Game for Anything (6 page)

“I want you.”

Sophie wasn't sure who'd said the words. The only reality that she could grasp fully was that he was finally kissing her again. Almost. His lips were nibbling at hers, tasting, as if she were something he wanted to sample slowly. His tongue traced her bottom lip, then brushed at the corner of her mouth. In some part of her mind she questioned how a kiss this soft could set her blood pounding. She wanted it to go on forever.

Moving her hands to his shoulders, she ran her palms along the hard muscles until she could fasten
her fingers at the back of his neck. Then she rose to the tips of her toes and tried to get closer. “More.”

And then he was kissing her for real, his tongue sliding along hers. The man tasted like a dark, forbidden treat—the wild honey she'd once found in a hive. She hadn't been able to get enough of it. The sweet, addictive flavor had almost been worth the stings she'd suffered later.

She felt his hands move from her shoulders down to her waist. But instead of drawing her closer, they set her away.

“Slow and easy, Princess.”

Lifting her gaze to his, she tried to read the expression in his eyes. The blue-green had darkened to the color of an angry sea. It wasn't slow and easy he wanted, and she didn't, either. But the kiss had weakened her again and she couldn't seem to… Then his fingers gripped her waist, turning her so that she could see both of them in the oval mirror next to her bed. The woman she saw reflected there was completely framed by the man. He was dark, dangerous looking. In front of him, she looked pale, almost fragile. The contrast sent a thrill skipping up her spine. Would she ever be able to look in this mirror again without seeing this image?

“I'm going to touch you.” His voice was rough and it moved along her skin like sandpaper, igniting little fires as he flattened one large hand against her stomach, drawing her back until her bottom was nestled into his thighs. She could feel his arousal pressing hard against her. Pleasure pierced her as her own body re
sponded, her inner muscles tightening, a dampness gathering between her legs.

“Watch and feel.”

She could barely hear his words, her heart was pounding so hard. And her legs…could they really be melting?

His other hand moved to cup her breast. She moaned and her head fell back against his chest. If he weren't holding her, one hand at her breast and the other at her stomach, she would have slipped to the floor.

A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. Narrowing her eyes, she studied the reflection in the mirror. “I'm not dreaming. Tell me I'm not.”

His eyes darkened. “You're not dreaming. Neither am I. Tell me what you want, Princess. This?”

He moved his hand lower over her abdomen, and she began to tremble.

“Lower?”

“Yes.”

When his fingers slipped over the curls at the apex of her thighs, she couldn't prevent the moan. “I want…”

She tried to arch up against his fingers, but he held her trapped, pressed tightly against him. Leaning down, he brushed a line of kisses along her throat. “Look at me.”

She met his eyes in the mirror.

“I want to see how you feel—how much you want me.” He slipped a finger into her and withdrew it.

“Again?” he asked.

“Please.”

This time he used two fingers.

The climax began so forcefully and moved through her so fiercely that she cried out as she seemed to splinter apart.

 

T
RACKER LOWERED HER
onto the bed, then lay down next to her. The tremors were still moving through her, and his own body was throbbing with the need to take her. Now.

Through sheer force of will, he reined in his desire. No matter how many times he'd fantasized about touching her, pleasuring her, none of it had come anywhere near the reality. He'd never imagined what seeing the pleasure he gave her would do to him.

While she was still steeped in that pleasure, he would love her again. And he would keep it easy and gentle. Raising his hand, he skimmed it down her side, over her hip to her thigh, and began to trace a pattern.

“No,” she murmured, opening her eyes. “Stop.”

“Stop?” He stilled his hand. “Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not.”

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh, no. I didn't mean it that way.” She wiggled away from the hand that was resting on her thigh.

“You want me to stop?”

“Good heavens, no. Are you crazy? No one has ever touched me that way. But you haven't…I mean, I haven't…” She managed to lever herself up onto her knees.

When he covered her breast with his hand, she grabbed his wrist. “No, don't. It's my turn to make
love to
you.
You just have to give me a second. I think some of my brain cells died.”

She was sure they had. But she wasn't paralyzed, at least. Pressing her hand against his shoulder, she pushed, rolled and wiggled until he was lying beneath her. She might not be as experienced as she would wish, but she'd read
Cosmo.
She knew the value of being on top.

“Princess, let me—”

When he gripped her shoulders, she rose up to straddle his waist. “Let
me,
” she teased, looking down at him. “Haven't you ever heard that turnabout's fair play?”

He studied her for a minute. “What if I said I'm not finished with my turn yet?”

“That would be good.” She leaned down, brushed her mouth against his and then withdrew. If she allowed him to deepen the kiss, she would be lost again. And she had plans first. “How could I argue with that? I just want you to take a little break. I'll be more in the mood for round two if you let me play around a little first.”

His eyes narrowed. “Play around? What exactly do you have in mind?”

“You don't trust me at all, do you?” There was wariness mixed with the blatant desire in his eyes, and it filled her with a sense of power and confidence.

“I know when you're up to something, Princess.”

“Me?” Up to something? Well, if that's what he thought, that's what she would deliver. She'd just have to think “naughty” and improvise. Slowly, she trailed a finger from his throat down his chest to a point at
the apex of her thighs. The quick hitch of his breath thrilled her. “I might be more trustworthy if I knew your real name. Are you going to tell me or suffer a penalty?”

“What's the penalty?”

Avoiding an answer, she said, “I just want to touch you.” She trailed her finger slowly back up to his throat. “You got to touch me.” She moved her mouth to his ear. “It only seems fair that I get a turn. And you can even join in after a while. But not until I tell you to.” She straightened then and gripped his hands, drawing them over his head. “First, you have to hold on to the bedposts.” She was leaning over him, their eyes only inches apart. The wariness was still there, but the heat beneath it nearly singed her skin. Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “Are you game?”

Tracker turned his hands so that he was clasping hers. “Before we start, we have to consider protection.”

She found it unbearably sweet that he would think about it. Leaning down, she brushed her mouth against his and whispered, “I'm on the pill. Can we start now?”

In answer, he released her hand and wrapped his fingers around the posts.

The game was on. Sophie was almost giddy with the power of it. And she would have to play it by ear. In bed, she was sure that most of her lovers had found her “nice,” but for Tracker she had an almost overwhelming desire to be “naughty.” And she would begin in just a moment, but first she had to taste him again. Just for good luck. Leaning down, she brushed
her lips against his and slipped her tongue inside. Immediately, she felt the thud of his heart beneath her.

“You taste like toothpaste and…” Pausing, she slipped her tongue in again. “And melted coffee ice cream.” She nipped at his bottom lip and then drew it slowly into her mouth. The small sound that he made at the back of his throat seemed to vibrate right through her.

She meant to stop then and ask him what he liked, but already her mouth was moving along the line of his jaw to his ear. He tasted salty and rabidly male. So different. So hot. As she moved her mouth down his throat to his chest, his skin seemed to grow hotter and damper by the moment. She couldn't seem to get enough of it—the smooth outer texture and the iron-hard muscle beneath. When she could go no farther, she levered herself up and shifted so that she was straddling his hips.

Suddenly, she could feel the hardness of his erection beneath her, and she moved instinctively, rubbing herself against it as it pulsed. For her.

She looked at him then. His eyes were half-closed, but she could feel the searing heat of his gaze on her skin, on her breasts. His breathing was ragged, and his knuckles were white where he was gripping the bedposts. When she saw one of them slipping away, she said, “No. My turn isn't over yet.”

“Then touch yourself,” he ordered in a rough voice. “Touch your breasts.”

She hesitated, just barely. She cupped them first, then ran her hands slowly down to her waist. She heard his breathing grow harsher, or was it her own?
She wasn't sure, not with so many little explosions of pleasure whipping through her.

“Lower. Move your hands lower.”

But they were already moving until they came to a stop at the juncture of her thighs. Sophie was suddenly aware that she was no longer in control of the game.

“Touch yourself, Princess. Touch yourself for me.”

Keeping her gaze fixed on his, she slipped one finger into the slick heat of her femininity. It took all of her strength to say, “It's your turn now. I want you to make love to me, Tracker.”

 

A
FTERWARD
, Tracker would recall that he felt something snap within him—as clear and as sharp as a rifle shot. But at the moment all he could see was Sophie, and all he could feel was the sharp pain of his need for her—uncontrollable, unreasonable. He had to have her. Now.

Grabbing her by the waist, he rolled her beneath him and thrust into her immediately. She was so tight, so hot. He wanted to go slowly and savor, but he couldn't. Drawing out, he drove himself in harder. Again and again.

She began to move with him then, holding him to her with arms and legs, matching his rhythm as if they were one. As the last shred of his control slipped away, he found the strength to say, “Come with me, Sophie. Come with me now.”

And she did, faster and faster, as he drove both of them higher and higher. He felt her close even more tightly around him as the convulsions began to move through her. His climax hit him then, moving through
him, carrying him higher and higher until he felt himself shatter.

Sanity returned slowly. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. He couldn't even find the strength at first to move. Then guilt pierced him in one sharp stab and he raised his head to look down at her. He had to have hurt her. He couldn't recall ever taking a woman so violently. There'd been something about the way she'd looked at him when she'd told him to make love to her. He framed her face with his hands. “Sophie, are you all right?”

Her eyes opened then, but it wasn't pain he saw. Her lips curved. “I'm wonderful, except for another batch of dead brain cells. How about you?”

“I didn't hurt you?”

“No. You couldn't.”

Reassured somewhat, he levered himself off of her. To his surprise, she immediately rolled over and snuggled next to him, resting her cheek on his chest. The sweetness of the gesture moved through him, pushing away the guilt and fear that remained, and he tightened his arm around her. He had to think. He'd been right the night before. He never should have opened the door to her bedroom. One look at her and his entire plan to protect her had blown up in his face.

Well, it wasn't as though he'd never had to switch to plan B before. The invalid with food poisoning was out and the lover was in. It was hard to regret it, and he was good at improvising. But it was difficult to clear his mind enough to think when she was wrapped around him, clouding his thoughts, filling his senses with her scent, her warmth. The longer he lay there
holding her, the harder it was going to be not to roll her on her back and take her again. And again.

A swift surge of panic had him easing away from her. Coffee. Caffeine and a deep gulp of air that wasn't scented with her and he'd be able to think more clearly. He managed to swing his feet off the bed before a hand clamped over his wrist.

“Stop right there. You're not going anywhere.”

“I
'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE
,” Tracker said.

“You've got that right,” she said, keeping a tight grip on his wrist. “You're not going to set foot out of this apartment until we talk.”

Tracker frowned. “What makes you think I'd leave?”

“Because that's what you always do. You slip back into those shadows you like so much. And I'm not having it. This is not going to be a one-night stand…or one-morning stand. I don't do them. And I meant to explain that to you before. I think there should be some ground rules.”

Tracker struggled to clear his mind. “Okay. You're a little ahead of me here.” And that was the problem. She frequently got a little ahead of him. “You want more than a one-night stand.”

“I want an affair.”

Thoughts tumbled through his mind, and he tried to separate them, evaluate them. As her lover, he could remain close to her twenty-four–seven to protect her. But if they continued as lovers, he might not be able to keep his head clear enough to keep her safe. Bottom line—

“Congress doesn't take this long to pass a bill.”

He had to smile. He liked her annoyed almost as much as he liked her pliant and needy and wanting him. “I guess I could be talked into an affair.”

“Guess? Talked into?” She released his hand then and gave him one good shove that nearly landed him on the floor. She was about to lunge at him again when he raised his hands, palms out, in surrender.

“Time out. Truce. You were the one who wanted to talk and lay down ground rules, Princess.” He had to get out of the bed, away from her scent and her hands. If she lunged at him again, he would take her again. “Why don't you get them all lined up for me while I pour some coffee?” And maybe he could fit in a quick and very cold shower.

Rising, he started toward the door and then stumbled over something lying on the floor. The object slid across the floor and crashed into the wall. “Damn!”

“What?” Sophie asked.

“What indeed?” he asked as he stared down at the items scattered across the floor of the bedroom. Squatting down, he examined them more closely—a long black velvet ribbon, a large stuffed pair of dice and what looked to be a deck of cards. The writing on the dice had the light dawning. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Sophie was also staring at the items. The color in her cheeks seemed even higher. “Sex toys?”

“Way to go, Sherlock.”

Another surprise. And he had the uncomfortable, fatalistic feeling that there were going to be a lot more. He noted that a faint flush had crept into her cheeks, but her chin had lifted and she was meeting his eyes
squarely. Admiration shot through him along with an overpowering urge to tease her just a little more. Glancing down, he picked up the deck of cards and examined a few of them more closely. They were coupons, he discovered. “This card entitles the bearer to one quickie on demand.” He might be teasing her, but he could feel himself growing hard. Glancing up, he saw that Sophie was watching him do just that. “Intriguing. How exactly does it work?”

“You give it to your partner and it entitles her to sex on demand. She gets to name the time and the place.”

Damned if he wasn't tempted to hand it to her. But he needed to think first. And they needed to talk.
Coffee. Cold shower.
Tucking the cards back into the box, he shifted his gaze to the other items. “You use these much?”

She moistened her lips. “Not yet. Mac gave them to me last night—a sort of first anniversary present to her maid of honor. She wants me to be as happy as she is.”

With Landry. Jealousy stabbed so quick and deep that for a minute, Tracker couldn't breathe. Mac would have known that Sophie had been dating Landry, and obviously she'd wanted to encourage the match. The guy was perfect for Sophie. Hadn't Tracker said as much to Lucas?

But Sophie had sent the man away last night. Tracker grabbed on to the thought. She wouldn't be using them on Landry. After shoving the cards back into the bag, he picked up the dice.

“These are interesting.” He rolled them across the floor. When they hit the nightstand, they rolled back.

“Stroke. Penis.”

The questioning look he gave her had her saying, “You have to do whatever it says.”

His lips curved. “Oh, I understood that. I'm a trained investigator. I was just wondering who gets to go first, the person rolling the dice or the person watching. You or me, Princess?”

 

S
OPHIE'S MOUTH WENT DRY
and then began to water as the image of him stroking himself flooded into her mind. She'd never watched a man do that before, and suddenly she wanted to, almost as much as she wanted to touch him herself.

The fact that his gaze had locked on hers, daring her to answer or make the first move, had the heat pooling deep in her center and a weakness spreading through her limbs.
No.
She immediately stiffened her spine. There was no way he was going to turn her to mush again. Not until they hammered a few things out. “About the affair.”

“Want to get started right now?”

She did. Almost as much as she wanted to breathe. “We have to talk first.”

He sat down on the floor. “Okay, shoot.”

He was enjoying himself, she decided. He'd turned her into a liquid pool of lust, and he was just sitting there, smiling at her, daring her…. And he hadn't even agreed to the affair. The man was so cautious, so suspicious, he could just be stalling until he found a way to leave.

Everyone she'd ever cared about had left her—her parents, and then even Lucas when he'd gone off to school and then the service. She wasn't going to let Tracker get away.

Reaching for the coin on her nightstand, she said, “There's no point in hammering out the details until we decide the main issue. Are we having an affair or not? Why don't we decide it with a toss of the coin?” She held it up between her thumb and forefinger. “Heads, we have a no-strings affair. Tails, you walk out of here and we don't see each other again until Lucas and Mac's next anniversary. Are you game?”

 

T
RACKER DIDN'T SAY
anything for a minute. So much for his plan to get some coffee and a cold shower and think. Now his whole game plan was going to be determined on the flip of a coin. Fate. Maybe that was the best way to decide it. He nodded. “Toss it.”

She did and held out the coin. “Heads. Now we can hammer out some details.”

“Fine. One question. What happens when the affair ends?” Because it would. He had no doubt about that. He and Sophie were too different, and what was burning between them now would surely die down. He would just have to make certain it didn't fade until she was safe and the Puppet Master was behind bars.

“We both walk away—no regrets, no recriminations. And for the length of the affair, we'll be equal partners.”

His brows shot up. “Equal partners? Now that has possibilities. As an equal partner, I want to add a couple of things to our deal.”

“And they would be?”

“Exclusivity. Neither one of us will see anyone else while we're involved with each other.”

“Agreed.”

“And let's say we make it a no-holds-barred affair. Are you game, Princess?”

Sophie felt her insides clutch so violently that for a second she thought she was going to have another orgasm. Struggling for control, she ruthlessly cleared her mind and tried to weigh logically what he was offering. Impossible. How could she do that when all she could think of was the challenge of what he was proposing?

“Deal or not, Sophie?”

He was turning her to mush again, and he knew it. Lifting her chin, she said, “No holds barred. Does that mean you'd be willing to use some of those sex toys?”

He grinned at her. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Leaning down, she picked up the black velvet ribbon. “How about this? The instructions are on the tag.”

He read them and then met her eyes. “I think we could work that in.”

No, she was not going to blush. Grace Kelly never had, and Sophie was Mac's role model. Plus, she'd just negotiated a no-strings, no-holds-barred affair, after all. “Then we have a deal.”

They extended their hands at the same time. Their palms met in a firm handshake. She was thinking, and she was almost sure that he was, too, of what he'd rolled on the dice—then the phone on her night stand rang.

Not releasing her hand, Tracker reached for it with his free one and held it to her ear.

“Sophie?”

She recognized the voice instantly. Noah Danforth was a graduate student at Georgetown who had worked part-time for her for the past year. She hoped he wasn't calling in sick, because it was going to be a very busy day. “Noah, where are you?” She glanced at the digital clock next to the phone and her eyes widened. She always opened the doors of the shop at ten, and it was fifteen after.

“I'm downstairs in the shop.”

“I'm late! I…overslept. I'll be right down.”

“Are you all right? I was worried there for a minute when I arrived and you hadn't opened up already.”

“I'm fine. Any customers yet?”

“No, but I can see Mrs. Langford-Hughes through the window. She has Chris Chandler and another man with her. They know you're getting that shipment today.”

“Keep them busy until I get there.”

Tracker released her hand at the same moment he replaced the phone.

“I have to go down there.”

He smiled at her. “I know.” He glanced down at the dice. “I think I can remember where we left off, and we can get back to it tonight.” His eyes held amusement and something much more dangerous when they met hers. “You can think about it while you're showering and dressing and putting in a long day in the shop. Anticipation has a heightening effect on pleasure.”

The grin he gave her was wicked, promising.

“You can think about it, too.” On impulse, she leaned forward and brushed her mouth against his. She was finding it difficult to draw back when a sudden thought had her frowning. “I can't tonight. I have plans.”

“A date?” he said, lifting one brow.

“No. It's business. I have to go to a party at Millie Langford-Hughes's house right after work. She's a very important client.”

“No problem.”

Sophie studied him for a minute and found it impossible to read his expression. He'd agreed to her deal. She should be able to relax now, but she was still worried that he would walk away from her again. That feeling was an old and familiar problem. She'd bared her soul and paid an outrageous sum to a therapist only to “discover” what she already knew too well. She suffered from abandonment syndrome.

And she was still holding Tracker's hand.

“Would you like to come along?”

She thought she saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Your wish is my command, Princess. And I can give you an extra hand in the shop today if it will help.”

“The shop. I have to get down there.” Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she slipped from the bed and hurried to the bathroom. At the door, she turned back. “Thanks. Help yourself to coffee, anything.”

With a wave, she vanished into the bathroom.

 

F
OR FIVE SECONDS
, Tracker debated following her. The Princess had taken control of his head and of an
other much less controllable part of his body. He was amazed that he'd been able to stop himself from indulging in round two with her—especially when she'd asked if he could manage the little maneuver with the ribbon. His mind filled with the image of having her that way.

In truth, he wanted to have her any way he could, whenever she gave him the chance. His hormones were on a rampage, and that was dangerous. He was going to have to work very hard to keep both his libido and the affair under tight control if he was going to do his job.

His job. Gathering up his clothes, Tracker pulled them on and headed for the kitchen. He didn't believe in lying to himself. Part of the reason he'd agreed to the affair was that he hadn't been able to stop himself. It wouldn't have mattered a bit which way the coin toss had gone.

After tipping coffee into two mugs, he lifted one and took a long swallow. The hot liquid scalded his throat. He could only hope that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life. When the truth was out someone was going to get hurt. Sophie, for sure. Just how did he expect her to react when she learned that their affair was an excuse he was using to be her bodyguard for the next few days?

“Ready?”

Tracker glanced up to see her stepping out of the bedroom. He'd seen her in fancier outfits, so there was no reason on earth why the sight of her in red slacks and a brightly flowered silk blouse should hit him so
hard. Her hair was twisted up on her head with only a few wisps falling down. And on her feet she was wearing a sexy pair of strappy black sandals. Just looking at her made his mouth water.

“Coffee. You're a lifesaver.” Rushing toward the counter, she lifted the mug and took a quick sip, then another before she set the coffee back down. “Not nearly enough, but it will have to do.”

Turning, she dashed toward the door. Tracker strode after her, but she was out of sight by the time he reached the hallway. Since he'd installed the security system in Sophie's shop, he was well aware of the layout, but he refamiliarized himself with the place as he followed in her wake. The door at the foot of the stairs led to a small courtyard. Beyond the rose-covered lattices lay an alley that delivery trucks used.

The other door led to the back room of Sophie's shop. By the time he made his way past the packing tables and pushed through the swinging doors, Sophie was already in conference with a young man standing near the cash register. Noah Danforth was a grad student at Georgetown who'd been working part-time for Sophie since she'd opened the shop. He was tall and fair-haired, with narrow, dark-framed glasses and clothes that testified to the fact that he read men's fashion magazines.