by Jess Dee
“My leg may be new, but I won’t. I’m too bloody old to make the team next year.”
“You’re twenty-nine,” she cried indignantly.
“I’ll be thirty soon. Over the hill for a club rugby player. There are younger, stronger players just waiting to take my place.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not even a bit.” He’d planned to retire at the end of the year. To bow out gracefully, leave at the top of his game and save his knee permanent damage. The break had stripped him of all of that. His final period of play had come to a shattering end. Pardon the pun. “It’s over. The most I can do now is be a spectator.”
She scrambled from the bed and walked over to him. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I don’t tend to share shit like that.”
“I’m sorry.” She placed her hand on his chest. “So, so sorry.”
He held himself stiff. “Pitiful, huh?”
Her eyes brimmed with emotion. “Sad. Not pitiful.”
Now it was James’s turn to stare out the window. “There’s a difference?”
“Of course there is. It’s incredibly sad your rugby career is over.”
“Yeah? So why is it okay for you to be sad for me, but I can’t feel bad for you?”
Olivia dropped her hand and took a step back. “I, er, I guess I deserved that.”
James pursed his lips, his gaze still fixed on the distant Bondi Beach. “Elliot Designs isn’t about you, Liv. It’s about me. About finding something to immerse myself in for these next few months. Finding a way to fill the time I would have spent at rugby.”
“I get that. I do. But…why interior decorating? You know nothing about it. Why not…hell, I don’t know, stay with the game? Do something else in your free time. You can become a coach. Find a team that can’t afford one and volunteer. That’d be right up your alley.”
It was a great suggestion. Brilliant actually, and one he’d file away to consider when his leg healed. But it wasn’t what he needed to focus on now. “Trying to save me?”
She drew in a sharp breath.
“Am I your charity case now?”
“I-I’m just trying to help.”
“I know.”
“Touché, Jimmy.”
He said nothing more on the matter. He’d made his point.
Tired of the friction between them, James relaxed his stance. He turned to her. “It sucks what happened to Beautiful Homes, pretty one. But I never doubted your ability to pull through. Whatever you decide to do, you’ll succeed—because that’s who you are.”
A muscle twitched in her cheek. “You really believe that?”
He shrugged. “I know it.”
Liv was silent for a long time. Then her eyes filled and she sniffed. “Damn it. Now I need a tissue.”
She grabbed one from the bedside table and blew her nose noisily.
James’s leg ached. He gave in to the allure of the bed and sat back down.
Liv turned to him, her eyes red. “I behaved pretty badly, didn’t I?”
“You just jumped to the wrong conclusions.”
“I’m sorry.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “’S’okay.” The interminable climb upstairs hadn’t been fun, but at least they’d cleared the air.
She sat beside him. “You really think opening an interior design company will be the best way to take your mind off not playing?”
“I don’t know. But I’m willing to try. At this point I’m off field, offsite and off my head obsessing about it. Anything is better than nothing.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “I’d still like you to run the company. Not because I feel sorry for you. Because I know you’d be the best person for the job.”
She bumped his shoulder back. “Today I take that as the compliment you intended it to be.”
“Good. Will you at least think about it?”
She was quiet for a long time. “I will. No promises, but we can definitely talk about it further.”
The tension that burned through his shoulders finally eased. “Good enough for me.”
“Jimmy?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear so he could see her face better. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
So unprepared was he for her words, his chest seized and his lungs seemed to stop working. “You do?”
“Yeah. I’m kinda crazy and madly in love with you.”
James closed his eyes and released his breath calmly. Inside, his heart smashed against his ribs. “That’s really good to hear, Liv, ’cause I’m crazy, madly in love with you too.”
“You know how you said that on our first night together you wanted to fuck me, not save me?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Do you still wanna?”
“Want to what?”
“Fuck me.”
James thought about his answer for a long time. Then he shook his head. “No.”
Liv paled.
“I don’t want to fuck you,” he said with a gentle smile. “I want to make love to you.”
Relief filtered through her eyes, followed by unbound joy. “I want to make love to you too.”
As her mouth pulled into a huge grin, James hauled her onto his lap, slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her until she panted against his lips and he’d hardened beneath the soft, toned flesh of her ass.
Long moments later, she let out a sound of disbelief. “Well, jeez. I did it again.”
He nuzzled her jaw. “Did what?”
“Undressed you.”
James opened his eyes to find his shirt lying on the floor and her hand running over his chest.
“Don’t stop, pretty one. Ever.” He kissed her again. And then again, because the taste of her lips and tongue was so enthralling. He clasped her free hand in his, linking their fingers together. And like a flash of light, a thought struck him.
He tore his mouth from hers. “We’re getting married?”
She looked at him through passion-drunk eyes. “Huh?”
“We’re getting married.” This time it wasn’t a question, it was a memory.
She gaped at him.
He grinned at her. “We are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m walking down the aisle. With you. Ava and Zoey told me.”
“Oh, my God.” Her cheeks turned crimson. “You remember that?”
He hadn’t—until he’d linked their fingers together, just like he’d done in the hospital that day. “I do now. And as soon as my leg is better, we’re walking down the aisle together.”
“Jimmy,” she scrambled to explain, “they were joking. All of them. Teasing me about you. It’s not really happening.”
“Chickening out, Liv?”
“Hardly.” She snorted. “There’s nothing to chicken out of.”
“What if there was?”
“What if there was what?”
“What if there was a marriage? Yours and mine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Just like it had the night he’d walked in on her dressing, something inside of James unraveled, like a tension easing.
“I’m not,” he whispered. In his entire life, he’d never been more serious. The idea of marrying Liv was…riveting. Perfect. There was nothing he wanted more. “Marry me, pretty one. Be my wife. Let’s really walk down the aisle together. We’ll have the last laugh.”
“W-what?”
“Marry me, Liv.”
“Oh.” Her lips formed a perfect O. “Oh, my.”
“I love you, and you love me. Nothing would make me happier.”
“Y-you’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
For a long moment she just stared at him, shocked.
Then she surged to life and…smacked him on the shoulder. “Damn it, James. You can’t just spring that on a girl. You can’t just suddenly recall something you should never have remembered in the first place, a
nd then insist on going through with it. You were stoned when we discussed it. High as a kite.”
She smacked him again, then seemed to get distracted by the feel of his skin. She ran her hand over his shoulder once and again, then followed the contour of his chest down to his nipple—and kissed it. A featherlight touch of her lips and tongue that sent him into an instant pre-orgasmic state.
“It was a silly joke,” she insisted. “A laugh. That’s all. No one it took it seriously. Well, no one but me, but I’d never have said as much out loud.”
“Wait, what? You took it seriously?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t take it seriously so much as I figured it was a…well, I don’t know, a silly daydream. Or an incredible fantasy. Either one. Or both. Incredible and silly.”
She’d fantasized about marrying him? Didn’t that just make his chest puff right up?
Still talking, Liv pivoted on his lap, slipped one leg over his thighs and straddled him, putting herself in James’s favorite position.
“Besides, marriage is a crazy idea. We’ve only been together a few weeks. Together as in together, together. We’ve only just established we love each other.” She had both hands on his chest now, and his nipples just about danced a celebratory jig beneath her talented fingers.
“We don’t even know if we’re compatible. Or if we have what it takes to make it in the long run. Besides, when I—” Liv paused. “When I…” Her gaze darted to his neck and she inhaled deeply. “When… God, you smell good! Damn it, that scent should be illegal. It’s worse than morphine. Scrabbles my brain. Makes me want to do bad, bad things to you.” She latched on to his throat with her lips. A soft moan drifted through the air—hers—and James thought he might lose all control.
His head dropped back, giving her hungry mouth easier access, and he clasped her head in his hand, her silky hair teasing his palm.
Taking advantage of her temporary break in monologue, James thrust upward, pressing his engorged cock against her pussy.
Another moan filled the air, and Liv rocked her hips. Her shirt rode up over her waist, and when James filled his hands with the supple flesh of her ass, he discovered—to his delight—she wore no panties.
“When you…what?” he prompted hoarsely.
Liv shook her head, confounded. “I don’t remember. All I can think about now is marrying you.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“I-I’m not sure.”
“We’re compatible,” he said hoarsely. “No two ways about it. And we have what it takes to make it in the long run. Eight years of friendship proves it.”
Liv scratched her fingers down his back. She found his pants and pulled at them. “Sexual compatibility doesn’t mean we should get married. Even if I have fantasized about it. A lot.”
He shoved his pants down over his hips—not an easy task with his hands full of Liv, and his erect dick getting in the way.
“I fantasize about you all the time.”
“Do you fantasize about me doing bad, bad things to you?”
“Jesus, yes.” He struggled to draw breath into his lungs. “Good things, too. Really good things.” He found her ass again, loving the feel of her naked skin.
She bit his ear. “Make love to me, James.”
“Marry me, Liv.”
“Do bad things to me.”
He found her clit and rubbed gently. “Say yes, and I’ll be as bad as you want.” He slid his hand down, found her wet, hot lips and plunged his finger between them. Her pussy clamped down around him instantly. “Just say the word, pretty one.”
“Yes.”
James froze. “Yes? You’ll marry me?”
“I’d love to marry you.”
He stared down at her and found her watching him right back. Her eyes were a deep, royal blue. “Seriously? This isn’t me fantasizing now?”
“If you really want me, I…I’d be honored to marry you. I’d be the luckiest woman in the world.”
“I really, really want you, Liv.”
“Then I guess we’re getting married.”
“I guess we are.”
And with that, James gave a loud whoop, threw Liv on the bed, and proceeded to do very, very bad things to her—and a few good ones too—all morning long.
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Table For Two
Copyright © 2014 Jess Dee
James Elliot never meant to barge into his friend’s bedroom, but now that he’s caught an eyeful of Olivia Taylor, butt-naked, he can’t seem to imagine her any other way.
Liv’s world is falling apart. The goals she’s worked so hard to achieve are crumbling. The only thing she can rely on now is the constant stability her friends provide.
But one of those friends is changing the dynamics of their relationship. James is whipping away everything that’s familiar between them and replacing it with a sensuality and a passion Liv can’t ignore.
With so much at stake, Liv has no time to fall in love—even if it’s with her best friend. It’s up to James to guide her through the toughest challenge of her life and show her that the light on the other side of the tunnel just might burn between them forever.
Warning: Contains all the red-hot loving you’d expect from a Jess Dee romance, and a sexy, sports-mad, muscle-bound alpha hero with a penchant for tossing his heroine over his shoulder.
If you enjoyed Table for Two, please turn the page for a preview of the first book in the Sunday Night Dinner Club Series: Party of Three
Party Of Three
Sunday Night Dinner Club, Book 1
Copyright © 2014 Jess Dee
Two men, one woman and a whole menu of opportunities.
When Spencer Allen arranges an impromptu date with Chelsea Holden, the beautiful restaurant owner he’s lusted after for months, he discovers an unexpected obstacle in his quest for true love—his best mate.
Levi Barret’s always been reluctant to give his heart to one woman, until Chelsea catches his attention. Now he’s finding it difficult to think of anyone else.
Levi’s interest in Chelsea could spell the end of a lifelong friendship…or the beginning of a whole new relationship.
Warning: Be sure to keep a safe distance from the oven. When things heat up in this kitchen, sparks are going to fly.
Party of Three: An excerpt
“You came.”
She handed him the note. “I was summoned.”
His lips twitched. “Invited as opposed to summoned.”
“Okay then. I was invited. Do I get to come inside, or are we going to chat on the doorstep?”
Levi leaned one gorgeous shoulder against the door frame. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether I get a hello kiss or not.”
Her eyebrows about hit her hairline. “You want a kiss from me?”
“You want to come inside?”
Chelsea thought she might faint. From both the shock of his suggestion and the need to carry it through. “I don’t know, Levi. Do I?”
“Give me a kiss, and then you can decide.”
Completely out of her depth and at a loss for what to do next, Chelsea followed her heart and stepped closer. In her running shoes, she’d been several inches shorter than Levi. Now they stood at the same height, thanks to her heels.
She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
He hadn’t shaved, and his five o’clock shadow rasped against her lips, making her pussy clench. Was there anything sexier or more masculine than an unshaven cheek?
Levi shook his head in mock horror. “Call that a kiss?”
“What would you call it?” How she managed to hold a conversation was beyond her.
“An insignificant peck on the cheek. This...is a kiss.”
Levi wrapped her in his arms, molded his lips to hers and laid claim to her mouth with his tongue.
Chelsea melted into a puddle of goo where she stood. Her knees wobbled, her heart raced and goose bumps rose
over her arms. As for her clenching pussy…it almost had an orgasm on his front doorstep.
He released her long moments later, leaving her breathless and unsteady.
“See?” he asked with his trademark easy grin. Only the heat in his eyes belied his casual tone. “Peck versus kiss. Big difference.”
Partly because she couldn’t resist and partly to prove a point, she ground her hips against his, pressing herself close to his straining erection. “Big being the key word here.” At least he wanted her. Whatever else he might be thinking, his body told her in no uncertain terms the passion that had flared between them the other morning was still there—as bright and breathtaking as it had been at Centennial Park.
“And getting bigger every second,” he muttered. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”
She stepped back. “On your front doorstep? For all your neighbors to see? I don’t think so.”
“Then you’ve answered your earlier question. Come on inside.”
He stepped aside to let her in. Well, he kind of stepped aside. More like he angled his body, giving her just enough space to squeeze past him, ensuring every inch of one side of her body touched every inch of one side of his.
She was an aroused mess by the time she made it into the house. The hand that landed on her lower back, just above her ass, didn’t help matters at all.
“Straight ahead and to the right.”
With the way his palm burned through her dress as he guided her, she may as well have been naked. And when she stepped into his lounge room, that feeling of exposure only increased. Especially as the first thing she saw was Spencer, sitting on the couch watching her approach.
His gaze burned as hot as Levi’s hand, stripping away her defenses.
Oh, she was in so much trouble.
Coming Soon:
Dinner at Eight
Sunday Night Dinner Club, Book 3
Copyright © 2014 Jess Dee
It’s been eighteen months since Ava Torres last saw her best friend, Jared Thurston. In that time she’s been married, separated and gone all the way to hell and back as a wife. She keeps her emotional scars buried deep beneath the surface, loath to let the world know they exist.
