Rookie Move

by Sarina Bowen

  “Fair enough. Is Coach going to play you tomorrow?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Good luck!”

  “Thanks.”

  They hung up, and Leo was even grumpier than he’d been before. So he gave up on resting and put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. The hotel undoubtedly had a gym. He would find it, maybe run a couple of miles on the treadmill. Obviously, he needed to burn off some of the shit swirling around in his head.

  But when he left his room, he saw Georgia step into an elevator, wearing tennis clothes and carrying her racket case over her shoulder. Before he could get there, its doors closed.

  It was almost like seeing a ghost.

  He waited for another elevator, and when one arrived, Silas was on it, wearing workout clothes, too. “Hey, man! Coming to the gym?”

  Leo hesitated. “I have a sudden urge to play tennis. You think there’s a court?”

  Silas shrugged. “Dunno. Ask the concierge. You know we’re doing Thai food later, right?”

  “Sure. I saw it on the schedule.” Leo chuckled.

  “Well, bring your gold card. It’s the first restaurant meal on the road. O’Doul’s gonna order every expensive thing on the menu and leave you with the bill. Rookie dinner. It’s a tradition.”

  Ah, of course it was. “Good to know.” The elevators parted in the lobby. “Catch you later? Come hungry, I guess.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Leo sought out the concierge desk. “Hey there. I heard there was somewhere to play tennis nearby?”

  “Right next door—it’s a good club. They take walk-ins.” The woman in the gold blazer smiled at him.

  “Great.” He smiled back at her. “My next question is whether you have any rackets back there for idiots who forgot theirs.”

  “Of course we do.”

  * * *

  Five minutes later he was armed with a cheap racket and directions to the tennis club in the next building over. He found Georgia warming up opposite a preppy young man in tennis whites, who was blatantly staring at her chest. “So what do you want to practice?” the guy asked her, his eyes like lasers on her cleavage. “Have you worked on your slice yet?”

  A flash of barely concealed amusement flashed through Georgia’s eyes. Leo could almost see her wheels turning. Her gaze said, I’ll school you on your slice . . .

  That would have been worth watching, too. Except that Leo’s inner caveman couldn’t stand by and let another man practice with Georgia if he was available. “Hey there,” he heard himself say. “Can I play, too?”

  Both Georgia and her ogler turned at the same time. “Private lesson,” Preppy Dude said dismissively.

  Georgia raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask, What are you doing here?

  “That’s a shame,” Leo said. “Because now I won’t know if I can still beat her in straight sets.”

  “What?” Georgia yelped. “That is not how I remember it.” She crossed her arms under her sports bra, and Leo had to look away to avoid becoming an ogler of her cleavage, too.

  “I won sometimes,” he insisted. “I’m pretty sure.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get over here. Somebody needs a spanking.”

  Holy hell. She didn’t mean it like it sounded, but he liked hearing it anyway.

  Leo moseyed over to the opposite side of the court, and the tennis pro reluctantly stepped back. “All right, guys. Let’s see how well you’re matched,” he said.

  “You need to warm up?” she asked, giving the ball a bounce. “Wouldn’t want you to strain anything.”

  “Serve it up. Or I’m going to think you’re stalling.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Love all,” she said.

  Leo only had a split second to wonder how the word “love” had ever come to mean “zero” in tennis talk before the ball came flying over the net. He swung, returning it. She sliced the ball back nice and easy, and just like that they had a pretty good rally going. They used to hit together pretty frequently when they had just started dating. Not only were they both athletes, but the tennis club was somewhere they could spend time together and nobody questioned anyone’s motives.

  Although, back in the old days, Georgia never took things easy on him the way she was now.

  Leo returned the ball harder and right on the singles line, catching her by surprise. She didn’t quite make it there in time, and the ball was in. So it was his point.

  Without comment, she retrieved it. “Love, fifteen,” she said calmly. Then she served it a bit faster than last time. And it was on. The battle slowly escalated, each of them ramping up their foot speed and effort. The first game got to deuce before Georgia edged him out. He won the second game, but the third went to her after she aced him on the last serve.

  “I guess your slice is pretty solid,” the tennis pro mumbled at one point.

  They were both sweating now. Georgia walked over to the side and grabbed a water bottle, taking a gulp and then holding it out to him.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking the bottle, admiring the light sheen of sweat on her chest. But then she stalked back to her corner and frowned, ready for the next game.

  Leo bounced the ball and caught it again, preparing to serve. He’d forgotten how this felt—the single-mindedness of tennis. Playing Georgia quieted the worrying in his head, because whenever he forgot to focus on that fuzzy little ball, it always went poorly. And this was fun. Sports without life-altering consequences on the line. What a revelation. There was a time in his life when hockey had been just a game, but that time was long gone.

  They played on, and Georgia took the first set. “Had enough yet?” she asked.

  “Fuck no.”

  The tennis pro frowned at him for cursing. But that dude was just jealous. He’d been reduced to just standing there while Leo had the pleasure of getting sweaty with the hot chick who knew how to hit. Even if it wasn’t his favorite kind of sweaty.

  “Okay, tough guy,” Georgia said taking one more swig from the bottle. “Let’s see if you can make a comeback.”

  He bit back the innuendo on the tip of his tongue and readied himself for the next attack. He would never get enough of getting bested by the beautiful creature running around on the other side of the net. It wasn’t just her long legs in a short skirt, or the flush in her face. He might even be more turned on by her look of determination than the view of her cleavage when she leaned down to tie her shoe.

  He’d dated quite a few women in college, but he’d never gotten to know any of them as well as he’d known her, had he? He’d never felt the same connection, or shared so much in common with anyone else.

  What would his annoying little brother say about that? Leo wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Focusing on the game again, he stayed even during the second set. It was four games to four, and he’d remembered how to use his longer reach to retrieve the ball when she wasn’t expecting him to. But Georgia wasn’t having that. For two more games she dug deep, finding some kind of extra mojo, and she handed his ass right over the net. And when she lunged hard for the ball on the very last point, the guttural sound she let fly was a force to be reckoned with. It was a sound so soulfully deep that he felt himself start to go hard.

  Fate listened, and that ball went sailing past the end of his racket with no more than an inch to spare. Jesus. He might be the first guy in history to get all boned up while losing a tennis match. Down, boy.

  They met at the net, both of them winded. “I guess you’ve still got it,” he panted. He’d meant her tennis game, but somehow it came out sounding X-rated. And damn if her nostrils didn’t flare.

  To get even with her, Leo wiped his face with his T-shirt. When he caught her eyes on his six-pack, he had to bite back a smile.

  Oldest trick in the book. He used to pull that shit back in the day, too.

 
; Georgia thanked the tennis pro for his not-quite-useful time. And then the two of them walked back to the hotel together. They didn’t speak, and Leo tacked it up to sexual tension.

  Either that, or Georgia was just tired from giving him a beat down. It could really go either way.

  “Leo,” she finally said in a low voice, just as they crossed the hotel lobby, “there’s a favor I need.”

  Please let it involve nudity. “What’s that?”

  “There’s some people shooting a ‘Hunks of Hockey’ calendar tomorrow. They asked for your participation specifically.”

  It took a second for the disappointment to sink in. But then Leo barked out a laugh. “So this request does involve nudity?” Just not the kind I was hoping for.

  She raised an eyebrow. “That’s generally how those things are done. Nothing, um, vital will be shown.”

  “Right.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll hide it behind a hockey puck.”

  Georgia cleared her throat and studied the grip on her racket a little more closely than necessary. “No, probably something a little . . .” Her eyes lifted all of a sudden. “That was a joke, wasn’t it?”

  He grinned. “Just a little one.”

  “Oh Jesus.” She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks had become even pinker. “Will you do the damn calendar or not? I’m supposed to let them know.”

  “Dunno, Gigi. I thought you were sick of me being such a . . . ‘spotlight hog’ were the words you used, I think.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry I said that. I know you’re not really a diva, Leo.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You can let me know either way by tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  They walked the rest of the way through the lobby together, another silence gathering between them. His desire for Georgia was a living, breathing creature. And maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he could swear he saw it reflected back in her. The way she held her breath when he got near her. And the way her eyes seemed to be asking for something before she looked away again.

  He dropped off the racket with a nod and a smile at the concierge. Georgia was holding the elevator when he returned to her side.

  The silence had stretched on pretty long by the time the elevator doors closed. Leo punched the button. “Hey,” he said, turning to her. He meant to say, Thanks for the game. But he forgot the rest of his sentence when he saw the flush of her cheeks, and an expression heavy with longing.

  “Leo,” she whispered, her chin rising toward his.

  “Yeah,” he whispered back. It seemed as natural as anything to take a step toward her, slipping a hand onto her waist. The curve of her body under his hand was exactly the way he remembered it. She was actually trembling a little. He reached up with his other hand and grasped the elastic in her hair, sliding it down, freeing all those silky strands, and she gasped right in his ear.

  Without thinking too hard about it, he pressed his lips to her temple. That just felt right. He inhaled, and the familiar fruity smell of her shampoo misted his already hazy mind. Slowly, she lifted her chin, her nose tracing a line up his cheek. Then their lips found each other’s effortlessly, like magnets realigning.

  The first kiss was soft and slow. Their lips slid tenderly together, as if they both needed a moment to just remember how this felt. But the sensation was so perfect that Leo heard a rumble from his own chest. He pulled her head closer and slanted his mouth over hers. Georgia opened for him, and he groaned at the first sweet taste of her.

  “Mmm,” she replied. Warm hands found his chest.

  Leo deepened the kiss again, needing more. Needing everything.

  Then the elevator dinged its announcement that they’d reached their floor. They parted as the doors slid open.

  “Goddamn it,” he heard her swear as she took off down the hall.

  Was that a good “damn it” or a bad one? he wondered, following her. She hurried ahead, reaching her door, swiping into the room before he got there.

  And she let the door fall shut behind her.

  THIRTEEN

  Jesus Christ almighty, why did we have to go and do that?

  Georgia stalked into her hotel room with shaky knees. Leo’s kisses made her feel crazy and out of control. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

  And now she’d gone and sprinted away from him like some kind of drama queen. But she hadn’t known what to say after a kiss like that. If he’d asked her a question, she’d probably have ended up babbling, or speaking in tongues.

  She heard the sound of a bolt turning in a lock, and then a tap on a door. Leo was knocking on the door that joined their two rooms.

  Georgia just stared at the door for a moment. If she opened it, anything might happen. Was that good, or terrifying?

  Their currency, as Becca had put it, came back to her in a rush. It was speed. Their skates on the ice. The tennis ball flying back and forth over the net. And kisses so hot they could leave contrails in the sky.

  “Gigi,” he said from behind the door. “Let me see your face.”

  But that’s what had started this mass confusion in the first place. For six years she hadn’t see Leo Trevi. She didn’t have to feel so much.

  “Gigi,” he said again. “Please.”

  Hell.

  She crossed to the door and unlocked it. Then she opened the door, and he was there, looking hot and enormous, leaning one elbow on the frame, his hand in his hair. He took a step toward her. “Can we talk . . .”

  Her heart in her mouth, Georgia launched herself at him. Her mouth collided with his, and she heard him emit a grunt of surprise. But Leo Trevi had always had natural reflexes and an athlete’s ability to read the game. So his hands closed around her waist only a nanosecond later. He took over the kiss as Georgia stood on tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. His mouth was firm and welcoming, and she closed her eyes and let go.

  He smelled like clean sweat and Leo. When she parted her lips, his whiskers tickled her chin. But that was the only truly unfamiliar part of this moment. When his hungry tongue swept inside, meeting hers, it felt like coming home. How many times had she kissed Leo Trevi? A million? Never had she appreciated it more than right now. She pressed closer, her hips and chest fitting against his hard body, extinguishing all the distance between them.

  Leo moaned, long and low, and the sound vibrated throughout her body. Strong hands slid down her rump and then squeezed.

  God. Her little tennis skirt and his thin workout shorts didn’t put up much of a barrier. He was right there. And hard for her. She let out a desperate whimper.

  “Fuck,” he rumbled into her mouth. Then he lifted her, forcing Georgia to break their kiss and just hold on tight.

  She was airborne, and they were moving. And all the while, Georgia kept her eyes slammed shut, as if the moment were a dream that might disappear if she opened them.

  A moment later she landed on his lap. He’d sat down on whatever upholstered chair the hotel room contained. Her knees splayed to either side of Leo’s lap, landing on the cushioned seat. She was straddling him. He pulled her close and kissed her again.

  Georgia let her hands wander over his broad chest, reacquainting herself with all the muscle she found there. Her fingertips swept downward, skimming his six-pack, then up again until her thumbs brushed hardened nipples behind his T-shirt.

  He groaned. Loudly. They’d always been vocal about their desires, and so free with each other’s bodies. That was before Georgia had known to appreciate what an incredible gift it was to have wild, uninhibited sex with someone who loved you.

  “Innocent” wasn’t a word many people would have used to describe their sexual relationship. But in so many ways it was exactly that. They’d pleasured each other in every possible way, with gusto and without fear.

  Until the day they hadn’t anymore.
<
br />   Georgia pushed that idea right aside. She swept her hand under the hem of Leo’s shirt, finding hot skin. And everything was better again. Her mind was free of distractions. There were only his wet, open-mouthed kisses on her neck and her wandering hands.

  Forgetting herself, Georgia pressed her aching body against Leo, trapping his erection right where she wanted it. She caught his face in her two hands and fitted her mouth against his, where it belonged. His tongue invaded immediately, and she let out a moan that could probably be heard throughout Phoenix. She felt her body gathering itself in, tightening the strings of expectation. His hands cupped her ass, encouraging her to move. She slid up the length of him and then back down again, and he groaned.

  Clinging to him, she moved against him with increasing urgency, and Leo rolled his hips to meet her. And all the while their kisses were deep and desperate. They were teammates who’d played the game together so many times they knew exactly what the other needed. Her desire coiled more tightly with every successive kiss.

  “Georgia,” he rasped between kisses. “Look at me.”

  Her eyes popped open on command, but she wasn’t quite ready for the fiery look in his heavy-lidded eyes. He was burning up for her. It was something she’d never thought she’d see again.

  “Missed you,” he rumbled before taking her mouth in another scorcher.

  That was all it took. Her hips shook even as Georgia felt her heartbreak crest and overflow. She buried her face in Leo’s neck and came with a sobbing gasp.

  He made a soul-deep noise and then clamped his arms around her back. She shuddered, and his grip tightened, just holding her. His big strong arms were like a warm cage, and she didn’t want to be released.

  Her heart rolled around in her chest like a milkmaid in a haystack. But as she began to calm down, the awkwardness of the moment crept in. She’d just thrown herself at her ex and ridden his dick until . . . Gah. It was the first orgasm she’d had with another person in the room since the last one he gave her when she was barely old enough to vote. And all without taking her clothes off or managing to have a proper conversation that lasted as long as the crazy make-out session she’d just inspired.