Show Stopper: A First Responder Romantic Comedy (Chicago First Responders Book 1)
Page 18
Abi and Dr Cade Carsen
Game Saver—Cade Carsen and Abi Cook
Keep reading for Chapter 1 of Game Saver
It’s one of those cliché moments. Our eyes meet across the bar, a lightning spark buzzing between us and—speaking for myself—one that shoots straight through me. I watch him lean over to say something in his friend’s ear then make his way through the crowd toward me.
The first thing he says isn’t what you’d expect from a man like him; he’s good looking, well dressed, and definitely not hurting for money or choices when it comes to women. He doesn’t say “Hey” or “Can I buy you a drink?”—which all women know is code for “I’m trying to get in there.” No, the first words he says to me are “Nice shoes . . .” as he methodically undresses me with his eyes, a slow-growing cocky grin making his already pretty face downright gorgeous.
It’s a bold move, but a very effective one.
“What will it take to get the rest of the pickup line?” I ask, twirling the tip of my drinking straw with my tongue. His gaze drops to my lips, his eyes darkening before lifting to meet mine.
“A taxi ride to your place.”
Just. Like. That. My heart pounds, my panties melt, and those six words send a thrill through me. He’s a guy who knows what he wants and how to play the perfect game to get it from me.
“You don’t think we should do the mature thing and get to know each other first? Maybe share our deepest, darkest secrets or something?” I tease.
With one elbow to the bar, the other resting on the back of my bar stool, he leans into me—total personal space invasion—and brings his lips to my ear. “Right now, I’m interested in what’s underneath that fucking dress and how fast I can make you come the first time. The second will be a test of your stamina, and if you can still talk after number three, then we can talk about anything you want.”
Goddamn. This man’s like my dream guy, but dirtier and overly confident in a way that presses all my buttons.
Standing up straight, I find myself fascinated by his mouth, wondering what his lips would feel like if I kissed him. What will they taste like, and how will he use them to follow through on the wicked promises he just made?
I want it. I want him. I’m not a girl with hang-ups but I don’t just go home with random guys willy-nilly. I’m a “take it or leave it” girl. If I’m in the mood and have a connection with a guy, I’ll go home with him but always to their place. That way I can slam, bam, and ‘get my ass out of there’ ma’am. Then, unless I want to see them again, they have no idea how to find me.
Safety first, condoms, and no strings unless you tie them yourself—they’re the three things my hippie mom has drilled into me. “Free love makes the world go ‘round, Abi-Jane, and everyone needs to feel loved at least once in their lives.”
Right now, I’ve decided to roll the dice and take a chance on this good looking, well dressed, obviously well off guy who’s making dirty promises I can only hope he’ll keep.
I finish the last of my cocktail and turn around to find him towering over me. Tall, maybe six foot two, wearing a fitted black button-down that clings to his chest and arms in such a way that you know it’s tailored just for him. His eyes are gentle, sapphire blue, his hair a dirty brown with a flash of auburn. He’s gorgeous and is mine for the taking. So, I decide to indulge.
“Your place or mine?” I ask, shocking myself at the invitation.
“Yours,” he says gruffly, taking a step forward and wedging himself between my thighs, my dress riding up as he moves in.
“I know this is a sex club, but remember the saying ‘lady in public, whore in the bedroom’ . . . ?” I ask with a quirked brow.
“And what would you do if I slid my hand under your dress and slowly inched my fingers between your legs . . .” I’m startled at the touch of his warm skin against mine, exactly where he described. I’m panting now and my heart is trying its best to beat its way out of my chest.
His voice drops low, for my ears only as he continues, “Will you fight your body’s instinct to squirm and moan while you gently ride my fingers . . . right . . . here . . .” His hand dips under my dress, his thumb taunting me over my panties.
I reach up and grab hold of his shoulders, snagging his cropped hair in my fingers and pulling him down to me. “If you’re trying to test me, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”
“I always win a challenge, little spitfire,” he says, unfortunately moving his hand back to a more appropriate place.
Deciding this party for two needs to move on to a more private location, I slide off the stool, brushing my body against his, and get a thrill when he doesn’t step back.
I stand next to him, his eyes scanning me top to bottom and back again, as I show him that I’m not, in fact, little, my heels taking me to almost his height. “Big spitfire . . .” he muses, his lips curving up on one side and revealing a dimple that begs to be licked.
“Are you always so forward?” I ask, resting a hand on his hip lightly without thought. It’s not a calculated move. It feels natural. Needed . . .
“Are you always so receptive to the advances of men who don’t fuck around when they see something they want?”
“Only good looking, well dressed ones who act on it.”
“That works for you?”
“So far, it’s you that’s working for me. Whether that pans out or not is up to you . . .” I throw down the gauntlet, and my body itches to see whether he’ll rise to the challenge—and all the creative ways he can do it.
“Say goodbye to your friend . . . ?” He jerks his head toward my best friend Amy—the reason why I’m here alone—and inadvertently gives away just how closely he’s been watching me. Raising his brow, he waits for me to comply.
“Abi,” I say, taking my hand back and offering it out to him.
“Cade,” he rumbles, his voice deep and rough, a sound that could drive you higher or bring you back down. It’s one of those tones you could fall asleep to, climax from, and listen to forever.
What he does next rocks me to the core. He doesn’t shake my hand; instead, he gently wraps his fingers around mine, lifts them up to his mouth, and places a whisper-soft kiss on each of my knuckles, elevating my orgasm detonation level skyward with each new touch. A shiver courses through me from the tips of my toes, up my legs, through my chest, then down to my fingertips. That sexy, slow-growing smile of his widens when my hand trembles in reply.
Remembering the adage of safety first, I turn to the bar and whistle to grab Amy’s attention. She finishes pouring a line of shots then comes my way, leaning in close, her eyes doing a sneaky scan of the man holding my hand and standing at my side before returning to me.
“Are you leaving?” she asks. Captain Obvious.
“Yeah.”
“Everything good?” she presses, her eyes flicking toward Cade.
“They will be in about twenty minutes’ time if the promise of him is—in fact—a sign of very good things to come my way.”
“You going to his?” she says quietly.
“Mine.”
Her eyes bug out and she gasps. “Babe . . . you sure?”
“Yep. Look at him. My creep radar has not pinged once. He’s hot, he’s forward—but no more than me—and his confidence is intriguing as fuck. I’ll text you tomorrow.” She moves her head back and studies me.
“Are you drunk?” she continues.
I grin. “Nope.”
“Is Dani home?”
“Yep.”
Cade says nothing through all of this; he just stands beside me, the heat radiating off his body warming me like a slow-burning fire that could roar to life at any moment.
“You better text me,” she warns, just as Cade squeezes my hand. “Got to go.” She turns her head for me to kiss her cheek like I always do, although I don’t miss her sneaky head-to-toe scan of Cade at the same time. When I stand up straight again, I look at the fine male morsel before me and g
rin wickedly. This is gonna be fun. “Shall we go?”
“You lead, I’ll follow.”
“From what I’ve seen so far, I’m guessing that’s the only time that’s gonna happen tonight?”
“You’re a quick learner, Spitfire. Let’s go so I can see you ignite with a bang.”
“Promises, promises,” I whisper as I lead Cade away from the bar, his hand resting on my back, his fingers just dipping inside my low-cut dress.
Thankfully we score a cab right outside the door. Even better is Cade’s mouth hitting mine for the very first time the second the car pulls away from the curb.
For the record, I was right. There was no leading required. Cade takes control and plays my body the way he wants. Four times. In one night. Then again in the morning.
That was the only time we hooked up . . . until last night.
Last night, everything changed. Whether that’s a good thing or not is yet to be seen.
All I know is I’ve reviewed the forecast, and I’m predicting orgasms.
About the Author
BJ Harvey is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Bliss Series. She also regards herself as a smut peddler, suspense conjurer and a funny romance thinker upper. An avid music fan, you will always find her singing some hit song badly but loving every minute of it. She’s a wife, a mom to two beautiful girls, and hails from the best country in the world—New Zealand—but currently lives in Perth, Australia.
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Also by BJ Harvey
The Bliss Series
Temporary Bliss (Bliss #1)—Mac and Daniel
True Bliss (Bliss #2)—Kate and Zander
Blissful Surrender (Bliss #3)—Sean and Sam
Permanent Bliss (Bliss #4)—Wedding Novella
Finding Bliss (Bliss #5)—Noah and Zoe
The Game Series
Game Player (Game #1)—Matt and Mia
Game Maker (Game #2)—Zack and Danika
Game Saver (Game #3)—Cade and Abi
Game Ender (Game #4)—Thomas and Amy
Game Breaker (Game #5)—Cameron and Sarah
Game Planner (Game #6)—Jase and Natalie
Cook Brothers Series
Work in Progress—Jamie and April
Work Violation—Jax and Ronnie
Working Back—Bry and Faith
Hard Work—Cohen and Skye
Working For It—Ezra and Gilly
Romantic Suspense
Lost in Distraction (Lost #1)
Lost For You (Lost #2)
Lost Without You (Lost #3)
Crave
Contemporary Romance
One Shot (Chances #1)
Second Chance (Chances #2)
Third Strike (Chances #3)
Touch (Sovereign Part One)
Taste (Sovereign Part Two)
Feel (Sovereign Part Three)