How could I resist that toast?
The delicious wine warmed me. It was tastier than the Cabernet Sauvignon I had the night before. I didn’t recognize the label and figured it was too far out of my price range to bother asking. Van pulled a plate with four chicken breasts from the fridge, and I followed him outside to the grill. The backyard was gorgeous with large trees covered in small twinkling white lights beside the partially enclosed patio. Two large buildings separate from the house caught my attention. One, a huge garage with four large vehicle doors was easy to identify. The other had an ivy-covered fence blocking my view of what appeared to be windows.
“Let me get these started and I’ll show you.”
Van must have seen me studying the building. He tugged on my hand after closing the grill and we walked over. He opened the door and turned on the lights. It was a pool house—an honest to God pool house that included a Jacuzzi, lounge chairs, changing rooms, and bathrooms complete with showers. I walked around in awe.
“The Stelson brothers are party animals.”
He didn’t deny it. “We have our moments. Would you like to swim before dinner?”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit, as you well know, and the steam in the room is making these pants uncomfortable.”
He brought my fingers to his lips and kissed the backs adding a small flick of his tongue. “By all means let’s get you out of your pants.” Before I could use his name like a four letter word, he placed a finger over my lips. “Shh, I had to taste you and I was a good boy by limiting myself to your fingers.”
I didn’t argue because wild Cami jumped past my defenses and stamped her foot. Desire washed through me and a low ache throbbed between my thighs. God my nipples even tightened, and more than anything I wanted to feel Van’s touch. “I do need some more wine,” I managed to get out past my suddenly dry lips.
We walked back into the house and he showed me to the downstairs bathroom so I could remove my jeans. I stuffed them in my bag and left it on the counter before returning to the kitchen. My pulse raced when Van’s eyes repeatedly went to my legs. I drank my wine while he tossed a salad refusing any help. It gave me time to get my hormones under control. Well… maybe.
“Would you like to eat in the dining room or outside on the patio?” he asked.
“The patio please.” I watched as he refilled my wine glass.
Before Van handed me the glass he reached for my glasses and took them off. “I want to see your eyes. Besides eyesight, do you need them?”
What could I do but laugh. “If eyesight is off the table, I can live without them.” I took them from his fingers laying them down on the counter.
We went back outside carrying plates and silverware. I set the table while he checked the chicken.
“So tell me more about Cami. What does your future hold?” he asked while fiddling with the grill.
Him. His eyes. His scent. His car. His bike. The way he looked covered in dirt and sweaty from practice. I set my wine glass down. Too much testosterone thinking even for wild Cami. “I want to travel around the world. Write articles that mean something to more than just local Cleveland readers.”
“Mean something how?” He sounded sincere in his interest.
“There are so many good and bad things happening around the world with women and children. I want to be at the center of change—dig up those untold stories that transform lives. I want to follow in the footsteps of Frances FitzGerald, Martha Gellhorn, and Katharine Graham.” Van’s blank look was impossible to miss. “You don’t know who those ladies are any more than I know a football from a rugby ball, but they’re my heroes.”
His eyes were so intent. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
I grabbed my glass and downed the rest of my wine. Van went into the house and brought back the wine, pouring the rest of the bottle into my glass. My head spun, but it felt good—liberating almost. It wasn’t something I could describe. I was always too shy to speak my mind, I followed all the rules, and suppressed that I was any type of sexual being. Basically boring. Van made me feel alive—the way he looked at my body and asked questions about my future plans.
“Tell me about rugby. What do you love most about it?”
“Everything,” he said simply. “I think the chicken is pretty close. Do you mind grabbing the salad? I’ll grab a platter and the potatoes from the oven.”
We worked together without saying anything. We sat down and Van made another toast, “To that special someone.”
I clicked his glass. Was I that special someone to him? I wanted to be. I wanted a hell of a lot more than that. I wondered if I looked at him the same way he eyed me. With appreciation and, yes, desire.
I barely tasted my food. “I would have sworn you’d eat steak seven days a week,” I said after he ate his second piece of chicken. I continued before he could answer. “It’s wonderful, but I can’t eat more. Please have mine.”
He didn’t argue, just grabbed the third piece. “Joel forces it on me a couple of times a week. The chicken was for you,” he said between bites.
It amazed me that he cared more about what I might want to eat than what he liked. I sat my fork down unable to eat another bite. “I still can’t believe the two of you live together. You seem very different.”
Van smiled just a tad. “You mean I don’t have a stick up my ass?”
I laughed a little too loudly. “That’s exactly what I meant.”
“You need more wine. Let me grab another bottle,” he said rising from the table.
The twinkling lights in the yard were a bit blurry. I tried tilting my glasses higher not realizing they weren’t on. I couldn’t feel my nose. “No, I assure you, I don’t need more wine,” I giggled. He was already inside and couldn’t possibly have heard me.
Wild Cami decided another sip or two wouldn’t hurt. After he poured more wine, we made small talk getting to know each other. I stood up to gather dishes and stumbled. Before I could grab the table, Van was there.
“Sorry,” I said with another giggle. “I’m tipsy.”
“You’re beautiful.” He stared into my eyes not moving or, more precisely, making a move.
Without thinking, I went to my tiptoes and pressed my lips gently to his. His arms circled me or I would have fallen. He pulled me against his rock-hard chest making me feel stable. No… that wasn’t it… invincible. Cami the prude was gone.
I needed to fuck Van Stelson.
Chapter Eleven
The kiss changed as Van took over. His fingers sought the zipper on the back of my dress. Once the material was loose, he pulled the sleeves down, exposing my lace bra and dipping his rough fingertips under the material.
“God, your tits are incredible,” he said with a whispery groan.
Every nerve ending on my body centered on each stroke against my breast. Before I realized what I was doing, my arms were around him, my fingernails digging into his back. A dizzying whirl of sexual need shot straight to my inner thighs. His mouth took complete control. He sucked my lower lip continuing his assault with gentle nips. I could no longer think past the driving ache that wanted to explode from my body. Never had I felt such blinding need. He pushed my dress past my hips until it pooled on the floor. I had no idea that he unclipped my bra until it fell to the floor too. He swung me into his arms without ending the kiss. My shoes fell off along the way. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think.
His bedroom was dark, but he knew where the most important piece of furniture was, and within seconds of entering, I was on it. His chest, I wanted to feel his bare chest against my naked breasts. I started working the buttons, but he had no patience. He pushed my fingers aside and buttons went flying. I was drunk, he was sexy as hell, and now all I wanted were his pants. Coming off. Now.
He pulled back slightly so he could help me with his zipper. I couldn’t think past where I needed his body next. He shuffled above me and I heard a drawer next to the bed open. A minute later, the unm
istakable sound of a condom wrapper being torn open. God, I hadn’t thought that far, but good. So good.
The tip of his cock pushed against me, but didn’t get far. My legs circled his hips. He lowered his head a little, taking my nipple into his mouth. Oh God. Strong suction had tingling sensation traveling all the way to my pussy. My back bowed and my legs tightened. His cock pressed forward again as my hands moved up and sank into his hair. I pulled, he pushed.
“Fuck, you’re tight. Open up, baby.” He sucked my nipple harder.
Even with alcohol clouding my brain, it hurt. I gave a pain-filled groan. Van took it as assent. I tried to pull back, but he pushed me farther into the bed and thrust forward harder. He strained against me and finally gained entry. His mouth covered my scream. He didn’t stop. His hips pumped faster and the burn increased. I tried to relax my body. I wanted this... had practically begged him to fuck me five minutes before.
It seemed to take him forever before he sighed against my cheek and collapsed on top of me. He kissed my forehead and rolled over, tucking me into his side. “God, baby, you were so incredibly tight. Please tell me I wasn’t your first.”
Did I hear sincerity in his voice? I wasn’t sure. “No, it’s just been a long time.” I felt defeated and reality was pushing aside the puffy sex clouds fogging my brain.
“Don’t move. Let me get rid of this condom.” He jumped up from the bed and a second later the bathroom light snapped on blinding me. I rolled over, facing away from the door. What the fuck was I thinking? Why was I here? The light switched off and Van curled in behind me.
“You okay, baby?”
“Hmm.” I was afraid I’d cry if I said any more. Sex would never be great for me but for some reason I expected Van to be different, that I would feel what other women talked about. My brain was still mush from the alcohol and that made it worse. I’d fucked a guy I barely knew because he had a ripped body. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Van began massaging my back, gently sinking his fingers into my stiff muscles. Kisses pressed to the side of my neck. I’ll admit it felt good.
“That was too quick, baby, but I swear you had me too ramped up to go slow. Your amazing tits got me so hot I couldn’t think straight. Let me make it good for you.” His leg slid between mine.
“I’m sore, Van, I don’t think I can,” I said on a long sigh as he found a particularly tight muscle beneath my shoulder blade. He rolled me over and kissed me. Sweet nips and gentle sucks had the memory of pain fading. He kissed down my chest to my breasts.
“I could get lost right here, baby. I love your tits.”
He went slow, sucking gently on my nipples. My breathing accelerated while small sounds of pleasure left my throat. For a while he did get lost. He worshiped my breasts with small bites, bits of suction and kisses. When he eventually found his way lower, his fingers roughly dug into my skin as they traveled down my sides. I thought my heart would explode from my chest. His mouth found my sore, swollen center. He licked and teased before sucking my clit and flicking his tongue against me.
“God,” I cried out.
“Like that, baby?” He blew across my sensitive flesh and slowly pushed one finger inside.
My hips rose from the bed and he laughed—a low husky breath against my pussy. It all felt so incredibly good. I couldn’t hold still, thrusting my hips against his mouth. He didn’t stop. Two fingers entered gliding in and out in a steady rhythm as he continued driving me crazy. The burn from his earlier entry faded completely. My entire body focused on his tongue and fingers. I had no control of my pending orgasm; it hung at the edge, needing just a little more… something. A loud cry escaped me.
So close.
And suddenly the waves burst—exploding. An almost painful zing went straight to my nipples and traveled to every erogenous zone I possessed. The scream tore from my throat and I covered my mouth with my fist to block some of it. The ripples of energy continued, and Van didn’t stop. I could hear his satisfied laugh. It seemed like forever before I collapsed back against the bed trying to control my ragged breathing.
He did it. Took me to a place I’d only heard about. Could this be love? Even with my cloudy thoughts I knew I was being stupid. This was special, well not the first time, but this last. He cared. Van made this special for me.
He kissed his way up my body, warm tender pecks until he kissed my lips the same way. He tugged the sheets and comforter from underneath us, shifting me closer, pulling the covers up to my chin. His body—toasty warm—spooned mine.
“That was great, baby. I knew you would taste that good,” he whispered in my ear. Exhaustion rolled over me and I fell asleep thinking about Van’s spectacular mouth.
When the morning light woke me, I heard the shower running. I smiled. Why did I fight this attraction? Van was special and I could more than live with his jockiness. I laughed at my made-up word, feeling silly. He opened the door and stepped out naked. A delayed sense of shyness rolled over me, and I pulled the sheet up just a little higher.
He started opening drawers and pulling out clothes. He threw on a pair of shorts followed by his shirt. God, he was commando, and I wanted him back in bed with me. Grabbing athletic shoes from his closet, he walked over to the bed and sat down beside me, giving my hip covered by the sheet a loud smack.
“I’m glad you’re awake. I’ll leave the keys to the Rover downstairs on the kitchen counter. I’ll have it picked up from the hotel later. I always do a light workout before a match. I need you out before I get home. I’ll be gone for about two hours. Make yourself some breakfast and I’ll have my housekeeper take care of last night’s dishes. Thanks for everything, baby.” He leaned over and kissed me. “We both got what we wanted. You’re good, right?”
What we wanted? What the hell?
He was brushing me off.
I wanted to scream—cry—throw something at his head. I was the dumbest woman alive. He smoothed his hand over my hip before giving me a gentle pat.
“I need to run.”
And he did. Could he see my shock or did my morning face scare him away? I must have looked horrible, but I knew that wasn’t it. Van the player… played me and I walked right into it. Not just that, I fell asleep planning a future with him. Tears slowly rolled down my cheeks. I pulled the covers up higher and smelled Van, smelled sex. I was an utter moron.
I lay there crying for twenty minutes before I was able to get up. I groaned. My damn clothes were downstairs. I didn’t bother going into the bathroom. Grabbing the sheet from the bed, I could think of nothing but my dress and getting the hell out of his home. I walked to the dining room, sniffling. And froze.
Joel stood beside the table, my dress folded neatly on the table with my underwear and bra hanging from his fingers. Could the morning get any worse or could my humiliation be any greater?
Chapter Twelve
Joel didn’t seem surprised to see me. He casually placed the panties and bra on top of the dress, picked them up, and carried them to me. Our eyes remained locked the entire time. A foot away, his arms came out offering me my clothes. I did the worst thing I could possibly do. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Joel looked at me for one long moment before doing the last thing I expected. He pulled me into his arms, my clothes pressed between us.
That’s when I lost it. I sobbed against his chest feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet.
“Shhh.” His whisper coincided with his tightening arms.
“I’m sorry,” I hiccupped, but didn’t pull away.
He stood there holding me, swaying gently. Finally, he loosened his arms just a bit. “You need to get dressed, and I’ll drive you back to the hotel.”
I took a trembling breath and moved back slightly. “You will?”
“Yes.” It was said so gently I almost started crying again. I stood wrapped in a sheet with Joel comforting me because his brother was an ass. I was stronger than this—stupid, but stronger.
I held tightly to my clothes in one ha
nd and kept the sheet up with the other. “Thank you and I’m sorry for breaking down.”
“Get dressed so we can get on the road.” He looked at me with sympathy and it was almost worse than his usual sneer.
I went back upstairs to Van’s bedroom and entered his bathroom, dropping the sheet on the floor. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror I noticed small stubble scratches at the base of my neck, around my breasts, and lower. Great. I so needed this reminder of my stupidity. I put on my underwear and bra first then pulled the dress over my head, momentarily struggling with the zipper. Thankfully, the love scratches, yeah that was a joke, couldn’t be seen with the high neckline of my dress.
My shoes and bag were still downstairs, and it was time I faced Joel again. Poor man probably went through this once or twice a week. Everyone warned me, but for some reason I thought I was that special someone who could settle the big bad rugby player down and turn a jackass into my dream man. Jocks… bad news, stay away.
Joel waited downstairs in the kitchen at the small table nook reading the morning paper. An actual paper. It made me smile a little. “No iPad. I’m impressed.”
He looked up and grinned. “I’ll enjoy them while I can. They won’t be around forever.”
“Tell me about it.” I gave him a full smile in return.
“You ready?”
“I need my shoes and bag.”
“Behind you on the barstool. That’s some bag you have there.”
I appreciated that he was acting so nice. “I call it my scrap bag. Big enough to lose everything inside, but also doubles as luggage if needed.”
His grin widened and I liked it. He stood and handed me my glasses. How could I forget those? Placing them on allowed me to see and gave me an extra shield by covering my puffy eyes. Joel pulled his car keys from his pocket. “My truck’s out front.”
He looked confident dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers, and I felt so small. He moved around me on his way to the door, but I stopped him with a quick touch on his arm. He turned. “Thank you, Joel. I’m sorry for being a cry baby.”
Kick (Completion Series) Page 7
