The Game of Love: (BWWM Romance)

by K. Alex Walker

  Austin took Sommer’s hand, a gesture that she’d fallen in love with, and followed Rose into the house and up a long, carpeted stairwell. As they walked past the windows, they noticed a covered pavilion out back, a secluded hot tub and several acres of lush greenery.

  “Your room,” Rose announced, pushing open a set of doors at the end of the hallway. A massive four-poster king-sized bed in the middle of the room commanded the most attention, its mahogany posts stretching nearly as high as the ceiling, and a padded window seat ran the length of the wall furthest from the bed. The furniture was antique but well-cared for, from the checkered drapes hanging from the windows to the beaded gray wingback chairs and matching ottoman. An open bathroom door revealed rose petals lining an oversized Jacuzzi tub, and when Rose caught Sommer’s wide-eyed fascination at the romantic set-up, she chuckled.

  “Young love, I tell you,” was all that she said before touching Austin briefly on the forearm and exiting.

  Sommer walked to the window and peered out to find more greenery that stretched farther than she could see, and hammocks set up between sturdy oak trees just off of the east corner.

  “Do you like it?” Austin asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind and placing a kiss on her cheek.

  “I love it,” she replied. “It’s more than I expected.”

  He placed another kiss against her cheek. “I told you that I wanted us to spend the weekend together. What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered with a shrug. “A quickie in the lot behind the hardware store or on the swings at Flatwoods?”

  Austin spun her around and pressed her back against the window. “What am I going to do with you, woman?”

  He smoothed her hair away from her face and studied her features. The way he stared, it was as though nothing else mattered at that precise moment except her presence in front of him. And it wasn’t that Sommer didn’t think that he was somewhat smitten with her. All the time that they’d spent together had proven that he at least was to some degree. However, she knew that his feelings didn’t run as deep as the ones she felt. It had even surprised her when she realized how she felt, as she didn’t think her years of juvenile infatuation would have amounted to anything. Yet, whenever they sat, talked and laughed, she never noticed the hours passing by. Then, their chemistry was so apparent that it was almost tangible, and she had no idea how people didn’t feel the heat sizzling between them whenever they looked at each other from across a room. He was funny and affectionate, kind and loving. She’d even envisioned him asking her to come to Texas with him, but she knew that she would never leave her mother and the bakery. Her responsibilities were much more important than a fling, no matter how far she’d fallen.

  “So, beautiful, what’s the first thing you want to do?” he asked, his eyes darting over to the bed.

  “You’re not giving me much of a choice.”

  “What do you mean? We can do whatever you want. This weekend is all about you.”

  His eyes darted to the bed once more.

  “You want to make the bed?” she asked, pulling him out of his blazer and tugging his shirt from his slacks. She ran her hands across his stomach and almost cried out at the perfect outline of abs she felt hidden underneath the fabric.

  “I don’t know how to make a bed,” he answered, walking her over to the bed. “Ma will vouch for me on that one. So, I’ll need a lot of help.”

  He sat along the edge, pulled her between his legs, and touched a kiss against her chest, connecting with her warm skin through a keyhole opening beneath the turtleneck of the dress.

  “Is this how I start?” he asked, his lips still against her chest.

  “You’re moving too far ahead.”

  “Oh.” He moved his lips to her neck. “Here?”

  Her eyes fluttered against the heat of his tongue. “That’s a good place to start.”

  He continued his onslaught to her senses and reached around for the zipper in the back of the dress, slowly pulling it as far south as it could go. He then let the ghastly fabric fall to her feet before moving his lips back to the spot on her chest, a few inches away from the mound of flesh peeking from its lacy fabric enclosure.

  “I think I remember this part. This…,” he fingered the fabric of her bra, “…comes off. I definitely think that this comes off.”

  Sommer reached for the buttons on his shirt and began to undo them one by one.

  “Not before this,” she corrected, pushing the shirt off onto the bed once the last button was freed. Just as she figured, he was beautiful. From his solid chest to his strong shoulders and sculpted arms, his physique was incredible.

  “You have a Superman chest,” she said, running her hands over the taut surface. “I think, if I look close enough, I can even see the S.”

  “Oh yeah? Where is it?” he asked.

  She bent closer and placed a finger over his heart. “Right here.”

  “Over my heart?”

  “I guess so. Yes.”

  “Then that S doesn’t stand for Superman. It stands for Sommer.”

  Even though she turned away in disbelief, her stomach still stirred. “That’s a bit corny, even for you.”

  He laughed, pulled her back to his body, and took her lips once again. His tongue played earnestly, and she played back, the heat between her thighs rising as his hand moved to the lace overlay of her bra. Her nipples hardened in response, and he flicked his thumb over the fabric, sending an aching throb directly to the center of her heat. As his thumb continued to flick, Sommer gently bit on his bottom lip to prevent herself from crying out. It had been a long time, longer than she’d realized, and even then her body hadn’t responded this eagerly.

  When his fingers stopped, she thought that she was getting a moment’s reprieve to catch her breath, but he slid his hands through the lace waistband of her panties. When his fingers found their mark, she failed to stop the cry that surged forth.

  “Austin…”

  Her voice was nearly foreign—low and ragged—and his fingers moved expertly as she pressed her forehead into the space between his neck and shoulder.

  “This weekend is all about you, baby,” he reminded. “Just tell me what you want.”

  His fingers continued to play, gliding effortlessly over her throbbing nub. Parts of her body that had never before reacted to touch were crying out to him now, and he knowingly responded as though he’d been caressing her this way for ages.

  As she attempted an answer, a hard knock resounded on the other side of the door, and if looks could kill, Sommer was sure that the person would have dropped dead the minute they crossed the threshold and saw Austin’s face.

  “Your bags?” A man’s voice called.

  “Can you leave them there?” Austin asked, his hand still intimately stroking.

  “Wouldn’t want your things to get stolen,” the man insisted.

  Austin cursed, and then pressed a swift kiss against Sommer’s lips before retrieving his mischievous hand. He then brought his fingers to his lips and tasted her, and Sommer found the gesture insanely arousing.

  “One minute.”

  He hesitated, waiting for his erection to calm. After a few hard moments, he grabbed a blanket from the bed and tossed it over her body.

  “This thing will never go down with you standing there looking at me like that,” he said, running a hand down her thigh. “God, you’re sexy.”

  Sommer wrapped the blanket around her body. “You’re not making this any easier on yourself.”

  He glanced down. “I know.”

  When his body had finally relaxed enough to be unnoticeable, he rose and went to the door, placing himself between the man’s line of vision and Sommer standing half-naked across the room. The man at the door looked to be the same age as Rose and Austin immediately felt guilty for not bringing up his own bag. While he understood the couple’s courteousness, if they didn’t hire someone else for their service soon, the man would p
robably die long before chivalry did.

  “Good, you’re getting dressed,” he said to Austin. “James Westwood, Rose’s husband. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”

  Another curse resounded through Austin’s head, but he hid any evidence of it from his face. “Can we have ours in the room?” he asked.

  “Oh no.” James motioned with his hands. “We all have dinner together. It gives us a chance to get to know our guests. Plus, my wife is making lamb stew. You’ll be in for a treat.”

  I was already getting a treat.

  As Austin felt his body began to harden, he did his best to banish the thought of Sommer standing behind him hot, ready, and covered in lace. He took the bag from the man’s hand and slipped it inside.

  “The missus asleep?” James asked, trying to peer behind him.

  “She’s getting dressed.”

  “Good.” He clapped his hands together. “I’ll see you downstairs in five. Rose’s lamb stew is truly very good.”

  Austin closed the door as James disappeared down the hallway, and then turned around to find Sommer’s spot vacant. He found her in the bathroom sitting along the edge of the tub.

  “Is he gone?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, and apparently we’re expected downstairs in five minutes to meet the guests, and regale them with tales of our travels out west for the 1848 California Gold Rush over a pot of hearty, southern lamb stew.”

  Sommer snickered. “You sound upset.”

  “I am. A little bit.” He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was in the middle of making you cum.”

  Her body throbbed in response. “I hate you,” she replied with a sly grin.

  “No, you don’t. You love me.”

  She didn’t offer a response.

  Rising from the edge of the tub, she walked past him to the suitcase and threw back its cover to search for a dry pair of underwear, not that it would stay that way for long. Finding a pair, along with a white halter-top and long, striped navy blue and white skirt, she returned to the bathroom. Austin was still standing in the doorway with his arms folded, his eyes following her every move.

  “I guess I should change for dinner too?” he asked.

  “Unless you plan on wearing that suit to eat lamb stew,” she answered. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she stood with the clothes in her hands.

  “You can’t be serious,” Austin began, realizing that she was hesitant about undressing in front of him.

  “I’m just not comfortable being naked in front of you.”

  “But you will be naked in front of me.”

  Another throbbing response.

  “I know, but not while I’m standing here exposed in this unnaturally well-lit bathroom.”

  His arms fell to his sides. “Well, what if I told you that I love your body?”

  “Austin…”

  “You’d still be self-conscious?”

  She nodded.

  “We’ll have to work on that,” he promised. “I want you to get the most out of this relationship and I don’t think you can do that if you close off any part of yourself from me.”

  And there it was again. Another reference to a relationship. As much as Sommer tried to ignore his remarks, they hung in the air like a low lying fog.

  When they’d first began their affair, he had mentioned wanting to build a friendship with her, so the last thing that she wanted to do was ruin the perfect atmosphere by making the awkward assumption that he wanted anything everlasting with her. Also, she was determined to finally make love to him that weekend, maybe even more so than he realized, so she would do nothing to ruin the chances of that happening—which included asking him any intimate questions about their status.

  “Later,” she partially conceded.

  He reluctantly closed the door, and she turned the lock. Slipping into the new underwear, maxi skirt, and tank top, she quickly checked her appearance in the mirror before leaving the bathroom. She found Austin on the bed already changed into a polo and beige shorts, and wondered what it was about men that made them more efficient at getting dressed.

  “Ready, Beautiful?” he asked, her hand already extended by the time he reached to grab it.

  Making their way down the steps, they entered the dining room to a table full of waiting guests.

  Austin was surprised to find that dinner had managed to somewhat take his mind off of making love to Sommer and that the lamb stew had truly been delicious. The stew was served with homemade buttered rolls so rich that he was sure his trainer would have had a fit if he knew how many he’d gobbled down in such a short span of time. But the best part of his night had been Sommer’s transformation.

  His mother’s words about her change in demeanor echoed throughout his head at random moments, but as he watched her light up underneath the dining room’s crystal chandelier, he saw even more of the Sommer that he’d known come out. He’d felt a bit like a voyeur, as though watching her natural self reemerge was akin to spying on her in one of her private moments, but had still found it impossible to turn away. Sommer loved people. Whether it was listening to them, talking to, or offering advice, being around people had always brought her joy. When they were younger, he’d always assumed that she would go on to be some sort of counselor or public relations specialist- any profession where she had a lot of contact with others. He’d initially been surprised to find out that she’d gone back to Yearwood to work at the bakery, but it had made sense once he found out that her mother was ill.

  Sommer reached across the table to ladle another helping of stew into her bowl, and Austin wondered when would be the right time to tell her that he was in love with her. The hours before her uncle’s wedding, he’d paced along his mother’s front porch and pored over ways to tell Sommer how he felt. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been at all worried that she might not feel the same way, especially since he hadn’t directly asked her to be exclusive.

  He’d tried the subtle approach: introducing her as his girlfriend or referring to their affair as a relationship, but each time Sommer had refused the bait, and it left him disappointed that he couldn’t just come out and talk about it directly. He knew that she was probably wondering what would happen between them once he returned to Texas in a few days, but he had every intention of continuing the relationship, even if it meant flying out to see her and sending for her whenever she was free.

  The eruption of lively laughter broke through his thoughts, reeling him back to the dinner table. At dinner, they’d had the pleasure of meeting the Browns, a professor and her retired businessman husband, the Califfs, a firefighter and kindergarten teacher, and the Hardings, a former Navy SEAL and his very pregnant attorney wife. Dinner conversation flowed freely as though the five couples had known each other previously, and cheers went around the room when Rose brought in a wonderfully browned buttermilk pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert.

  After dinner, before they could be invited to a game of charades, Austin whisked Sommer away from the group. Remembering their last fiasco at the wine tasting, he grabbed two beers from the kitchen and led her outside to the covered pavilion. He took a seat on a rustic, wooden bench. As Sommer tried to sit next to him, he pulled her onto his lap instead.

  “This way, if I have some difficult questions to ask you, you can’t run away,” he justified.

  “I didn’t know I came out here to be questioned,” she said, leaning into his chest.

  “I have many surprises up my sleeve,” he said as he kissed her bare shoulder, “So you never know what you’re going to get when dealing with me.”

  He popped the top on the beers, and she accepted the one he offered, taking a quick sip before letting the condensation run down the amber bottle as it sat between her hands. As the flavors swirled around in her mouth, she glanced down at the bottle.

  “Yummy. This is a major step up from the blackberry wine.”

  He laughed and took a swig from his bottle. “If that’s a compliment, then I appreciate
it. But you’re right, this is pretty good.” He read the label. “Infused with citrus.”

  “Mine says that it has cherry and honey in it.”

  He took a second sip. “Upscale beer. Didn’t realize that we were staying at the Pavilion de la Reine.”

  She tilted her head to look at him. “What’s that?”

  “This really ritzy hotel in Paris.”

  “Oh.” She took another sip. “You go to Paris a lot?”

  He quickly found a way to answer the question without hinting at the fact that he’d been there with Jessica.

  “I’ve been once or twice.”

  Evidently, it didn’t matter.

  “With Jessica?” Sommer asked.

  Austin didn’t respond, mostly because he wasn’t sure how to proceed. If he said no, it would be a lie, but if he said yes, it would thrust Jessica into the center of their conversation…and he wanted her nowhere near their conversation.

  “With Jessica,” Sommer replied, answering her own question.

  “A couple of times when she was shooting in France, we were invited to stay there. I mean it’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but it was just a little fancy for my tastes.”

  This time it was Sommer who fell silent, switching her attention to a group of lightning bugs that intermittently lit up near a three-tiered stone fountain.

  “How did the two of you meet?” Sommer asked, determined to remain on the subject of Jessica.

  Austin tamed a frustrated groan. “I don’t want to talk about her, Sommer, and I don’t think that you want to either.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “But why would you?”

  “Why didn’t the two of you work out?”

  “Because she wasn’t you.”

  He anticipated the eye roll before it danced across her face. As frustrated as he was, it still made him smile. If he hadn’t known her better, he would have guessed that she had no other facial expressions.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Don’t play with me, Austin. What’s the real reason?”

  He sighed when he realized that there was no getting out of the conversation. “She and I were just incompatible.”