Catching her completely off guard, he leaned closer and feathered his lips across her cheek in a touch so light she couldn't contain the shiver this time. His murmur, though, washed her body with heat and clenched her stomach into a tight ball. “If you're going to feed me, I can think of much more delightful things I'd like to sample."
She couldn't let it go to her head, though. She was in control, she reminded herself with a sharp reprimand. This was her game, not Riley's. He would not make her forget this.
Summoning more courage than she'd known she possessed, she managed to find her voice and murmur in reply, “But would they taste as good as you would?"
It took all her self-control not to blush and not to respond to the abrupt change in his expression. Now almost dangerous, his eyes sparked with obvious desire, and the hand fastened around hers tensed. In fact, his whole body went rigid.
With deliberate determination, she flashed him a smile and picked up her fork, plunging it into her cake. She proceeded to ignore him, as if flirting with him in front of the large crowd was an every day routine.
She ate without looking at him. Not so much because she didn't want to, but because the images their private exchange conjured in her mind made it impossible. She felt the wetness in her panties, shocked that something so simple had her so aroused, and that was one fact she didn't want Riley Jennings knowing for any reason. Not now. Not tonight. Not ever.
And certainly not after the humiliating remarks he'd made on that long-ago summer afternoon when she'd stripped her clothes and jumped into the lake.
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CHAPTER THREE
Bending over the bathroom faucet, Maddie splashed cold water across her face, hoping the icy dunk would cool the burning heat rushing through her veins. Dinner had been easy compared to the last two hours in the parlor. With all the chairs taken when she'd joined Riley after stopping to talk to her trainer, Archie Blake, Riley hadn't hesitated to pull her onto his knee. While that in and of itself was harmless enough, and likely wouldn't have caused her long-term torment, when he finagled her backwards, inch-by-slow-inch until she was tucked in the crook of his arm with her shoulder against his chest, she'd experienced how perfectly her night was going.
Beneath her right hip, poised and at attention, he was hard. Rock hard. And although she tried her best to sit utterly still, even the most casual movement had him jumping beneath her. But what really sent her racing over the edge was when he decided her shoulder would make a good support for his chin. Every time he laughed, every time he made a remark, even when he sat in silence, his moist breath skated across her skin. That alone had her nerves so on edge that she'd have sworn if he touched her further she'd come apart.
Of course, he had. As the conversation droned on, when he chose to listen—often when she was speaking—he'd brush his mouth against her exposed shoulder. Chaste, never more than a lingering caress, she almost gasped every time he did it.
The final culmination of her present torment came when he dropped the arm that had been supporting her back and slid it around her waist to rest atop her thighs. He was talking then. About the same damn colt she was here to claim. Telling the gathered group of men—who, thank God, seemed ignorant of their play—how he didn't plan on racing him until late fall. To keep his two-year-old legs free of injury before his three-year-old year. Leaning forward as if to show genuine interest in the conversation, he put his weight into that arm, pushing her down against his erection. She almost squirmed just to get closer.
Grabbing a hand towel, she dabbed at her face and stared at her reflection. What the hell was she doing? And when, exactly, had her body decided to betray her by wanting Riley Jennings? She'd tried to deny it earlier, fought valiantly against her natural reaction; but even now, when she'd been away from him for five or ten minutes, she felt the ache between her legs, the discomfort of unfulfilled arousal, and her face was slightly flushed.
She splashed some more water over her cheeks hoping to remove their red stain. When that didn't work, she decided she needed some fresh air to find her senses. Drying her face again, she slipped out of the bathroom and headed for the French doors that led to the Weatherson's rolling gardens.
Pearl loved roses, and this year's uncustomary wet spring weather opened the fragrant blooms early. Reds, whites, pinks, yellows, climbing, bushes, and even little potted arrangements, all dotted the dark green foliage between the cobbled walkways. Near the center of her garden, a large fountain spilled water from a conch shell across a leaping dolphin's back. The soft glow of solar lanterns splashed the elaborate marble centerpiece with pale light and added to the romantic atmosphere.
She watched the water play, studied the way it rolled across the dolphin's smooth back and rippled through the basin, as she tried to clear her head.
In ways, tonight Riley was everything she'd always known him to be. Assertive. Confident. Smooth. Sensual. In other ways, though, he was completely different. Where she anticipated his edgy remarks that often bordered on the line of goading her, he was nothing but polite, and friendly. When she expected him to cut her off in conversation as he often did, he listened with rapt attention. She knew it was rapt because he drew her into discussions he normally wouldn't have, responding with sincere interest on her thoughts about the Preakness field. His laugh was even different. More genuine, instead of the amused smirk accompanied by a little snort, she knew too well. He looked at her like he never had before. Beyond the blatant desire in his eyes, there was something else. Respect. He was...
Standing right behind her, she realized, as the subtle spice in his cologne wafted to her nose.
* * * *
Riley couldn't speak. He'd like to. He'd even like to find something intelligent to say. But the low dip in her gown that exposed her back almost to her tailbone refused to let his voice work. All night, they'd played a game of cat and mouse. He wasn't dumb. He knew she was up to something. He'd figured it out at the dinner table when she offered him that strawberry.
However, she wasn't completely immune to him, and her reactions weren't staged. Like now, as she stiffened, sensing his nearness, but not yet turning to face him. She pushed a hand through her long locks. In the dim light he noticed the subtle tremble in her fingers. She definitely wasn't immune. But she was up to something.
Maddie didn't just decide in a matter of days that she wanted him. It wasn't in her nature. Maddie mulled things over, made logical decisions, and when she acted, she never leapt in with both feet. She always kept one foot on her shore of safety, ready to pull the other out if the water got too high or rushed too fiercely.
Still, he wasn't sure he cared. While she might be playing a game, he wasn't. He wanted her. By now, after hours of being ready for her, of suffering through the torment of her nearness, he flat out needed her. Needed to sink his cock into her and release his built—up tension with what, he was certain, would be an amazing climax. Nothing else would do. He'd let her get to him far more than he intended, and now his body was in charge, not necessarily his brain.
He fastened his hands around her narrow waist, and with a gentle tug, pulled her back against him, molding her hips to his. Out here in the quiet garden, where no one could see them, he gave in to a little push, letting her know just how much he wanted her. Then, he yielded to the one thing he'd wanted to do all night, but their continual audience forbade him. He dropped his head, pressed his mouth against the side of her neck, and skimmed his teeth across her skin before he soothed the playful nip with the tip of his tongue.
Her soft gasp almost sucked the air from his lungs.
"Maddie,” he murmured as he nibbled at her dangling gold earring.
She tipped her head sideways, inviting him to more of her soft skin, and relaxed against him. “Hm?"
"I need to kiss you."
Her reply came so faintly he almost missed hearing it. “Not where everyone can see us."
It didn't bother him. He understood her well eno
ugh to know how far she'd pushed her limits of modesty already tonight. Her request for privacy went hand-in-hand with the Maddie he'd known for fifteen years. What surprised him was how she didn't protest.
Before she could find sense enough to argue, he stepped back and away, fastened her hand in his and led her down one of the outward-branching walkways that went deeper into the manicured garden. At the end of the path, tall rows of neatly trimmed evergreens rose to barricade the secluded hideaway from prying eyes. He drew her to him, holding her steady gaze and reveling in the depths of her green eyes.
Taking in her features—her pert nose, her full mouth, the long length of her slender neck—he studied her, committing the moment to his memory. With one final tug, he brought her against his chest. God, she felt good. Braless, he felt the hardness of her nipples brush against him, and he checked a groan.
Claiming her mouth with unprecedented abandon, he drank from her parted lips, plunging his tongue inside to taste the sweet flavor of the wine she'd consumed. When she swirled hers against his with equal hunger, need slammed into him. He fisted a hand in her hair, pulling her closer, and snaked the other around her waist, fusing her against his erection. When she wriggled her hips, grinding closer, his soft moan got lost in her throat.
Her hands slid up his chest to fasten around his neck, her fingers playing at the loose waves of hair against his shirt collar. She intoxicated him. Made him deliriously dizzy beneath the soft aroma of her perfume.
Tearing his mouth away from hers, he trailed kisses down the length of her jaw, toward the sensitive skin of her neck again. So soft. So sweet. So goddamn willing. He loosed her hair, bringing both hands down to cup her dainty bottom, and dragged her against his cock so fiercely, he thought he might come right there.
"I want ... to be ... inside you,” he managed through his ragged breath.
Her response came with a muffled noise of pleasure and the grinding of her hips.
"I need...” He sucked in a sharp breath as he felt his body tremble. She'd somehow managed to wrap her leg ever so slightly around his calf and brought his straining hardness so close to her he could feel the heat seeping through their clothes. Needed her. Now. Before he lost all control.
She leaned backwards and fanned her fingers across his chest, opening her eyes to give him a smoldering look. Nibbling on her lower lip, she gave him a half-smile that only plunged him deeper into desire's embrace. “I have needs too,” she whispered, as she plied at the button on his collar.
"Tell me?” He closed his eyes, shuddering as her moist breath washed across the base of his neck.
"I need to beat you to the finish line.” She punctuated her request with another delightful roll of her hips.
That would be easy enough. He certainly didn't have objections to watching her orgasm before he came into her. In fact, watching her give over to trembling rapture, hearing her cries, would make his climax even that much more satisfying. God, he'd never wanted a woman like this. A little frightening, but all together amazing.
He answered with a hard thrust.
She pressed soft kisses up his throat to his mouth, murmuring against his lips, “I want him. More than anything."
That was it. If he didn't find a way to get her out of that dress and sink inside her, he was going to embarrass himself completely. Her too, likely.
Only...
Through the haze of desire he suddenly had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't referring to sex.
Releasing his hold on her bottom, he fastened his hands on her arms and leaned back, eyeing her with suspicion. “Him who?"
Her flush told him the answer before she replied, “Ghostly Persuasion."
He didn't bother to hold back a frustrated groan. So that's what prompted this game. He should have known. Although, it didn't prompt her willing response, the smoldering look behind those bright green eyes had nothing to do with any horse and everything to do with passion.
At length, he began to chuckle. “Maddie, Maddie, Maddie.” He shook his head, amused despite his painful discomfort. “I can't sell him for three hundred thousand. And, while I promise you, making love to you would be worth three times that, I'm not going to sell him that way."
Her look of disappointment only further provoked his humor. He leaned forward, sampling her mouth again. It took less than a heartbeat to bring her back into his arms and elicit her fiery response. Horse or no horse, Maddie McCleery wanted him. As much as he wanted her.
Sliding his lips closer to that tempting earring once more, he murmured, “You like a good wager, don't you?"
Her throaty laugh sent another rush of desire racing through his veins.
"Of course."
Suckling at her dainty earlobe, he took it between his teeth and tugged gently, desperately trying to ignore the catch in her breathing. “I'll make you a bet then."
She spread her hand across his abdomen, sliding it upward to flatten it against his chest. “What kind of bet? What are the stakes?"
"Seduction.” He looked at her again, trailing a solitary finger across her collarbone, and over the swell of her full breasts. Slipping his hand further, he cupped one soft mound and kneaded gently as he held her gaze.
"At the Preakness. If Infidelity beats Mister Spoilsport—no matter where in the field—I'll sell you Ghost at your offered price.” He dipped his head to dart his tongue across the exposed flesh at her low neckline, and shuddered when she made a little sound of pleasure in the back of her throat.
Her fingers tightened, curling into a fist that she pressed into his shoulder.
"If it's the other way around...” Using care not to tear the dainty material that covered her body, he tugged at her neckline. It gave easily, revealing what he sought. Her creamy breast stood taut, its rosy nipple hardened with desire. “We negotiate my way."
He took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, nipping, tugging, suckling until he felt her wobble in his arms.
When he let it go and covered her once more, he lifted his eyes to hers. What burned inside those green depths reached inside him and twisted his gut over and over, until he thought he might be torn in two. Fire. All fire. Reaching out to draw him into the flames further.
"All right,” she murmured.
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CHAPTER FOUR
Maddie scrubbed her hair vigorously, as if she sought to wash away her embarrassing behavior from the night before. It was the second time she'd shampooed it this morning, but she could still smell Riley's faint cologne. Every time she shut her eyes, she pictured their scandalous excursion in the garden.
What the hell had gotten into her? She'd been stupid to think she could seduce him into selling his colt. He was too much of a master to believe she might beat him at his own game. She'd learned that lesson eleven years ago when she'd tried to coerce him into a harmless kiss. Like last night, she'd failed miserably then too. Cool, handsome, star of the football team, Riley had convinced her out of her clothes, into the lake, and when she'd tried for a kiss, he humiliated her by picking at her body's inadequacies. Swore there was nothing about her to want to kiss. He left her there, humiliated.
She'd just intended to return the favor. Or so she tried to convince herself.
Spinning the faucets off, she leaned against the tiles and let out a deep sigh. He was too damn alluring for his own good. For her own good. For her sanity.
And she'd certainly lost her sanity when she agreed to this wager. Negotiate his way. If last night was a preview, she could only imagine what he had in mind. Things she couldn't allow to happen. Riley had too much control over her body to entertain the idea of deliberately losing to him. If she gave in to desire, she'd never get him out of her system. She'd already come too close. Thank God, she'd called a taxi before he could repeat his offer to take her home. Otherwise, she was fairly certain that, wager or no wager, he'd still be here in her house. Probably looking even more handsome with sleep-laden features.
Sh
e pushed away from the wall, stepped out into the chilly air, and slid into her thick terry robe. Coffee would do her some good. It would could stack the odds in her favor and beat him at the Preakness. That was her only option.
Marching down the tiled hall and across the inlaid marble floor of her dining room, she entered her kitchen. Still muttering to herself about her near catastrophic evening, she yanked open the refrigerator door and pulled out three eggs. Then, she set a pot of coffee on, and took a seat at her round oak table.
The peal of her doorbell brought her brow into a frown and her eyes to the clock. Eight in the morning. Who in the hell rang the bell at eight in the morning, the morning after the Kentucky Derby? Even Sybil knew better than that, and Sybil was prone to showing up on her doorstep whenever she had a fancy.
Stifling a yawn, she stamped to the door and jerked it open.
Leaning against the wall, with his hands stuffed in his pockets and one ankle crossed over the other, was Riley.
Shit!
She tugged her belt tighter, resisting the urge to slam the door in his face. “Ah ... Riley,” she faltered. “Good morning. Can I help you with something?"
"You still need to get your truck, right?"
"Um.” Scrambling for an excuse, she worried her fingers through her wet hair.
"Get dressed. I'll take you over to it. See if a jumpstart can get you rolling again. If not, I'll tow you into town."
Growing up together explained how he knew where she lived. What she couldn't explain was why he offered to help. This was completely out of character. Riley wasn't the sort to go out of his way to assist anyone without expecting something in return. That something was the part that concerned her.
"Sh-sure,” she stammered, flustered.
Backing out of his way, she invited him in with a sweep of her arm, and left him in her front room as she retreated to her bedroom. Still trying to get over the shock of finding him on her doorstep, she stared into her closet not really focusing on anything at all. He looked good for the few hours of sleep she knew he had. Clean-shaven, and sporting a pair of comfortable-looking jeans with a collared short-sleeved shirt, he appeared like he'd been up for several hours.
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