Good God Almighty, he wanted this so badly he would gladly yowl at the moon from the pent up need, the desire he’d swallowed down every time he was near her.
He knew her taste, the flavor of her uninhibited kisses unforgettable as her tongue danced with his. She groaned, long and loud in the quiet dark, and her hands fisted in his shirtfront.
Every sound, every yank on his collar, ratcheted his desire higher.
He drew the knee she had crossed toward him higher, turning her more fully into his body, the warm length of her leg draped across the tops of his. He worried his touch would spook her, but she only wriggled closer, moaned louder, when his hand wrapped around one sleekly muscled calf.
He would have smiled had his mouth not been fully and delightfully occupied. He skimmed his palm up the back of her thigh, over thin silk and the rough lace edge at the top of her stocking. He forged on, desperate to know more than the touch of her lips. At last his fingers met hot, satiny skin, and he sighed into her mouth as she whimpered into his.
When she shifted, he held on, prepared to beg her not to back away. Instead she rolled over him, almost straddling his thigh, until her knee nudged his zipper, teasing his aching cock. His hips surged, searching for more pressure. Relief.
She growled low in her throat, and he fought back a laugh when he figured out she was stuck, her tight skirt preventing her legs from spreading any farther.
She stopped feasting at his mouth and turned her attention to his jaw. He arched his neck, eager for the tickle of her lips and tongue. He dragged in a deep breath, an attempt to think straight that failed miserably when he inhaled the musk of her arousal.
He needed her closer. Now.
“Come here.” He slipped his arms around her and hauled her over him. She gasped into his mouth and came willingly. Eagerly. She relinquished her death grip on his shirt to yank at the material at her hips, forcing it higher so she could spread her thighs wide and straddle him properly.
His hands tore at the buttons of her wool coat, her fingers brushing his as she untied the belt. The moment it came loose, she shucked it off and tossed it into the shadows on the far side of the car.
He had a few seconds to process smooth skin above lace stockings, a flash of matching lace at the juncture of her thighs. Then she slid down, her breasts rubbing along his chest until their mouths met again and her soft heat pressed down on his cock.
God, he was going to embarrass himself. His balls tingled, and his rigid shaft swelled further. She writhed in his arms, on his lap. He was damn close to coming in his pants.
It wasn’t just her kiss, though he eagerly drowned in another of those. Or her taste, or the press of her body. It was that it was so unexpected. She was so unexpected. This woman, who was so controlled at work, so completely buttoned down. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined she hid this responsive, demanding wanton within her.
He wanted to wallow in the joy of his discovery. Make heathens of them both. Not an easy task in the back of a limo only miles from their hotel.
They had so little time. He tore his mouth from hers, rolled, and tossed her onto the soft seat. He dropped to his knees on the floor before her, pinning her to the leather with his hips, his hands. His cock.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and rocked against him, jamming swollen folds and lace against his shaft as she pulled him close. Her lips brushed his when she whispered his name.
“Garrick.”
He shivered, sucking in an unsteady breath. The tight grip in his hair anchored him to her. Their mouths met and she plunged her tongue into his mouth. He kissed her back. Madly. Desperate to imprint himself upon her in the little time they had left.
Clasping her thighs, he spread her open, lifting her knees higher as he changed the tenor of the kiss. His tongue danced into her mouth and took control while he mastered her lips with his, taking complete possession. His cock twitched and leaked when she acquiesced beautifully beneath him, her body pliant. Her hum of approval buzzed down his spine.
He did not retreat, he led. His hands began a slow, torturous slide down her legs, from the backs of her knees and under her thighs, across those precious inches of bare skin.
Gasping with the need for oxygen and the skin-tingling pleasure of finding her thighs wet, he tore his lips from hers. He nibbled along her neck, behind her ear, giving extra attention to the places that made her groan loader, writhe harder. He hoarded the knowledge he teased from her body. He was an able pupil, eager to learn. Hoping to bring this knowledge to bear another time, but knowing this might be his only chance.
His thumb brushed over the lace covering her pussy and she jolted beneath him. He pressed harder and his heart stuttered at how wicked, how incredible she looked with her head thrown back, her thighs splayed wide, her skirt around her waist as she gasped out his name.
It was a plea for more. He could not refuse her.
Dragging himself away from her long neck, her tempting mouth, he turned his head and licked a determined path along the inside of her left knee.
Now she shouted his name. Loudly.
It was unlikely the chauffeur couldn’t hear at least some of this, but Garrick didn’t care. He craved her uninhibited reactions. He nibbled higher, delighting in her gasps, a giggle, her frantic groan when he hooked his thumb in the lace stretched between her splayed thighs. He tugged it to one side. She was wet, swollen. The head of her clitoris rose from her folds and begged for his attention.
City street lamps flashed outside the window. Their time was short.
With a groan of hunger, he danced his thumb over her clit, slicking through the thick cream and across the hood again and again. Holding the thin lace barrier aside with his fingers, he eased the other thumb deep into her body.
She rocked against him. Repeatedly. He adored her abandon. Her brutal honesty. He wanted to laugh with the sheer joy of it as he desperately held on to the woman writhing without restraint in his arms. He couldn’t get enough, so he pressed harder, stroked faster. It wasn’t enough. He withdrew his thumb.
“No!” she cried.
He thrust two fingers high and deep and she whimpered, rolling her hips again. He was frantic to give her the pleasure she sought. He tortured her clit with a thumb and her hot channel tightened against his fingers.
“Garrick. Garrick!”
Fuck, he loved hearing his name from her lips. Gasped. Hollered. Panted. Moaned.
She planted her hands on the seat and used her arm to gain leverage, lifting and thrusting against him.
“Oh god, Garrick. Please. I need… I need…”
She was begging. God help him, she was begging as she bucked against him. The sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck, his need growing with every whimper.
He pushed her leg back farther, held her open so he could thrust harder, twisting his fingers, rubbing them the length of the front wall of her channel until he found the spot that made her whimper louder.
“Oh my god!” Her mouth dropped open and wide eyes locked on his.
She held herself suspended above the seat, frozen in pleasure. Gorgeous.
With deep satisfaction, he rubbed harder, surged farther, and with a last great cry, she blew apart in his hands.
Savannah keened Garrick’s name. She was loud, too loud, but she had so completely lost mastery over her own body, all she could do was let it out as the waves of her orgasm rolled over her.
Arms shaking, her elbows gave way and she fell back to the seat, gasping in delicious pain and bliss as Garrick’s fingers jammed hard into her clenching body. Another swell burst within her and she threw her head back, quaking as another long groan tore from her chest.
God, it was good. So fucking good.
For a long time she floated there, collapsed against the soft leather behind her, beneath her, panting as she regained something resembling consciousness.
Then the limo drew to a slow rolling stop.
Snapping her eyes open, s
he jerked back in the seat, shocked by the sudden departure of Garrick’s hands from her body and horrified to see the front door of the hotel out the window.
Holy shit. What have I done?
Garrick knelt before her, his hands on his thighs, his breath coming in deep drafts. He stared at her, his chest heaving.
The slow burn of mortification bled into her cheeks, heating her neck, her entire face.
The driver’s door shut with a soft click and she jumped, panicking. Her skirt was around her waist. Her legs still spread around Garrick. One of her shoes had somehow tumbled clear to the other side of the car to land by her coat.
In desperation, she cracked the back window, clamping her legs together and hoping the dark interior would hide the rest.
“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, not even sure what she was apologizing for. The inconvenience? The screaming? “Can you drop us off in the garage? By the elevator?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He said it without blinking, not giving the slightest indication anything was amiss. Savannah’s face flamed hotter.
God, what is wrong with me? How could I do that?
With a quick jerk of her hem, she straightened her skirt, ignoring the tangle of lace and cotton between her legs. She could fix that later. She looked over at Garrick, who was slipping his sport coat off his shoulders.
“You’re going to freeze when we get out of the car,” she said foolishly.
Garrick’s slow smile made her stomach lurch, even as it rejuvenated the burn in her face. He gestured downward and she dropped her gaze despite her better judgment.
His erection was huge. But not nearly so obvious as the large wet spot she’d left along his zipper and across the front of his pants.
And here she’d thought it wasn’t possible for her face to get any redder.
“Oh god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I, ah, I don’t—”
He stopped her rambling with a gentle touch to her cheek. She was surprised his fingers didn’t sizzle, her skin felt so hot.
“Hey,” he said gently, “there is nothing to apologize for.”
He sounded so sincere. But she’d had men laugh at her before. At how crazy she got. She’d lost her head. Again. And with Garrick.
Another stroke to her cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He frowned, no doubt aware she was lying. She couldn’t bring herself to explain.
The limo dipped down into the brightly lit concrete parking structure and eased to a stop at the elevators. Garrick slid her shoe back on and helped her into her coat. By the time the door opened and the driver’s hand appeared to help her out, she felt reasonably intact.
She stood by and watched Garrick climb out behind her, biting her lip when he carefully held his coat folded over one arm in front of him, as if the balmy fifteen degree night were too warm for a jacket.
They thanked Hodges for his service, and he left.
The elevator came almost immediately and was blessedly empty. She prayed it would stay that way, that the rest of the team was in their rooms for the night. She hit the buttons for the fifth and seventh floors. Garrick stood beside her without comment.
When the elevator stopped on her floor, she braced for the worst and turned to Garrick. He looked concerned, possibly alarmed—which was hardly a surprise after her behavior in the car. She slapped her hand on the door when it started to close. She ought to say something, but what?
“Are you embarrassed?” he asked.
Oh god, here it comes. She cringed. “Of course.”
“Because of me?”
She looked into his face, confused. “What?”
“Are you embarrassed because you were with me, specifically?”
What the hell was he talking about? “No. Of course not.”
“You keep saying of course like you’re making sense.”
Clearly she wasn’t, but loathed having to explain. She took the coward’s way out. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow before the game.”
She lurched from the elevator, then strode toward her room as quickly as she could without actually breaking into a run.
As post-orgasmic goodnights went, it left a lot to be desired. She heard the elevator doors slide shut behind her and, with that final thud, felt a world of regret.
She squeaked, barely swallowing her scream when a big hand wrapped around her elbow and turned her around.
Garrick.
“What are you doing?” she whispered furiously.
“Honestly? Trying to figure you out. Just when I think I’m getting the hang of it…”
Could this night get any worse? A fresh wave of shame heated her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
His jaw clenched. “Stop saying that.”
She searched the hallway, watching for anyone from the Ice Cats and trying to make sense of his anger. They were still alone but they were pushing their luck. With a sigh, she yanked out her key, opened her door and, with bitter resignation, lifted an arm in welcome. He stepped in and closed the door firmly behind him.
He seemed inordinately large in the tiny hallway.
“What are you apologizing for?”
She looked down at her feet and studied her new shoes. They were cute. And her feet hardly hurt at all.
“Savannah?”
She sighed and moved farther into the room, giving herself space, some time to try to sort out her words. His coat landed on the corner of her bed with a soft thump. She kept her back to him.
“For being so crazy.” She hoped he would leave it at that.
“Define crazy?”
So much for that hope.
“You know…yelling. Thrashing around.” She waved her hand vaguely, not sure how to put it into words without making her mortification worse.
“Who told you that was something you should apologize for?”
She really didn’t want to get into that.
“Savannah?”
“A few people.”
“Who?” he demanded.
He wasn’t going to let it go, damn it. “A boyfriend in college. A man I dated for a while a few years back.” She shrugged, wondering how many others had thought it and not said anything. “I sometimes get…I don’t know. Ridiculous.”
She jumped when he spun her toward him.
“At no time have I ever seen you ridiculous. You’re one of the most dignified people I know.”
She gave him her best bullshit look. “Really? What just happened in the limo? You call that dignified?”
Rather than answer, he started to pull off her coat. What the fuck? She batted at his hands, trying to get him to stop, but he wasn’t deterred and stripped it from her quickly.
He reached for her again and she opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when instead of trying to divest her of more clothing, he turned her to face the mirror over the dresser.
He met her gaze in the reflection, his hands gentle on her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful.”
Forcing herself not to look away, she shrugged, uncomfortable with his fierce regard.
“And you have terrible taste in men.”
She laughed despite her embarrassment. “That’s a strange thing for you to say.”
His slow smile made her acutely aware she’d just admitted to something she hadn’t intended to reveal. Damn.
“I’m proof your taste is getting better. But those other men? The ones who chastised you for the most beautiful, uninhibited, honest response to lovemaking I’ve ever seen? Those guys were a bunch of complete assholes.”
Chapter Ten
Savannah smiled sadly and shook her head. Garrick told himself to be patient, even if every particle of his being wanted to shake some sense into her.
Ridiculous? Someone—some stupid fucking boy—had told her she was ridiculous?
“That’s very nice of you to say, Garrick. Thank you.”
He grimaced at her formality. Funny how good manners were sometimes as effective as a
good fuck you. She held herself rigid, her arms locked to her sides, her chin high. He fought a sigh. The buttoned-down professional armor was back in place. As if she could pack away the passionate woman he’d held in his arms a few minutes ago.
That was how he wanted her. Always. Anything less than her true, uninhibited reactions, her honest response, would be selling herself short. Even if he couldn’t be with her again after tonight because of her stupid rules, he wanted her to believe her passion was glorious. Not ridiculous.
He slid his hands down her arms and back up again, the touch meant to be reassuring, comforting. A reminder he was there.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not saying I’m ugly or anything. Just…”
“Every second of what happened in the car was beautiful.”
She sighed. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Don’t placate me,” he warned, utterly failing to keep his tone gentle. Stubborn woman.
Her eyes narrowed but he avoided her icy stare, skimming his gaze over her neck. Her shoulders. The hint of lacy bra through her blouse. His hands explored, running over her ribs, around to brush her belly. He could only imagine how soft the skin still hidden beneath her clothing would be.
His gut tightened. His cock, having abandoned its enthusiasm sometime around the fourth apology, started to regain interest. Quickly.
He held himself away from her, mere inches separating his growing erection from the long curve of her spine. Once again, he waited to see if she would make the first move. If she hadn’t been watching his face in the mirror, he might have laughed at them both. He was generally a take-charge guy in the bedroom, and here he was with a lovely woman who seemed to enjoy giving over control. Yet he did nothing.
They had a knack for making things complicated.
He shoved back the growing compulsion to take. To touch and taste. And focused on making her see the truth. Making her believe it.
“You are beautiful.”
A little line formed between her eyebrows. Was it so hard for her to accept? He stroked his hands along her hips and belly again and her gaze focused there. He let his fingers play for a while, holding her attention while he spoke softly into her ear.
Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) Page 8
