Licking my lips, I can’t deny that I do feel sexy. Wetness pools in my core, and it’s probably dripping out of me by now.
“Still icy hot in and out?” he asks.
“Not much.”
He grabs the tube and applies a little. I suck in my breath as it hits. He also puts some on my nipples. It makes me writhe in my restraints, and about those—damn, it’s fucking hot as hell being tied up.
When he slides in two fingers, I bite my lip, but moan. It’s impossible not to. Even though he hasn’t tied me tight, I can’t move very much. I want to thrust to meet his fingers, but I don’t.
“I want to feel you inside me,” I say.
“Oh, you will.”
Turning away, he gets something, only I can’t see what. Then he releases my ankles and pushes my knees to my chest. His hand works me, my clit, vagina, but then I feel that same finger breach my backdoor, and at the same time, he pushes his cock inside me. I’m full, stretched to my limit, by him, his hand, and the icy sensation. I want to grab his hips, ass, anything, but I can’t. He doesn’t fuck me hard, but slow and steady, to a rhythm that is in perfect harmony with his finger, buried in me. They work together producing magic, and when I climax, I catapult off the edge in a magnificent eruption of impulses that don’t seem to want to end.
Mark soon comes, and I feel his warmth against my icy depths. His pulsating cock takes its time, and when he’s been choked dry, he lifts to one elbow and kisses me.
“You are amazing.”
For the rest of the night, we have sex as many times and in as many places as we can think up. The kitchen counter seems to be one of our favorites. And the sink has a water sprayer. Who knew that thing would come in so handy and that Mark would come up with so many ideas on what to do with it? My ingenious lover. By the time the New Year’s ball drops, we are bone weary from fucking, and we laugh as we clink our champagne flutes together.
“To the best New Year’s Eve I’ve ever spent, and may this coming year be our best ever,” he toasts. We raise our glasses one more time, and I’m instantly saddened over the prospect of having to leave him so soon.
How will we work this out between us? How can we keep this up? Will he even be willing to do it? I know one thing. I have fallen, and fallen hard for this man. If he isn’t willing, I hope he tells me soon, because my heart is so wrapped up in him, even if he told me now, there isn’t enough Gorilla Glue in the world to piece it back together.
RILEY
The tearful goodbye as he reminds me for the umpteenth time that my plane is going to be late has me questioning repeatedly why I don’t ask him to join me. When I disengage myself from him, he grabs my chin and says, “We can do this, Eagle.” Then his fingertips gently swab my tears away.
My head vibrates up and down, and I unsuccessfully convince myself he’s right. The problem isn’t that we can. It’s that I don’t want to. Sniffling, I say, “Pretty sure I look a mess.”
“You never look a mess.”
He’s only trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working. It’s when he stuffs a handful of tissues in my hand, I know I must look like road kill. When I attempt to laugh and a snot bubble emerges from my nose, the situation turns a bit humorous.
“Look at me,” he says. Grabbing one of the tissues, he wipes my nose, and I feel like a little kid. “There. Much better. Now, you really need to be going, or you will miss that plane.” He plants a loud smacking kiss on my lips and gets out of the car to assist me.
Pulling out all my shit is no small feat. Golf clubs and three large bags would break anyone’s back.
“How do you travel like this, alone?” he asks.
“I hire a skycap at the airport. Usually I take a cab.”
We drag my stuff to the curbside check-in, and then it’s the final goodbye.
“Hit ’em well, Eagle.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Promise me something?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“Text me when you land in Atlanta, Tokyo, and then in Singapore.”
“You know I will.”
Warm arms cage me into his body, and I don’t want him to leave. Like I really don’t want him to leave. Say something, Riley. Just say it!
“I’d better get going. Work, you know.”
And those three words stop me. “Yeah. Work. Okay, I’ll talk with you soon. I’ll miss you.”
“Me, too.” He turns and walks to his car. My eyes are pasted to his back and remain fixed on him until he drives away.
“Ma’am, did you want to check your bags?” The skycap brings me back to the present.
“Oh, yes.”
He checks me in, and I’m off to my gate. I board the flight, and my ass is kicked—by me—so many times the damn thing is bruised. It’s one of those I shoulda, woulda, coulda. But dammit, I didn’t. And the thing is, golf is my life. It has been ever since my dad stuck a club in my hands and taught me how to swing. It wasn’t a matter of telling me I had to practice. I begged to practice more. They had to drag me off the range and the course. This is the first time in my life I wish I had a different career. I’m that silly college girl whose boyfriend is attending a different school, and I’m pining away for him.
When the flight attendant comes by, I order a screwdriver. The flight from Charlotte to Atlanta is short, not even an hour. Maybe the vodka will relax me enough to take my mind off the long flight ahead. From Atlanta to Singapore it’s over twenty-two hours, and I don’t want to constantly think about this situation that long.
We land in Atlanta and not only do I text Mark, but I call him as I walk to the international terminal. Atlanta is crazy with all the subterranean trains and concourses, so I made sure I had enough time when I made my reservations.
“That was quick,” he says.
“Yeah. The air traffic wasn’t backed up like it usually is.”
“You okay?”
“Um, I’ll survive.”
“I hope so. I’d like to think I’ll see you again.” There’s not even the slightest hint of humor in his voice.
“You will.”
“Hey, you’re going to have an awesome tournament. In fact, I’m going to make a prediction that you’ll win.”
“Ah, Mr. Hopeful, are you?”
“No, I’ve seen you play, Eagle. I know the talent that lies in your swing. And I’ve also been the, um, recipient of the power of those hips.”
The corners of my mouth curve into a smile. “Yes, you have, haven’t you?”
“And I will again, in the not too distant future.”
“Hey, I’m getting ready to get on one of those trains, so I’m gonna lose you.”
“Okay. We can talk later. Be safe, Eagle.”
My phone goes dead at that point, leaving me to muse over what I should’ve asked him again. Enough with beating myself up over this. I didn’t ask and that’s that. I plop onto a seat at my gate, and I’m surprised I can see my legs with the way my lower lip sticks out.
The call goes out to board my flight, and Mark seems further away than ever. This melancholy mood stays with me even after I step out of the airport in beautiful Sentosa and arrive at my gorgeous hotel. And why? Because I’m thinking of how much more meaningful it would be if Mark were here. The joy has seeped out of my life without him by my side. It all sounds so childish when I think about it, but it’s precisely the way I feel. Too bad Wade couldn’t fly with me, but he lives on the West Coast and that didn’t make sense. Randy took a different flight, and I honestly didn’t want him to see me moping over the fact that I left Mark behind.
When the tournament week arrives, I’m not playing as I should. Randy and Wade keep asking me what my problem is. Randy finally blames Mark, and he’s right this time. But I deny it.
“Look at you. How much sleep are you getting?” Randy asks.
“Plenty.”
“My rear end. Your eyes look like you’re growing eggplants beneath them. Don’t they, Wade?”
>
Wade shrugs, and I can’t blame him for not wanting to get in the middle. But he does add, “You do look exhausted, Riley. Is it the time change?” he asks gently.
He knows perfectly well I’m a mess, too.
Randy grabs a club and inspects it. “Isn’t this what I warned you about? Isn’t this what I said would happen? Get involved with someone and you’re bound to get hurt. Did he dump you?”
Jesus. “No, he didn’t dump me, and he has a name. Please use it.”
“Okay. Mark, then. So, what’s the problem?”
“The truth?” I decide not to hide it anymore because it’s no use.
“Yeah,” Randy says softly, his eyes matching his tone.
“I know you’ll make fun of me or something, but I miss him. We’re so far away, and with this time change it’s so hard to stay in touch. And I know you don’t like him, so go ahead and beat me up.”
I’m surprised when his burly arms wrap around me and hug me like my dad would.
“Hey, I get it. I miss my family, too.”
Wade joins in, saying, “Oh, man, so do I. I’d give anything for my family to be here. This place is so awesome. My wife would go crazy, and that’s all I can think about.”
“How do you get through these times?” I ask. I need to know these things because this will be my life.
“You think about what waits for you when you get home. And it makes it all worth it in the end,” Wade says.
“And then some,” Randy adds. “You’ll get through this. You’re one tough cookie, Riley. This is the first time you’ve ever been in love so—”
“Who said anything about being in love?” I ask.
They both look at me and chuckle. But then it turns into an all-out howl session.
“Oh, come on. Stop kidding yourself. You’ve got it so bad for him, if it’s not love, I don’t know what it is,” Randy says. “I’ve known you ever since you were in high school. I’ve watched you since before then, really. This is the one, Riley. Look, you know how I feel about this, but it was bound to happen one day. I just want the man who holds your heart to be of high standards. But I trust your judgment here.”
This is something coming from Randy. I’m glad to see his pit bull attitude toward me relaxing somewhat.
Wade shuffles his feet, and his gaze shifts between the two of us. I put him out of his misery. “Spit it out, Wade.”
“I have to agree with Randy, although I haven’t known you for very long. Whenever you talk about Mark, you sure get all soft. It’s the way my wife acts around me. And don’t be mad at me. That’s a compliment. You know how crazy I am about my wife.”
“Thanks.” And he is crazy in love with her. He does all kinds of nice things for her when he’s away, like sends her flowers and gifts from wherever he is, buys her jewelry, and even beautiful photos so she doesn’t feel left out. He’s an awesome husband.
Thinking about those things, my hand automatically reaches for the necklace Mark gave me, and I finger the charm and diamond golf ball.
“Like that bling you’re wearing. Bet I know where it came from,” Randy says.
That actually gets a grin out of me. “And you’d be right.”
Randy claps his hands together. “So, now that we have this settled, shall we play some golf?”
“Yeah, I think we should.” They’ve made me feel better on one hand, but on the other, I realize one glaring thing. I’m in love. Deeply, madly, passionately with Mark James. And what the hell am I going to do about it?
For one, get my game head back on. And I do that. But only after I film a damn hot video of me getting myself off. This twelve-hour time change between us makes sexy phone time difficult, as it was when I was in Australia. When I finally come, moaning out his name, I text him the thing with a message saying not to view it in front of anyone. He’ll know exactly why. I end the message with: I miss you more than I love playing golf. R
That should clue him in to my emotional status where he’s concerned.
Without Randy and Wade, I’m not one hundred percent sure I would make it through this thing. But their unending support and encouragement, and the way they boost my spirits, especially at the end of the day when I’m weary as hell, keep me going strong. In the end, I come in at the top of the leaderboard and win the tournament.
We sit around, celebrating at dinner that night, when his call comes in.
“Congratulations, Eagle. I knew you would do it.”
“It would’ve been a whole hell of a lot easier if you had been here.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. And if you don’t believe me, then ask Randy and Wade. They had to listen to me moan and groan about how much I miss you.”
“Um, Eagle, don’t even talk about moaning and groaning. That video. Uh, yeah. Thank God you warned me. If I had opened that thing in front of anyone, it could’ve been a major embarrassment.”
I laugh so loud, Randy and Wade want to know what’s so funny.
“Is that Randy and Wade?” Mark asks.
“Yeah, we’re out celebrating my win.”
“Then I’ll let you go. Call me when you get in.”
“I will.”
As we’re eating, my phone rings again.
Randy laughs. “You’re Miss Popularity tonight, and it’s well-deserved.”
Chuckling, I answer, thinking it’s either Ryder or my parents.
“Hiya.”
“Miss Wilde?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is Ron Thompson. I’m the tournament director for the LPGA Hawaii Invitational. I know this wasn’t on your schedule or probably not even on your radar, and it’s late notice, but we’ve had an opening. I’m pretty sure we’re not even up to your normal standards, but we would sure love to have you come and play in two weeks. Would that interest you at all?”
“Oh, I—”
“The purse is unusually huge for a women’s tournament. Does that persuade you any?”
“Can you hold on a second? My caddie and coach are right here and I’d like to confer with them.”
“Absolutely.”
Shit. I want to see Mark, but this represents money for Wade and Randy as well. I have to think of others beside myself. I explain to them the situation.
“We’re already here. We might as well go for it,” Wade says. Randy nods his approval.
Getting back on the phone, I tell Ron Thompson we’re a go.
“Excellent. I’ll send you everything you need. And thanks. I think you’ll enjoy this one.”
My heart sinks. Now what am I going to do?
We finish dinner and go back to the hotel. There are travel arrangements to be made and a host of other things.
“Do you all want to take a couple of days here, or would you rather go straight to Hawaii and relax?” I ask.
They both want to jump on the Hawaii train. I email my travel agent so she can get all the reservations started. Then I stare at my phone. The dreaded phone call awaits. Golf has once again become my enemy.
I touch his name and wait for the phone to ring.
When I hear his voice, tears trickle down my cheeks. How am I going to survive this kind of life? My heart is already breaking, and we’ve only just begun.
MARK
The phone feels like a meteor in my hand, alien and radioactive. Staring at it doesn’t change the short conversation I had with Riley.
Her words shouldn’t have affected me the way they did. It’s only another couple of weeks apart. I am man enough to handle that. Yet, it feels like a lifetime. Still, I try to power through without waking to her scent in the morning, the way she makes me laugh and challenges me to keep me on my toes.
For a solid week and a few days, I’ve labored on. But enough is enough. My ego has flown out the window. I have to see her, and today. My laptop hasn’t seen such furious finger tapping as I search like a madman for a flight, which turns out impossible. The best thing I can find has three connections. I even
try Fletcher, but Cassie is using the plane. So I call up my other ace.
“Gina, Love.”
Her snicker comes through loud and clear. “I’m Love now? You don’t ever call me that, and you’ve never asked for anything. First time for everything. What do you need?”
“You wound me. You know I love you.”
“Yeah, keep pouring on the love and the twins are going to get the wrong idea,” she teases.
Ryder has shown his displeasure once when he made the wrong assumption about Gina and me.
“Tell Ryder to keep his panties on. You know you're my favorite sister but not sister.”
“Uh huh. Ryder’s coming back and I won’t be able to talk, so spit it out.”
“Okay, and I really don’t want to hear about that.” I push my fingers through my hair, not sure how to ask. “Look, I need a huge favor, and you know I wouldn’t normally ask.”
“Oh my God, Mark. I know you don’t, which is why you should ask away because I owe you big for all the shit you’ve done for me over the years.”
I rub a hand across the base of my skull.
“Okay, the thing is … I need to see Riley.”
“Shocker,” she adds sarcastically.
“I can’t find a flight out today and—”
“Don’t say another word. I’ll call my pilot and get you there.”
“Gina—”
“It’s not a problem.”
“I’ll pay for the fuel,” I interject.
It will cost five figures at least, but fuck it. I need my girl now.
“You will do no such thing. I have more money than God these days, and Ryder’s got that nine-figure contract. We don’t need you to repay us. Besides, I have to pay the pilot to be on standby based on the contracts I inherited. You’ll be doing me a favor by using the plane so my money is not being wasted. Plus, Ryder says that his sister has sounded miserable the last few days. I imagine it’s being away from you that’s got her down.”
I don’t know what to say because I’m hung up on Riley’s unhappiness.
“Thank you, Gina,” I manage.
“Don’t thank me. Go get your girl. And tell her how you feel.”
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