Playing with the Prop: (Rugby erotic romance)(Strathstow Sharks) (2 page)

Heat surged through his body. The caveman need to drop everything and go find her, and drag her to his lair almost getting the better of him. His eyelids dropped to half-mast as he allowed himself a brief thought of her under him, her dark hair wrapped around his fist as he drove into her.

He’d be careful, as gentle as he could be, but fuck a duck…he wanted her something fierce. His cock twitched at the idea, threatening to embarrass him out in company, and he turned toward the bar, slugging his pint as he thought of non-sexy things. Little kittens. His gran’s knickers on the line. The lads in drag. His lip curled at the last. Hell, now there was therapy waiting to happen.

“Oi, birthday boy!” A shout over the music got his attention—Blair, a couple of tables away with his arm around a skinny blonde. “Looks like your present arrived.”

He turned with a frown. Present? What the hell was Blair waffling on about now? They didn’t do presents. The most the lads had done was tell him to be grateful he hadn’t been stripped naked and duct-taped to a lamp-post in the middle of town, before they’d set about getting him rip-roaring drunk.

He followed the direction Blair stared, and when the crowd parted, he saw her.

He’d never put much thought into what Ashley would wear on a night out. He only ever saw her in work clothing—sweat pants and a pullover, or a T-shirt if the weather was warm and he was lucky, and in his fantasies, she wore nothing. Or something far too fancy and delicate for his big hands to deal with so he ended up ripping it from her.

So nothing prepared him for seeing her across the crowded room. She stood in the middle of the bar, lifting on her toes to try to spot someone—him hopefully—and for a moment he stayed where he was, watching her.

Her hair was loose, a sleek curtain around her shoulders. He curled his hand into a fist at his side, the need to run it through the silken locks making his palm itch. His gaze headed south. Rather than the sprayed-on, tits-pushed-up-so-they-almost-popped-out uniform of the girls who normally hung around trying to catch one of the player's eyes, she had on some kind of oriental designed dress. The high collar emphasised the delicate line of her throat while the fitted material skimmed her curves without being vulgar. And it was short, way short, the long, slender length of one leg visible to him as the crowd moved. His throat went dry, forcing him to take another gulp of his beer before abandoning the glass on the bar behind him.

Moving through the mass of people between them like the shark he was, he homed in. She didn’t see him until the last minute, her gasp audible when he reached her and slid an arm around her waist. She relaxed as soon as she recognized him, her lips curving up into a devastating grin, and he got the full effect of her done up for a night out. He’d never seen her wear makeup before, and he wouldn’t be able to say what she was wearing past lipstick. Whatever she’d done, it made her eyes appear all tilted and cat-like, emphasized her cheekbones and made his attention zero in on her lips. Her kissably soft lips. The sort of look that brought big men to their knees begging for a taste, and he was about as big as it got. He had to check himself to be sure he wasn’t standing there with his mouth open.

“Hey there, sexy. Looking for someone?” he asked with a smile, careful not to just haul her to him and kiss the life out of her. Patience, he needed patience. She’d turned up, after all.

“You made me jump!”

She tapped his arm, accusation stretched across her face. She was still smiling so he wasn’t worried that he’d scared her. Besides, it hadn’t escaped his noticed that she’d turned toward him within his hold or that her hand lingered on his upper arm after she slapped him. Bare inches separated their bodies before she turned to glance around the bar, just for a moment, but that was enough. His entire body tightened, lungs frozen on a breath while his body reacted in a predictably male way. Locking the reaction down before she could notice, he turned her toward the bar where the rest of the lads were.

“Sorry, sweet stuff, I’m just pleased to see you,” he said, maneuvering her in front of him. “Hey! Coming through. Move it aside.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder as the crowd in front parted like the Red Sea. “Really? So I don’t need to check your pockets for a gun then?”

He blinked at her teasing glance. Full-on rabbit in the headlights until she turned around to watch her footing. Fucking
hell
. Okay, he hadn’t expected that. Not at all. He knew she was sharp, she had to be working with players who liked to take the piss, but the flirtatious note was new. He liked it though. Hell, did he like it.

“Sweetheart, you can check out my pockets, and anything else, any time you like.”

They reached the bar, and he motioned to the selection of drinks already lined up. The lads went for the “order one of everything and drink until it was gone” approach, but he was more than happy to order anything else she wanted.

Selecting a glass of wine, she lifted it to her lips but paused before taking a sip, watching him over the rim. “Really now? I might just have to take you up on that offer.”

Holy shit.

Heat hit him in the groin. An intense conflagration that galvanized his entire body. To stop himself from reaching for her, he picked up another pint. If he didn’t do something, he’d kiss her senseless, and more, right there in front of the entire bar.

“We can do that. Later,” he murmured, and took a fortifying gulp of his drink.

Later. Crap. If he lasted that long.

What are you doing
?

Ashley beat the little voice in her head into silence and concentrated on her reflection in the mirror. Her hand shook as she slicked gloss over her lips. Just a little, nothing too blatant. She wasn’t like some of the painted tarts out there, all false tits and fake tans. Besides, if she put too much on, it would go over her teeth for sure. Not what she wanted when she was trying to impress Harry.

Blowing out a quick sigh, she dropped her hand.

Harry.

The guy was sex on legs or what. She’d always lusted after his body, and working on him in the treatment rooms had become her favorite kind of torture, especially when he took his shirt off, and she could run her gaze over his big chest. She’d once had to work on his arm, and she’d never forgotten the feel of all that hard muscle under her hands. Added to that, he made her laugh, and for her, there wasn’t anything sexier than a man who could make a woman laugh.

It had been all business though. She’d been seeing Alex, and while things weren’t earth-shattering, they were nice. Plus Harry was younger. She frowned. What was he…twenty-six, twenty-seven? Something like that. Certainly younger than she was by a good five or six years. But now things with Alex had fizzled out, and they’d decided on a mutual parting of ways, there was nothing to stop her.

The thought brought her right back to the fit player. The guy was ripped. No two ways about it. And she owed him a kiss. The thought started her hand shaking again. She put her lip gloss away and slung the delicate strap of her bag over her shoulder to leave the toilets. As soon as she emerged into the heat and noise of the bar, she glanced toward where she’d left him.

He was gone. A frown creased her brow and her throat tightened. Surely he wouldn’t go and leave her on her own in here. A quick glance reassured her that the rest of the team was still here, and the tension eased from her shoulders. He’d probably gone to the gents or something. Turning towards the bar, she wobbled on a heel and smiled at herself. Killer heels and alcohol, both unaccustomed, were not a good combination.

“Looking for me, sexy?”

A familiar, deep voice warned her half a second before a strong arm wound around her waist, stopping and turning her in a mid-walk. He diverted her forward momentum, and she bumped into him gently, spreading her hands over his solid upper arms for balance. Her thighs brushed his. Rock-hard, just like the rest of his body. Her knees weakened. What was it about a well put together male body that rendered most sensible women useless? And what was it about him, in particular, that short-circuited all her higher brain functions?

“Hey!” She couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. He didn’t seem opposed to her almost trampling him or inclined to let her go. That was good. She liked it here in his arms. Tilting her head, she looked up at him.

“Yeah, I thought you’d—” Breaking off, she waved her hand in the direction of the gent’s toilets. Heat exploded over her face.
God, that sounded bad
. She babbled on. “Not that I was going to search for you in there. Oh no, that sounds even worse. I’m an idiot.”

He laughed, but not a harsh laugh at her, more an amused chuckle. His eyes were warm. Their hazel color startling under the overhead lights. His fingertips pressed against her lips, and she froze.

“Stop talking and dance with me.”

His fingers moved, a thumb taking their place, and he stroked over her lower lip, gently tugging at the full curve. She held in a moan, fighting the urge to drop her head back as he bypassed all her defenses in one slick move.

“I’ve wanted to hold you in my arms since the moment I first saw you.”

She swallowed. What did a woman say to that? Especially when it was delivered in such a damn sexy voice with an intense, focused look.

She struggled to keep up with the changes. Harry had always been the hot one with the funny comments and light, easy nature. Yet, somewhere along the line, he’d turned serious. And the switch was devastating.

He took her silence for assent, turning and leading her by the hand to the rear of the bar. Neither spoke as the music surrounded them, changing to a low, sensual beat as soon as they set foot on the dance floor.

He turned, taking her into his arms and easing her against him. He didn’t go for the close clinch. Instead, he held her like she’d seen ballroom dancers do on the TV, clasping one of her hands in his and putting the other around her waist. Somehow, that was far more erotic than if he’d gone for the full-on bump and grind. To her surprise, he was an excellent dancer, moving with a confidence and assurance that meant they didn’t bump into anyone.

The occasional brush of his body against hers was sweet torture. Biting her lip, she went with the flow, enjoying the easy movement lulling her body into a state of relaxation despite the butterflies in her stomach.

She snuck glances at his face while they danced. The set of his jaw was firm, and the light stubble that covered it screamed at her to explore with fingertips and lips. He was so tall that to do that, she’d have to lift up on her tiptoes and pull him toward her. Still, it was doable.

He glanced down, and smiled. Her heart stuttered at the heat in his eyes. Their movements stilled until they came to a stop right there in the middle of the floor.

He reached out and tugged a strand of her hair free to wind around his finger. The movement, and the whisper of anticipation and pleasure that surged through her, divided her attention for a second.

“You know…I think you’ve forgotten something.”

“What’s that?” She frowned, checking her purse was still looped over her shoulder. It was, and she hadn’t brought anything else with her.

He smiled, a small, sexy quirk of his lips that made her want to moan and demand that he kiss her. He spread his hand across the back of her waist. Not pulling her toward him—the move was too gentle and subtle for that—but easing her into his embrace until they stood pressed together, chest to hip. It felt natural to rest there, the soft lines of her body nestled against the harder plains of his.

“We won, and someone promised me a kiss.”

He released her hair to brush his fingers under her chin, lifting it as he bent his head. Tension swirled between them, a spell that held her prisoner as his lips descended toward hers.

“They did?” She couldn’t resist the small tease even though his lips mere millimeters from her own. “Well then, you’d better go and find them.”

She held her breath, and as she waited for that first touch, her eyes fluttered closed. He smiled against her lips, the movement more felt than seen. It was worth the wait.

His lips were warm and firm. Not hard and demanding, nor soft and wishy-washy, but just right. The first brush became another, then another. Gentle, exploring kisses. Warmth and pleasure flooded her body, an intense flutter of anticipation that she’d never felt before. She wanted to burrow into his arms and stay there forever.

She tried to hold it in, but the moan escaped anyway—a pleased whimper from deep in her throat. He lifted up to look at her, and she opened her eyes. She didn’t say anything as their gazes locked. Couldn’t, didn’t want to, break the spell, she just gazed back, the moment drawing out between them.

What did she say to a guy who’d, totally unexpectedly, just given her the sweetest kiss of her life?

***

Harry stared into Ashley’s eyes. They were soft, and unfocused, dark with desire. The sight hit him down low with the force of a freight train. Blood surged, heating every cell, and his cock, half-hard from the moment she arrived, punched to fully erect.

Her lips…

He didn’t have the words to describe what kissing her felt like. Not and do the experience justice. All he knew was that he wanted to do it again, but not in the middle of a crowded dance floor. The way he wanted to kiss her; hot, dirty, and heading toward horizontal nakedness, they’d be arrested for public indecency. No, he couldn’t do that here…but perhaps in one of the darkened booths clustered at the edge of the dance floor.

Stepping her backward with that very aim in mind, he marveled at how tiny she was. He wasn’t as tall as some of the runners on the team, but he had most of them beat in terms of sheer power and muscle. On the pitch, that was awesome, but off it, it had the sum total of making him feel an unworthy brute next to her delicate slenderness.

His hand dropped to her waist, caressing the curve there as he stole another kiss, then another. She moved easily, her soft lips clinging to his until he was almost blind with need and lust.

They reached the edge of the floor and tumbled together into the nearest booth. It was empty, which was good, because he hadn’t checked before urging her onto the seat. Hell, with her lips under his and her soft curves pressed up close and personal, he was having trouble remembering anything past his own damn name.

Shifting position, he used the width of his shoulders to block the view from the bar. One arm along the back of the seat behind her neck, he eased her chin up so that he could trail a line of kisses down the side of her soft throat.

She shivered, the whisper running through her body and transferring to his where they touched. And touched they did. Nestled into him with her arms around his neck and both her legs over one of his, the side of her body fitted into his perfectly. The curve of her breast pushed against his chest and when the side of her thigh brushed his cock, he sucked in a hard breath, and held it until the fire in his blood and the instinct to take her right there receded.

Grazing the underside of her jaw with a kiss, he worked his way up to her lips again. He couldn’t believe she’d come tonight. Despite his words earlier and the challenge he’d thrown out there, he hadn’t believed she’d take him up on the offer. Even if she had turned up out of politeness, he’d anticipated a pleasant evening before the inevitable brush-off. At the most, he’d expected a peck on the cheek.

He hadn’t expected to get her into his arms. To kiss her…

A soul-deep shiver worked its way along his spine to settle behind his cock and balls. He’d thought she’d laugh and say no. A groan worked free as he claimed her lips again, harder this time. More demanding, he used his tongue to part them. It was as gentle a move as he could manage with her all soft and welcoming in his arms.

Triumph surged through him when she opened for him with the smallest murmur. No over-dramatic groans or moans. His tongue found hers, stroked along it and tempted her to come play with him. The wet slide of sensation dragged another groan from deep in his chest. Even kissing, she was as delicate and refined as she’d always been. He liked that.

Yeah, sure, all the lads joked about wanting an easy lay…there were enough hangers-on around the club on a night out, all trying to hook a player who was or might end up International and become famous, so it was easy to find a girl like that. Hell, he’d picked up a couple himself at his former club. Strictly one-night stands,
don’t-call-me
in the morning deals.

Ashley was different. Very different. She wasn’t the sort of girl he could pack off in a taxi in the morning with a peck on the cheek. No, if they did this, if this got any more serious than a hot kiss in the darkness of a club, then she was a relationship kind of girl. Especially with the fact that they worked together.

He caressed the hollow of her waist again, fingers learning the sensuous curve there as he pulled her closer. Her hands weren’t idle, fingers threading through the short hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the short strands as she kissed him back. Small touches that threatened his control in a serious way. Ignoring the need raging through him, he resisted the urge to move things along faster.

Slowly, he slid his hand up her side. Careful movements so that he wouldn’t scare her off. It was a good thing she couldn’t read his thoughts, or she’d take out a restraining order.

His thumb grazed the underside of her breast, and she jumped a little, her moan lost into his mouth. He murmured an apology, moving his hand away. Not so fast, he chided himself. There was no way he wanted to fuck this up, push too much and make her run. His entire body ached from playing nice. But he could do it. No, more than that. He
would
do it.

Her response was to move, but instead of putting distance between them, she grabbed hold of his hand and put it back where it had been. Startled, he pulled away to look into her eyes. Even with the semi-darkness around them like a cocoon, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. As was the sultry look in her eyes.

“I’m a big girl, Harry.” Her voice was soft, low. Just for him. “I’m not going to get scared, change my mind, or break.”

Fuck
ing
hell, yes
! Taking a deep breath, he dropped his head back for a moment to regain some of his composure, and then looked at her. Tension and awareness caught, stretching out between them. In a slow movement, he stroked his thumb along the soft swell at the underside of her breast, watching her. “Are you sure?”

At her nod, his cock jerked savagely. He slid his hand up further to cup her breast. Her lips parted, the pink tip of her tongue wetting them, and her eyes darkened. His instincts screamed at him to pull her over his lap, push aside whatever underwear she was wearing, and get himself balls deep inside her. Now.