Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (18 page)

He was talking about her breasts!

“You think I had my girls done? And you call
yourself a surgeon?”

He laughed. “They’re out of proportion,
especially given your natural build, which is so—well, delicate.
And like I said, I admire how you took charge of your own body.
Especially given the results.” Clearing his throat, he tried to end
his misery by insisting, “I don’t disapprove. I meet a lot of women
with implants and trust me, I
always
like what I see.
Dating-wise or whatever.”

She was used to hearing the implant theory,
so it didn’t actually bother her. Especially since he was throwing
around words like “delicate” and “dating.” Still, there was
something off about this.

And then she realized why. In the past, guys
who made these bonehead observations just focused on how hot her
breasts were, as though she had had them enlarged just for
their
sexual pleasure.

But Wyatt sincerely believed she had had
them “done” as a calculated move to gain a
professional
advantage. A competitive edge in the cutthroat world of sports
agents.

“Come for the breasts, stay for the brains,”
she murmured, bizarrely charmed.

“Pardon?”

“It’s just something silly a friend said
once. And it stuck with me.”

“It’s brilliant,” he corrected her.
“Prospective clients will notice how great you look. How could they
not? But most professionals are too savvy to actually
sign
with you if you don’t follow through with the brains. Anyway,” he
added lamely, “I shouldn’t have said it. But it’s a compliment. So
let’s move on.” Shrugging to his feet, he suggested, “We can spend
a few minutes on penalties. Then I have a DVD of the AFC
championship game. It has some great examples of the plays you
learned earlier.”

Darcie stood and stepped close to him,
trying not to sway against his massive, magnetic chest.
“Wyatt?”

“Yeah?”

“You said you wanted to tell me something
after the lesson. Tell me now. Please?”

He scanned her eyes, and something seemed to
register because he said in a husky voice, “Do you wear contact
lenses?”

“No, why? Oh, my God! You thought
they
were fake too?” She stared, completely vulnerable now.
“Seriously?”

“They’re just so green,” he began. Then he
cleared his throat. “Here’s the situation, Darcie. I’d like to
start seeing you. Beginning next week.”

“Pardon?”

“I figured we could get all three hours of
my commitment out of the way today. Then—”

“You want to start seeing me? As in:
dating
me?”

He hesitated, then pulled her close, nuzzled
her ear and murmured huskily, “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Oh, thank God.” Linking her hands behind
his neck, she moved her mouth to his and kissed him
gratefully—hungrily—as dozens of repressed fantasies exploded
through her lonely body. Wyatt Bourne—the sexy surgeon from the
airplane. The gorgeous guy in the tux at the fundraiser. The tease,
the nephew, the stud.

Just when she thought she had embarrassed
herself, they found a rhythm, slowing it down, savoring each other,
their tongues exploring while his hand slipped to the small of her
back, urging her even closer.

“It’s insane,” he admitted finally, pausing
to flash a rueful smile. “You’re all I think about. It’s like a
goddammed curse.”

Forcing herself to take a gulp of air, she
still sounded breathless to her own ears when she said, “I think
about you, too. All the time.”

His gray eyes were now fully blue. “So let’s
get the lessons out of the way—”

“Why? I release you from your obligation.
Let’s do this instead.”

“I always pay my debts. Plus,” his tone
lowered amorously, “I want to do it right. So I’ll come back next
Saturday and take you to dinner. You’ll wear that dress from the
fundraiser—”

“I’ll wear something even better,” she
promised him.

“There
is
nothing better,” he
corrected her, pulling her into his arms again. “Man, you’ll argue
about
any
thing, won’t you?”

She laughed happily. “Only with you. It’s
like a drug.”

He nuzzled her again, then drew back
sternly. “I can’t be late for Coach’s party.”

“Did you get him the T-shirt?”

“That he coached a living god?” Wyatt
chuckled. “You cracked me up with that one, you know,” he added,
amorous again as his left hand pressed against her back and his
right slid under her polo shirt to fondle her chest.

Darcie leaned her head back, knowing how
good this would feel. Her nipples were sensitive even on a bad day.
With Wyatt Bourne? She’d be lucky if she didn’t moan his name right
there on the spot.

“Hey,” he murmured, his hand freezing in
place.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

“They’re
real?
Geezus, Darcie.” His
mouth plundered hers as his hand started exploring again, cupping
her right breast reverently, then moving to her back to unhook her
bra. His breathing grew ragged but he managed to croak, “Damn,”
before he backed her to the sofa, kicking the laptop case out of
the way as he crashed her to the cushions and kissed her
wildly.

Thrilled and unable to think, she sought and
found his hardening erection and whispered, “Oh, Wyatt. Is this
happening?
Please
let it happen.”

“Yeah,” he growled, reaching for his gym bag
with one hand while still pinning her with the other. Unzipping an
outside pocket, he pulled a condom into view, then kissed her again
before instructing hoarsely, “Bedroom.”

“Oh, God . . .”

Glued to one another, they stumbled into the
master bedroom and onto her queen-sized bed. He was out of his
pants and shoes before she could do anything but stare in greedy
delight, then he pulled off his shirt and she literally gasped at
the broad shoulders, killer abs, and powerful biceps.

So many muscles, so little
time . . .

He apparently wanted to see her too, so he
moved back to her, pulling her polo over her head, discarding her
bra, then rocking back on his knees to admire her reverently. Then
his mouth was on her, teasing her right nipple hotly, then moving
to the left.

“Wyatt . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” he growled, pulling back
enough to open the condom packet.

“I’ll do it,” she offered breathlessly.

“No, I’ll do it.” He gave her a quick smile
to soften the rejection. Then he stretched and rolled the condom
over his huge engorged penis.

She was so excited she knew she was dripping
onto the sheets but she didn’t care. And then he was in her, his
movements sure and strong, his cock dominating her, pleasuring her,
his voice husky in her ear, repeating her name over and over,
punctuated only by the occasional “Goddammit, I knew you’d be
hot.”

In no time she was pre-orgasmic, her
pleasure and frustration growing in equal measure as she pulsed
around him, egging him on, devouring his shoulder with her mouth.
His thrusts deepened, joining his pleasure with hers, and she knew
they would now climax together, insatiable and forever
connected.

Then to her horror he pulled out, groaning
as he did so.

Before she could react, he was indeed
climaxing, but alone and outside against her hip as he again moaned
her name in lustful release.

“Wyatt?” she asked, almost tearful. “What
the hell?”

“I’ve got you,” he promised, shuddering one
last time before his rough finger penetrated her to keep the fire
burning. Then his mouth was on her breasts for one last romp before
traveling over her abdomen and then between her legs.

Reinforcements for the digital penetration,
apparently.

But it was too late. She was sure of that,
and more miserable than she had felt in her entire sex life. Their
moment of glorious ecstasy—of impending mutual climax—had been
squandered on
him,
and no amount of post-coital machinations
could fix it.

But his mouth—his tongue, his lips, his
tender tasting—proved her wrong, urging her first to relax. To
trust. To savor the tiny spirals of pleasure that slowly radiated
through her. As her mind left her body, her lover recaptured the
pulsating rhythm of pleasure that she now knew would work after
all.

And then it did, a wild crescendo of joy and
hedonistic delight that made her gasp his name. “Oh, God,
Wyatt . . .”

He brought her through it so expertly, she
was sure she was having an erotic dream as she arched against him,
coming again and again, insatiable again, delivered again. So
madly, passionately in love she almost forgave him for pulling out
of her when she needed him most.

Finally she unwrapped her legs from around
his head and whispered his name one last time, summoning him back
to face her.

“Damn . . .” He crawled up
and gazed into her eyes. “I
knew
it would be like this.”

“Why did you pull out?” she asked
weakly.

“You’re complaining?” His steely eyes
laughed at her. “You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

She gulped for air, still trembling from the
perfection of his moves. “I know. I know. But we were so close.
Together
. Why didn’t you want that?”

“You’re really something,” he assured her
with a frustrated grin.
“Literally
never satisfied, right?”
Pulling her into his arms, he nibbled on her ear. “It went great.
Better than I’ve had in forever.”

“Me too,” she admitted.

“I always pull out,” he added
philosophically. “Because I won’t risk pregnancy. But I always
follow through. That’s my promise to you.”

She wanted to drop it. To cuddle and coo and
maybe even suggest a second round. But apparently she really
was
hopeless, because she reminded him softly, “We used a
condom, Wyatt. There wasn’t any risk of pregnancy.”

“Consider it belts and suspenders.”

“Except I take birth control pills, so it’s
belts and suspenders over bib overalls.” She smiled at his chuckle.
“So maybe next time? We were so close—”

“It’s not negotiable, Darce. So unless it’s
a deal breaker—”

“I didn’t say that.” She stroked his
handsome jaw. “I just want to understand. Because it makes no
sense. I mean . . .” She sighed aloud. “It’s some
kind of fear of intimacy, right? I get it. You don’t trust
women—”

“I don’t want to father an unplanned baby in
a mindless act of pleasure,” he corrected her sternly. “Why is that
so hard to understand?”

“But I use birth control—”

“Darcie?”

She winced. “Yes?”

“Can we argue about this next time? I don’t
want to disrespect my coach. He did a lot for me way back
when.”

“Oh, of course!” She glanced at the bedside
clock and smiled sheepishly. “We’ll table this till next time. For
now . . .” She wrapped her arms around his neck and
kissed him amorously. “I’m so glad we did this.”

“I was beginning to wonder,” he said with a
chuckle. Then he disentangled himself from her, slid out of bed,
and gathered up his clothes. “Mind if I take a quick shower? Then I
should take off.”

She watched in wistful confusion as his
tall, muscular, god-like body disappeared into the bathroom to prep
for his flight and the retirement party. Had she actually dared
complain to him? After all the doubts? After that unexpected bout
of lovemaking?

After that mind-blowing multiple orgasm?

You’re perverse,
she told herself in
disgust.
Sure, it would have been nice to climax together. To
feel him come inside you. But seriously, how can you complain about
the results?

The expression made her wince. Yes, it had
been spectacular. But lovemaking wasn’t just about results. It’s
was a process, especially in this case, where it would have been
even better together.

A lightweight robe hung on a hook beside the
bed and she reluctantly exited the still-warm sheets and slipped it
over her body. At that moment, he emerged fully dressed and yummy
clean from the bathroom, his dark hair damp and wavy on his
neck.

Flashing a killer smile he instructed her
briskly, “Come here.”

Without hesitating she moved into his arms.
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back next Saturday. We’ll wrap up
the lessons then go to dinner. And then . . .” He
quirked a lustful eyebrow to complete the amorous thought.

Oh, my God
 . . .

“I know you’re late—”

“It’s a private flight. So they’ll wait for
me.”

“Oh, good.” She kissed him joyfully.
“Saturday?”

“Yeah, I’m already going nuts.” He touched
her cheek, then released her torso but kept hold of her hand. “Walk
me out.”

Breathless, she trailed him to the living
room, where he packed up his laptop and slung its case, along with
his gym bag, over his shoulder. Holding up a DVD he said, “I’ll
leave this for you. Watch it. There’s gonna be a quiz.”

“The AFC championship game? I assume you
won?”

“That’s how we made it to the Super Bowl,
right?” His tone warmed. “See you Saturday at one o’clock sharp.
I’ll text if I’m gonna be late.”

“Will you spend the night?”

“What?” He seemed about to say “no.” As
though it were out of the question. But his steely eyes had gone
full cobalt, so she wasn’t surprised when he hedged. “Let’s see how
it goes. We’ll have the lesson, we’ll go to dinner. Someplace
outstanding. You’ll wear the dress. After
that . . .” He almost seemed to need extra air as he
assured her, “Yeah, maybe I’ll stay over. Or at least stay until
you’re asleep.”

There was a burst of heat so strong, she
knew it came from him as well as from her. She also knew she could
lure him back to bed. But instead, she reminded him in an regretful
voice, “Your coach is waiting.”

“Right.” His hand shot out to pull her
against himself, and she was sure he was going to ravish her, but
instead, he gave her a gentle kiss, said, “See you next week,” and
headed out the door.