Playing for Keeps: Harford Scarlet Series

by Toria Lyons

  ‘Hmm, with your personal experience, you can definitely testify to that.’ Clare smirked at the pink in Sarah’s cheeks. ‘Come on, you look faraway and I’m getting jealous. It’s your round.’

  Sarah and Clare continued their usual Saturday evening. One by one, the players straggled into the bar after having their meal in one of the back rooms. To a man, they were wearing the club dress of black trousers, white shirt, and the red and black Harford Park tie. All the players appeared – that is, except Tom, although Alex was only just visible behind a wall of women. Sarah saw Clare glance over a couple of times but her friend refrained from commenting.

  At seven, they made their excuses and left. Clare was going to a concert and Sarah decided to walk with her to the station. On the way, Clare kept turning to speak to her and then appeared to change her mind. Finally, after another long look and Clare biting her lip, Sarah got exasperated.

  ‘What? What are you going to say?’

  Clare stopped walking, faced her and took a deep breath. ‘I can’t decide how much you’re hiding behind that wall of yours. You’re not exactly forthcoming with your feelings; I’ve never seen you unduly upset in the whole time I’ve known you, apart from when Wales lose at rugby. You have a huge heart for those around you but when it comes to your own affairs – and by affairs I mean any emotional event – you close yourself in. This thing with Tom, I have a feeling there’s more to it than you realise, but by the time you recognise it, it may be too late. Just don’t get hurt like I was. There may be a reason he didn’t seek you out tonight: perhaps he didn’t want to embarrass you. Perhaps he was caught up elsewhere. Perhaps he was rushing off somewhere.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ admitted Sarah, with a shrug.

  Clare hugged Sarah and waved her away. ‘I can get to the station by myself now; you just needed to get away from the club. Go home, slob out with a glass of red and some chocolate. We can talk in the week or chat on the coach to the away game next week.’

  Sarah nodded her agreement and hugged Clare back. After waving her off, she ambled home for a quiet night. Once back in her cosy flat, she changed into some silk pyjamas and lounged on the sofa in front of the television with a drink.

  The programme didn’t hold her attention for long. Still dwelling on Clare’s words, she rummaged in her bag and, on finding her match programme, took a look at the article on Tom her friend had pointed out. A quick read confirmed there was nothing in there she didn’t already know from surfing the net, but she found herself tracing the picture of him, fascinated by it.

  Recalling the day, she was relieved she hadn’t completely embarrassed herself over Tom. Clare had managed to hide that Sarah had been eating him up with her eyes by distracting the other supporters with some loud comments and cheers, for which Sarah was very grateful.

  She concluded realistically that he was only after something physical. Now she was certain of that, at least she could save some dignity by keeping him at a distance. If he wanted a repeat encounter, she would have to be careful not to pressure him into anything emotional. They could share their bodies and chat superficially but intense emotions were to be avoided.

  It was just past nine when there came an imperious knock on the door. Sarah took her time to answer it, butterflies racing around her stomach and even lower places. As she had somehow suspected, it was Tom, still wearing his shirt and club tie. He had some bruising around his cheekbone and was holding an icepack to the side of his jaw.

  ‘Been in the wars? Are you sure you’re up to it?’ She turned and sauntered back into the living room. He followed her silently. ‘Thank you for your discretion, by the way. If we leave separately, no one should find out.’ There, she’d laid down the boundaries.

  ‘Buh …’ Tom winced as he tried to speak. ‘Buh … wahnee treateh …’

  Sarah paused, unsure for a moment. He gestured towards his swollen jaw. That was probably why he’d been late; he’d been getting treatment. She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Do you want me to kiss it better?’

  The tension in the room racked up as Tom’s eyes scorched her. Sarah sashayed over and ran one gentle finger down the side of his face. His free hand went to hold her waist and he pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck.

  ‘Seeing as you can’t kiss, we’re just going to have to be inventive.’ She brushed a kiss to his cheek, took hold of his tie and led a willing Tom to the bedroom.

  In the morning, Sarah woke first. She stretched, deliciously sore and glowing with contentment. The need she’d felt for Tom had been momentarily sated by the events of the night before. She turned over to find him sleeping peacefully beside her, an arm stretched out in her direction. The swelling on his face had gone down and had been replaced by more colourful bruising. Her heart twanged at the sight, closely followed by other parts of her body as it stirred for the male in her bed.

  Pulling a silky slip-nightgown on over her head, she popped to the bathroom, returning with a glass of water and painkillers just as Tom began to stir. Sarah slung one leg around his waist and straddled him, admiring his chest despite the scratches and bruises it had gained. He opened his eyes slowly. His body definitely wasn’t dormant at all.

  Sarah smiled lightly at him. ‘How is the face? Need some paracetamol?’

  Tom cautiously moved his jaw around and accepted the tablets she was offering. ‘It feels much better. Must have been all those kisses – they worked better than an icepack.’ He propped himself up and glugged the tablets and water down.

  ‘But the icepack was fun too.’ Sarah grinned wickedly; he had used it in various creative ways the night before, in place of his too-tender mouth.

  Tom put the glass down, whipped off her slip and grabbed protection before rolling over so she was on the bottom, and pressing slowly into her. Sarah hummed and wriggled with delight. He began a gentle rocking motion of his hips. ‘So, what am I going to do with you?’

  ‘Anything you want.’ She twined her legs around his. ‘You know where I live and you’re welcome anytime if you – oh!’ She broke off as he pushed deeper and her eyes drifted closed. She tried to continue. ‘If you keep this up. That’s it, that’s so good.’

  They moved together, slowly and deeply. He kissed her delicately, the care he was taking with his mouth just adding to the gradually building tension. Leisurely, they spiralled up into overflowing pleasure, the circling of their hips winding them tighter and tighter until the tension broke.

  Afterwards, Sarah stood on shaky legs and prepared a massive brunch for Tom and a smaller one for herself. As thanks, he seduced her again on the kitchen floor: this time it was raw and raunchy, from behind with Tom’s hands darting all over her. Later, they sprawled on the sofa watching highlights of the weekend’s rugby. Tom kept glancing over at Sarah; after a while, she turned and stared at him.

  ‘What’s up? Do you need to go?’ She went to get up but he pulled her back down across his lap.

  ‘Nothing, I was just wondering something. Are you around in the week?’

  ‘I’ve got some reports to present to some boards so I’m not out of the country. Hang on.’ She searched in her bag, conveniently still on the table near the sofa, and pulled out her phone. ‘A quick day trip to Manchester on Friday – all the rest of the time I’m working from home, in London or the outskirts. For a change, I should make it back here every night.’

  ‘You’re quite the traveller, aren’t you? How did that come about?’

  ‘I don’t travel as much as a couple of years ago, believe me.’ She sat back, leaning against his arm. ‘OK, here goes. Shortly after finishing at uni, I went to Spain to work in a dilapidated hotel, part of a British chain. The management took a liking to me, appreciated what I did to turn the place around and promoted me to general troubleshooter. When they sold out to a larger international, I was kept on. It just snowballed from there. The travelling was just too much after a few years – I missed the UK. I’m now an independent consultant, mainly in the UK and Europe, but I still have the
odd contract a little further away.’

  ‘So you didn’t even go to your graduation?’

  Sarah looked away from his probing gaze. ‘I was already out there in Spain; there was massive work going on, ready for the busiest season. I couldn’t fly home for a couple of days just to get a photo taken in a silly gown.’

  ‘That explains why I didn’t see you there.’ As she turned back to look at him, he changed the topic. ‘What about a nice, quiet meal in Harford on Tuesday?’

  ‘You want to go out for a meal?’ Sarah couldn’t quite hide her surprise.

  His eyes studied hers. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because … I think it’s better to keep the fact we’re involved under wraps. I don’t want people gossiping about me. Or us. You know what clubs can be like.’

  ‘So we keep it secret for now? We sneak around behind everyone’s backs?’ Tom started frowning.

  ‘Just speak to me normally in the club, like I’m any other supporter. We can arrange by text to meet up afterwards or on weekday evenings. After all, it’s just sex – there’s no need to dress it up. And you said before, we just need to let it burn out.’ Sarah kept her voice light, ignoring the pangs in her chest.

  ‘I said? I meant –’ Tom abruptly moved her off his lap, got up from the sofa and pulled his coat on. Keeping his back to her, he spoke tightly. ‘OK, we swap numbers and whenever we feel the itch, we meet?’

  She turned onto her stomach and watched him pull his belongings together. ‘Tom, it’s not your reputation at risk. When you move on, as you inevitably will, what happens to me? This way is easier. What did you think would happen between us?’

  Tom went through to the kitchen. Sarah followed him out to the front door. He stepped over the threshold, then turned and studied her again. ‘OK, then, if you think it’s best, sweetie. I’ll see you Tuesday night at about eight. Don’t worry about food or drink, I’ll bring something,’ he announced high-handedly. He grabbed Sarah and hauled her to him, kissing her hard. She melted against him until he suddenly released her, striding out to the road and disappearing down towards the club.

  Sarah stood and watched him go, one hand on her still-buzzing lips. Wow, how annoyed was he? And why was he annoyed? He’d got what he wanted in the first place: a no-strings relationship until their attraction dwindled. It wasn’t all her idea.

  She closed the door and surveyed the flat: dishes everywhere, mess on the floor where he’d been creative with some jam on various sensitive parts of her body. The sheets from her bed lay strewn across the doorway to the bedroom, shaken loose by one of their more athletic lovemaking sessions. Lovemaking? Not lovemaking, sensual feasts. Sarah shivered. Already she was looking forward to Tuesday night and the pleasure that Tom could ignite in her.

  Chapter Five

  By Tuesday evening, Sarah felt like she was climbing the walls with frustration and anticipation. She’d tried to work it off with a couple of hard sessions in the gym and a punishing swim but her body was still restless.

  She’d spent Monday in the flat producing reports for the previous week’s work, Tuesday presenting findings to a management boards. Her concentration could have been better; instead of her usual laid-back-but-focused style, she’d been almost too blunt and had caused a few raised eyebrows.

  Home by six, she prepared for Tom’s arrival, putting on a dark green silk top and matching wraparound skirt. She wore no underwear; she couldn’t bear the further friction on her aroused breasts or any constriction around her hips. Her body was preparing itself, parts of her softening, swelling and aching for his touch.

  By the time the doorbell went, shortly past eight, she was beyond ready. She flung the door open and they snapped together like irresistible magnets. Tom propelled her inside and kicked the door shut. He unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them off, stripping off his T-shirt in milliseconds. He hauled her top up and, as she struggled to release her arms, pushed up her skirt, then, murmuring appreciatively at her lack of underwear, sat her on the counter. As soon as he felt how ready she was, he plunged inside and they both sighed in relief as her legs wrapped around his hips.

  ‘This is all I’ve been able to think about for the last 48 hours,’ Tom rasped. ‘Being inside you again, feeling you all around me, clutching me.’ Sarah involuntarily squeezed him tighter and he bellowed out before his hips began hammering against hers, making her slide all over the counter. ‘This won’t do.’

  He unwrapped her legs and withdrew. Sarah whined at the loss of contact, her dazed eyes meeting his. He kissed her ravenously and, as she responded in kind, he pulled back further. ‘Later.’

  Tom turned her, lifted her hips and plunged into her from behind. Sarah held on to the counter with white knuckles, panting as he ravaged her. Her feet were off the ground, his hands pinning her hips to his, one pressing ruthlessly on her mound. Her back arched into a bow and she wailed as indescribable pleasure filled her body and she felt him harden and climax, buried deep inside her.

  On trembling legs, Tom carried her over to the sofa, then collapsed with her on top of him, her back still to his chest. ‘Give me 20 minutes and we’ll have to go again. One time won’t do.’ He nuzzled her sensitised collar bone and began gently squeezing her breasts and tormenting her nipples.

  ‘OK.’ Sarah could barely get the word out. Already she could feel her body heating up again; he was right, one time wouldn’t be enough that night. Her skirt was still twisted around her waist, digging in. She fumbled and managed to undo the tie, sliding the fabric out from between them, sighing in delight to be skin to skin again with no clothing in between them.

  Scarce minutes appeared to have passed by the time he took her again. On their sides, her leg pulled over his body so he could access every part of her, he moved slowly inside her. His hips circled, his manhood stroking pleasure points inside her she didn’t know existed. She pressed her needy breasts into his hands as she slowly fractured into a million pieces.

  Tom got up from the sofa while she lay in a pleasant stupor. She heard the shower going, Tom walking past, ruffling her hair and the front door opening and closing.

  ‘Get up, lazybones, and go shower. Your clothes are in there already.’ She lifted her head to see him re-dressed in his shirt and jeans and grinning at her. ‘Scoot.’

  Sarah dragged herself off the sofa and tottered towards the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she wandered back into the living area to find the main lights dimmed, classical music playing in the background. Her dining table was covered in a sparkling white cloth, laden with china, glasses, and candles. Tom appeared from the kitchen. ‘If we don’t go out, the restaurant comes here.’

  ‘Where was all this?’

  ‘Out in the car. I’ve just collected it and warmed it.’ He pulled out a chair and Sarah bemusedly seated herself. He placed a white linen napkin on her lap, poured her a glass of white wine, and set a small plate in front of her with a flourish.

  ‘Salmon. The main course will be seafood linguine, the dessert a nice, creamy tiramisu. Enjoy.’

  He slid into his chair opposite her, lighting the candles with a small taper. The flickering glow softened his harsh, battle-worn features, shadowed his eyes.

  They ate together in silence, mirroring each other’s actions. The food was lush, rich and tasty, the wine deliciously fresh. Sarah murmured her appreciation. ‘This is far more than I expected. I was thinking you’d be bringing a takeaway pizza. How did you know I liked fish so much?’

  ‘I had a look in your kitchen. Plus I fancied something special, something a bit different. Besides, junk food’s no good for my training regime but fish is great.’ He patted his ripped stomach with a grin. ‘Mmm, I can see the training is working.’ Sarah saucily appreciated him and lifted her bare foot, running it up to the junction of his thighs where a bulge was swiftly growing.

  Tom’s eyes flared with heat. He tossed his napkin to one side and stood up, leaving his pudding mostly uneaten. ‘I can see the benefit of staying in. Now, I
fancy a second dessert in the bedroom. Coming?’

  Sarah’s legs were almost too weak for her to stand at the thought of him consuming her like that. A wicked idea occurred to her. ‘Why don’t I help you finish yours?’ She dabbed a finger in the cream and sucked it slowly, laving the indulgent treat away with her tongue.

  It was too much for him. Tom swiftly picked her up in his arms, grabbed the plate with a free hand, and carried her through to the bedroom. Her giggles were quickly followed by lustful gasps and sighs.

  Sarah tried to keep her eyes from Tom as he stood at the bar, ordering drinks for his teammates. She’d seen him nearly every other day for the past month. They’d slipped into a pattern: him coming to visit her when possible, frequently spending the night wallowing in sensual pleasure. Most Saturdays, Sarah would see him play, watch him scattering the opposition with his powerful runs and drives, knocking them down like skittles when they had the effrontery to actually come near him with the ball. Afterwards, they’d try not to watch each other across various clubhouses, until they left separately and came together at her flat.

  He was particularly demanding if he’d seen her talking to another male, and she revelled in his possessiveness. He’d often have gained scrapes and bruises, and that night, Sarah would attend to them, soothing and kissing the sore parts.

  Besides their physical attraction, she liked his mind, their similar sense of humour when watching programmes on television, his concentration when watching one of the crime investigation series she enjoyed. Occasionally, she would set the record button and playfully distract him so he missed the ending, so that he would need to return to watch it again another time.

  Sometimes they would come together playfully, sometimes fiercely, leisurely or tenderly. As the weeks went by and familiarity increased, his desire for her didn’t seem to decrease. She felt her physical need for him was actually growing; she was addicted to his touch. She also had a sinking feeling that Clare was right: her emotions were far more involved than they should be for a fling, and a dread of the day when they parted began to build in her chest.