Quarterback Casanova (Kansas City Griffins #1)

by Lisa Rayne

  Game on.

  The shop Tatum selected was filled with dresses, scarves and wraps in flowing fabrics. Outfits in colors of beautiful island neutrals mixed with those of vibrant hues. Naomi fell into shopping heaven. She slid out of the dressing room for the dozenth time, this time wearing an ankle length sleeveless dress that fitted her curves down through the hips and moved elegantly around her legs and feet as she walked. She did a spin for the gentlemen.

  Their mouths drop open. “Wow,” they both gasped in unison.

  Naomi laughed.

  “That’s definitely a keeper,” Dash said when he could finally get his throat to work.

  Naomi grabbed the skirt of the dress and swished it around her ankles as she swayed from side to side. “You think?”

  “Definitely,” the guys said again in unison.

  She laughed again. “Okay, this is getting weird.”

  “Ignore him,” Dash said, pushing Tatum out of the way amidst his brother’s own laughter. “I’m the only one who matters. You need to buy that dress.” He walked slowly around her.

  “I don’t know, Dash. I’ve already picked out three dresses. This is getting a bit excessive.”

  “Fine. Then I’m buying the dress.” Dash whipped out his wallet and handed his platinum card to the sales associate.

  “Don’t be crazy.” Naomi reached for his card.

  He snatched the card out of her reach and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Which means you can only wear it for me.”

  Tatum chuckled at Naomi’s expression. “I don’t think you’re going to win this one, sweetheart.” Her frown at his endearment made him chuckle even harder. “In fact, why don’t you just keep it on? It’ll look great in the nightclub I want to take you all to later.”

  Tatum grabbed her around the waist and steered her back towards the dressing room. “Go get your stuff.”

  While Tatum attended to Naomi, Dash had the associate put all the items Naomi had selected on his card.

  When Naomi came out of the dressing room carrying the outfit she’d entered the store wearing, the associate offered her the shopping bag full of purchases.

  Naomi frowned. “But I haven’t checked out yet.”

  The lady smiled at her. “It’s all been taken care of, Miss.” She handed Dash back his credit card.

  Starting to protest, Naomi turned to Dash. “Dash—”

  He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, cutting her off. “You’re welcome.” He took the shopping bag from the sales associate and headed for the door.

  As he walked away, he heard the sales lady whisper to Naomi, “I take it that one’s yours. Is the other one single?”

  “What?” Still stunned by Dash’s actions, Naomi was a little slow on the uptake and frowned.

  Dash turned to see the lady raise her hands in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with both of them.”

  Naomi’s face turned bright red. “I … Are you … You can’t be serious?”

  Tatum put a hand around the waist of the flustered Naomi and placed a kiss on her cheek before steering her towards the exit. “Come along, sweetheart. I think it’s time to feed you. You’re tripping over your words.”

  Naomi sputtered at Tatum and dragged her feet. Once outside, he let her go and she turned on him. “Why on earth did you do that? Do you know what she thought?”

  Tatum just grinned at her and headed for the car. “Yeah. And you should be so lucky.”

  Dash burst out laughing. He was beginning to understand this wicked sense of humor of his new brother. Tatum was completely irreverent, and Dash found it refreshing. The guy didn’t seem to have an uptight bone in his body, and he clearly didn’t know a stranger. The two of them were an odd set of contrasts—completely alike except for where they were complete opposites. Maybe this having family thing wouldn’t be so bad. Time would tell.

  Dash climbed into the car, situating himself once again in the back seat.

  They headed for a restaurant Tatum selected and enjoyed a light dinner. The food was fabulous and the conversation centered on casual topics that allowed them to get to know one another. Evening fell and Tatum suggested they finally get in some dancing. Knowing how much Naomi loved to dance, Dash thought it a great way to end the night.

  When they got to the club, loud vibrant music pulsed over a throng of people. Naomi grabbed Dash by the hand and immediately pulled him towards the dance floor. Half way there, she stopped abruptly, forcing Dash to grab her around the waist to keep from knocking her over. She whipped her head to the left and scanned the crowd.

  His eyes mimicked her perusal. “Something wrong?’

  “I don’t know. I just saw …” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I thought I saw someone I knew.”

  “On Ibiza? What are the chances of that?”

  She smirked. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about as likely as coming here and finding one’s long lost identical twin?”

  He laughed. “Touché.” He tugged her hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

  Only a few songs had to play before the sexy sounds of the percussion-heavy music and the sway of Naomi’s body intermittently against his drove Dash’s thoughts to the bedroom. She danced like a timeless enchantress around an ancient fire—free and sensual. The music moved through her seamlessly.

  His pants got tight in the groin area. He tugged the enchantress off the dance floor at the commencement of the next song.

  “Hey, what’s the deal? We just got started,” she complained.

  “Sorry, I need something to drink.” And to do you again. He kept the crude thought to himself.

  He should have known better. The first time he’d made love to her had been after a night of dancing. Her body had teased him with her every dance move, and he’d had to have her. She hadn’t been one of those easy women. She’d had no intention of falling into his bed after only a few dates—if at all. But by the time the DJ spun his last tune, the chemistry between them had seduced her into a need as strong as his.

  That same overwhelming desire pulsed through him now, but he didn’t want her to know she still had that kind of power over him. He needed to downshift, and he’d start by staying off the dance floor for a while.

  After several songs finished without Dash agreeing to head back to the dance floor, Naomi got restless. “If you’re not going to dance with me any more, I’m going to find another partner.”

  Before Dash could respond, Tatum stepped up and grabbed her hand. “I’ve got you, pretty lady. Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

  “You’re on.” She flounced onto the dance floor, holding tightly to Tatum’s hand.

  The recurring bouts of jealousy Dash had been fighting since he’d reconnected with Naomi rose to taunt him again. Intellectually, he knew Naomi wasn’t a woman to sleep with one man one night then move to another man the next. However, Tatum did look exactly like him. Would one twin be as good as the other as far as she was concerned?

  The longer the two spent on the dance floor, the more uptight Dash got. He watched Tatum grip her waist during one groove then pull her tight against him during another for a Dirty Dancing kind of sway. By the time Tatum and Naomi headed back to the bar for a break, Dash was ready to deck the guy.

  Naomi dismissed herself for a trip to the ladies’ room. Tatum stepped up to the bar and ordered a mixed drink.

  Dash met him and spun him around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Dancing. With Naomi.” The bartender handed Tatum his drink, and he paid with a single bill.

  “That looked like more than dancing to me.”

  “Did it?” Tatum placed his change in the tip jar.

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Tatum. Now is not a good time for your smart-aleck mouth.”

  Tatum placed an elbow on the bar and cocked himself into an arrogant lean. “I thought there was nothing going on between you two?”

  Dash just glared at him.

  “Fine.�
�� Tatum took a sip of his drink. “Here it is. You’re lucky you’re my brother or I’d be doing everything in my power to entice that lady into going back to my room when this night is over. But you might want to take a look around. The other men here don’t care about your ego or your pride. Your lady is gathering a fan club.”

  They both looked around for Naomi, whom they found waylaid on her way back from the restroom by a trio of male admirers.

  Tatum continued, “She’s beautiful. She’s sexy. And not that they know it—yet—but she also happens to be extremely smart. The lady’s a keeper and either she’s with you or she’s not. I suggest you step up or step aside.”

  The tension in Dash’s body mounted. Smart-ass bastard. Tatum had been testing him. All damn day. Not only had Tatum been aware of the affect what he was doing had on Dash, but the bastard’s behavior had been intentional, calculated to get a rise out of him.

  Dash released the vice-like grip he’d fisted his hand into and slid his eyes back to Naomi. The men eyeing her weren’t few in number. Although she wasn’t flirting back with anyone, she wasn’t exactly ignoring the attention she was getting either, which was his real problem. Not Tatum.

  He had to stop kidding himself. He had no intention of letting her go when they got back home. He’d gotten a taste of her again, and he wanted to keep that all for himself. Releasing her hold on him so she could go share everything she’d shared with him over the last few days with some other man just wasn’t tenable.

  A Latino man grabbed Naomi’s hand and led her onto the dance floor. Dash watched him pull her into his arms. He was a smooth dancer. They moved into a seamless salsa. They looked good together. Too good.

  It was time for him to stop holding back. If he’d learned anything over the last week, it was that he didn’t like sharing Naomi with other men. She was his. And, ready or not, the time had come to make that clear.

  He grabbed the drink from his brother’s hand, downed it, and then said in a low growl, “Damn you.” He handed the empty glass back to Tatum then spun around with storm clouds in his normally placid eyes. He strode purposely across the dance floor.

  “You’re welcome,” Tatum said with a grin in his voice and a lift of his empty glass, but he wasn’t referring to the drink.

  The dancing throng parted like the Red Sea in the wake of an intense Dash. For the rest of the night, Naomi would be dancing solely him.

  *

  By the time Dash and Naomi reached the door to their suite in the wee morning hours, they were both wound so tight with sexual tension it took every ounce of their will not to undress each other in the hallway. Dash slid his keycard into the card reader and pulled Naomi into his arms as he pushed open the door. They kissed frantically, pulling at each other’s clothes. He had the presence of mind to move them out of the doorway before Naomi freed herself of her top, but just barely.

  This time, his bed was closer, and he didn’t care about strategy. His only interest was getting her in bed and opened to him as soon as possible. He’d tie her to the bed afterwards if that’s what it took to keep her in his arms until morning.

  He flicked on the lights and grabbed her up. Clad now only in her lacy, lime green matching bra and panties, she watched him through glowing emerald eyes that scorched him with their intensity. He dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. She grinned as she bounced into an unsexy sprawl. She resituated herself onto her knees and sat back on her haunches.

  Without removing his eyes from hers, he stepped away from the bed and peeled his clothing off one piece at a time. Naomi’s eyes watched his every move intently, darkening further and further with each item he removed. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. Freeing her full, round mounds, she tossed the silky cups over the edge of the mattress. The erection beneath his boxer briefs lengthened.

  Naomi’s eyes stayed focused on his. She unconsciously parted her lips. Her hands went to her bare breasts and squeezed. Her nipples puckered noticeably beneath the self-stimulation. His hands froze at the waistband of his underwear and his brain short-circuited, what his hands were supposed to be doing forgotten beneath his mouth’s desire to replace her hands.

  “You planning to keep those on all night?” She shifted onto one hip and adjusted her legs to slide her panties all the way off. “It’d be easier to do this without them, but I’m sure I could work around them.” She dropped the scrap of lime green lace to the floor, reuniting it with its matching bra. Lounging on one arm, she held her body upright with a hand flat against the bedspread. She lifted her other hand and motioned with a crooked index finger for Dash to come to her.

  He swallowed, heart thudding for the goddess teasing his vision. As he approached, Naomi lazed herself onto her stomach lengthwise across the center of the bed until her toes dangled off the other side of the mattress. Propping herself up on her elbows, she let her hands hang over the edge and tease the comforter cover.

  Everything in Dash tightened, hopeful anticipation mixed with a slight sense of dread. If she fulfilled the promise she had in her eyes, his evening might be short-lived. He stopped a few inches from the bed. She reached out with one hand, tugged at the waistband of his boxer briefs, and pulled him closer.

  Her hooded eyes seared him with a burning desire that fully matched his. “It’s been a while,” she whispered. “Let’s see if your likes of have changed.” She slipped his briefs gently over his fully loaded manhood and down to his knees.

  When she gripped the back of his legs beneath his buttocks and guided him into her mouth, he couldn’t control the deep throaty moan that burst from him. “Naomi, you’re going to kill me.”

  She licked over the tip of him and smiled up. “Maybe. But, like they say, what a way to go.”

  Placing one hand at the base of his shaft, she slid him back between her lips and pleasured him with long slow sucks. The suction of her mouth alone nearly undid him, but when she placed her free hand beneath his balls and massaged with slow, steady pressure, he nearly spilled himself too soon. He grabbed her chin with one hand and yanked himself from her mouth, fighting back a release that would signal the end of this night before he’d gotten to the best part.

  In one fluid motion, he tossed her on her back and grabbed a condom. He covered himself quickly then covered her. Anxious but not careless of her comfort, he seated himself into the deepest part of her with one thrust. The sexy moan that filtered from her vocal cords was a sound he could hear for the rest of his life.

  She lifted her legs and wound them around his back. She moved beneath him, trying to coax him into a faster rhythm while he fought to slow things down. “Don’t go slow, Talon. Not tonight. Take me. Take me hard. Please.”

  Her pleas broke his resolve. He obeyed with a tempo governed by her body’s nonverbal cues. They fled past burning desire towards ecstasy as they fired each other’s flesh. When they finally pushed each other over the edge, the explosion that rocked them blew with an intensity that left them both shaking.

  The intimacy they’d inadvertently regenerated—but not acknowledged—slithered over his psyche. They grabbed each other and held on silently. Mixed with the contented bliss he felt floated a subconscious memory of the vulnerability inexorably linked with the passion he’d been missing since the day he’d split with Naomi, a vulnerability they’d just unleashed and which gave her the power to hurt him in ways others could not.

  He kept his own counsel about the emotions spiraling unchecked within him and fought himself over the strength of his feelings. Everything Naomi made him feel blossomed bigger and more intense than he could intuitively understand. He’d didn’t believe in the propaganda of love, the forever-afters or the till-death-do-us-parts. Life in foster care had cured him of such foolish notions early and permanently. Still, when he touched her, held her, made love to her, intellect took a back seat to a feeling so overwhelming he couldn’t even name it.

  He pulled the limp, sleeping treasure tighter against him, at peace in a way he
hadn’t been in a long time. He reveled in the feel of her steady heartbeat against his chest. She adjusted, snuggling against him beneath the high thread count hotel sheets. He smiled. He clearly would not have to tie her to the bed to keep her in his suite. When she snuggled tight against him like this, burrowing deep into the covers, she was usually out for the remainder of the night.

  His hand slid through her hair. He’d shown his territorialness at the club tonight. He’d claimed her with abandon only minutes ago. He’d done everything but say the words, the words he needed to say, the ones that spiraled so close to the tip of his tongue he could barely hold them in: I want you back.

  Tomorrow, he’d fix that. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t just show her in deed, but put it all on the line so she’d no longer have to guess at what he was thinking. Tomorrow, he’d say the words and reclaim what he’d been missing for the last three years.

  Tomorrow …

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Dash stepped through the adjoining suite door to see if Naomi was dressed yet. They were meeting Tatum for breakfast before he had to catch his midday flight back to the States.

  She had her back to him with her cell phone tucked under her ear. “Okay, sweetie. I miss you, too,” she said to someone on the other end.

  He frowned. Sweetie?

  She turned, phone still to her ear, and startled when she saw him standing at the door. “See you soon,” she said before disconnecting the call.

  She was quiet a moment, watching him. A nervous energy surrounded her. “Did you need something, Dash?”

  A sense of foreboding crept along his spine. “We’re supposed to meet Tatum in five minutes to say goodbye, but if you need to continue your call, don’t stop on my account.”

  She glanced at the phone, a strange look passing over the face he’d made glow with pleasure only a short while ago. “No. I’m finished.”

  “Yeah. Sure you are.” His jaw ticked and his eyes went cold. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Go ahead and call him back. I’ll meet Tatum alone.”