my eyelashes and get away with everything’ Roberts. It may work on Hot Stuff, but since you don’t put out for me, I don’t have
to do anything I don’t want to do.”

  “You tell her, Abi,” Hot Stuff calls out from the bedroom. He hasn’t moved since our little tête-à-tête this morning.

  “Quiet in the cheap seats, otherwise I’ll send Abi down there for a heart-to-heart.”

  “If she comes down here, I’ll tell her that you put your—”

  “Well, there goes that idea,” I say over the top of him, hearing laughter coming from our bedroom.

  “Dani, you don’t need me to come.”

  “Maybe not, but I want you to come. And besides, Cade will be there.”

  Her eyes widen and her mouth—which was half open for her next refusal—snaps shut. “Why would I care if he was there or not?”

  “Because he told Zach, who in turn told me that you two hooked up again. When did I drop out of the Abi sex tree phone loop?”

  “Doctor Hottie has a big mouth,” she mutters just as Zach saunters into the room wearing a pair of black running shorts and a smile.

  “Does he also have a big—”

  Zach throws his arms over my shoulders and crosses them over my chest. “That, Little Grasshopper, should be none of your concern, given that you’ve got my big—”

  “Package,” I say interrupting him. He pokes his finger in my side, making me squeal.

  “Meat stick,” Abi says with a grin.

  “Warm beef injection,” I say, dissolving in giggles.

  “Jimmy, Johnson, Willy . . .” Zach adds.

  “Stethoscope,” Abi suggests with a slow-growing grin on her face. “A great big stethoscope.”

  “Did it listen for your heartbeat as well?” Zach asks with a smirk.

  “No, but it sure did take my temperature in an interesting way,” she replies gleefully.

  “God, I really don’t need to know that,” I say with a groan.

  Abi’s head snaps to me. “You’re the one who was complaining about no longer being the first branch on the Abi sex tree phone loop. Now you say you can’t deal when it comes down to the nitty-gritty details?”

  “Doesn’t sound like there’s anything nitty or gritty about it,” Zach murmurs, and we all laugh.

  “So what’s going on between you two then?” I ask her, narrowing my eyes so she knows I mean business.

  “Nothing,” she says, intently studying her coffee cup on the table. I let it slide but make a mental note to follow up with her next time we’re alone.

  “So you’re seriously not going to come to a princess party with me?” I ask Abi. Her eyes flit up to Zach’s before meeting mine.

  “Oh alright then. Sheesh. What’s a girl got to do to get a Saturday afternoon to herself to drink and be self-merry in peace?”

  “Self-merry? Is that code for self-love?” I ask with a smirk.

  “Why do I need self-love when I had a dose of the stethoscope last weekend?” she says with a wink.

  “Oh God. I’m never going to be able to look Cade in the eye again without imagining an actual listening device in his pants.”

  “Imagine the stories it could tell . . .” she whispers with a wicked smile.

  I shudder. If ever there were two people unlikely to be together, it would be Abi and Cade.

  Cade Carsen—successful doctor from a well-known and extremely wealthy Chicago family, whose twin brother is deployed overseas and whose father is widely touted to be the next mayor.

  Abi Harris—wild child, part-time stripper—which she started as a bit of fun but kept doing because the money rocks—and nighttime hotel manager who works hard and plays harder. She seems to be the least likely woman for Cade to be interested in, but stranger things have happened.

  I mean, Mia got married to Matt and they now have a six-month-old daughter; Zoe tamed the original Walking Dildo, Noah, and now they have Nate, who’s almost three and a half, and Misha—their gorgeous daughter—who is two weeks old.

  My brother—who we all expected to lose his shit and run Zach down in a crazy fit of older brother rage—now gangs up against me and more often than not, recruits Zach to be on his side too.

  And then there’s me and Zach, my teenage crush who turned into my adult lover, our relationship having all the makings of the best game ever created, played, made, and won.

  If all of that is possible, then maybe there’s a chance for Cade and Abi. Maybe the twinkle I see in Abi’s eye could ignite and spark into something that works for both of them.

  If nothing else, it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun to watch.

  The Game series continues in Game Saver (Game #3)—Abi and Cade.

  Continue reading for Game Saver’s Prologue

  (Game #3)—Coming Soon

  Prologue

  It’s one of those cliché moments. Our eyes meet across the bar, a lightning spark buzzing between us and—speaking for myself—one that shoots straight through me. I watch him lean over to say something in his friend’s ear then make his way through the crowd toward me.

  The first thing he says isn’t what you'd expect from a man like him; he’s good looking, well dressed, and definitely not hurting for money or choices when it comes to women. He doesn’t say "Hey." or "Can I buy you a drink?"—which all women know is code for “I'm trying to get in there.” No, the first words he says to me are "Nice shoes . . ." as he methodically undresses me with his eyes, a slow-growing cocky grin making his already pretty face downright gorgeous.

  It’s a bold move, but a very effective one.

  "What will it take to get the rest of the pickup line?" I ask, twirling the tip of my drinking straw around my mouth with my tongue. His gaze drops to my lips, his eyes darkening before lifting to meet mine.

  "A taxi ride to your place."

  Just. Like. That. My heart pounds, my panties melt, and those six words send a thrill through me. He’s a guy who knows what he wants and how to play the perfect game to get it from me.

  "You don't think we should do the mature thing and get to know each other first? Maybe share our deepest, darkest secrets or something?" I say teasingly.

  With one elbow to the bar, the other resting on the back of my bar stool, he leans into me—total personal space invasion—and brings his lips to my ear. "Right now, I'm interested in what's underneath that fucking dress and how fast I can make you come the first time. The second will be a test of your stamina, and if you can still talk after number three, then we can talk about anything you want."

  God damn. This man’s like my dream guy, but dirtier and overly confident in a way that presses all my buttons.

  Standing up straight, I find myself fascinated by his mouth, wondering what his lips would feel like if I kissed him. What will they taste like, and how will he use them to follow through on the wicked promises he just made.

  I want it. I want him. I’m not a girl with hang-ups but I don’t just go home with random guys willy-nilly. I’m a "take it or leave it" girl. If I’m in the mood and have a connection with a guy, I'll go home with him but always their place. That way I can slam, bam, and ‘get my ass out of there’ ma’am. Then, unless I want to see them again, they have no idea how to find me.

  Safety first, condoms, and no strings unless you tie them yourself—they’re the three things my hippie mom has drilled into me. "Free love makes the world go ’round, Abi-Jane, and everyone needs to feel loved at least once in their lives."

  Right now, I’ve decided to roll the dice and take a chance on this good looking, well dressed, obviously well off guy who’s making dirty promises I can only hope he'll keep.

  I finish the last of my cocktail and turn around to find him towering over me. Tall, maybe six foot two, wearing a fitted black button-down that clings to his chest and arms in such a way that you know it’s tailored just for him. His eyes are gentle, sapphire blue, his hair a dirty blond with a flash of auburn. He’s gorgeous and is mine for the taking. So, I decide to indulge.

  "Your place or mine?" I ask, shocking myself at the invitation.

  "Yours," he says gruffly, taking a
step forward and wedging himself between my thighs, my dress riding up as he moves in.

  "I know this is a sex club, but remember the saying 'lady in public, whore in the bedroom' . . .?" I ask with a quirked brow.

  "And what would you do if I slid my hand under your dress and slowly inched my fingers between your legs . . ." I’m startled at the touch of his warm skin against mine, exactly where he described. I’m panting now and my heart is trying its best to beat its way out of my chest.

  His voice drops low, for my ears only as he continues, "Will you fight your body's instinct to squirm and moan while you gently ride my fingers . . . right . . . here . . ." His hand dips under my dress, his thumb taunting me over my panties.

  I reach up and grab hold of his shoulders, snagging his cropped hair in my fingers and pulling him down to me. "If you're trying to test me, you're going to have to do a lot better than that."

  "I always win a challenge, little spitfire," he says, unfortunately moving his hand back to a more appropriate place.

  Deciding this party for two needs to move on to a more private location, I slide off the stool, brushing my body against his, and get a thrill when he doesn’t step back.

  I stand next to him, his eyes scanning me top to bottom and back again, as I show him that I’m not, in fact, little, my heels taking me to almost his height. "Big spitfire . . ." he muses, his lips curving up on one side and revealing a dimple that begs to be licked.

  "Are you always so forward?" I ask, resting a hand on his hip lightly without thought. It’s not a calculated move. It feels natural. Needed . . .

  "Are you always so receptive to the advances of men who don’t fuck around when they see something they want?"

  "Only good looking, well dressed ones who act on it."

  "That works for you?"

  "So far, it's you that's working for me. Whether that pans out or not is up to you . . ." I throw down the gauntlet, and my body itches to see whether he’ll rise to the challenge—and all the creative ways he can do it.

  "Say goodbye to your friend . . .?" He jerks his head toward my best friend Amy—the reason why I’m here alone—and inadvertently gives away just how closely he’s been watching me. Raising his brow, he waits for me to comply.