The Final Move

by Victoria Denault

  “Anytime you need me to throw on a hot dress and drink and eat for free, I’ll be there for you,” I joke, and he chuckles. “It’s actually kind of fun. I had a fun conversation in the bathroom with two women about which NHL players wear the best suits. And earlier, when this other guy found out who I was, he gave me a long list of things Jordan has to do in order to improve his game.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. I typed it all into my phone so I could recite it to Jordy later and annoy the crap out of him.” I grin evilly and Devin bursts out laughing.

  “Ashleigh never had a minute of fun at these things.”

  “I can find fun in anything,” I remind him and wink.

  “You need to teach me how to do that,” he murmurs.

  “I tried once…” I whisper back.

  His eyes lock on mine and I know we’ve both got memories of the tractor and the barn in our heads. He smiles a small, incredibly sexy smirk.

  “Devin!” a Barons management guy whose name I can’t remember calls for him. “Time to announce the silent auction winners.”

  He leaves my side and heads to the front of the room. I admire the way his expensive suit hugs that strong, athletic ass of his. Wow. I should probably stop with the Champagne. It’s making me dangerous.

  Chapter 28

  Devin

  She’s giggling beside me, her head tipped back and her hand in front of her mouth like she’s embarrassed. Her shoes are on the seat between us and her fancy, sexy little black dress is hitched up, exposing more of her beautiful, toned legs, which are curled up onto the seat as well. Her feet are kind of pressed into the side of my thigh. I could probably sit farther over on the seat and give her room, but I like the contact too much.

  “Cole?!” I say again. We were reminiscing about Silver Bay and she just told me she had kissed my youngest brother. I had no idea.

  “It was a total dare and I honestly didn’t think he would do it,” she says, still giggling at my initial reaction, which was to let my jaw hit the floor of the cab we’re in.

  “Why wouldn’t he do it? Did you think he was gay or something?”

  “No. But you know Cole—he’s such a goof. I figured he’d just make a joke and blow me off,” she responds. “But, man, oh man, he can be serious, because it was a seriously good kiss.”

  “I had no idea you used to have a crush on him,” I say, trying not to think about my brother kissing her. It makes me feel bad and I’m sick of feeling that way.

  “Cole is an adorable-looking ginger, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never been even remotely attracted to him,” she says breezily. “I just wanted to see if he would do it.”

  I stare at her and she stares back. We’re both walking the line between tipsy and drunk thanks to copious amounts of Champagne. It’s a good feeling. I have been drunk a lot in the last few months but it never felt good like this. I decide I should drink Champagne more.

  “Like what you did with me in the barn,” my tipsy brain deduces. “You wanted to see what you could make me do.”

  She bites her bottom lip and her lids lower so she’s looking up at me through her lashes now. “The thing with you in the barn was not at all the same thing.”

  The cab pulls up in front of our brownstone, and as I reach for my wallet, she scurries out and up the driveway. I toss the driver forty dollars and chase after her. She’s unlocked the front door and left it open for me. Her shoes are on the floor at the foot of the staircase and I worry for a minute that she might have gone up to her room to pass out. I want so badly to keep hanging out with her right now.

  I make my way down the hall into the kitchen and find her lying on the wicker couch in the little glassed-in porch that’s attached to the kitchen and has French doors that lead onto the back deck. Her eyes are closed.

  I wander to the fridge. “I’m hungry.”

  “That’s because you were too busy being Mr. Perfect Beautiful Hockey God to chow down on all those yummy appetizers,” she tells me without opening her eyes.

  I smile. “Mr. Perfect Beautiful Hockey God?”

  “Oh, shut up. You know it’s true,” she replies in a flat tone. “You should be the face of the NHL. They should put you on billboards in Times Square. You’re hot and your charm levels are through the roof.”

  I’m laughing now as I grab an apple out of the fruit bowl and start devouring it. She falls silent and I worry she’s going to pass out. I don’t know if she’s just tipsy or full-on drunk.

  “Callie?”

  “Mmm?”

  “How was the barn thing different than daring Cole to kiss you?” I want to know. “I mean in both cases you were testing our limits.”

  “Uh-huh,” she agrees in a sleepy voice. “But like I said, I’ve never been attracted to Cole. I’ve thought you were drop-dead gorgeous since I was ten.”

  I feel like someone dropped a piano in the center of the room. Or even more accurately, in the center of my brain. It’s like something just went boom and all my thoughts were blown clear out of my head.

  She’s been attracted to me since she was ten. Me? The sexiest, wildest, craziest, strongest woman I have known in my life—the very essence of everything I never thought would ever want anything to do with me—has been attracted to me for over thirteen years.

  Wow.

  She’s quiet again. I put down the half-eaten apple, walk into the little glassed-in room and stand above her. Her eyes are still closed. Her arms are above her head, hanging over the arm of the couch. Her hair is fanned out on the cushion she’s got her head on. The pale pink eye shadow on her eyelids is glittering in the dim light and her lips are pink and glossy like she recently licked them.

  “Callie,” I start softly. “That night I was on the road trip…did you do what you said you’d do?”

  Her lids flutter but she doesn’t open her eyes. “What are you asking me, Devin?”

  “Did you warm yourself up to thoughts of me?”

  “Did you take that cold shower that night?” she questions back, eyes still closed, body still motionless.

  “No,” I reply honestly. “I took a warm one the next morning and jerked off to thoughts of you.”

  I blame the Champagne. I blame the bold, dirty words and the inability to stop them from coming out of my mouth on the Champagne.

  “Then we’re even because I did it too.” Her eyes flutter and her lips twitch, almost smiling. “And for the record, I’m going to do it again tonight.”

  Her eyes finally open just enough to peer up at me as I crouch down beside her.

  “You won’t have to tonight,” I tell her and press my lips to hers.

  She makes a little sound—a cross between a moan and a sigh—and reaches out and touches the sides of my face, letting her hands slide backward over my ears and into my hair. I lose my grasp on my self-control and deepen the kiss. My lips move, hers move, our mouths open and our tongues connect, and electricity darts down my spine.

  The kissing goes on forever. It never loses its intensity. My hands get lost in her long, silky hair; she runs her fingertips through mine. Our tongues explore each other’s mouths needily. I can’t stop touching her or tasting her. I wonder crazily if I will ever have the power to stop.

  She starts to sit up. I move with her, so our kiss doesn’t have to break. She holds on to the front of my suit jacket and starts turning me. I reach out with my hand and find the edge of the couch as she pushes me back. Without ever taking her lips off my lips or her tongue out of my mouth, she manages to get me to sit on the couch and she’s straddling my lap. The barn memories race through my brain.

  She pulls away from my lips just enough to speak.

  “Feel familiar?” she whispers with a tiny smile and grinds her hips over my hardening dick.

  “Feels fantastic,” I whisper back and kiss a hot trail up the side of her neck.

  She tips her head back, exposing more of the soft skin of her throat, and grinds into me again. I bite down
lightly. She shudders. It’s mind-blowingly hot knowing I can make her react like that.

  “Are you going to finish what you started?” I whisper the challenge in her ear as my hands slide up her thighs and under the hem of her dress.

  “Do you want me to?” she counters back, pushing my suit jacket off my shoulders.

  “More than anything,” I reply.

  She wraps a hand around my tie and gives it a tug, pulling my lips to hers again. Our tongues battle for dominance. It’s the best battle I’ve had in my life. Her hand that isn’t wrapped around my tie reaches in between us and starts undoing my belt, and then the button on my pants, and then the zipper.

  My hands are buried under her dress and I let them slide over her inner thighs. My fingers skim along the soft fabric of her underwear, which covers her soft folds. It’s damp. I push my fingertips into it—pressing her panties into her—and the fabric gets wetter.

  “You’re wet.”

  “Your fault.”

  She tugs on my bottom lip with her teeth and pushes her hand into my underwear in response. Her hand holds my dick and starts pumping—jerking me off slowly but firmly. I kiss her hard and hook my fingers under the fabric of her underwear. Without hesitation I push two fingers into her. She’s silky, soft and slippery.

  “Devin.” She gasps my name and pushes herself onto my hand, losing the grip on the control she insists on keeping.

  I smile in victory but then she pulls herself off my lap and out of my reach. I feel panic and disappointment. I make no attempt to hide it from my face. She smiles reassuringly at me.

  “Don’t worry,” she promises in a throaty whisper. “You’ll get what you want.”

  She reaches down for her purse, which she had dropped on the floor beside the couch when she came in. She opens it, takes something out and tosses it at me. The condom hits me in the chest and drops into my lap.

  “Put it on.” The exact same words she uttered at eighteen leave her lips again, and once again I do as I’m told.

  I pull my aching cock out through the front flap of my underwear the same way it was exposed to her years ago, take the condom from the wrapper and roll it on.

  As I look up, her underwear is sliding down her thighs and falling to the ground at her feet. She steps out of them, places her knees on either side of my lap and hovers there, kissing me passionately. Her tongue dominates my mouth and I don’t even try to stop it. Fuck it, she owns me.

  She reaches down, takes hold of my cock, and starts to lower herself. I break the kiss and push her dress up over her thighs and hips and watch as my tip slips between her folds and her body welcomes me in.

  Chapter 29

  Callie

  The minute I feel his lips, it is like someone put a match to a puddle of gasoline inside my body. Everything is on fire. I don’t think about whether this is right or wrong. I don’t think at all. I just feel—and he feels incredible. I knew from that first kiss that we’d be finishing what we started in that barn in Silver Bay—and now we are.

  “Still so fucking big,” I whisper faintly, more to myself than to him.

  I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of my body expanding around him. It’s exactly the way I remember it. He is filling me up, and just when I think it’s impossible to take any more of him, my body magically makes space.

  “Fuck, Callie,” he whispers through a rush of breath that escapes his lungs. “You’re incredible.”

  His words make me tingle. His dick makes me quiver. Holy fuck, this has barely even begun and it’s the best sex I have ever had. How is that even possible? He’s completely inside me now and I can feel it in every part of my body. I want to come hard and fast so I start to ride him, moving up and down in a steady rhythm. His hands hold my hips but don’t try to control my movement. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and hold on.

  He starts to move his hips a bit, bucking in time with my movements. His sexy, full lips part and he grunts. I curl my torso and touch my lips to his. I want to kiss him but suddenly I can’t bring myself to do anything—his hand has moved from my hip to under my dress again and his thumb presses against my clit. The friction is the last straw and breaks my control in half. I push my lips onto his and moan into his mouth as my hips move faster, more erratically.

  “Come,” he demands in a raspy whisper.

  Normally if some guy ordered me like that, I would make it my mission to not come for him—ever—no matter what. But with Devin, I wouldn’t be able to hold out even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I don’t want to fight it. I want to come for him.

  Chapter 30

  Devin

  Her eyes flutter closed and her eyebrows pull together. The whimper that escapes her as her orgasm hits is the most addictive sound I have ever heard in my life.

  Her pussy tightens, which I would never have thought possible—and although her hips keep moving, my dick can barely move. Between that and the warm rush of her orgasm, I lose it and come harder than I ever have in my life. I pull her into me, holding her tightly to my torso, and press my face to her neck and let out a sound even I can’t describe.

  As she slows her hips to a stop, I feel her thighs trembling. I hold her even tighter and I can feel her pulse hammering in her neck under my lips. We stay like that, motionless and wordless, until we both regain our senses. Finally she takes a deep, cleansing breath and runs her hands seductively over my head, ruffling my hair.

  “Well, that was worth the wait,” she decides in a low, satisfied voice.

  I smile. “Definitely.”

  She carefully lifts herself off me. I slide over on the couch and she drops down beside me, flopping back in exhaustion.

  “I’ll be right back,” I murmur and kiss her cheek.

  She smiles sleepily as I tuck myself back into my pants and get up off the couch to head for the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

  In the bathroom I clean up and catch my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my lips are swollen. My eyes are light and bright. You would never know I had been broken and crying a little over twelve hours ago while looking up divorce lawyers. Even more shocking is that not only do I not look like that Devin Garrison, I don’t feel like the Devin Garrison who was broken anymore, either. I smile at my reflection and head back to Callie.

  She’s exactly the way she was before we reenacted the barn moment. Stretched out on the couch, arms above her head, hair feathered across the pillow—only this time, she’s fast asleep.

  I don’t want to leave her down here. This wicker couch is only a two-seater; she will wake up tomorrow with aches and pains. I bend down and scoop her up into my arms.

  When I get upstairs, I hesitate in front of the guest room she’s been using. I don’t want to put her to bed in there. I want her with me—in my bed. So I walk past her room and push open the door to mine with my foot.

  I lay her down on the side I usually sleep on because the sheets are already tossed back from when I got up this morning. She curls onto her side immediately and lets out a big breath. I pull the duvet up over her.

  I walk around to the other side of the bed and get undressed. I slip under the sheets beside her and curl myself into her back. My arms circle her waist and I let the smell of her spicy citrus perfume and the feel of her warm body lull me into a blissful sleep.

  Chapter 31

  Callie

  When I wake, I feel like I am coming out of a coma. I had been in such a deep, glorious sleep. I have no idea what time it is or where I am, but I don’t care. Life is good. Great. Amazing. I have a total feeling of euphoria—but I have no idea why.

  I stretch like a cat and smile into my pillow. It smells amazing—why does it smell so good? What is that? I inhale again, turning my face into it. It smells like the ocean and mint and…what is that familiar elixir?

  Devin.

  It smells like that heady mix of cologne, deodorant and hair product that makes up Devin Garrison. My eyes open. The room is sti
ll relatively dark; just a little bit of morning dawn is sneaking through the California shutters that are three-quarters closed.

  I’m in Devin’s bedroom. In Devin’s bed. I roll over quickly but lightly. I’m in Devin’s bedroom. In Devin’s bed. WITH Devin!

  My heart starts to hammer its way out of my chest as I go from euphoria to panic in a millisecond. He’s dead asleep on his back, one hand over his head, the other across his exposed midsection. He’s shoved the covers down to his waist and that sexy cut of muscle by his hip and the thick trail of hair that starts at his belly button and leads to the promised land.

  I scurry as quickly and lightly as possible out from under the covers. As soon as I stand up, my head starts to reel—from the panic and the bucket of Champagne I consumed last night. I bolt for the door and slip across the hall and into my room. I toss myself face-first onto the bed and run through the night before.

  The party was good—and kind of fun. Devin was amazing—smiling and chatting and charming the pants off every person in the room. He looked devastatingly handsome too in his light gray suit, crisp white shirt and blue-and-gray silk tie. As I started to drink more free Champagne and eat fewer free appetizers, I got tipsy, and that last thought started to consume me. He was gorgeous. He was charming. I was horny.

  I remember coming home and almost passing out on the couch and then he kissed me and I was already so ridiculously hot for him there was no way I was stopping it. I wanted to finish what we’d started so many years ago. I needed to get it out of my system. That’s all it was. And now we could go back to being buddies. It should be easy.

  So why the hell did I wake up in his bed? He must have put me there. Why would he do that?! You don’t do that to a girl you were just scratching an itch with! You do that with a girlfriend or a wife or whatever.