End Game

by Samantha Wayland

  A huff of laughter shook him. To the core.

  He snapped out of his daze.

  With crystal clarity, he pictured the man. Not Jimmy, he knew, but who? And the girl, struggling in his grasp. His heart slammed against his ribs. Rushing blood roared in his ears and bright spots appeared in his vision.

  “Whoa, Rhian!” Garrick’s shout was distant and tinny. “What happened? Rhian!”

  Rhian let the iPad fall.

  Savannah caught it. “Shit.”

  Rhian looked around the room. He needed his clothes. Where the fuck did she put them?

  “Savannah,” Garrick called. “Can you lie down on top of him?”

  Rhian stood.

  Savannah jammed the iPad onto the bedside table, propped up against the lamp. Rhian saw her alarm and regretted scaring her. Regretted exposing her to any part of his fucked-up, broken life.

  He should be getting dressed. Leaving.

  “Oh, no,” Savannah said in a dark voice. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Had he said he was leaving out loud? He didn’t think so.

  He was still trying to find his damn clothes when Savannah hurled herself against his chest and toppled them both onto the bed.

  They landed with a bounce, Savannah on top of him, his legs hanging over the side of the mattress. He could easily throw her off of him. Some part of him wanted to. She wrapped her hands around his face and cupped his cheeks, her thumbs resting at the corners of his mouth.

  “Will you let me help you?”

  The little voice in his head screamed yes, please, but he managed a reasonably calm “How?”

  She ran her hands through his hair, pressed their foreheads together and rubbed her nose against his.

  Shit, that did help.

  He stared at her from inches away. He could see every variation of green in her irises. They were beautiful.

  “If I get off you, will you stay? I’m not strong enough to drag you into this bed, but I swear to god I’ll try.”

  Seconds ago he’d wanted to leave. Now, lying beneath her, he wanted to stay. He didn’t know why. He could only think of all the reasons why not.

  He nodded.

  She eased off him and crawled across the bed, grabbing pillows and piling them high against the headboard.

  “Come here.”

  He slid cautiously to the head of the bed and, at her urging, sat up and settled into the mountain of pillows, his shoulders to the headboard.

  She dragged the heavy quilt from the foot of the bed, and he recognized it from Garrick’s farmhouse. He longed for it to still smell of woodstove and Garrick. She crawled over his legs and up his body, her hands sinking into his hair, their foreheads touching, their chests and bellies aligned. She thrust aside the pillows on either side of them and drew her legs up to hug his ribs, settling her full weight into his lap as she wrapped herself around him and the quilt around them both.

  It wasn’t the same as when Garrick smashed him to the bed, in what Rhian was coming to accept as their weird but effective ritual. She was a feather compared to Garrick’s heavily muscled frame and considerable height, but she held him close. Tight. Where Garrick used brute strength and size, Savannah managed the same impact with gentle caresses and soft words.

  Garrick pinned him. Savannah held him. It worked.

  With a sigh, the tension began to slip away.

  Savannah turned his face so they both looked at Garrick. Rhian stared into those deep brown eyes, Savannah’s cheek against his, and felt whole again.

  Garrick smiled tenderly, his eyes warm with humor and relief. “I love you.”

  Rhian tried to smile, rubbing his cheek against Savannah’s. She rubbed back, nuzzling against him like a kitten.

  Rhian swallowed and wet his lips. “I love you, too, Garrick.”

  When had those words stopped being hard to say? Let alone in front of Savannah.

  He let that worry go. His brain wasn’t capable of anything more taxing than sitting there and enjoying Garrick and Savannah. He stared at Garrick beloved face. Inhaled Savannah’s delicate scent and absorbed her warmth.

  Every muscle in his body went lax under Savannah’s soothing ministrations. He was awake, but floating. He curled his arms around her and skimmed his hands under her shirt and along her spine. The long strokes were meditative, matching the rhythm of his breaths. His eyes drifted closed.

  He heard Garrick ask again what happened and listened to Savannah recount the night’s events. It was interesting. She’d understood more than he’d thought—that something about that man specifically had freaked him out.

  He didn’t dwell on the idea that Jimmy was somehow ageless and in Boston. He didn’t shy from it either. It was okay to think about it now.

  He was safe.

  Savannah wriggled on top of him, trying to get comfortable. She wasn’t as adept at this squash-your-lover thing as Garrick. But then, it was her first time. And they weren’t lovers.

  God, he wanted that. To be her lover. He wanted her with a depth and passion that stole his carefully controlled breath.

  To touch her. Taste her. Pull her against his body as he thrust into hers.

  It would be heaven.

  He shifted against the mattress, the fog of calm dissipating.

  Damn. How the hell was he going to disguise his growing erection when she was sitting on it? Increasing alarm ended his peaceful stupor. His eyes popped open and locked on Garrick’s.

  Garrick’s eyebrows went way up as he studied Rhian’s expression.

  Oh shit. He knows.

  Savannah slid against the writhing muscles beneath her. Rhian had been perfectly still for the better part of fifteen minutes, but now he seemed to be having a hard time getting comfortable.

  She looked at Garrick and watched one side of his mouth curl up in a slow, lopsided smile.

  What the hell did that mean?

  Maybe she was doing this wrong. Should she make Rhian lie down? Or press him more firmly to the bed? She tried holding him tighter, slipping one hand from his hair and curling an arm between the headboard and his shoulders.

  That didn’t help at all.

  Rhian squirmed. Garrick grinned like a fool.

  What was wrong with that man?

  She jolted when Rhian slid a hand down her back and over her ass, shocked when he gripped one cheek hard and held her still. Awareness of the hand on her butt, the hard panes of his body beneath her, surged through her, but she made herself ignore it.

  She needed a better way to comfort Rhian. His pale face had gone flushed and he was shooting Garrick a narrow-eyed glare.

  She snuggled closer and only then did it finally strike her why Rhian couldn’t get comfortable. Truth be told, it didn’t so much strike her as dig into her thigh.

  She bit her lip to prevent a hysterical and completely inappropriate laugh from erupting.

  Her gaze locked with Garrick’s.

  Garrick wasn’t surprised when Rhian sat up and lifted Savannah from his lap.

  “Sorry. I have to… umm… take a break. I’ll be right back.”

  He rolled from the bed and Garrick stared at his lover’s broad, bare back and that glorious goddamn ass.

  When it was out of his limited view, he turned his attention to Savannah and found she was still enjoying the sight as Rhian no doubt bolted from the room.

  Garrick chuckled, then laughed out right at the sheepish look on Savannah’s face at having been caught.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be.”

  She smiled, but it faded to a frown when she looked toward the door again.

  “Are you worried he’s going to take off?” Garrick asked.

  “No.” A little smile returned. “I hid his clothes.”

  “Clever girl.”

  She shrugged, still looking down the hall.

  “You okay?” he asked gently, cursing that he had to ask again only because he wasn’t there to see, to know for himself.


  Savannah turned to look at him. “I’m okay. I think we both are.”

  Garrick was pretty sure Rhian was feeling more than okay. In fact, he’d bet his last dime that was why his boyfriend had just fled the room.

  “So,” he began cautiously, “was Rhian, uhh…I mean, did you notice…”

  Savannah’s face split in a wide grin. “Oh yeah, I definitely noticed.”

  “And?” Garrick tried very hard not to squirm in his seat.

  She cocked her head and looked at Garrick. Right through him, as only she could. “I’m not sure.”

  He didn’t flinch from her stare. “Whatever you decide, it’s okay.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it closed and looked over her shoulder before saying anything.

  Rhian immediately came into view and climbed back into bed. His—thankfully not little—issue had subsided.

  Savannah jumped to her feet. Garrick lamented the T-shirt and panties hiding so much beauty.

  She smiled at him. “I’ll be right back.”

  Garrick grinned, watching Rhian stare in the direction of the door, just as Savannah had done minutes before.

  “How ya doin’?” Garrick asked, arching his eyebrows when Rhian looked at him with an identical sheepish look on his face.

  “Fine.” The tone, more than the blasé answer, gave him away.

  Garrick smirked. “She has that effect on me, too, you know.”

  “What?”

  “It’s okay, Rhian. Whatever you want. I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  Rhian looked away. “Hi, Sav.”

  Garrick wiped his face clean of any expression but concern and watched Savannah climb back into the bed and right on top of Rhian.

  Rhian opened his mouth to protest, but Savannah slid a hand over his mouth.

  “Maybe I need some of this, too. Would you please hold me?”

  Rhian’s arms immediately encircled her waist.

  Garrick decided it was time for him to say goodnight.

  “Rhian, I have to go now. If you’re okay?”

  Rhian rolled his head to the side and grimaced at Garrick. “I’m fine. I’m sorry if I worried you earlier.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m only sorry I’m not there.” Garrick swallowed back his frustration over that and smiled. “I’m going to leave you in Savannah’s capable hands, all right?”

  “I’ll take good care of him,” she promised. Hell, she almost purred it.

  Garrick’s lips twitched but he controlled them in time.

  Rhian’s eyes narrowed on him. “I love you.”

  Holy shit, he said it first. Garrick rubbed a hand over his chest to soothe the ache there.

  “I love you, too, baby. And you, Savannah. I love and trust you both.”

  Rhian’s brows drew together. Savannah winked.

  The iPad went blank.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The bedroom was suddenly very quiet, their breathing the only sound in the still, warm air around them. Savannah pressed her face into Rhian’s neck, trying to collect herself. It wasn’t easy when she desperately wanted to rub against the steel bar pressing ever-more firmly against her thigh.

  Carefully, she drew her hands down Rhian’s neck and over his shoulders. Her fingertips brushed his biceps and drew a little pattern on each.

  He rippled beneath her. There was no other word for it. Every muscle in his body tensed and released in a long wave that began at his legs and worked his way up to his shoulders. She shuddered at the exquisite feeling of so much strength heaving against her. She gasped when his erection nestled into the crease where her thigh met her pelvis.

  His eyes fluttered closed and a deep red stain bloomed from his cheeks to his neck and chest. His breaths deepened. His cock swelled against wonderfully sensitive skin.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. His color edged toward scarlet.

  I’m not.

  She burrowed closer and rubbed her face against his throat, under his chin, over his shoulder. She traced her palms down his arms.

  God, he was beautiful. She didn’t have to open her eyes to see. She could feel it. Everything she knew about training and the human form translated through the touch of her body against his, drawing him in her mind’s eye.

  She felt his jaw flex. “You’re not helping,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I’m not trying to,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his skin.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Enjoying myself. Immensely.”

  She rubbed her cotton-covered mons against his belly, the elastic of her panties dragging along his cock. The most delightful little noise surged from his chest before he choked it off with a cough.

  “We shouldn’t.” His voice had gone hoarse.

  She lifted her head away from his warmth and musky scent so she could see his face. “Why not?”

  “I’m with Garrick.”

  She smiled. “So am I.”

  “Exactly.”

  She understood his reluctance. These were unusual circumstance to be sure. But it was right. She no longer had a doubt about that.

  He shook his head. “It’s not a good idea. It would complicate things.”

  “They couldn’t get any more complicated than they already are.” That wasn’t strictly true. He was right. They could make this whole mess a whole lot messier. The idea thrilled and terrified her. The risk was fucking huge.

  She traced his beautiful face, generous mouth, and ridiculous cheekbones with her fingertips.

  She didn’t kid herself. It wasn’t going to be easy. But it would be worth it.

  Garrick had once told her that Rhian deserved to be loved, and that he made Garrick want to be the kind of person who was worthy of Rhian’s love in return.

  She understood that perfectly now.

  Rhian stared into Savannah’s brilliant green eyes. He’d wanted her months ago when they’d both been single in Moncton. Now he wished it were only that. Desire he could shut off. If it was a simple matter of sexual attraction, he could crawl out of this bed, raging hard-on be damned, and walk right out the door.

  But it was so much more than sex. He wanted to hold her. To keep his arms and legs wrapped around her and just fucking cling. The need was different than what he had with Garrick, though just as powerful. And the result was the same.

  It frightened the holy hell out of him.

  Obviously being in love with Garrick had broken him of the perfectly healthy inclination to run away from what scared the pants off him. Because here he was, still in bed, clutching Savannah to him.

  She shifted, trapping his cock against damp panties.

  He swallowed. Hard. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Her smile lit up her eyes. “What do you normally say to a woman you want?”

  It should have sounded arrogant, but it didn’t. Given the rigid evidence crushed against her pussy, he couldn’t deny her assumption. He did want her. Like water. Air.

  He brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “You come here often?”

  She gave a husky laugh. “Every chance I get.”

  He chuckled.

  Quick wit, staggering beauty and brains to match. Had he ever stood a chance?

  He threaded his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head. He’d longed to touch her, even while swearing it would never happen. Now the possibilities seemed limitless.

  “I do want you,” he said softly. The risks were real, still scaring the crap out of him, but the reward was too sweet.

  Her smile sweeter still.

  He urged her closer, hesitating when their lips were a hair’s breadth apart. Her eyes fluttered closed and for a moment, the world stopped.

  His lips brushed hers. It was not nearly enough. He captured her mouth, his fingers clenched in her long hair as desire roared through him and he shuddered in its grip. She gasped and he slipped his
tongue into her mouth to twine with hers.

  They kissed like old friends. Like lovers who had been together for years. Yet, only now did he learn the taste of her lips, the texture of her tongue and teeth. Her hands ran through his hair, touched his cheek, always moving. Touching him, everywhere, like she was seeking him out. These gentle caresses should have been innocent, but they were as thrilling as the hot, damp pressure against his cock.

  He plunged his tongue along hers. Tilted his head. Then hers. Deepening the kiss before easing back to tease along her lips. It felt like he’d been here a thousand times before, while finally discovering what he’d dreamed about didn’t come close to the reality.

  His pulse thrummed in his ears, the rhythm matching the throb of his cock. He hummed against her lips, overwhelmed by her taste, the wriggle of her hips. Her.

  He curled a hand over her ass and ground her down against him. Their mouths parted on a mutual gasp.

  “God, Rhian.” She licked her lips as she undulated against him.

  He teased his mouth along her jaw, under her chin, questing to find the tender spots that made her moan louder, wriggle harder. He found a lot of them. She shared her passion so freely, his ears rang with it.

  He skimmed his hands up under her shirt and dragged it over her ribs. His fingers explored the soft, warm skin beneath the old cotton, tingling with each discovery. He could spend the entire night learning every inch of her.

  With an impatient grunt, Savannah sat up and whipped the shirt over her head.

  Holy crap.

  He watched, mesmerized, as her hands curled and lifted her high, firm breasts to his gaze. She made little circles with her hips, rubbing along his shaft. He didn’t know where to look. To touch.

  He clasped her hips with his hands. He hadn’t meant for her to stop—good god all-fucking-mighty he did not want her to stop—but needed an anchor against the storm of her passion.

  She touched his face, and he tore his eyes from her breasts to her smoldering green gaze.

  A last gasp of reason asserted itself. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Are you?”

  A hint of fear curled through his arousal-fogged brain. He had to be honest. “No. But I’ll be traded away soon and—”