Long Game

by Catherine Evans

  Face in front of hers.

  Bathwater splashed. She tossed her book to the floor as she jolted.

  Deep, laughing hazel eyes. Thick, brown fringe flopping across his forehead.

  ‘Quin.’ She checked, she was still covered in bubbles. ‘I didn’t expect you home until tomorrow.’

  His lips twitched. ‘Obviously.’ He turned off the loud music, thankfully. She couldn’t think with him here, it was worse with the music blasting and her trying to shout over it.

  ‘How was your week? Was it tough? Do you need the tub?’

  Quin laughed. ‘You’re not throwing me out of the bathroom?’

  Cress tipped her head as her shoulders moved. ‘My fault. I left the door open. Plus a guy in the bathroom is hardly unusual.’

  ‘It’s not?’

  The heat rose in her cheeks and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature of the water in the bathtub. ‘I was going for some kind of grown-up answer there.’

  ‘And if I want the real Watercress answer?’

  Her lips twitched as they tightened. ‘That’d be that I can’t decide if you’re real or imagined.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because surely, if you’re real, you’d be outside keeping your distance, talking to me from the other side of the door. And if you’re imagined, you’d be in the tub with me.’

  His burst of laughter wasn’t quite the response she was after. That darn heat was back, burning up her cheeks, across her forehead and over her scalp. A prickly heat, telling her she should have kept her mouth shut, her dreams to herself, and her brain under firm control. He looked good. Tired. Dishevelled. A bit scruffy. But so unbelievably good.

  ‘Now if you were in that massive spa tub in my bathroom, I could probably fit in behind you, but that tub isn’t built for the two of us.’ There was a wicked gleam to his gaze that sent heat rushing over her body, pooling down low, and making her heart race. A wicked, sexy Quin lived only in her imagination and to encounter him in reality, when naked, left her in a total muddle.

  He grinned and there was something cheeky, yet so very suggestive, in that look. It was the expression of the boy she knew, and the man she desperately wanted to know, yet she couldn’t answer because she was too worried about … what? She wasn’t quite sure so she went back to the question she’d asked him earlier. ‘How was your trip?’

  ‘Did I scare you, Watercress?’

  She wriggled a little deeper into the water. She wasn’t scared. ‘I don’t know if you’re serious, Quin.’ She kept her gaze on his as if that would help her work out his sincerity. Sometimes it did, but it wasn’t working today. She was all tangled thoughts, messy jitters, and mush.

  His nod was in slow motion, which didn’t help her interpretation because although she knew he was nodding, she wasn’t sure what that nod meant.

  He put the lid down on the toilet and sat. His legs apart, his hands locked together, elbows on his thighs, and fists between his knees. His gaze drifted slowly across the bathroom, along the bathtub, across her face.

  Her foot slipped and lifted from the depths. He caught her heel and held her foot in his hand. Massaging her ankle. Sliding his fingers along her calf, then down to her toes, back up again. Slowly. Languidly. This dreamy Quin was pretty near perfect. She hoped he didn’t disappear.

  ‘Do you know what you want, Watercress?’

  How could she think when he touched her? She glanced down but the sight of his strong hand stroking her foot messed with her brain even more. So she watched the bubbles moving and popping. A drift of rainbows scooted across the surface. Knowing what she wanted was easy, saying it aloud was the tricky part. Nothing lasts forever, the bubbles seemed to be telling her. She had to seize this moment before it burst. ‘I want everything.’ She glanced at his beautiful face and tried not to think why what she had to say hurt her heart so much. ‘But I don’t know how to have that. I don’t even think anyone can have everything.’

  His forehead furrowed lightly, for just a moment, before he said, ‘What if you could? What would it be?’

  She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Quin was asking. She trusted him with her secrets but she’d never be able to admit to her dreams while she looked at him. She had to make this admission in as few words as possible, in case they cut too deeply. In case he laughed. In case she stopped speaking before she finished. ‘I’d play for the Sirens, I’d farm, and I’d have you.’

  The bathroom was silent. His hand slid along her calf, before he lifted her leg slightly, and grazed the super-sensitive back of her knee.

  Cress bit her lips together and pinched her thigh under the water. It hurt. So that meant she wasn’t dreaming, right? Which meant that she must be really having this conversation with Quin. Which also meant that she’d just said those things and... what?... stunned him? Please don’t let him be repulsed.

  ‘Have me how?’ His words were odd, as if his mouth was full as he spoke. There was no way she was looking at him to see. She wasn’t that brave.

  ‘That’s the part I can’t work out.’

  ‘Why not?’ He held her knee, and foot, firmly.

  ‘Because there are months where I have to be in Grong Grong and you have to be here, and I can’t see how anything works when people aren’t together.’

  Another long silence finally broke when he said, ‘Trust.’

  She sat up then and stared at him. ‘Trust?’ That made no sense at all.

  ‘If we do a long-distance thing, we need to trust each other. Plus communicate well, but we’ve got good groundwork for that.’

  Cress was having trouble with the words, or the meaning of the words. ‘You’re saying I could have everything?’

  ‘If we want the same things, why can’t you?’

  She swallowed and even though her mouth felt dry, there was moisture there. She had to ask, except she wasn’t sure she had the courage. If she didn’t ask, though, she could miss out on everything. ‘What do you want, Quin?’ Oh, that didn’t sound like her voice.

  ‘I’d like to play for the Hercules for as long as I can, maybe win a grand final, then go back home and marry the girl of my dreams, have a bunch of kids and play footy with them.’ It sounded so much like something he’d said a long time ago that Cress wasn’t sure if he was being serious or funny. She must have given him a look because a grin flashed briefly over his face. ‘And if the kids don’t like footy, I’ll cope doing whatever they want to do. But seriously, if their mother and father were Sydney superstars, they’d surely have to play footy.’

  The bathwater sloshed as she jerked her foot from his hands. The girl of his dreams? What was he saying?

  ‘Quin?’ She half-sat up. Heart racing, stomach clenching, breath caught in her throat.

  His eyes widened as his gaze slid over her torso. Bubbles slid over her slick skin but they didn’t have the weight of his stare. Her breaths became shallow as her nipples pinched tight, not allowing her chest to move freely. He reached out and caught her jaw in one hand. ‘You’re beautiful.’ His other hand slid around her upper arm, holding her in place.

  The whole event was surely a dream. She’d wake soon, probably when she slid underwater, and she’d be shattered. Before she could focus, his mouth lowered at the same time as his hand moved from her arm to spread across her breast. She gasped as the tight centre of her breast met his palm. His fingers closed and gently squeezed, just as his tongue slid between her parted lips.

  The bath heated. Her body thrummed, making her hyper-aware of each touch, each slosh of the water, and each wicked clutch of his flesh against hers.

  A sound she’d never made before came out as his hand and mouth slowly drew away from her. ‘Don’t go …’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not capable of leaving, Watercress.’ He nipped at her lower lip, then settled on his knees beside the tub. His hand, still cupped over her breast, moved so that his thumb drifted across her tight nipple. The movement seemed unhurried but h
er reaction was anything but slow.

  Hot blood thrust through her super-sensitive body. Where muscles had relaxed in the warm water, they were now tense, aware, waiting. She wasn’t tight and hurting like she’d been after the game; she was taut with anticipation, and it was unlike anything she’d ever felt.

  Her hand made a manacle around Quin’s wrist, not wanting it to vanish. This was far beyond anything she’d dreamed and she was desperate to know how this would pan out. She held on firmly enough so the ripple of his muscles when his hand moved teased her fingers. It was a delicious torment.

  ‘Quin.’ She’d never said his name quite like that before and he lifted his gaze to hers. His eyes had darkened as if he too felt her fear, longing, confusion and desire.

  The hand behind her head eased her close to him. When she thought he’d kiss her, he brushed his lips against her temple and settled her forehead on his shoulder. His lips skimmed the edge of her ear. ‘May I touch you, please?’ His whispered plea came at the same time as his thumb and forefinger pinched the central nub of her breast, lighting a fire right through her body.

  She’d die if he didn’t keep touching her … but she might die if he touched her further. Between gasps, she managed to think, and then struggled for words. ‘What about you?’ Those words took forever to form and were slurred to her ears but he must have understood them.

  ‘Later.’ Again, his lips brushed her ear. She thought he must have smiled afterwards, as his lips seemed to brush higher. She made a sound and he quietened her with the flick of his thumb. ‘I promise, you can return the favour some time later.’

  Although not entirely sure she’d survive until later, she nodded against his collarbone and pressed her lips to the skin exposed by the open collar of his shirt. ‘Okay.’ She flicked her tongue out and lapped. A slightly salty tang made her shudder with pleasure. She was with Quin. Finally. He tasted delicious, sweeter than she thought possible, and he’d break her heart if this wasn’t real.

  Quin held her closely, but not tightly, while his hand kneaded and aroused. She’d always believed she had no breasts, yet Quin seemed to find flesh that expanded into his hand, that puckered and moved to his touch. Heat filled her body, which awakened butterflies in her stomach, fireflies behind her eyelids, and ants seemed to dance along her inner thighs.

  As she was about to beg him to stop because the sensations were overwhelming, his hand halted. Her fingers clenched on his wrist. She’d made a mistake; she didn’t want him to stop at all.

  ‘Easy, Cress.’ Words, simple. Tone soothing. His hand moved to the other side of her chest. When his palm rubbed across her nipple, she gasped and almost sprang from the tub, but he held her, gentled her, and began the same sensual massage that calmed her even as it aroused.

  In no time she was again tingling, fluttering and unsure if she should be begging him to stop or encouraging him to continue.

  She clung to his forearm and shoulder. No longer in control of her body, or her reactions, she was riding out a storm. Trusting Quin to keep her safe. Her best friend. Housemate. Could he also be her boyfriend? Lover?

  She murmured her need, her words slurred to incoherence, but he seemed to understand. His hand moved lower. The warmth of his large, outstretched hand flat against her stomach gave her a point of focus.

  Too soon he traced her navel with his fingertips, and her focus was lost. When he dipped his finger inside and pulled against the outer rim, something seemed to shudder within her. It was as if her innards had been strummed. Plucked into vibration.

  A groan made his chest rumble against her ear right through to her toenails, as if they were in tune. A shaky breath sucked into her lungs and his hand slid lower, between her thighs, making the air stall. Her lungs may as well have been filled with nothing for all the oxygen she could get. Her head was light, fuzzy, and every muscle was clenched tight.

  ‘Easy. Easy.’ Quin’s deep voice was all that kept her sane. He coaxed her to breathe, to relax, to allow his touch. She could barely think. His voice. The brush of his fingers. The skim of his hand. Everything spoke to her body, drew her attention, yet fractured her at the same time. She couldn’t seem to grab onto anything.

  Quin’s fingers encouraged her to move, which created a tormenting bliss that radiated through her. Heightened awareness had her nerves singing. Anticipation had her muscles straining. She was filled but wanting. Needing to stop, but desperate to continue. She was cresting to an apex she wasn’t sure she’d reach. Screamingly alive like she’d never been before.

  And this was Quin. Her Quin. The man she’d loved for a lifetime. Loving her better than she’d ever hoped, ever dreamed.

  Some sound filled her ears, then a sharp scrape rubbed across her throbbing flesh, before a squeeze of the bunched nerves sent her soaring. Her teeth sank into Quin’s shoulder.

  His fingers continued to move. Sliding rhythmically. She exploded beyond the peak, orbited and flew. Screaming into his shoulder, she trusted that he’d direct her flight and bring her back to earth. Bonfires, fireworks, and neon signs were nothing compared to the kaleidoscope of colour in her mind. Breathing was a struggle, oxygen non-existent, muscles quivered as they starved.

  Then she became aware of deeper gasps, more air, longer periods of consciousness. Quin’s hand curved around her nape. Her forehead pressed to his shoulder. Her teeth biting the flesh beneath his collarbone. The slosh of water around her waist. The muscles of her legs beginning to relax. And the deep promise of Quin’s voice whispering against her ear in between kisses he pressed to her temple, her ear, her cheek, her jaw.

  This was heaven. She must have drowned while sleeping in the bath. This could not possibly be happening. She couldn’t be naked, in Quin’s arms, coming down from the best orgasm of her life.

  ‘Okay, Watercress?’ he nibbled against her ear.

  ‘Is this real?’ she murmured and his chuckle made her smile.

  Next thing she was flying from the water, droplets caressing her body, before she was plastered against his chest, his mouth nibbling hers. She wrapped her legs around his hips. His clothes were wet … and in the way.

  ‘I missed you. It was a long week without you.’ His words were interspersed with kisses.

  ‘I missed you too.’ Cress rested her head against his. ‘This is real? I mean, we’re really going to do this?’

  ‘I want to. You?’

  ‘Yes. Please.’ She nipped his jaw. ‘Are you going to just stand here holding me?’

  ‘I’m not sure where I should take you.’ His hesitancy had her chest pounding. Maybe this was as strangely beautiful for him as it was for her.

  ‘Wherever you’re going, Quin, I’m with you.’ She gave him honesty and trust.

  ‘Bed?’ Again, his question held a hesitation that made her want to wrap him in her arms and keep him forever, but it was too soon for that.

  ‘Yours or mine?’ Fun and flirty. Never too soon for those emotions. He laughed, and moved towards his room. Cress held tight as she nipped, licked and kissed his jaw, his neck, his ear. Breathless at the thought of exploring him, bringing him pleasure, and learning about love, she scattered as many kisses as she could.

  When he halted, she looked up and they stared at each other for long moments, as if making sure they were committed, connected, doing this together. Then their lips met. Not tentatively. Not gently. Passionately. The kiss steamed. Quin’s large warm hands curved over her bottom and Cress melted into him. Became a part of him. And hoped like heck it would last forever.

  Chapter 19

  The Grand Final was in Melbourne, so it was another trip down south for the pinnacle of the women’s footy competition. Quin’s heart was pounding somewhere behind his eyes. It was tougher being on the sidelines; he’d prefer to be lacing his boots up.

  ‘This has all the atmosphere of the men’s grand final.’ Mr Kennedy’s pride was not only in his voice but in his face. He beamed, his eyes sparkled and he hadn’t stopped moving and jiggling
around.

  ‘They’re coming out.’ Mr Kennedy’s excitement made the words jumble together. As Quin stood, the Sirens ran out. Cress was so pumped. She jumped, did a few sprints, raced around, kicked her legs high, did a couple of stretches. Then she turned to where they were and waved, before kissing her fingertips and blowing it in their direction.

  Mr Kennedy leaned over. ‘I’ve never seen her do that before.’ His grin was that of a man who was proud. Her brothers, on the other hand, were all leer and jest and laughter. Quin didn’t care. His heart was soaring. There was just a little flutter in his belly that hoped she’d focus back on the footy and wouldn’t let anything ruin her game.

  He should never have come back from the training camp and distracted her with the future; although he wouldn’t have swapped the last few weeks for anything. When Cress had been worried about juggling everything and finding time for a relationship, he’d shared her concerns, knowing how stretched she was. But their fears were unfounded. They fitted together easily. Spent every spare waking moment together, and every night wrapped around each other.

  It hadn’t had a negative impact on her game, or his focus. The negative was in the timing, but timing was never going to be good for them. She had her season in his off-season, then had to go home to play through his season. If they were lucky, they might get a few weeks a year, together, when neither of them were playing football. They’d decided to make the most of whatever time they had together, and it was incredible.

  They understood each other’s passion for their career. Quin hadn’t found anyone who understood him as Cress did. They gave each other space, yet also knew how to speak to each other.

  They were taking things slowly, but that didn’t mean not connected, or not passionate, or not consuming. They spoiled each other in a thousand tiny ways—flowers for Cress, a new low-maintenance garden bed for him, special meals, and desserts, movies and time together.

  ‘Nervous?’ Tris elbowed him.

  ‘Almost sick,’ he replied.

  Tris chuckled. ‘You never get sick. That’s Ollie.’