SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club Book 4)

by Christie Ridgway

  She dropped to her elbows with a low moan.

  He caressed her hip and leaned over her body. “Okay?”

  Her “Mad” came out throaty as she crowded back, taking another inch of his cock.

  Fuck. He pulled back, came in again, torturing himself with the clasping heat of her. He slid his hand from her hip to her clit, toying with the pulsing bud of flesh, reveling in the way she bucked against him in response.

  “Harp,” he said, bracing his free palm on the table as he moved, licking her ear. “This is so good. You feel so good to me.”

  He stroked her sweet little clit, trying to hold out as he felt a new tension in her body. She was getting close, thank God, low sounds coming from the back of her throat. Then she stiffened, gasping, and he knew it was upon her, her inner muscles tightening.

  Taking him there too.

  After, the room smoked with their combined heat but he managed to ditch the condom and then pick her up. “Bed,” he said, when she made a vague protest.

  “No one told me kitchen sex means bruised knees,” she murmured, turning her face into his chest.

  “Maybe I can find something for that,” he said, and kissed the top of her hair.

  She slipped bonelessly between his crisp sheets. In the low light of the bedside lamp, she looked worn out, which pumped his ego more than a little, and he smiled down at her as her eyes closed.

  So…Harp. Pretty, gorgeous, sexy Harp.

  They were both sex-ruined, he thought, toppling onto the mattress beside her. God, that was excellent. When he could think or feel the ends of his fingers and toes again, he’d congratulate them both out loud. Before driving her home.

  For some odd reason, he didn’t think it was a good idea she spend the night here.

  He rolled his head on the pillow to gauge her wakefulness.

  Pretty, gorgeous, sexy Harp.

  With sore knees. Hadn’t he promised to help with that?

  Mad rolled to his side and brushed the hair off her face. Murmuring, she squirmed a little on the sheets. Was she in pain?

  An inspection, he decided. Up close and detailed. He trailed his lips from her forehead to her jaw. Then he feathered his fingers over her shoulders and down her arms. Lifting her limp hands, he pressed his lips to each fingertip.

  Ignoring the ripple of…something—panic?—in his belly, he kissed her ribs and her navel. Then he moved to her feet, gently massaging, his thumbs pressing into each delicate arch. Each ankle received a ring of kisses.

  Silly, but he thought she liked it, because she made a sound. Assent. Encouragement.

  He pressed his mouth to one sore knee and then the other.

  “I should go,” she said, whispering, though her fingers sifted through his hair.

  He made a soothing noise as he worked his way up one inner thigh. She shifted her legs, opening to him, making it easier for him to lap at the sweetness he found between them. He licked, nuzzled, breathed in her essence.

  “I should go,” she said again, the protest irrelevant because at the same time she opened more, like a butterfly, and lifted her arms over her head. Offering herself.

  He kissed her center, delving his tongue to catch all of her flavor.

  Harper gasped, arched, her fingers fisting in his hair.

  Overcome by a wave of tenderness, he closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her thigh.

  He didn’t want her to go.

  Tonight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mad woke alone in bed. Harper had gone? Both disappointment and relief rushed through him, until he heard telltale sounds from the kitchen. A smile broke over his face and he smelled coffee, a warm, soapy scent from the bathroom, and toasted bread.

  She was up but not gone.

  He hurried through his own shower, not worrying about the smile the water didn’t wash away. How ridiculous to have that momentary regret of hot sex with a hot partner who didn’t expect anything more from him than the means to make coffee in the morning.

  In jeans, T-shirt, and bare feet, he sauntered into the kitchen. His hand shot out to steady himself on the doorjamb when he caught sight of his hot sex partner, her back to him.

  Her body draped in another of his T-shirts that left her legs bare and brought up a vivid memory of the nape of her neck and her naked spine beneath his lips. Every inch of her had tasted beautiful.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Good morning,” she said, her tone as sunny as the light streaming through the window.

  His mood instantly darkened because…who the hell knew why.

  “Morning,” he muttered, then headed for the coffeepot.

  “I’m making omelets,” she said, a knife thunking against the wooden cutting board. “Mushrooms, tomato, cheese, avocado.”

  “Sounds good.” Then why didn’t he feel more grateful?

  Because this would be too easy to become accustomed to…a woman lately out of his bed and now making breakfast.

  Don’t get used to it. Don’t get used to Harper.

  “Sit down,” she told him. Minutes later, she put two plates on the table.

  The table they’d used last night.

  He stared down at it.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “We should have had sex in the car not the kitchen,” he muttered.

  “Why?” She took her own seat and placed a paper napkin on her lap. Then, as if the answer suddenly occurred to her, she laughed, one brow rising. “Really? Now that it was used as a sex prop, the table has lost its joy for you?”

  He just stared, hoping she felt his disapproval.

  “What?” She laughed again. “I wiped it down. I promise.”

  Shaking his head, he grabbed his own napkin and a fork. Mealtime would never be the same.

  She reached across to give his free hand a quick squeeze. “Don’t ever change, Mad,” she said. “I will forever think of you here, wearing that exact glower because your table has somehow betrayed you.”

  He forked up a bite of miraculous omelet.

  “And remember, the table was your idea.”

  Instead of answering, he ate. Then he got up to pour them each more coffee and his gaze caught on the wooden spoon tossed in the sink. That thing he’d burn at the first opportunity.

  When he sat back down, her gaze was on him again. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m feeling fine.” He picked up his mug, thinking to hide from her green, assessing eyeballs. Was she wondering the state of his mind now that she’d spent a second night? He could tell her, he supposed. He could tell her that he was firmly in the neutral zone. As pleased as any man might be, of course. But not any more pleased.

  But he’d rather hold back, because as his sister said, Kelly men kept their emotions close. It was the right way to go, because this was just temporary with Harp, of course. A revisit of old times.

  When you loved her, but didn’t admit to it, a voice in his head reminded him.

  When she’d left and he’d wandered about like a rootless idiot for a long time after.

  “Where are you going next?” he asked, to remind himself it would be Las Vegas tomorrow or the next day or next week, but then somewhere farther than that, he was certain. A place that made her unreachable.

  She was already unreachable. When she walked out his door today, he’d make sure he accepted that truth and would keep clear of her the remainder of her stay in Sawyer Beach.

  “I’m going to a farmers market that’s about twenty miles north,” Harper said now, her green eyes bright. She couldn’t hide her happy frame of mind. “It’s new. You want to check it out with me?”

  Of course, fool that he was, he said yes.

  It was still early when Harper slipped into her family’s house. But, being they were a farming family, she knew everyone was already up. Grandpop would have taken himself and his cane out to the orange or avocado groves. Her grandmother would be in her bedroom doing her morning meditation. She found her mom in the kitchen, with
the air of a woman on her third cup of coffee.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said, trying to erase the I-had-wild-sex-last-night look off her face.

  With the man she’d fallen in love with again. There was no dodging that truth.

  Maybe she had a new career ahead of her, because her mom sent her a distracted smile and said, “Did you and Sophie have fun?”

  The food hall with Sophie and friends had been fun. But then she’d run into Mad. “Mom, did you know that Mad recently posed as an assassin and saved a woman from her husband’s deadly designs?”

  Rebecca wiped a cloth over the countertops. “I heard about that terrible man and his poor wife. But I didn’t know Mad was involved.”

  “Well, he was.” So I rewarded him myself with some very raunchy sex. And then sweet sex, that felt tender and possessive and that dangerously touched her heart. Harper put a hand to her head and decided on spilling the beans. “The fact is, Mom, I stayed with Mad last night.”

  “Oh?” Her mother now busied herself folding dishcloths into perfect rectangles that she hung from the towel bar.

  Puzzled, Harper gave her mom a more thorough once-over. “I robbed a bank on my way home,” she added, testing the older woman’s listening skills. “The cash is stashed in my trunk. I’m thinking of using it to buy a mink coat.”

  “That’s nice, honey.”

  “Mom,” Harper said. “Mom.”

  Rebecca finally turned, blinking. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

  “Just a bank robbery and a mink coat. What’s going on?”

  She made a vague gesture, still looking distracted. “I keep retracing my steps…” Then she blinked again. “Maybe you know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Yesterday afternoon, when we were dismantling our booth at the end of the Sawyer Beach farmers market, I thought I put two leftover cartons of herb bundles into the back of Mike’s truck, but they didn’t make it home. Or did I put them in your car?”

  “Nope. No room. That’s where my stacks of cash are stowed.”

  Her mother appeared confused. “What?”

  “Never mind. But no, I don’t have those cartons.”

  Rebecca groaned. “I’m afraid I’m losing my mind like old Aunt Harper.”

  “What are you talking about? Where did Aunt Harper’s mind go?”

  “She had some memory issues as she aged. One time she left home without telling anyone where she was going and they found her fifty miles away naked as the day she was born but carrying a suitcase full of walnuts.”

  “What?” Harper stared at her mom. “You named me after someone who was found naked fifty miles from home? And with walnuts?”

  “I named you for her before she began losing her mind.”

  Harper frowned. “I don’t remember ever hearing about this.”

  “No?” Rebecca pushed her hair behind her ears. “I thought I told you. See? That proves I started forgetting years ago.”

  “Mom, you’re just fine. You mislaid some herbs, that’s all. We’ll find them.”

  “Unless they were stolen,” Rebecca replied, biting her bottom lip. “A box of Loretta’s homemade soap came up missing yesterday too. She said they either turned suicidal on Highway 1 and tossed themselves out of the bed of her truck or they were taken by someone when she was going about her end-of-market chores.”

  “Oh.” Harper crossed to pour herself a cup of coffee. “I hate to suggest this again…but should we report the loss?”

  “Well, we’re not out a lot of money, but I suppose if you wanted to mention this to Mad…” Her gaze sharpened on her daughter. “Wait, what’s this you were telling me about you and him?”

  Harper glanced away. “He’s picking me up in less than an hour. We’re going to that new market up the coast you mentioned. I’ll check it out and see if I think the farm should apply for a booth.”

  “You told me you spent the night with him.”

  “Well…yeah.” When her mother didn’t have a follow-up, Harper smiled a little. “Thanks for not asking me if that’s a wise idea.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “You’re a grown woman.”

  “Right.” Harper nodded. “But have I made a big mistake? Am I making another by continuing to see him?”

  “Do you like being in his company?” Rebecca asked, moving closer.

  “I…yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Then enjoy yourself,” her mom said with a little nod. “We don’t know how much time we have on earth or with each other, after all.”

  Harper smiled a little. “Or how long we have to remember our time on earth.”

  Her mom laughed, and brushed Harper’s hair off her shoulder. “Right. So take the moment, baby girl. Make it worth recollecting in your golden years.”

  Thinking of ways she’d enjoyed herself the night before preoccupied Harper while she dressed for the day. But later, as she was sitting beside Mad in his SUV, she applied herself to making more memories. She shifted on the seat to get a better look at him. Dark-washed jeans, boots that looked comfortable but not too worn, a short-sleeved shirt, not a T-shirt, but one with a collar that looked suspiciously new, or at least…

  “Is it true you iron your pillowcases and your boxers?”

  He shot her a look. “Who told you that?”

  “Your mother.”

  “You may never talk with her again.”

  Harper felt a pang when she thought that very well might be the case. Then she shook off the discomfort and pointed to the upcoming exit. “Take that one. It’s early enough that we’ll have time for me to treat you to lunch first.”

  “I’m buying lunch.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said, now pointing to a free parking space. “I invited you. Look, there’s a cute café right near the beach.”

  She hopped from his vehicle and noted his gaze trained on her legs as he climbed out as well. She’d worn a short black denim skirt that always garnered the best tips, along with chunky-heeled sandals with an ankle strap. Her pale green top clung to her ribs and showed a hint of cleavage. Maybe more than a hint, she decided, as she tracked his gaze moving upward.

  Then he grinned at her. “When a woman looks like you look, sweetheart, a man must insist on paying.”

  She smiled back, a rush of warm happiness washing through her. Throwing away any final concerns, she tucked her hand in his elbow. “I’ve forgotten how charming you can be.”

  They got an outside table right away. The weather cooperated with a warm sun but a light and cool ocean breeze. When they were halfway through their lunch—burger for him, chicken Caesar salad for her—“most predictable menu choices ever” he’d said, and they’d both laughed—she put her elbow on the table.

  “You know,” she said, “you never answered the question about the ironing of pillowcases and underwear.”

  His gaze on her, he took a big bite of burger and chewed slowly.

  “You’re right,” she said, waving it off. “What a silly question. What real man would even own an iron?”

  “Hey—”

  She snorted with laughter, hand over her mouth to hold it back. “I knew it!”

  “Brat,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Do I need to prove to you I’m a real man—again? I was planning on waiting until tonight, but if you insist…”

  A tingle started low in her belly. “Um…are we going there?” she asked, the tingle joined by a new tightness in her throat. Then her heart began knocking against her ribs as he nodded.

  She gave caution one last try. “Mad, are you sure about this?”

  “Would we really manage to stay away from each other while you’re here?”

  Shaking her head, she smiled, then it widened when he reached for her fingers and kissed them. Upon their release, she surreptitiously slid her hand beneath the tabletop and laid the other over it, as if pressing the kiss like a flower. Enjoy yourself, came the echo of her mother’s voice. We don’t know how much time we have on earth or with each
other.

  After he paid the bill, they walked to the farmers market, where five blocks of the downtown streets had been designated as pedestrian-only for the afternoon. He took her hand.

  She pretended to breathe.

  Harper led the way, towing him into stalls with handmade baby clothes, honey from local bees, and buckets of flowers offered by nearby growers. Though the weekly event was only a month old, people seemed to have embraced it already, and Harper noted the many shopping totes that got fuller as the afternoon progressed. There were cheeses, artisan breads, and plenty of produce, but none of it looked as beautiful as that from Sunnybird Farm. Some of it wasn’t even certified organic.

  She stood in the center of the street, running her gaze over both sides, calculating a prime spot for a Sunnybird stall. “I wonder who I need to talk to about applying?” she murmured.

  “Hmm?” Mad bent his head, his mouth close to her ear.

  A shiver rolled down her neck. She turned to look at him. “You did that on pur—”

  He kissed the rest of her comment off her mouth.

  She came up for air with a giggle. A giggle!

  This is happiness, she thought, beaming at him.

  He leaned in again, his intention obvious, then they broke apart as someone hailed her man. They turned to see Rafael Rodriguez, one of Mad’s poker crew, striding toward them. The two guys shook hands, then Raf sent Harper a rakish grin. “Good to see you, too,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. Then he moved as if to kiss the other, very European.

  Mad gave his friend a good-natured shove. “Back off, Romeo.”

  Feigning hurt, Raf looked at his buddy. “It was just a courtesy. I’m not trying to move in.”

  “You don’t have to be trying, it’s just second nature,” Mad said dryly.

  While the two men continued their conversation, Harper’s attention was caught by the sun glinting off some boho-styled earrings displayed in a nearby booth.

  “I’m going over there,” she told Mad, and he acknowledged it with a lift of his chin. After a brief investigation, she was lured to the next stall, where she admired hand-knit throws, the strands of yarn as thick as her thumb. The seafoam one would look nice across the dark quilt bedspread that covered Mad’s mattress.