The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2) Page 19

  When his fingertip touched the focus of her arousal, she arched up with a strangled scream. The tension in her belly ratcheted a notch tighter. “Inside me. Please. Inside me.”

  He obliged her, thrusting one finger deep into her as he rubbed his thumb against her clitoris. With his other hand, he massaged her breast, rotating his palm over the center of it to drive her closer and closer to orgasm. He found a rhythm that had her hovering on the verge of finishing as he sent waves of pleasure washing through her, making her writhe in the chair. She didn’t have to remember to keep her hands on the wooden supports; she was holding on for dear life.

  “Okay, sugar, come for me,” he whispered beside her ear. He increased the pressure of his thumb and inserted a second finger into the hot, moist center of her with a hard, swift thrust.

  She went absolutely still as she felt the exquisite moment of suspension before she began to fall over the edge into her release. Then he curled his fingers inside her and every muscle in her body seemed to convulse around the detonation within her.

  The breath screamed out of her lungs as she bowed upward, her spike heels digging into the carpeting while she rode his hand to another explosion. And another. He found a new way to touch her and triggered one last burst of radiating pleasure before she sagged back onto the chair’s seat, her heart beating furiously, her lungs laboring to refill themselves.

  He slowly withdrew his fingers, sending little aftershocks of delight rippling through her. “Ahh.” She let her head fall back against the chair and closed her eyes.

  She felt his breath on her cheek before his lips touched hers ever so lightly, an acknowledgment that she needed time to come down from her orgasm, but he wanted to be there with her.

  “You can let go now,” he said.

  Her fingers were still clenched around the chair posts, the anchors she’d been clinging to as the storm of sensation broke over her. She released her grip, flexing and stretching her fingers.

  And then his hands were under her knees and around her back, and she was sailing upward. Her eyes flew open, and she started in surprise as she landed against the wall of his chest.

  “Easy,” he said, walking away from the table. “We’ll be more comfortable on the couch.”

  He strode to the giant sectional sofa and settled onto the gray cut-velvet upholstery effortlessly, as though he didn’t have a benchworthy injury and a full-grown woman in his arms.

  His touch was undemanding as he eased her onto his lap, but she felt the rock-hard length of his erection against her bottom. It sent another tremor through her.

  “Cold?” he asked, seizing a throw blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and draping the whisper-soft cashmere over her exposed side.

  “No, just getting a little extra thrill.” She snuggled under the blanket anyway, feeling self-conscious about being nearly naked while he was fully dressed.

  He wrapped his arms around her over the blanket, one thumb stroking against her shoulder, the softness of the cashmere caressing her skin. She nestled closer, reveling in all the textures of his body against hers. The heavy silk of his shirt pressing against the side of her breast as he breathed. The warm steel of his thigh muscles covered with fine wool. The bands of his arms encircling her in a shelter of protective strength.

  Odd that she felt protected even as his cock pushed against the V of her panties, reminding her that his needs had yet to be satisfied. The fact that he had taken care of her with such exquisite attentiveness made unshed tears burn behind her eyes.

  She turned her face in to the hollow of his neck, inhaling the fragrance of aroused man and fresh, tangy aftershave. “You smell like Texas,” she murmured.

  A chuckle rumbled against her ear. “You mean like bluebonnets?”

  She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. “Like a hard-riding cowboy.”

  “You were the one ridin’, sugar.”

  “And it was one heck of a rodeo.” She started to shift on his lap, but he held her in place.

  “Rest a spell. I like having an armful of warm, satisfied woman.”

  He seemed content to do no more than sit. Maybe his injuries were worse than he let on. Although he hadn’t demonstrated any difficulties with carrying her or bending over the chair to make her come. Memories of how he’d touched her sent tendrils of excitement curling through her all over again. “I want to unbutton your shirt.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation before he said, “Go right ahead. Just don’t be surprised at the color of the bruising. It gets uglier as it heals.”

  She levered herself onto her knees and lifted one leg over to straddle his thighs. The blanket slipped off her shoulders, and his gaze zeroed in on her breasts, making them throb with the desire to be touched. But he raised his eyes and stretched his arms out along the back of the couch, so she had access to the buttons running down the front of his shirt. The expression in his eyes was almost challenging, and the corners of his mouth turned up just enough to bring out his dimple.

  It was impossible not to brace her hands on his shoulders and brush her lips over the indentation in his cheek. That brought her aching nipples into contact with his chest, and they both inhaled audibly.

  “That dimple is so disarming.” She kissed it again. “Not what you’d expect on a rough, tough football player.”

  “I got it from my grandfather, who was a rough, tough insurance salesman. According to the family stories, it was an effective sales tool with the ladies of the town.”

  She dragged her hands down from his shoulders and leaned back to flick the first button from its hole. “You should smile more when you’re on the sideline. You’d convert a lot of women to being football fans.”

  “Grinning like an idiot would go over big with my teammates.”

  She walked her fingers down to the next button, slipping it out before she looked up at him. “It might make your opponents wonder what you knew and they didn’t.”

  “That kind of smile doesn’t bring out my dimple.”

  “Show me.”

  Right before her eyes, he went from red-hot lover to brutal gladiator with ice water flowing through his veins. His eyes froze to glacier blue while his lips thinned and drew back in a near snarl that held the promise of pain and defeat.

  As a shiver of trepidation rolled over her, she was grateful for the lesson. She needed the reminder that behind the molasses drawl and the sexy dimple beat the heart of a stone-cold competitor, willing to do whatever it took to win in a game that was ferociously violent. He had climbed to the top of his world and stayed there for years. You didn’t do that by being a kind, compassionate human being. Even if he still wanted his parents’ approval.

  “I like the other smile better.”

  The ice in his eyes melted, and the dimple reappeared. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

  Relief chased the nerves away. Her Luke was back. She gently tugged his shirt out of his waistband and finished unbuttoning it. “Now I get to unwrap you,” she said as she bared his spectacular musculature. “Ouch.” She traced around the splotches of blue, green, and purple on his side, making sure her touch was gossamer light. “That looks even more painful than yesterday.”

  “I’ve had worse.” He paused. “It just takes longer to heal these days.”

  She glanced up to see a shadow darken his eyes, and remembered that even Dennis said Luke’s age might be catching up with him. To her, he seemed as unalterable as granite, but maybe he was admitting he wasn’t.

  He brought one of his hands around to cup her cheek. “You don’t have to look so worried, sugar. I’ll be back on the field next week.”

  She feathered her fingers over the vivid bruises again. “I’m just wondering if you should go back so quickly.”

  “Christ, you sound like Stan.” He lifted his hand to scrape his fingers through his hair.

  “I’d like to meet him.” She didn’t want to dwell on his troubles, so she changed the subject by lightly tr
ailing her fingers along the lines and curves of the muscles that rippled under the skin of his abdomen. He sat with his arms outstretched on the sofa, his head tilted back against the cushions, eyes closed.

  She watched his reactions as her hands moved over him, noticing when he sucked in a quick breath or contracted a muscle. There were more scars than she had noticed the night before, some small nicks and some jagged slashes. She ran her fingers over those as well, ever so gently, but he showed no discomfort.

  Did he keep playing because he had a high tolerance for pain, or did he simply override it by sheer force of will?

  She rose onto her knees to trace her fingertips up the powerful column of his neck and along his clean, sharp jawline, burying her fingers in his hair, combing through it so the different shades of blond glinted in the soft lighting. “It isn’t fair for a man to have such beautiful hair.”

  She leaned in to kiss that firm, male mouth, her breasts brushing against his bared chest. A long groan tore out of his throat, and his hands were on her waist, lifting her up and sideways so that she sprawled on the couch. Luke shucked off his shirt and came down on top of her, his knees pushing her legs apart so his erection was pressed against the apex of her thighs.

  “You rested?” he asked, letting just enough of his weight land on her so her breasts were crushed against his warm skin. That and the pressure of his cock sent erotic energy coursing through her body.

  “You were the one who insisted on a rest period.”

  His mouth curled into a wicked smile. “I think you just challenged me.”

  She thought of his warrior face and shuddered. “I would never do that.”

  He levered himself off her and stripped her black lace panties down over her shoes, tossing them behind the couch. He pulled a condom from his trouser pocket, put the foil packet between his teeth, and unbuckled his belt.

  He got the condom on so fast that Miranda simply lay there, mesmerized by the speed and economy of his motions.

  Then he was over her again, the head of his cock nudging at the opening between her legs. Very slowly he pushed inside her, so she felt herself stretching around him. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of being filled in slow motion. It was exquisite torture as she waited for him to seat himself fully inside her, her body craving more, yet wanting to savor what he was doing to it. At last he stopped. She could feel the wool of his trousers brush the tops of her thighs.

  She tried to pulse her hips, but his weight held her immobile against the sofa cushions.

  “Not yet,” he said, picking up on the tiny amount of movement she managed. He interlaced his fingers with hers, pinning her hands down beside her shoulders while he braced himself on his forearms. He rubbed his chest over the hard tips of her breasts, sending bolts of arousal streaking down to where he was anchored inside her. All she could do was tighten her internal muscles in response.

  He exhaled sharply. “You play dirty, lady.”

  “Focus of desire.” She squeezed her inner muscles again.

  The sound he made was somewhere between a moan and laugh. “Using my own words against me.”

  The light banter contrasted in a highly erotic way with having Luke’s cock buried within her.

  “I can’t use anything else against you, can I?” She pushed against his immobilizing grip on her hands.

  “You’re using your whole body against me.” Nuzzling the side of her neck, he blew gently on each spot he kissed. She shivered at the hot-cold seesaw. He whispered by her ear, “I can feel every inch of your skin on mine.”

  “And I can feel every inch of you in me,” she murmured back.

  He gave her a little pulse of movement, as though he couldn’t stop himself. It was enough to send flares of sensation through her. “Yes-s-s!”

  “Aw, hell, sugar, I was going to take my time, but it’s not happening.” He locked his gaze on hers and started to move, his rhythm measured but relentless.

  She wanted to meet his eyes, to watch the heat build in the pale irises, but the feel of him driving inside her was too powerful. She closed her eyes so she could ride the wave growing within.

  He released one of her hands, and she felt his fingers curl around her ankle, bending her leg to put her foot over his shoulder. The position angled her hips so he had greater access. He thrust faster and the tension tightened inside her.

  She opened her eyes to see the muscles in his neck corded with effort, his eyes glazed. His focus was inward as he drove both of them inexorably toward orgasm. The sight of him made the furled bud inside her burst into a blossom of sound and heat and motion. At the first clench of her muscles, he drove in hard and went still for a second. Then he howled her name and plunged in again, his climax throbbing inside her. Her muscles contracted and she arched upward, pressing against his body without moving it. He pushed in one more time, going deep, and she felt as though her insides would burst open with pleasure.

  She melted back into the sofa cushions as aftershocks vibrated through her. He gently unhooked her ankle and lowered it back to the sofa before coming down onto his forearms with his head resting on her shoulder. His breath rasped fast and heavy over her skin while his heartbeat thundered against her breasts.

  She luxuriated in the weight and heat of his body as they lay still joined, tiny shudders of residual satisfaction twanging at her nerve endings.

  Superbly conditioned athlete that he was, Luke caught his breath much too quickly, pushing up and sliding out of her effortlessly as she whimpered her objection. “I’ll be right back,” he said, giving her a swift kiss on the lips.

  He stripped off and disposed of the condom as she lay there. Her muscles seemed to have stopped listening to her commands. Or maybe it was her brain that had forgotten how to tell them what to do.

  She felt his presence and opened her eyes to see him standing over her, an appreciative grin tilting his mouth. “You look mighty pretty like that.” He leaned down to draw a circle around one nipple with his fingertip, igniting her skin. “There’s a nice, big, comfortable bed in the next room,” he said. “We should use it.”

  He went down on one knee, and Miranda realized he was planning to scoop her up in his arms again. She put her hand against his magnificent bare chest to hold him away. “I’ll walk. Otherwise my conscience won’t leave me alone.”

  “As long as I can walk behind you, I won’t argue,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her up with him as he rose to his full height.

  She started to reach for the throw blanket, but his reflexes were too fast, so he got it first, tossing the soft cashmere halfway across the room. “That would ruin the view.” He gave her backside a pat to start her moving. “Why would you want to deprive me of such a pleasure?”

  Since she seemed to have no choice, she decided to put on a show. Heading for the bedroom door he pointed out, she let her hips sway as she put one foot directly in front of the other, strutting like a runway model. A quick glance over her shoulder caught him staring down at her behind, so she put even more sashay in her walk.

  “You’re killin’ me, sugar.”

  “You asked for it.”

  “I think you’re askin’ for it.” His hands were on her bottom, his fingers flexing. “They’re so smooth and round. Makes me want to take a bite.”

  “No tooth marks,” she said. “I have to be able to sit at my desk tomorrow.”

  She sauntered into the bedroom and stopped. The giant bed faced another plate-glass window with a view of the harbor, the lights on various shores flickering over the dark water while several boats plowed steadily through the waves. “Now that’s an amazing view!”

  He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I prefer the closer one.”

  Smiling, she turned in his arms so she was caged against his chest. “Who knew such a tough guy could be such a flatterer?”

  He didn’t match her smile. “I don’t have to be a tough guy, and I d
on’t have to say anything I don’t mean. That’s why this is so good.”

  His words made her heart stutter with surprise and delight. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

  Did he want to know more about her expectations? He looked at her back reflected in the window, the curves of her creamy skin glowing against the dark blue of the outside evening. “Tell me what surprises you,” he said.

  “Now you’re fishing.” She looked up at him with a teasing smile on her intensely kissable mouth.

  “I want the truth.”

  That knocked the smile away as she lowered her eyes to where her hands lay flat against his chest. “Hmm,” she said.

  She felt so small in his arms. He splayed his hand to span her shoulder blades.

  After a few seconds, her soft brown eyes came back to his face. “So many celebrities believe other people were put on this earth solely to keep them happy. With who you are and the way you look, there are a lot of people who would jump to smooth your path for you. You never take advantage of that. In fact, you go out of your way to be nice to people who can’t do anything for you.”

  He didn’t want praise for his fame or his looks. And the other virtue she ascribed to him was no more than basic human courtesy, something he didn’t always receive himself, so he made a point to extend it to others.

  “It doesn’t make me happy that you find a little simple decency a surprise,” he said.

  She stared at his chest for a moment before giving him a shy look. “I’m surprised by how generous you are about giving me pleasure when we make love.”

  “So you thought I’d be selfish in bed?” He was getting pissed off. He’d wanted more.

  “Let’s just say that someone as extraordinarily good-looking and famous as you are might consider just his presence more than enough.”

  She must have had some lousy lovers. The thought pissed him off even more, for reasons he didn’t want to explore.

  Truth was, he liked watching how a woman responded to his touch, how she moved, what sounds she made, which parts of her body were the most sensitive. It was like seeing a play unfold on the field and then taking it in the direction you wanted it to go. It stoked his own arousal.