by Jaci Burton
The women he’d been with before were practiced. Almost too damn perfect. It wasn’t something he could put a finger on, but it was like they were trying to meet his expectations.
Where was the fun in that?
Haven reached for her own pleasure, and God, he couldn’t get enough of it—of her.
And now she’d opened the box of condoms and held one between her fingers as she scooted up on the bed and spread her legs. An invitation. She looked beautiful sitting there, expecting him, waiting for him. He wasn’t about to ignore her summons. He was hard, aching, his balls heavy with come.
He climbed onto the bed and took the packet from her hand. He applied the condom, acutely aware of the way she watched his every movement. He kneeled between her legs and slid his fingers into her hair, capturing her lips for a kiss. She grasped his arms and held him there, and when he slid his tongue in her mouth, she sucked.
His balls tightened, his cock lurching toward her like some kind of goddamned divining rod. It knew where it was supposed to be. Her room was thick with the smell of sex—a sweet, musky perfume that made him eager to bury himself inside her and see if she was as sweet and as hot as he’d been imagining.
He moved back and grasped her ankles, then pulled her down the bed, cupping her ankles, sliding his hands over the softness of her flesh as he mapped his fingers over her legs.
And still, she watched him. He didn’t mind, loved looking at the darkening color of her eyes, seeing the deepening passion there. He swept his hand over her sex. She was wet, quivering, ready for him.
Yeah, he was ready, too.
He placed the tip of his cock at the entrance to her pussy, eased the first inch in, watching her as he lifted one of her legs and bent her knee to widen her for his entry.
Her breathing quickened as he pushed in. She was slick, her pussy hot as he slid home.
“Yes, Trevor,” she whispered, then wrapped her legs around him and brought him all the way in.
He looked at her, the rapture on her face, and then stilled to experience the way she surrounded him. Tight, hot, squeezing his cock and pulsing around him. He had to take a few seconds to breathe in and out, to center himself, because all he wanted to do was let go, to release everything he’d held inside for the past few hours.
But then she reached for his face, tracing her fingertips over the scar above his right eyebrow. It seemed so incongruous to the heat and sexuality that beat between them. He calmed, took a deep breath, and moved within her.
“Damn, Trevor, you’re big,” she said.
Not the first time he’d heard that. He held his torso off her with the palms of his hands and looked down at her. “Do you need me to stop?”
“No. Don’t stop. If you stop I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
He smiled at her. “Okay, then. You let me know what works for you.”
“No problem there. You fucking me is working for me right now. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Again, she gave commands, and he was happy to comply. “I like being inside you, Haven. I like it a lot.” He cupped her butt and lifted her hips, then drove in deeper. She gasped, and raked her nails along his forearms.
“Yeah, I like that, too. Do it again.”
He did, sliding in, then pulling out, only to ease back in, this time with a little more force. And when he did, he ground against her, making sure to give her clit plenty of attention.
Haven arched her back and widened her legs. “Oh, yes. Like that. A lot more like that. It feels so good.”
He loved the sound of her voice when she was lost in the throes of passion. She dropped an octave and added some gravel to her voice. And since she’d tilted her head back, she gave him an opportunity to lick her neck.
“Oh, my God, Trevor. You keep doing that while you’re fucking me, you’re going to make me come again.” This time, her voice begged, and he knew it wasn’t a complaint.
“I like the way you taste, Haven,” he whispered against her neck. “All over. I like your skin, the way you breathe, and I especially like the way you move when I’m inside you. You make me want to come hard.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes glazed with passion. “Yes. I want that. I need you to come. I need you to feel what I’ve felt. It’s so good.”
And then there were no words because he was lost in her depths, and now it was his turn to do nothing but feel. He knew he could get her there, but as he powered into her with a thrust, she tightened around him and, oh, man, the sounds of her moans and whimpers as she came just wrecked him. That was the end for him, because all he wanted was to let go.
When he released, it was like he’d been catapulted from his own skin. He grabbed hold of Haven and thrust deeply into her when he came. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he shuddered through an epic climax that left him sweating and shaking, glad he had Haven to hold on to as a lifeline.
His breaths sawed in and out. He took a few more, catching his breath, swiping his hands over her face. She looked up at him, her eyes clear as she smiled at him. He bent and brushed his lips over hers, getting lost in the way she tasted, rolling over and bringing her with him, liking that they were still so intimately connected.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to let her go. But he did, pulling her out of the bed with him so they could go into her bathroom and clean up a bit. He glanced at her in the mirror. She looked tired, so he climbed into bed with her and she laid her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and she was out within minutes.
He lay there listening to her breathe, enjoying the feel of her body snuggled up next to his.
Eventually, he closed his eyes and drifted off.
SIXTEEN
HAVEN WALKED THE STERILE WHITE CORRIDORS, knowing what waited for her in that room. She dreaded it, but knew she had to go there, to be with her dad.
He needed her, and she’d endure anything just to be there for him. There wasn’t much time left.
She took a deep, stabilizing breath and entered the room.
It was empty. She looked all around, but she couldn’t find him. “Dad?” She called out, but he didn’t answer.
She hurried out of the room, running as fast as she could, but it was like running in mud. Her legs weren’t working right.
“Dad? Where are you? I can’t find you.”
Haven.
She heard his voice calling her name and ran to the sound. But still, she could barely move, let alone run.
Haven.
His voice grew more faint. She struggled, forcing her legs and feet to push harder. This was so damn frustrating. She had to get to him before it was too late.
“I’m coming, Dad. I’m trying to find you. Where are you?”
She felt the wetness of tears roll down her face, knew she wasn’t going to reach him in time.
Suddenly, there he was, at the end of the hall. So close, and yet an ocean’s distance away, because as she looked at him, so frail, so thin as he reached his arms out for her, she could already see he was disappearing.
“No, Dad, no. Please don’t go.”
She let out a gasping sob, trying to reach him as he held his arms out.
Haven. I have to go.
“Daddy, no. Please don’t leave me.”
But it was too late. He was gone.
She dropped to the ground and released the wall of tears.
“Haven. Haven, wake up.”
She shot up in bed, still crying, and turned her face into Trevor’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around someone solid, someone real.
“Shh, it’s okay, honey.”
She couldn’t even form words right then because the dream had been so vivid to her, the ache of losing her father all over again hurting so badly it made her throat close up, made her heart hurt.
Trevor didn’t even ask, just stroked her back and murmured words of comfort as he held tight to her until she cried out the anguish of loss. When the gasping sobs subsided and she had nothing l
eft, he reached over on the nightstand and handed her a box of tissues. She blew her nose and dried her eyes.
And then he held her, not speaking until her breathing returned to normal.
She couldn’t talk about it. She hoped to God he wouldn’t ask.
Trevor pulled back, his face etched with concern. “I’m going to get you a drink. I’ll be right back. Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded.
He slid out of bed and left the bedroom, giving her a few minutes to dash into the bathroom. She flipped on the light, splashed water on her face, blew her nose a few more times, then finally looked up.
God, she looked like she’d been on an all-night bender. Her eyes were tear-stained and swollen, her nose all red, and she looked—awful. How embarrassing to have that nightmare after she and Trevor had just had a fun night together.
She should have known better than to get involved with someone. She just wasn’t ready yet. She’d opened up the emotional floodgates and look what happened.
She went back into the bedroom and threw on a pair of sweats and a tank top, then crawled on top of the covers.
Trevor came back in, still gloriously, beautifully naked. For a second, she thought about changing her mind, but refused to waver. She was making the right choice.
The only choice.
“Here, drink this.”
“Thanks.” She was ridiculously dehydrated after all that crying, so she took a few deep swallows, then set the glass aside. “I’m fine now. And actually really wiped.”
He started to climb into bed with her, but she stood. “I think I’d sleep better alone.”
He arched a brow. “I thought maybe you’d want to talk about your nightmare.”
She let out a short laugh. “That’s the last thing I want to talk about. I’d rather forget it, and get some sleep. And you probably should, too. Like, in your own bed.”
He didn’t move, just sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong, Haven?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just need to be alone.”
“Something about that dream freaked you out. You should talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go back to sleep. And honestly, I’m not much for bedmates. Don’t take it personally.”
“So, you’re kicking me out.”
“Um . . . yes. Sorry. But it’s not you, it’s me. Really. I just know I won’t get any sleep tonight with you here. It’s just a weird quirk of mine. I hope you understand.”
Her excuse sounded incredibly lame, even to her own ears.
“Not a problem.” He grabbed his clothes and got dressed, then came to her, sliding his hands up and down her arms, generating heat despite her discomfort.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for the water and for . . . you know—being there. It was just a silly nightmare. Zombies or something. I don’t even remember most of it now. Honestly.” She finished it off with a shrug.
He didn’t look like he believed her. “If you’re sure.”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She was already walking him to her bedroom door. “Okay.”
As soon as he left her room, she shut the door and leaned against it, tears pricking her eyes again.
Why did she throw him out? Why couldn’t she let him stay and offer her comfort? And why wouldn’t she tell him about her dream about her dad?
Because that would have required her to open up emotionally, and she needed to maintain her distance. She’d already made a mistake by having sex with him, and she couldn’t afford to get any closer to him.
It was better this way. She pulled off her clothes and climbed back into bed, which now seemed colder, bigger, and emptier without Trevor’s body to warm her, and memories of her father still lingered after her dream.
She was lonely, which was her doing. It was for the best, right?
She knew she’d never go back to sleep the rest of the night.
TREVOR SAT IN HIS ROOM, STARING OUT THE WINDOW. Part of him wanted to go back over to Haven’s wing, knock on her door, and make her talk to him about that nightmare.
She’d been upset. More upset than just a run-of-the-mill bad dream. It had to be something deeper, but hell, she’d asked him to leave. What the hell was he supposed to do? Force her to let him stay? He had to go, had to give her the space she’d asked for.
Though he didn’t think being alone and upset like that was what she’d really wanted.
He dragged his fingers through his hair and paced his room, wide awake now and knowing he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, clicking through until he found the sports channel. He settled back on the bed and tried to concentrate on the rehash of yesterday’s baseball games, but he couldn’t concentrate.
His thoughts kept coming back to Haven, on how she’d been crying out in her sleep, how he’d had to wake her and how she’d thrown herself against him, sobbing.
His gut tightened as he remembered how it felt to feel her body wrapped against his while she cried. He’d wanted to offer her comfort, but instead, all she’d wanted was to be left alone.
That wasn’t right. No one should be alone when they were hurting like that.
He shouldn’t have left her.
Dammit. He didn’t know what to do about her—for her.
But he was determined to figure her out.
SEVENTEEN
HAVEN DOVE INTO WORK THE NEXT DAY, DETERMINED to focus on her job and the arriving camera crew and forget all about the bad dream she’d had the night before, as well as the fact that she’d had sex with Trevor.
If she could concentrate on work and nothing but that, she’d be fine.
She staved off the exhaustion from lack of sleep by drinking several cups of coffee and eating the awesome breakfast Hammond had provided. She’d also avoided Trevor by asking the crew to pick her up at the house early that morning so they could go over the battle plan for the interviews and camera shots at the ballpark for the game tonight against Los Angeles. She’d left Trevor a text message telling him she’d meet him at the ballpark later that day.
They were nearing the end of the regular season. The Rivers were doing okay, but still three games out of first place, and the teams in the other division were breathing down their necks trying to get the wild card spot. It wasn’t going to be easy for them to make the playoffs. In fact, unless they won every one of their last seven games, it was going to be damned near impossible.
She was going to make that the thrust of her on-camera interview today with Trevor, so they’d have a sound bite to send in for tonight’s sportscast as part of a teaser for her upcoming feature, one of the things she’d discussed with her producer. Even though her assignment wasn’t going to be completed for a while, her producer wanted to lay the groundwork, to get the audience invested in advance.
No pressure or anything, right?
She went through her notes and she and the crew went over camera angles and where they planned to set up prior to the game. Trevor agreed to meet with her early, before warm-ups, at the field. They’d made arrangements with team management, as well as with a few of the players, so they’d be able to conduct on-camera interviews today.
Her plate was full—exactly what she needed. No time to think about anything personal, which suited her just fine.
Because professionally, things were going smoothly. It was the personal side she’d royally screwed up by sleeping with Trevor last night.
That wouldn’t happen again.
When Trevor arrived, he came up to her, his expression filled with concern.
Which was the last thing she needed.
“How are you?” he asked, smoothing his hand up and down her arm.
It was just that kind of gentle care she didn’t need. She took a step back, giving him a bright, very professional, not at all personal kind of smil
e. “I’m doing great today. How are you?”
She could tell he knew something was off, but at least he seemed good-natured about it. “Good. Did you manage any sleep last night?”
Aware of the camera crew lurking nearby, she gave a short nod. “Slept like the dead. I realize you’re going to need to get to warm-ups and I have several of your teammates to interview as well today, so let’s get your mic on so we can get this interview rolling.”
He gave her a sideways look, but then he nodded. “You’re the boss.”
Grateful he didn’t press her any further about last night, she put his mic on, then sat next to him and started the interview. She started with innocuous questions about the current season, including what he thought the Rivers’ chances were to make the postseason. Trevor, as always, was filled with confidence about the team’s chances and said they’d play as hard as they always had, but it was always a game-by-game situation.
Typical player response, but he gave a great interview and she was grateful for that.
Then she got into some of the background questions she’d asked during the preliminary interviews, about his childhood and the sports he’d played, mainly a reiteration of what they’d already gone over, but this time, on camera. It went well, and it went quickly, so they finished on time.
“Thanks,” she said when they were done. “That’s all we’ll do today. We’ll get some shots of you playing tonight’s game, and we’ll use that as promo for the piece.”
“So what are you on to next?” he asked, handing over the mic equipment to one of the crew members.
“I’ve arranged to interview a few of your teammates. And your coach has agreed to give me a few minutes.”
Trevor arched a brow. “You’re getting camera time with Manny? How’d you manage that?”
“I asked. I’m very nice, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” He started toward her again, but she took a step back.
“We really should get going. There isn’t much time and I have a lot to do.”
He seemed disappointed. “Good luck with your interviews.”
“Thanks. Good luck with the game tonight.”
