Triple Score (16 page)

“I figured if you’re naked, I should be, too. I mean, what’s good for the goose and all that, right?” She eyed his still-clad lower body. “You are going to get naked, aren’t you?”

‘Hell, yeah.” He toed off his sneakers, shucked his jeans and boxer briefs in one swift move and did a swan dive into the pool.

When he came up for air, he was a few feet behind her. She threw her swimsuit onto the deck next to his clothes and spun around to face him, using her elbows to brace herself on the ledge. “Are you crazy?”

“You’re the one who invited me skinny-dipping.”

“I meant diving. The water’s not even six feet deep. You could have broken your neck.”

“Worried about me, Duchess?” He swam up to her and took hold of the ledge on either side of her, trapping her between the side of the pool and his body. She felt soft and slick against his hardness as the lukewarm water gently lapped around them. “Be careful. I might start to think you have feelings for me.”

“Of course I do. I told you, I don’t sleep with men I don’t like.”

“‘Like’ is such a weak word. I like pizza. And beer. And watching stupid cat videos on YouTube.” He punctuated each one with a kiss, tasting first her lips, then her throat, then those perfect breasts. “I’m talking about something a little deeper than that.”

On the word deeper, he pushed a finger inside her, teasing her. She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back. After a few awkward thrusts, he withdrew and started walking to the shallow end of the pool.

“What are you doing?” She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his back. The slight pain made the pleasure of her body sliding against his even more intense, and he had count to ten before he could answer.

“Deeper may be good for diving, but it’s not so good for sex.” He set her down on the pool steps and she lay back, propping herself up on her elbows. He leaned over her and plunged one finger into her again, then two, curving them to hit her G-spot. Her long, blond hair fanned out behind her and the water swirled around her hard, rosy nipples, making her look like a sexed-up mermaid. “See? Better, right?”

“Right,” she panted, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. “So, so right.”

“Open your eyes,” he demanded. “I want to watch you when you come. I want you to watch me watching you, to see what you do to me.”

Her eyes drifted open and she ground her hips against his hand in a wild, wide circle. Christ, she felt so good around him, like wet, smooth silk.

“I’ve never had sex in a pool before.” Her cheeks flushed adorably, making his heart lurch.

“Technically, you’re not now.”

“Close enough,” she said on a moan as a third finger joined the two already probing her center.

“Believe it or not, neither have I. Something we can both cross off our bucket list.”

Even as he said it, he knew what they were doing was more than a checking off a box on a list. What they were doing might have started as two consenting adults scratching a sexual itch, but it had grown into something more than a friends-with-benefits fling. How much more, only time would tell.

Time they didn’t have because he was leaving tomorrow morning.

He banished that thought and instead pushed into her with renewed urgency, any idea he might have had taking it slow and teasing her until she begged for release a speck in the rearview mirror. She seemed as desperate as he was, meeting him thrust for thrust, her nails raking tiny lines up and down his back.

The water sloshed over the lip of the pool onto the tile as he drove her higher and higher. It didn’t take long before she spiraled out of control, bucking and writhing until she was spent.

“Wow.” Noelle flopped onto the step. “Now I know what I’ve been missing.”

“Missing?” Jace splashed down next to her, then pulled her on top of him.

She tucked her head under his chin and sighed. “You know. The pool sex thing.”

“Oh, that. I guess you do.”

He felt her laugh rumble through him, and a pang of guilt stabbed him in the gut. “There’s something I have to tell you. I...”

“Shhh.” She put a finger to his mouth. “Not tonight. Whatever it is can wait until morning.”

No, it couldn’t.

“But...”

She added another finger and pressed them harder against his lips. “Please. I don’t want anything to spoil this. Besides, I owe you one orgasm.”

“It’s not a contest.”

“Tell that to Little Jace.” She wriggled against his still hard dick. “Let’s go back to my room. We can shower off the chlorine. I’ll scrub your back. And your front.”

Well, when she put it that way...

One more go-round wouldn’t hurt. And it’d sure as hell make Little Jace happy. He could always tell her after they were showered and in her bed, in a state of postcoital bliss. Maybe it wouldn’t sound so bad then.

“Okay.” Jace stood, taking her with him, cradled against his chest. “But only if I can return the favor.”

* * *

“
J
ACE
?
A
RE
YOU
AWAKE
?”
The form next to Noelle remained unmoving, the only sound coming from him a soft snore. Not surprising given the workout they’d had, first in the pool, then the shower, then, finally, the bed.

With a soft sigh, she rolled gingerly to her side, not wanting to disturb him, and studied him in the half-light coming from the partially open bathroom door. He was beautiful, even in sleep. A lock of blue-black hair hung across his forehead. Dark lashes, sinfully long for a man, rested on his smooth, tanned cheeks like feathery fans. Stubble dotted his strong, square jaw.

And that was just his face.

The sheet had gathered around his waist, baring his thickly muscled chest and abs. Her fingers itched to pull it down a few inches and follow the trail of soft, fine hair to the treasure waiting at the end. She balled her hands into fists to resist the temptation. As much as she wanted to jump his bones for the fourth time that night, first she had to know what had really brought him back from his guys’ weekend a day early.

“Jace?” she whispered again, nudging to his shoulder.

He opened his eyes. A grin that somehow managed to be both boyish and bawdy spread across his stubbled jaw. “Tired of staring at me?”

Heat infused her cheeks, and she said a silent prayer that the semidarkness hid her blush. “You were awake this whole time?”

“Not the whole time.” He propped himself on his elbow and gazed down at her, his whiskey eyes flashing with amusement. “Just long enough to know you were enjoying the view.”

Her face burned hotter. “A gentleman would have coughed or something.”

“You should know by now, sweetness. I’m no gentleman.” He cupped her cheek, but she rolled away and sat up, clutching the sheet around her bare breasts. “What time is it?”

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “Almost six.”

“Good.” He sat up next to her. “I have a couple more hours.”

“A couple more hours until what?”

The boyish smile faded to a thin line. “We have to talk.”

Right.
He’d said there was something he had to tell her, but she’d distracted him with the promise of some sexy shower action. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it for some reason. She twisted the sheet in her fingers. “Is it the real reason you ditched your buddies and came back early?”

He stared down at his lap.

“I’m going home.”

“You are?” She stared at him, her heart plummeting. He was leaving. She was staying. Whether she was ready or not, their little interlude was through. “That’s...that’s great. Then you’ve been cleared to play baseball again?”

“Not exactly.” He threw off the sheet and stood.

She tried to ignore all the steel and sinew and concentrate on remembering to breathe and understanding what the hell he was saying. “What does that mean? Either you can play or not.”

“Not.” He bent to retrieve his boxers, giving her a choice view of his mouth-watering ass. “At least not yet. I’ve got some family business to attend to.”

“Family business?”

He stepped into his boxers and sat next to her on the bed, stroking her leg through the sheet. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

She shoved his hand away. The sheet slipped below one breast and she scrambled to cover herself. “Don’t patronize me.”

He ran his fingers through his sleep-rumpled hair. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to be honest with me.”

“It’s not pretty.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb.

She leaned into his touch. “I’m tougher than you think. I can handle ugly.”

“I know you can, Duchess.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and his thumb shifted from her cheek to graze her lower lip. “But you shouldn’t have to handle my ugly.”

“I want your ugly.” She turned her head to kiss his palm, then took his hand in hers. “Even if it’s the last thing you share with me.”

He opened his mouth, and for a second she thought he was going to contradict her, tell her this wouldn’t be their last moment together, that they’d make it work three thousand miles apart. But then he pressed his lips together and took a shallow breath. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s my father. He’s in jail.”

“He’s what?” She couldn’t have heard that right. From all Jace had told her about his hard-working, blue-collar, single dad, jail seemed like the least likely place for him to be.

“Something about gambling. I don’t have all the details yet. But I’ve got to get home ASAP so I can bail him out and hire an attorney. My flight leaves in a few hours. Guess I’d better get packing.”

He stood and picked up his pants and shirt from the floor where they’d landed the night before, only seconds after the door closed behind him.

“What about your rehab?”

“Sara’s already agreed to forward my records to the team doc. He’ll set something up closer to home. It won’t be Spaulding, but I’ll make it work.”

She didn’t doubt that. He approached his recovery with razor-sharp focus and single-minded determination. The same way he’d pursued her.

“I’ll go with you to the airport.” Still wrapped in the sheet, she shuffled awkwardly over to her bureau and rifled through the drawers for clean underwear and something halfway presentable to wear.

“Better not.” He pulled his pants over lean hips. “I hate tearful goodbyes. And we wouldn’t want to make a big, dramatic scene at the terminal, where anyone could snap a pic on their cell phone and sell it to the tabloids.”

She dangled a black lace demi cup bra from her fingers, frowned and shoved it back in the drawer, opting instead for a more demure but still attractive number in seafoam green satin that covered a lot more real estate. No use dressing for sex when she wasn’t going to get any. “I didn’t think you cared about that stuff.”

“No.” He zipped his fly and shrugged on his shirt. “But you do.”

Something inside her melted. He might be leaving, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about her, at least a little. Enough to make sure she didn’t risk her reputation by making a fool out of herself in public.

But not enough to take their fling to the next level.

She hip-checked the drawer closed. “Well, if you’re sure...”

He slipped his feet into his Vans and strode over to her, cupping her face in his hands. “I’ve never been less sure about anything. But something tells me it’ll hurt less if we do this quick, like stealing second.”

Her heart latched onto his admission that leaving would hurt. It was a thin thread of hope she could cling to when she was lying alone in her bed at Spaulding, something she hadn’t done much of since they’d first hooked up. “Will you call and let me know you got there in one piece?”

He kissed her. Long and lingering, like he was savoring one last taste. When he was done, he stepped back and thrust his hands in his pockets. “I’ll try. Things are going to be kind of crazy with my dad.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” She did. She really did. His father had to be his priority right now. And what they’d had was only temporary. She’d known that from the start. Not that any of that made his sudden departure any easier. “I hope everything works out.”

He crossed back to her and kissed her again, hard and fast this time, putting a period on their relationship. “So do I, Duchess. So do I.”

She watched him turn and go, the door swinging shut behind him, clicking closed with a finality that echoed the emptiness in her chest.

14

“
H
ERE
.”
J
ACE
SET
a bowl down in front of his father. “My specialty. Chicken noodle soup. From a can.”

“Thanks.”

Jace leaned against the counter and watched his father slurp his soup. Nothing much had changed since he’d been at his dad’s place last. No new refrigerator. No drainage system. No sump pump.

Of course, now Jace knew where all the money he’d been sending had really gone—into the pocket of one Light Fingers Lenny. The guy was the biggest bookie in the greater Sacramento area, and the authorities wanted his father to testify against him in exchange for a reduced sentence.

“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t heard what it’s going to cost you.” Jace grabbed a Rolling Rock out of the refrigerator, popped the top off and took a seat across the table from him.

His father laid his spoon down. “Cost me?”

“When you’re done eating, we’re going to talk.”

“Didn’t we do that a few hours ago at the police station?”

Jace took a swig, grimaced and thunked the beer bottle down on the table. “I don’t want the crap you gave your lawyer. I don’t care about the where or the when or the how. I want to know why. Why the hell were you gambling? Did you need money? Were you betting on baseball? Please tell me you weren’t betting on baseball.”

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“I need some answers, Dad. Were you betting on the Storm?”

“No.” His father slumped in his seat. “I didn’t bet on the Storm or any other baseball team. I’d never do anything to jeopardize your career. You know that.”