Games We Play (27 page)

This was it, though, they were closing in on the end. They were at the final hole, number eighteen. Cooper was winning, even with the two asides he’d given her, which she’d needed and hadn’t been ashamed to take. Seems like Barnabus had been holding back when he’d played her that one time. Today, he hadn’t held back a thing.

She’d lost her nerves after the first round, and she was as focused as her opponent. She was down three shots, and while anything could happen, she knew that it wouldn’t. Cooper had brought his A game today.

She stepped out of her cart, looked out at the gallery; ten people had turned into forty or fifty—they were a mix of all ages, wearing either pink or green, divided along gender lines with a few exceptions. She’d never played in front of a group like this before and had no idea whether Cooper had or not.

Kendall took the driver from Briana’s hand and made her way to the tee box, where she stood for a few seconds, taking a couple of practice swings before she made the hit.

“You da woman,” someone screamed out just as she got her shot off. They’d been screaming it all morning. She posed at the end after her shot.

The professor and her poses
, Cooper thought, smiling. It had been a nice shot, though. The sound of a ball when it was struck correctly…well, there was something about that sound. He loved this game. Golf, beer, and living here among his friends, and now the professor here to satisfy another need. Life was so good.

“Nice,” Briana said, smiling with pride in her eyes at the woman she’d be like when she grew up. She took Kendall’s driver from her hand. They stepped aside, waiting for Cooper to hit.

His was a beautiful shot. The kind he’d been making all morning.

She caught his gaze.
This has been fun
, she thought she read in his eyes, and she smiled. Really, what did she care who won? Either way, they’d both be getting a prize.

“T
here’s nothing like a good party!” Cooper said later on that night.

“So it seems,” Kendall said, looking around the building. It was some kind of crowded in here.

He stood next to her, near the door to the Brewpub’s kitchen, just outside the door leading from the back. There was a bit of an alcove over here, and it was a tad darker than the rest of the place. It was approaching midnight. The front door was locked. The pub had officially closed an hour ago, and someone had turned up the music, pushed the chairs out the way, and started dancing. It was all unofficial partying time now.

Lark had decided to skip the festivities, tired from getting up early. Kendall watched Butch and Myra move about on the dance floor. Butch was dancing in that relaxed way of people who are approaching their drinking limit.

“I enjoyed playing with you today,” Cooper said, his mouth close to her ear, as he stood next to her, playing havoc with her senses. “We’ll have to do it again, without all the fans next time,” he said, chuckling.

“Funny, wasn’t it? All those people showing up,” she said, laughing. “You’re a good player.”

“So are you.”

“You really were holding back the first time I played with you. You could have given me more than those two asides this time and still beaten me,” she said.

“Maybe. I didn’t know what you were holding back, and I really wanted to win,” he said.

“You have a bit of a ruthless streak running through your veins,” she said.

“When I decide that what I’m playing for is worth it, then yeah, I do.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” she said, and took a sip of her beer. “What is this again?” she asked, holding up her glass, which was filled with a golden-yellow liquid, an orange slice floating around in it.

“It’s a hefeweizen, a German-style beer from a local brewery up the road in Austin. You like?”

“Surprisingly I do.”

“Well, don’t drink too much—it’s potent, more potent than what you’re probably used to.”

“Not like Myra, who can hold her own. I’ve been watching her all evening.”

“She’s been drinking for a lot longer than you have,” he said. They both stood watching Myra and Butch as they danced.

“Myra and George used to be here all the time. They were the ones who encouraged me the most when I decided to start the pub. And he’s the one that helped me get it off the ground before he passed,” he said.

She looked over at him. “You miss him?”

“He was like a father to me, more so than my own.”

“Your father was still alive then?”

“Yes, but George was the one responsible for getting me started in the business of beer. He used to brew it in his garage, and he put me to work helping him. I wasn’t old enough to buy it, but I could learn to make my own. It was an effective way of channeling my anger,” he said, smiling at the memory, his eyes fixed on Myra and Butch, who were gently swaying to the music.

“You were angry?”

“Yep,” he said, scanning the room again.

“You looking to cash in on your winnings anytime soon?” she asked, deciding to let it go. There was so much more to him she’d come to know, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. She watched his smile widen.

There were others standing around them, eyeing the impromptu dancing. He leaned in close to her, putting his lips to her ear again. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this. Your ass left one giant impression on me,” he said, and kissed her just under her ear, sending little tingles down her spine. He pulled away and looked down into her eyes. “I don’t want this to be just some mercy mission, though. I want what I had in the trailer,” he said.

“I don’t go back on my word, and I’ve been thinking about our wager too. I’d like to expand upon it, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“Okay,” she said nervously. “Let’s forget that we even made a bet. We both won, and I am pleased with the outcome, just as much as you are, right? You made an impression on me too.”

He looked into her eyes, surprised again by her honesty.

“I love how direct and forthright you are,” he said.

“Just like you, I don’t like to play games, but let’s get back to what I was about to say. I’d like to really get to know you as a friend. I mean, you’re like a son to Myra, and I’ve been here long enough to see that you genuinely care what happens to her—you’re looking out for her. I would like for us to be friends too.”

“I can do friends, as long as you’re not backing out of the other.”

“Not at all. If I said I was up for it, then I am,” she said.

“For the summer?”

“Unless I get to be too much for you,” she said, and smiled.

He chuckled. “So that means tonight, then?”

“For…er…? Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. He’d surprised her. She looked into his eyes, captivated by the desire she saw in them. “Tonight works, Barnabus.”

“I really dislike that name,” he whispered, bringing his lips back to her ear.

“So you’ve said, but calling you Cooper wasn’t part of our bargain,” she said.

“True,” he said.

“I really do like this, by the way,” she said, lifting up the drink. “What is it again?” The beer and him standing so close, whispering into her ear, were having an intoxicating effect on her senses.

“Hefeweizen, and take it easy. I want you clear-eyed and clearheaded,” he said.

She smiled, seductive and sensual that smile of hers, conveying so much and doing more to his insides than he was prepared for, but all his weird internal stirrings aside, he was so ready for all that her smile promised.

“We’re alone,” she said, standing in the door of Cooper’s office two hours later. The place was empty, and everybody except for them was gone. She’d locked the front door behind Alex, per his request, and the chef had been the last person to leave. Nice man, that one. Kendall had assured Myra that Cooper would give her a ride home—actually two rides, but she hadn’t shared that part with her aunt.

“Just you and me?” he asked, placing the last stack of money into a pouch. “Alex?”

“Gone,” she said, her hands behind her back, holding onto the doorknob. “Mind if I lock this door?” she asked, smiling to herself as his eyes zipped over to hers. “An extra precaution,” she said, turning the lock manually. “Can’t have any one walking in on us, now can we?”

“No, we can’t,” he said. He placed the moneybag in a side drawer, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. She pulled her shirt clear of her body as she strolled over to his desk and stood beside it, staring down into his eyes.

“I’m clearheaded and clear-eyed,” she said, unsnapping the clasp of her bra before pulling it away.

“That’s good to know,” he said, sitting back in his chair, surprised. Even though he’d said tonight, he hadn’t expected her to agree. He’d merely been fishing. She stepped around his left leg and stood in front of him, in the space between the desk and his chair, his legs sandwiching her in, as he sat back to watch.

“I thought your first time should be special,” she said, her finger at the button of her jeans. He was so on board—she could tell from the look in his eyes, which were rife with fire, just that quick. She pushed her button through the hole and lowered her zipper, slid her hands to the waistband of her jeans, and removed them from her hips, slowly of course, pushing them down until they were pooled around her ankles.

“I almost forgot,” she said as she reached for the condom she’d tucked into the pocket of her jeans earlier.

“You are beautiful,” he said, watching her, mesmerized by the sight of the professor clad in nothing but a pink leopard-print G-string.

“I thought we should go back to the beginning. Since you seem to appreciate a certain part of my anatomy, let’s start where we left off in the trailer,” she said, lifting her arms in the air. She shifted her body to one leg, trying to remove her foot from her jeans.

“Leave them there if you don’t mind,” he said.

“If you wish,” she said.

“I do,” he said. She turned around, giving him her back view, and leaned over to the desk, placing her hands on the top of it. She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

“Kendall,” he said, her name a sigh, as he sat back in his chair, trying to look his fill, not sure if it were even possible.

He needed a minute or two to try to quiet his pulse, a fast, steady drumbeat racing around beneath his skin. He reached out and touched her, positioned so perfectly between his legs. He ran his hand over her skin, softly following the curves and contours of her body, moving up to her waist, and then down to rest at her hips. God, she was beautiful, smooth brown skin, all his now and for the next several months.

He stood slowly, his eyes roaming over her body, as he reached for the condom, which she was now holding between her teeth.

“Come on, Barnabus, show me what you can do…again…please,” she said softly.

He moved his eyes to hers, reluctantly leaving his treasured body part behind to meet the challenge in her gaze.

He cleared his throat and unzipped his jeans. She was watching the condom, he noticed, as it made its way down, sheathing him.

“You smell good,” he said, moving in close to her, standing behind her now, resting against her back, hard and solid. His mouth was at her neck, skimming from one side to the other.

“I don’t know where to start,” he whispered in her ear as his hand moved around to her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered in between soft kisses placed wherever his mouth happened to fall. One hand moved down to the front of her.

His mouth was at her neck, and his breathing had changed. She lifted her arms up over her head so that she could touch him, her fingers moving through his hair, her eyes closed as one of his hands pulled, tugged at her breast while the other slid down the front of her body, moving smoothly over her stomach, under her G-string, and down to the heat of her. She sucked in air, pushing into his lower body.
It is an excellent place for her to be
, he thought, then he speared her with his index finger and started to move it around inside her. She pushed back into his body again. This time he pushed too, wanting her to feel what she did to him.

“Kendall,” he whispered into the ear, and caught her moan as his finger hit a particularly sensitive spot. It had her pushing back into his hips, grinding against the part of his body that was way past ready for this, for her. She moaned again, her response to the things his hand was doing to her, paired with her inability to move her feet, which were secured together by her jeans.

He pushed her forward, so that she way lying over the top of his desk, arms outstretched, legs entrapped by her jeans, bare. His hands found her hips, and he lifted her, removing the strip of cloth that posed as underwear before pushing her up onto the desk a little more, so that she was at the correct height and angle.

He pulled his T-shirt over his head and leaned over, his stomach touching the smoothness of her back. He kissed her neck, while his hands resumed their movement over her body. He scattered kisses under her ear, over the top of her shoulders, anywhere he could put his lips. She turned her face to his—to say what, he didn’t know—and was met by his mouth. He kissed her, slow, wet, warm, and open.

His hands were at her hips, sliding down to her ass, caressing first, then separating. She felt him behind her, his tip touching the entrance to her. He slid in slowly a few seconds later. “Kendall,” he said again—and was that a whimper he just let loose?—followed by the low rumble of a groan as he pushed in completely, filling her. “Kendall,” he repeated, cradling his head in the space between her shoulder blades.

How could something so hard feel so good
? she thought as he softly began to move in and out of her body. She moaned and pushed her hips backwards to meet him, but that was hard, ’cause her feet were locked tight in her jeans, and only the tips of her toes were touching the ground. He pushed into her again, harder this time, lifting her to the tips of her toes with each thrust of his hips. He’d pushed in again, and then again, and again, setting a rhythm that was neither fast nor slow, just perfect. Her hands were at her sides, locked in between his arms; one of his hands was playing her and the other was at her hips to hold her still as he thrust into her. It went on like that for minutes before he lifted himself from her back.