Read Huddle With Me Tonight Online

Authors: Farrah Rochon

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #General

Huddle With Me Tonight (15 page)

BOOK: Huddle With Me Tonight
5.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“What?” Paige asked.

“My beach house in the Hamptons is three doors down from his,” Torrian said. “What would you give to meet him?”

“Oh, you play dirty.”

“Is it working?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded. Torrian pushed away from the table and went to her, pulling her up from the chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head back, in perfect position for his mouth to capture hers in a slow, mind-drugging kiss.

It was several minutes later before they came up for air. Torrian’s entire body was on fire, and the arousal pressing into her stomach left nothing to the imagination. God, he would give anything to have her take him by the hand and lead him to her bedroom. His body hardened more just at the thought.

As if she’d read his mind, Paige pulled back.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said. “If the food at your restaurant is even half this good, you have nothing to worry about.”

“It’ll be twice this good,” Torrian managed to say. In reality, he couldn’t recall a single thing about the meal they’d shared just minutes ago. His entire being was consumed by the need to join his body with hers.

Expectation ignited in the air, sending a surge of anticipation shooting through his bloodstream.

“It’s getting late,” Paige said, her words dousing the fire more effectively than a bucket of ice water.

Torrian’s shoulders sagged, his slim hope for a night of sweat-filled lovemaking dying a swift death. It would happen. Maybe not tonight, but soon. The passion building between them was too strong to ignore.

“I’ll help you clean up,” he said.

“No.” Paige shook her head. “You cooked. I’ve got cleanup duty.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, still holding on to her. He wasn’t a fan of scrubbing pans, but he’d do anything to stay with her a little longer.

“I’ve got it.” Paige nodded, disengaging from his hold. She picked up their plates and headed for the kitchen.

Torrian sucked in a lungful of air in an attempt to calm the raging need still racing at lightning speed throughout his body. It would kill him to leave her tonight. He knew he was moving too fast, expecting her to sleep with him when just two weeks ago they were at each other’s throats.

But he wanted her. The need was so strong it nearly brought him to his knees.

Torrian leaned over and blew out the votive candle. He plucked the wineglasses from the table and placed them on the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. Paige came around the edge of the galley kitchen. She stared at him, her eyes pulling him in like twin magnets. Torrian wasn’t sure how much time had passed between them.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Paige finally asked.

“Yes,” Torrian answered immediately. She could see him every day for the rest of his life. “Do you want me to come over for dinner again?”

“Sure,” Paige answered, taking his hand and angling to the door.

Dinner was another twenty-two hours away. His entire body mourned at the thought of not seeing her for such an extended period of time.

“Can we make it breakfast instead?” Torrian asked. “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow night to see you.”

A soft smile graced her lips. “Me neither,” she said. Paige nodded toward his arm. “Can you exercise with your injury?” she asked.

“A bit.”

“Then how about a run in Central Park? It’s another good way to go incognito. I know a quiet, out-of-the-way place in the park where we can have breakfast when we’re done.”

He pinned her to the door and leaned in close. “What time should I meet you?” he asked, his lips only a breath away from hers.

“Six too early for you?”

“Not at all,” he answered.

“Meet me at the 86th Street entrance,” Paige said. “I’ll have on a pink-and-green running suit.”

“I can’t wait to see you in it,” he said, unable to stop himself from capturing her lips in one last kiss that left them both breathless.

When he finally let her up for air, Paige put her hand to her chest. “What will you be wearing?” she asked, still breathing hard.

Torrian put on the baseball cap he’d arrived with and pulled it low on his head. “This cap, a pair of sunglasses and a huge smile the minute I see you.” He opened the door and gave her another swift kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

 

 

Paige stood just inside the gate at the 86th Street entrance to Central Park. She bent her right leg back and caught her ankle in her hand, giving her right quad a nice, long stretch.

“Torrian, where are you?” Paige said under her breath. He was only ten minutes late, but still, there was only so much stretching she could do to keep her muscles warm. “Good morning.”

Paige jumped and turned. Torrian stood right behind her, wearing the baseball cap from last night, sunshades, loose-fitting running shorts and a T-shirt.

“You’re late,” Paige said. She stifled the urge to kiss him, then decided what the hell; he was incognito. She planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“First time I ever got rewarded for being late,” Torrian said.

“That was
my
reward for waiting so patiently for you,” she answered. “Come on, time to run.”

Paige took off along the running path on the massive park’s east side. She and Torrian settled into an easy, twelve-minute-mile pace, just fast enough to get the blood pumping through her veins. They turned left and jogged past the Metropolitan Museum of Art, then crossed East Drive just before the obelisk.

“Why don’t we cut across so we can run along the lake?” Paige suggested.

“And get off the path?” Torrian asked.

“There’s nothing that says we have to run along the path,” she said, and sprinted across the grass.

“You don’t play around, do you?” Torrian said, catching up to her after about a minute of lagging behind.

“Next month I start training for my eighth marathon.”

He groaned. “You should have told me that before I agreed to run with you.”

“You’re an athlete. I didn’t think I’d have to take it easy on you,” Paige answered.

“There’s a big difference between the kind of PT we do for football and distance running.”

“Just let me know if you get tired,” Paige said. She was tempted to up her pace, but only because it was such an amazing morning.

They jogged along the edge of Belvedere Lake, toward the center of Central Park. The Great Lawn just north of the lake was already peppered with people getting an early start to their morning.

“Want to cut across 79th?” she asked.

“You lead and I’ll follow,” Torrian answered.

“Dangerous words.” Paige laughed. She rounded the southwestern edge of the lake and headed straight for the pedestrian crossway for 79th Street.

Just before she came up to the street, her foot connected with a tree limb hidden in the grass. She went down hard.

“Ow,” Paige howled, grabbing her ankle.

Torrian dropped to his knees next to her. “What happened?”

Paige grimaced as the sting shot up from her ankle to the rest of her leg. “It’s my ankle,” she said. Embarrassment warmed her face.

“Let me take a look.”

They were sitting out in the open, right in the middle of Central Park. They could just as well be on the JumboTron in Times Square.

“Can we go some place a bit more discreet?” Paige asked.

“You think you can walk?” he asked.

She nodded. This is what she got for being cocky.

Torrian held her gently by her upper arm and helped her stand. Paige tested her ankle, pulling in a sharp breath at the shock of pain that zinged through her joint.

“You’re going to need an X-ray,” Torrian concluded.

“No way.” She shook her head. One sure way to bring the discretion factor to a screeching halt was to show up at the emergency room with Torrian at her side, or worse, carrying her in his arms. “I just tweaked it a little,” Paige reasoned.

“You sound like the guys on the team who don’t want to admit when they’re injured.”

“Seriously, I’m good. I just need to sit for a minute. Help me to that shaded area over there.”

It took a solid three minutes to walk the twelve yards to the oak tree. Torrian guided her to the ground and squatted. He untied her tennis shoe and removed it from her foot. The sharp pain had already faded to a dull ache, telling Paige she really had just tweaked it instead of spraining it, thank goodness.

Torrian sat her ankle on his thigh and pressed it softly with his fingers. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

Paige studied his profile. Even with half his face hidden by the sunglasses and baseball cap, the man was still the definition of gorgeous. He didn’t have to rely on his athletic ability; he could still make millions as a model.

He slowly rotated her ankle. “This still feel okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige murmured.

“I don’t think it’s broken or sprained,” he said, but he didn’t let go of her leg. Instead, his hand moved farther up, caressing her calf muscle. It inched higher as he moved in closer, stretching his torso over hers. Paige leaned back, her nipples instantly tightening at her back’s first contact with the cool, dewy grass. Or maybe it was the anticipation of feeling Torrian’s solid chest against her.

He stopped mere inches from her face, his hand traveling up to her thigh. “Tell me the truth.” He grinned. “You had this in mind when you asked me to join you on your morning run, didn’t you?”

“Busted,” Paige said with a breathy laugh before reaching up and capturing his lips in a slow, delicious kiss. Torrian cradled her head in his palm and followed her the rest of the way down to the ground. His tongue danced in a hypnotic rhythm with hers, moving in and out and around and around in slow circles. He tasted like peppermint mixed with coffee, a heady combination that had Paige emitting low moans that traveled from the base of her stomach and up her throat.

His hand moved from her thigh to her stomach, trailing just along the edge of her shirt’s hem. He smoothed his warm palm over her skin, moving to the side of her waist and squeezing.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered into her mouth.

Paige couldn’t speak. She wanted to feel. Just feel.

His hand inched farther up, stopping just below her breasts. Paige’s back arched in anticipation; her body eager to feel the caress of his large hand on her breast. But it moved in the opposite direction, going back to her side. Paige groaned.

“We don’t want to go there in the middle of the park,” Torrian said.

He was right. Damn him for it, but at least he was thinking. Torrian released her mouth and stretched alongside her. Paige’s entire body throbbed in the afterglow of his kiss.

“Who knew exercising could be so much fun,” Paige said with a breezy sigh.

“Beats the hell out of a Sabers practice,” he replied.

“Thanks.” Paige laughed. “Nice to know I’m more appealing than a bunch of sweaty, dirty football players.”

“A million times more appealing,” Torrian said, placing a quick peck at her temple.

“It must be driving you crazy to be away, though, isn’t it?”

“Any player would rather be on the field than sitting on the IR list, but being here with you is a nice alternative.”

He dipped his head and caught her lips in another sweet, unhurried kiss. Despite the leisurely pace, he still caused adrenaline to pulse throughout Paige’s bloodstream. When he finally came up for air, Torrian was breathing as hard as she was.

“I don’t see that getting old anytime soon,” he said.

“Neither do I,” Paige agreed.

If anyone had told her just one week ago that she would be lazing in the grass with Torrian Smallwood, his lips seeking hers every two minutes, Paige would have hurt herself laughing. The surrealness of the moment couldn’t take away from one undeniable reality: neither of them could get enough of each other.

Torrian pushed himself up on one elbow and stared down at her. She could just make out his hazel eyes behind the sunshades he still wore. “You sure your ankle isn’t hurting?” he asked, concern soaking through his voice.

“It’s throbbing just a little, but it’ll be okay,” Paige assured him. “Believe me, I’ve done much worse to it.”

“Just let me know if it needs another kiss to make it better.”

“Any more of your kisses, and we’ll never get up from here,” Paige said.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” He grinned.

Paige put a hand to his muscled chest. They really had to get moving before they spent the rest of the day stealing kisses under this shady oak tree. “Didn’t you say you had an appointment later this morning?” she asked.

“Yeah. The team doctors want to check my injury.” He pushed himself up from the grass, and capturing her outstretched hand, gently pulled her from the ground.

As she dusted off the back of her running shorts, Paige gingerly applied pressure to her ankle, sighing in relief when nothing more than the diminishing dull ache remained.

“Is it okay?” Torrian asked.

She nodded. “You up for some breakfast?”

“I probably should head to the Sabers facility.” He took her hands and brought them up to his lips. “Can I convince you to have dinner with me tonight? I want to give you a sneak peek at the Fire Starter Grille.”

“Oh, a sneak peek. I’d be honored.”

“Good,” Torrian said with a final quick kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Chapter 13

 

“T
his place is amazing,” Paige said, her eyes still roaming around the dimmed main dining area of the Fire Starter Grille.

“Thank you,” Torrian answered, following her gaze. With only three more weeks until the grand opening, the renovations were nearly complete.

“You must be nervous,” Paige said.

“Not nervous, just excited for Deirdre. She’s wanted this for a long time. Wine?” he asked, holding out the bottle he’d selected from the restaurant’s extensive selection.

“Thank you,” Paige said, retrieving her glass and bringing it in for a sip. Her eyes closed and she let out a soft mewl. “Delicious.”

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the look of absolute bliss on her face. His mind immediately conjured other things he wanted to do that would elicit that same expression. His gut clenched at the prospect.

BOOK: Huddle With Me Tonight
5.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

My Russian Hero by Macguire, Jacee
In Control by Michelle Robbins
Margaret St. Clair by The Best of Margaret St. Clair
The General's Daughter by Nelson DeMille
Ramona and Her Mother by Beverly Cleary
A Magic Broken by Vox Day