Rules of the Game Page 6

  A striptease? Yes, please.

  She eased the material off one shoulder, blew him a Marilyn Monroe Happy-Birthday-Mr.-President kiss, and then raised the material coyly back up again.

  Jake groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “That’s the general idea.” She giggled and then wriggled her butt in a shy but seductive bump and grind. She kept alternately moving the dress up and down her shoulders, teasing, testing his self-control, but he could tell she was feeling a bit insecure about her performance. No need to worry. He was blown away.

  He gulped, clenched his jaw. What a show! “Take it off, Gwendolyn,” he encouraged.

  A bashful blush bloomed on her face as she turned back, blew him another kiss, and finally dropped the material from both shoulders and let the dress float down her body to pool at her feet. In black lace panties and a matching bra molded to her high, sumptuous breasts, she stepped from the circle of the dress ringing her feet, like Venus emerging from the stars.

  His hands tingled with the need to touch her, to fill his palms with the weight of her breasts. He wanted to run his tongue over her skin, taste her rich, womanly flavor. He yearned for her in the most primal way.

  It felt as if he’d spent the last three years holding his breath, just waiting for her to appear. She was his salvation when he hadn’t even realized he needed saving.

  His gaze tracked from her chest to the smooth curve of her belly to her black satin thong panties, clinging so provocatively to her sweet, luscious ass. Her skin was smooth and creamy, her belly flat, waist narrow, her breasts the perfect size of full, ripe peaches.

  “Do you have any earthly idea how sexy you are?” he asked.

  Emboldened by his approval, she smiled and moved toward him as if she owned the world—lithe, supple, latching on to a self-confidence she seemed surprised to find buried inside her.

  Slowly, she raised her leg, her stilettoed foot floating above his thigh. He waited. She lowered the thin spike of a heel onto his thigh, dug in lightly.

  “Unbuckle me,” she said.

  Holy shit!

  He fumbled with the delicate buckle at her slender ankle, his fingers feeling big as sausages. Smooth, Coronado, real smooth.

  Her breathing grew quicker, shallower.

  The buckle was stubborn. Refusing to yield. Or maybe his mad haste was the problem.

  In irritation, Jake slipped the strap under her heel and peeled the shoe off her foot, leaving the buckle still fastened. He flung the stiletto over his shoulder, and it landed with a plop on the other side of the room.

  He waved at her other foot. “Gimme.”

  She propped her heel in his outstretched palm. He latched his fingers around her ankle, cradled the delicate bone that merged into the polished patent leather of her shoe, ran his other hand up the back of her leg.

  The sensuous curve of her calf stirred dark, primal urges in the base of his spine. He felt the color red fill every cell. Fond fright. Grim jollity. Jittery calm. His body stretched, grew, swelled, ached.

  For her.

  She gifted him with a small smile that was part modesty, part pity, part lusty desire. Those earnest blue-gray eyes, combined with the flick of her pink tongue over raspberry lips, unspooled him.

  She stole his breath. Burgled it right from his lungs, a dazzling sneak thief.

  He wanted to tell her to give it back. Look what a mess he was in. Breathless. Helpless. Caught.

  What could he say? How should he feel about this? Would she even care what he was feeling if he could find the words?

  In the course of one short evening she’d taken his story and changed it all around with her smile. The grieving widower tale used to read all right, but now it didn’t fit. It was getting harder to wear the old identity. Impossible to keep playing the old roles. He was ready to let go, make a fresh start.

  She leaned forward, wearing nothing but those black panties and bra, giving him a sweet view of her cleavage. She stole his breath away, left him stunned and stumbling. She smiled, smug in her larceny. What a sweet combination. Shy on one hand, poised on the other. She was the sun. The moon. The stars. The galaxy. She was his silver lining. His hope for the future. She knocked his lights out. Babe Ruth in the ballpark on his best day couldn’t equal her.

  And the amazing thing was, she didn’t seem to recognize the sway of her power.

  He blinked, trying to turn the lights back on again, but he could no longer see where he was going. Couldn’t tell where he’d been. It had been a curveball kind of day. It felt like he’d lost his bat, and was swinging empty-handed.

  Inhale, fool.

  He managed to drag in a thin whistle of air, but it wasn’t enough. Solved nothing. He had to have her.

  Now.

  He dispensed with the second shoe, then wrapped his hand around her delicious calf and lay back against the mattress, pulling her along with him.

  She made a soft noise of half surprise, half pleasure. She was atop him again and his hands spanned her waist. Her breasts were pressed against his chest and her head was cocked to one side so she could study him.

  His fingers went for the clasp of her bra.

  She reached back and closed a hand over his fingers. “Not so fast. It’s your turn to remove an article of clothing.”

  He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Quickly he sat up, toed off his shoes, and pulled his shirt over his head without bothering to unbutton it. Her fingers plucked at the waistband of his pants, working the snap and zipper almost simultaneously.

  Making an “attack” noise, she shucked the pants down the length of his legs. Jake lifted his hips to help. His slacks quickly joined her dress on the floor and they were left in their underwear staring into each other’s eyes and breathing hard.

  “Don’t even think about folding those clothes and putting them away neatly,” he warned.

  She chuffed out a short laugh. “How did you know that’s what was running through my head?”

  “I can read you like a roadmap, Gwendolyn.”

  Normally, he was more at ease naked than clothed. He knew his strength. He was an athlete. Women went crazy over his six-pack and his biceps. But he didn’t care what other women liked. All he cared about was what she thought.

  A lock of hair fell across her face and she reached up to tuck it behind one perfect ear. His gaze slid down and he caught himself staring at the smooth hollow underneath her raised arm. The sight of her armpit shouldn’t have been sexy as hell but it was.

  His self-control was unraveling like a greenhorn hitter his first day at the plate in the major leagues.

  He was in over his head, a drowning man. She kissed him back, tentative at first, but her confidence quickly picked up strength and tempo. Instinct took over and he crushed her lips with his. Surprise flashed across her face and she stared him directly in the eyes.

  Yep, babe, I’m as freaked out about this as you are.

  Just horny, he told himself. But Jake was afraid that wasn’t the whole truth. She resembled Maura. Was that the primary reason he was feeling these things? Trying to recapture the love he’d lost so tragically.

  That pulled him up short.

  But before he had time to fully examine the thought, she kissed him again, increasing the pressure, upping the pace. Her lips blasted him into another realm of awareness, making him forget everything except her intoxicating taste.

  Her lips were velvety soft and so damn feminine. Her teeth parted, letting him in. He kissed her passionately, fiercely.

  Too fast. Too fast.

  He was plunging ahead too quickly but he did not know how to slow down. His body was filled with the pressure that had been steadily building from the moment he helped her up off the marble floor.

  Sweet Christ, she had no mercy. Her short fingernails dug into the back of his head. A deep flush of arousal painted her face, spread down her neck to her perky bosom. The flick of her tongue over his teeth was lazy, seductive, teasing him b
y degrees—slowly at first, but then with steadily building intensity.

  She was small. Her waist so narrow that his spread hands could almost span her. God, he itched to touch every inch of her, to explore all the pleasures her body had to offer.

  “Jake,” she moaned softly and the way she breathed in his name on a shivery sigh drove him insane. His head spun, his heart pounded. He couldn’t even remember where they were or how they’d come to be here together. None of that mattered.

  She was all that mattered and he had to have more of her.

  He slipped his hand down to cup her tight, round bottom. His shaft strained against her thigh. Flexing, he curled his fingers into the soft, willing flesh of her buttocks. Heard her quick intake of breath.

  “You okay?” he asked, worried that in his eagerness he’d hurt her.

  “Fine,” she whispered. “Just fine.”

  He couldn’t stop kissing her, or touching her. So tasty. Her mouth was hot and moist and so was his. Beneath his palm, her bottom was warm and growing hotter with each passing second. He kneaded her skin where the curve of her butt met her upper thigh and instantly she trembled against him.

  “You like that?”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded.

  He kneaded the sensitive spot, drawing another soft groan and quiver from her. The discovery of an erogenous area pleased him and he couldn’t stop grinning.

  Note to self. Don’t forget this spot.

  But she’d made it clear enough this was nothing more than a one-time thing, but God, he was trying to figure out a way to change her mind.

  She broke from his mouth and began kissing a path down his chest. Every sensation was amplified, exaggerated—the weight of her body against his, the feel of her fingers tickling his anklebones, the rhythm of her breathing, the perfect shape of her head as he stroked his fingers through her hair.

  She slid down his body, stopped at his navel, lifted her head for a long look at him, a wild glow of excitement in her eyes. The contour of her lips changed. Loosened. Her fingers slipping lower to wrap around his shaft.

  The air vibrated between them, rich and hot, as rich and hot as the testosterone stampeding through his veins. Her wily grin weakened his defenses and cut right to the root of his sexual longings. It was as if she knew everything that was in his heart and in his mind.

  Scary.

  Especially since she looked so much like Maura.

  She studied him in that coy way she had, and he knew if he were smart he’d get up, put on his clothes, and walk right out that door.

  But he wasn’t smart. In fact, he must be as dumb as a pumpkin because all he wanted to do was sit here and soak up her glow.

  She was velvet. He was steel.

  Jake flinched at the first touch of her mouth on his skin. It was startling, but the sensation was achingly sweet and so intimate, he had to lace his fingers through her hair to keep from pulling her back up to him.

  He was a lucky bastard. No doubt about it. He looked down at her and his heart stuttered.

  The push of her rose-petal lips, the heat of her breath disoriented him. The form and curve of her mouth; the delightful swell of her lower lip, the sculpted bow of the upper, the edge where the textured velvet of her mouth gave way to the deeper mystery of her inner self.

  At long last, she pulled away and peered at him, her eyes rounded wide with excitement.

  She spread her hands underneath his buttocks to tilt his hips upward. And when her mouth latched on to him with suction so strong that Jake’s eyes rolled back in his head.

  She tickled the back of his thigh with one hand, gently stroked him with the other. The feeling was so incredible, he almost yelped.

  Systemically, she dismantled him with her mouth.

  Jake groaned as the heat drenched him. Her rhythm picked up. Her hands were magic. His chest expanded, tightened.

  She moved her head back and forth, her tongue doing maliciously wonderful things to him, her hair a silky glide beneath his fingers.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  She worked magic with those fingers and her tongue, leading him far past temptation, guiding him to paradise.

  Her warm, wet mouth, the sweet taste of her on his tongue, and the heavenly smell of her feminine sex tangled up in his nose. She was beyond beautiful. She was pure life, pure joy. Her mouth moved over him without caution or fear. She pushed him past his knowledge of himself. He had never before been so consumed. She was an earthquake, rocking his world. The walls of the hotel room seemed to ripple and sway.

  “Let go,” she murmured. “Release it all.”

  How had she discerned the mental shift in him? His acceptance. Letting her be in charge if that was what she needed.

  A deep humming started inside his brain, vibrating with energy. He shook his head but the humming intensified, growing louder and stronger the deeper she took him. He was about to come. He stiffened, suddenly nervous about the whole thing.

  “Gwendolyn?” he asked, wishing like hell he knew her real name.

  “Shh,” she whispered against his shaft. “Shh.”

  He stiffened and almost told her to stop but he couldn’t speak. His knees were elastic and he was as loaded and hot as any man could ever be. He’d shot far beyond coherent thought, his brain vibrating, humming, buzzing.

  Relentlessly, she pushed him. He was aching, gushing, throbbing. He threw back his head and let out a primal cry, pleading for release from her exquisite torture.

  Tingling. Pounding. Rushing.

  Soon. Please, please let him come soon. If he didn’t come soon, he would drop dead from need.

  She moved her head down, then up, in firm, stroking motions, finishing him off.

  Jake broke, jerking and trembling. Lost. He was lost.

  Through a mist of unbelievable sensation, he peered down, blinked. He could barely see. She was sitting up, a diffident smile tipping her glistening lips.

  Jake collapsed against the pillow, lay there sweating, shuddering, panting for breath, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He pulled her to his chest, tucked her against him, and curled them into a fetal position together. For a long while they lay there together, not speaking, just breathing.

  When at last he could speak, Jake turned her to face him, gave her a tender kiss, and whispered, “Your turn.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Jodi Carlyle’s Wedding Crasher Rules: Be gone by

  sunrise.

  The bed moved as Jack flipped her over onto her back. She did not resist. This was why she’d come here, for an adventure, to boost her self-confidence, to show there was life after betrayal, to prove she was brave.

  “I want you,” he murmured, miraculously growing hard again.

  “It’s not me you want. I’m—”

  He pressed his mouth to hers, cutting off her protests. When he finished kissing her thoroughly, he said, “I want you.”

  How could he want her? He didn’t even know her name. He wanted her body. That was all and that was fine. That’s all she wanted him to want.

  He nuzzled her neck, planting a kiss under her chin, running his tongue over the hollow of her throat, sucking, nibbling, licking, trailing down to her breasts.

  His mouth felt so good. She switched off her mind, and let herself drift on a current of sensation. He teased her nipples, first one and then the other, his tongue swirling over her. Jodi’s toes curled and she fisted the sheets, arching her back up off the mattress.

  Fully ensnared by him, she moaned softly, and squeezed her eyes shut. He tracked down to her belly, ran his tongue around her navel. She squirmed against the tickly sensation. Joyous agony. Her nipples pebbled against his calloused palms.

  Anticipation jerked her up a mountain of expectation, hauling her to the top of an overwhelming ledge. How hard would she fall?

  She traced her fingertips over Jake’s masculine muscles. The man was a work of art.

  For a moment he paused, and she f
orced her eyes open. A myriad of sensations pelted her—the sound of his ragged breathing, the heat of his flesh, the soft scratch of his beard as he claimed her mouth in a scorching kiss. A maelstrom of wicked delight swept her away, a rushing river of passion surging high, swelling. He tasted robust and piquant, like the roasted coffee brew they had shared at the diner. She was thirsty for more.

  Their tongues played.

  Gliding in and around and over each other. The tender slide of his palms underneath her breasts a hungry hunt to increase her pleasure.

  The burning urge to stroke him, to travel the tempting terrain of his body possessed her. She ran her fingertips over his belly, exalting in the way his taut stomach muscles quivered at her touch. His low groan of pleasure lit her up inside. She tracked her hand lower, finding her way through the coarse curls to glide her palm up the long, hard length of him.

  Excitement stirred her blood. A murmured whisper of delight slipped past her lips at the sexy feel of him pulsating in her palm.

  Her body clenched, anxious to have him inside her, filling her up. But she didn’t want to rush things. She wanted to savor this moment, savor him. It took all the strength of will she possessed, but Jodi forced herself to hold back. He was worth the wait.

  He eased her hand from his shaft and pulled his mouth from hers. “You keep doing that and I won’t last two minutes.”

  Jake kissed his way down her neck to her swollen and achy breasts. His mouth settled over one straining nipple, sending a coil of heat firing like an inferno into her blood.

  Her body grew heavier, more languorous. He nibbled her nipples and then made idle circles around her breasts with an index finger.

  She writhed against him.

  He circled back.

  This time she moaned through clenched teeth when he reached her nipples and rolled them between his rough fingers. Her breath came out in low, episodic gasps and her entire body felt swollen and achy. His lips tugged on her earlobe, suckled on her flesh and the emerald stud nestled in her lobe. She shuddered at the wetness of his tongue, the heat of his mouth.