“Your boss?”
She nodded. “She owns her own interior design firm. And I’m her assistant. Although, if you asked her, she’d tell you I’m more like a partner.” Gemma smiled a bit at that. “She likes to do the design, the people stuff, and I take care of everything else. It’s nice — fulfills all of my OCD needs.”
I grinned, nodding. Taking in the cleanliness of her apartment, I was sure she wasn’t joking about the OCD thing. And seeing as how her phone was literally full of lists, goals, plans, and rules? Yeah. It made sense.
“And you just moved in?” I asked after a moment, surveying her modern, all-white couch, and sleek television. The accents in her place were minimal — lots of silvers, grays, whites, beiges. There was a fuzzy gray rug under the sleek, geometric table in front of the couch, and just one, large canvas print hanging on the wall opposite the TV.
It looked like a model home, not one she lived in.
“I bought it about eight months ago.”
“That explains the lack of photographs or any other indication that a human being lives here,” I teased.
Gemma just continued working the bottle.
“What made you want to leave the ‘burbs?”
The cork popped out of the bottle, and she dropped the opener with the cork still in it to the counter. “It’s a long story, and I’m too sober to tell it. Can we change the subject?”
“We can,” I said easily as I made my way over to the kitchen. I propped my elbows on the counter bar, watching her pour two glasses full of red wine. “What do you want to talk about?”
She handed me my glass, tilting hers up with a smile before she chugged half of it in one gulp.
“Cheers to you, too.” I lifted my glass with a smirk, taking a sip.
“Music!” she said loudly, snapping her fingers. Her dark hair swung over her shoulders as she pranced over to a large speaker in the corner of the room. “I should put on music. What do you like to listen to? Here, I can just put on… this.”
She tapped something on her phone, and a slow, sexy beat filled the room. When the first verse started, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye.
Her eyes went wide, and she glanced at me over one shoulder. “Oh God, this is too much, isn’t it? It’s too cliché.”
She clicked through her phone as I took another sip of my wine, watching her with a smile.
“I should have made a playlist. God, why did I not think of making a playlist?”
She was still talking to herself when I set my wine on the counter, crossing the room to where she stood. I traced the lines of her slender neck, her back, the hair she pulled over one shoulder as she shook her head.
“Probably because I have no idea what to put on a playlist for this sort of thing,” she murmured to herself, still playing on her phone.
“What sort of thing?” I whispered into the back of her neck.
She jumped a little as my hands slipped around her hips from the back, pulling her flush against me. Every muscle in her body was stiff, her breath caught between an inhale and an exhale.
“Uh… this… um…” she swallowed, still holding her phone, still stiff as a board in my arms. “Oh, God.”
“Such a religious woman,” I teased.
“Oh, God.”
I laughed, spinning her in my arms until she was facing me. I took her phone from her hands, set it on top of the speaker, and slipped my hands into the back pockets of her jean shorts. Then, I settled my gaze on hers.
“Hey,” I said, searching those endless green eyes of hers.
The way the low light of her lamps were reflected in them, I could see just the faintest hint of blue swirled around the pupils. But she couldn’t hold my gaze, looking at my chest or the floor, instead.
“Look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Gemma,” I laughed her name, tilting her chin up with my knuckle. “Look at me.”
When she finally did, it was the way a little girl looks at a closet door opening on its own in the dark. It was like I was every monster, every deep-rooted fear she’d ever known standing in front of her for the first time.
“Take a breath,” I said, and I started with a deep inhale, hers mirroring my own. “Now, let it out.”
She blew out a breath, and her shoulders slumped with it, her head hitting my shoulder. She let out a soft groan, shaking her head before lifting it to meet my gaze again.
“I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh. “I just… I’ve never done this before. In theory, it seems so easy, but now that we’re here…”
“It’s scary.”
She smiled. “So, so scary.”
“If it helps, I’m a little scared, too.”
Her eyes doubled at that. “You?” She laughed. “You don’t seem scared at all.”
“I am,” I said, and I pulled one hand from her back pocket and held it between us. “See? I’m even shaking a little.”
She eyed my trembling hand, then swatted it away, pushing my chest. “You’re faking it.”
I smirked. “Okay, maybe I’m not shaking,” I said, wrapping her in my arms and pulling her flush against me again. Her breath caught, eyes flicking to my lips. “But I am nervous.”
“Why?”
I chuckled. “Have you seen you?” Her eyes met mine then. “You’re beautiful, Gemma. You may be nervous because it’s been a while for you, but even if you’d just done this yesterday, you’d still feel what you’re feeling right now. And you know what?” I shrugged. “It’s kind of the best part.”
“Feeling like I need to throw up is the best part of tonight?” She scrunched her nose. “You’re not really selling it here.”
I fought a smile, lifting her chin again, until our lips were just inches apart. “No, feeling excited.” I swallowed, searching her eyes before my gaze landed on those full lips of hers I’d been dying to taste. “You’re shaking because you want to touch me, because you want me to touch you. It’s that rush of having someone’s hands on your body, someone new, someone who makes your heart race and your breath shallow.”
As if on cue, she let out a soft, shallow breath. “I don’t know how to do this,” she confessed, voice just above a whisper.
“Let me show you.”
I slipped one hand over her neck, fingers crawling up until her hair was locked in my grip. I pulled — just a little, tilting her lips up toward mine — and then, when she was balanced on her toes, her sweet breath meeting my lips, I kissed her.
Her warm lips trembled under the pressure of mine, chills racing down her arms, but then she sighed, leaning into me as her body collapsed into mine. She fisted her hands in my t-shirt, and I tightened my grip in her hair. When she opened that little mouth of hers and let me slide my tongue inside, we both moaned, and all the blood in my body rushed to where I ached most.
With my hands holding her steady, I walked Gemma back until her ass hit the arm of her couch. As soon as it did, she lifted her legs, wrapping them around me and pulling my neck down so she could kiss me harder. Her mouth devoured mine, and when I sucked that bottom lip of hers between my teeth and let it go with a pop, I shook my head on a smirk.
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to do this.”
“I’m remembering.”
The words were more of a pant, and then her hands were in my hair, pulling me back down to kiss her. I smirked, running my hands down her back to cup her ass and roll her against my hard on. We both groaned at that, and as much as I wanted to bury myself so deep inside her I’d need a map to find my way out, I knew I couldn’t.
Not yet. Not tonight.
Gemma was nervous. She was feeling her way through dating for the first time in who knew how long. I didn’t know if she’d been wrapped up in work, if someone had broken her heart, if she’d been in a long-term relationship or never had a boyfriend in her life.
All I did know was she was one of the most beautiful, most unique wo
men I’d ever met in my life.
And I wanted to make her feel good.
I should have moved her to the bed. I should have taken my time, slowed down, stripped every piece of clothing off her with patience and reverence. But after a night of sitting next to her in those tiny little shorts, of watching her perfect breasts bounce in that tank top every time she jumped up and down, cheering for the team — I was past waiting.
“Lean back,” I demanded, propping a pillow up on the couch.
When she slid back, she tried to move off the arm of the couch, but I clamped my hand down on her thigh.
“No,” I said, taking her mouth in mine as I leaned her back. “That perfect ass stays here.”
I pulled back with a wicked grin, Gemma watching me with a mixture of curiosity, want, and apprehension. With her ass still propped on the arm of the couch, she was inverted now, hips higher than where her head rested on the pillow.
I traced the arch in her back on my way back up, slipping my fingers in the band of her shorts and tugging her hips up a little more. She was so small, yet every inch of her was supple and curvy — it was a body unlike any I’d ever seen before.
Bending to kiss her exposed navel, I flipped the button on her jean shorts, tugging on her zipper and slipping the denim down off her hips. The way her thighs touched under the navy blue lace of her panties made me growl with want, and I lifted her leg, hooking it over my shoulder so I could kiss the inside of that thigh.
Gemma leaned up, watching me kiss her from under hooded lids, her lips parted. I tried to take my time, sucking and biting the tender, soft skin between her legs as I climbed toward the promise land. But the higher I kissed, the harder she breathed, her chest heaving and eyes widening as she watched me.
I paused, planting a feather-light kiss over the lace fabric that made her shutter before I let her leg drop and slid between her thighs. I leaned over, bending to meet her lips with mine.
“Just relax,” I whispered, kissing her gently. “We’re going to take it slow, okay? No sex tonight.”
“I can do this,” she said quickly.
“Oh, trust me, I know,” I growled, biting her lower lip. “But tonight, I just want you to relax. I want you to remember what it’s like to feel good.” Then, I smirked. “Be a little selfish.”
She blew out a breath on a laugh. “I don’t know if I can just relax.”
“Close your eyes,” I said, pushing back to stand again. I ran my hands over the curves still hidden by her tank top, hooking my thumbs in the thin straps of her panties before tugging on them.
Gemma lifted her lips, letting me strip the lace off, and when she was fully exposed, I swallowed at the sight of her perfect pink pussy staring back at me.
She was still watching me, her breaths racking through her chest.
“Close your eyes,” I said again, bending until my face was between her legs. I propped one leg on each of my shoulders, hands holding her hips in place.
She swallowed, still breathing hard as she finally did as I asked. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pillow, her legs shaking where they hung over my shoulders. Slowly, with my hands massaging her hips, I pressed my lips to the tender skin just above her clit.
She shivered, letting out a long sigh, hands fisting in the fabric of the couch. I smiled, remembering how she’d had it on her list to shave for tonight. I would have buried my face between her legs regardless, but I swept my tongue over her freshly smooth skin with appreciation.
“Oh…” she moaned, hips bucking. “Yes.”
The way I had her bent over the couch, her hips still balanced on the arm while her head and shoulders rested on the cushions, I had the perfect view of her arched body. Even under the tank top, her breasts strained against her bra, heaving with every heated breath she drew.
Swirling my tongue over her clit, I let my hands climb from her hips up under her shirt. I traced the wire of her bra, slipping my fingers beneath it and grazing each hard nipple. She arched into my touch with a moan, and I took the cue, sucking her clit between my teeth and flicking her nipples at the same time.
A sharp cry left her lips, and she hissed, bucking her hips and writhing under my grasp.
My hard on ached for relief under my shorts, but I bit down the urge to say fuck it and give Gemma a real practice round. I’d take a cold shower later, or get my release when I was alone in my bed the next morning.
Tonight was about her.
With one hand still massaging her breast, I slipped the other hand under my mouth, brushing her entrance with just the tip of my pointer finger before I slipped it inside.
“Oh, God,” she cried, hands flying into my hair. She rolled her hips, grinding her clit against my tongue, and I let her take the lead, let her use me the way she wanted to. “More.”
I granted her wish, withdrawing my finger and sliding it back inside along with one more. She gasped, arching, hands fisting in my hair. The more I curled those fingers, the more she ground her hips. Around and around — my tongue on her clit, her hips on the couch, my fingers inside her — a hurricane symphony of movement until her entire body tensed.
“Yes, yes, don’t stop, oh… fuck.” She gasped the last word, pussy clenching around my fingers as I tensed my tongue and put as much pressure as I could on her sensitive clit. With that, she tightened around my fingers even more before everything let go at once.
She shook, crying out, hands flying out of my hair and into her own as she rode out her orgasm. I lifted her hips more, digging my fingers even deeper to make it last as long as it could, and when she was spent, when her legs fell lax on either side of my face, I withdrew. Slowly, carefully, one finger at a time as I kissed the insides of her thighs and climbed back up to stand.
Gemma just laid there, hair and hands sprawled out, legs flopped over the arm.
She sighed, eyes fluttering open, and when she saw me standing over her with a satisfied smirk, she laughed.
“Wow.”
“How was that?”
“Um, fucking incredible,” she said, leaning up on her elbows. She squeezed her knees together, suddenly aware of how spread eagle she’d been. “Can you help me up?”
She reached a hand forward, and I grabbed it in mine, tugging until she was standing. Her legs gave out under the weight, but I caught her, holding her against my chest as we both laughed.
“I’m a little weak,” she said. Then, her hand brushed over where my cock was still straining against my shorts. “Oh,” she breathed, eyes locking onto mine. “And you’re a little hard.”
“Just a little.”
“Do you wanna…”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “God, yes. But, not tonight. Tonight was about making you feel good, about getting you back into the swing of things.” I spanked her still-bare ass. “How do you feel?”
“Tired,” she answered with a sated smile. Her eyes flicked between mine. “I had so much fun tonight, Zach. I haven’t had fun like this in… well, I don’t even remember.”
“I had fun, too,” I told her, returning her smile.
Ask her on a date.
The thought hit me out of nowhere, and as soon as it popped in my mind, I couldn’t think of anything else. I wanted to see her again. I wanted more than just a practice round.
I didn’t want her to take another guy to the next game.
I wanted her to take me again.
Gemma watched me, like she was debating the same thoughts I was. Or maybe like she couldn’t believe I was standing in her living room, that she was half-naked in my arms.
“Gemma…” I started, but when she yawned, all I could do was laugh. “Wow, that tired, huh?”
“You wore me out.”
“You seem so upset about it.”
“Furious, really.”
She gave me a sleepy smile, pecking my lips before she bent to retrieve her panties and shorts. She pulled them both on as I leaned back against the wall and watched, trying to think of
what to say next.
“So,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear when she was dressed again. Her hands slipped right back into her back pockets, her eyes searching mine. “I guess this is the end of the practice round, huh?”
“I guess so.”
She walked toward the door, and I followed — though my feet dragged like they were made of lead. When Gemma opened her front door and held it open with one hip, her cheeks still flushed, the absolute last thing I wanted to do was leave.
“Thank you,” she said, watching me. “This was fun. It was… well, it was exactly what I needed.”
“Glad I could help.”
I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers and holding that kiss for as long as she’d let me. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t ready to let her go.
I knew she had a plan. I knew what I signed up for. But now that I’d spent a night with her, now that I’d had a taste, I couldn’t just walk away.
I couldn’t just let some other guy touch her after the next game, the way I’d touched her tonight.
Our kiss was casual at first, but the longer I held my lips to hers, the more she softened. When I slid my hand through her hair, cradling the back of her head, she melted into the touch. A soft sigh left her lips when I pulled back from the kiss, eyes searching hers — and that sigh was just enough encouragement to make me open my big, stupid mouth.
“Take me to the next game.”
Gemma blinked, her sated smile slipping. “What?”
“Don’t get on that stupid app again,” I said. “Take me.”
She swallowed, eyes doubling in size as she pulled them from my gaze and down to the floor. There was a touch of something there… something she’d been hiding all night. It was in the bend of her brows, in the slump of her shoulders, in the pull of her mouth to one side.
She’d been hurt.
God, how I wanted to kill whoever hurt her.
Gemma shook it off — whatever it was — and when she looked back at me, it was with a seemingly confident smile. “Hey, this was the practice round, remember?”
The Wrong Game: A Sports Romance Page 7
