Playing with Trouble

by Amy Andrews

  Her fingers stilled on his nipple. “Like Tad?”

  “What?” His fingers stilled also, coming to a stop on the boniest part of her hip. He shifted a little, and Jane glanced up as he looked down at her with a frown. “No. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean Tad. I was going to say like my father, but I’ve got a nice buzz going on here.” His hand slid to her buttock, stroking the rounded flesh from where it rose to where it joined the back of her thigh. “And I didn’t want to kill it.”

  He gave a squeeze and smiled, and she smiled back, and a hundred switches flicked on beneath his palm, lighting up the base of her spine and sparking through the muscles of her ass. “Well.” She dropped a kiss on his chest. “We can’t have that, can we?”

  Sliding her leg over his and using his chest for purchase, she levered herself upright, settling herself until she was straddling his left thigh. Quickly, she divested herself of her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the bed.

  “Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, his gaze hot on her breasts, things obviously switching on for him, too, as his cock hardened.

  “Mmm, yourself,” Jane said, trailing her fingers down the bony crest of his hip to the top of his thigh, the fine muscles beneath his skin twitching beneath the caress. His nostrils flared as she brushed close to his fully erect cock.

  She dragged her gaze off that particular piece of his anatomy momentarily to inspect something just as fascinating. “This is an impressive scar,” she said, her voice low and husky as her fingers trailed down the thick ridge that bisected almost the entire length of his opposite thigh. It was dark brown and puckered and also quite wide in places, like it hadn’t healed that well.

  He nodded, his gaze dropping to where her finger was mapping the contours. “You should see the other guy.”

  Jane gave a half laugh. “This happened in the accident?”

  “Because of the accident, yes. I was in the car for a few hours before I was found. I developed this thing called compartment syndrome in my quadriceps from all the internal bleeding caused by my fractured femur. The pressure had built up, compressing nerves and blood supply to the muscle and to all the nerves and muscles in my lower leg. They had to do an emergency fasciotomy. That’s where they open up the skin and the fascia to decompress the area.”

  He bent his leg up and ran his finger along the ridge of the scar, looking very far away for a moment. He slid his leg down. “It doesn’t look pretty. There were a lot of issues with the wound healing afterwards, and I tend toward keloid scarring, but the surgeon reckons I’d have lost my leg had they not gone in when they did.”

  Jane sucked in an unsteady breath. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the trauma he’d been through. Sure, his rugby days were over, but he could have lost his leg. Maybe even…died. She might not have known him for long, but that outcome was already unthinkable. “What happened? With the accident?” she asked, her fingers taking up their caress again.

  He might not think it was pretty, but this scar was his badge of survival.

  “I fell asleep at the wheel one night, coming back from a game out west. It was early in the morning, and I was tired when I got into the car, but I needed to be back in Sydney for an eight a.m. meeting, and it was only a three-hour drive. I thought I’d be okay, and my plan was to pull over and have a kip on the side of the road if I felt sleepy. But yeah…I never got that far. I woke up as the car clipped a cement bollard at some roadworks. It spun out a few times, clipping another one on the opposite side and flipping over several times before slamming driver’s side first into a massive tree.”

  Jane’s hand slid to her belly, trying to quell the sudden pitch of nausea. No wonder he had a limp. “Jesus, Cole.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s pretty deserted in that part of the country, especially at that hour of night, so it was well over an hour before a truck driver came across the accident. And another couple of hours before I was cut out and airlifted to one of the big Sydney trauma hospitals.”

  Goose bumps pricked at Jane’s flesh. He’d had to be cut out of his vehicle. “It sounds like you’re very lucky to be alive.”

  “Definitely. I’m very thankful for seatbelts and airbags.”

  Considering where she was and what they’d done and were about to do, Jane had to concur. She walked her fingers up his thigh in a northerly direction, pleased to see that despite the rather somber turn of the conversation, Cole didn’t seem to have suffered any damage to his equipment. There were no scars or other obvious deformities, and it was definitely in full working order.

  Time to lighten things up. “I see some parts of your anatomy escaped unscathed.”

  “I know, right?” His hands slid up her body to her breasts, cupping them, and Jane moaned and closed her eyes as her nipples hardened beneath the brush of his thumbs, goose bumps dusting her torso. “But you should probably take it for another test ride in case it was just beginner’s luck.”

  Jane sincerely doubted Cole’s sexual prowess had anything to do with luck and everything to do with commitment, practice, and God-given ability.

  Like his rugby.

  His right hand fell away, and she almost mewed in frustration at the loss of sensation. Opening her eyes to protest the withdrawal, she found him reaching for a condom on the table and presenting it to her. “You want to put it on, or shall I?”

  Jane shook her head. “We won’t be needing that.” She had other plans for Cole Hauser’s magnificent cock.

  “We won’t?”

  “Nope. I know this happened a while ago, but I feel like you might need some kissing better, and—” She walked her fingers from his groin to the thickness of his shaft. “This seems as good a place as any to start.”

  Jane was practically salivating she wanted to taste him so bad.

  “Well…” He grinned as he tossed the condom back on the table. “In that case…”

  She returned the grin, holding his gaze as she shuffled down his thigh a little, held her hair back, and dipped her head to nuzzle along the length of his cock before placing a light kiss on the very tip. “How’s that?” she asked, looking at him through the fringe of her lashes. “Feeling better?”

  He gave a half laugh, his head collapsing back against the pillow. “Uh-huh.”

  Becoming more daring, Jane licked him from root to tip, ending in a more lingering kiss. “How about now?”

  His breath hissed out. “Much better.”

  She sucked him into her mouth then, and his groan was so low and guttural it slugged her right between the legs. She went deep, taking as much of him as she was able, swirling her tongue around his shaft as she withdrew. “More?”

  “God yes,” he said with a pant. “Don’t stop now.”

  Jane smiled. She had absolutely no intention of stopping. Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth and took him inside again, savoring the thick invasion of his shaft as it pressed into the soft give at the back of her throat, loving the way he groaned and hissed and panted. Loving his noises and the agitated shift of his hips and the way he twisted his fingers in the sheets.

  Was he holding back or holding on? Jane didn’t know. All she knew was that he smelled good and tasted better, and when she rolled his balls in her fingers, his ass clamped tight and his whole body started to tremble.

  “Jane.” His voice was a dark rumble and so damn strained as his hand slid into her hair. “I’m real close, so if swallowing’s not your thing, then I suggest you take evasive action.”

  Jane did not take evasive action. She appreciated the warning, and she made a mental note to thank him for his consideration later, but she wanted all of him. Everything he had to give. So she did not pull away. In fact, she doubled down, increasing her pace and the suction until his heavy pants were so loud in her ears she only just heard him cry out.

  But she felt his hand momentarily tightening in her
hair and his back and shoulder blades bowing off the mattress as his hips snapped taut. Then she tasted him on her tongue and swallowed him down, reveling in the salt of him until he had nothing more to give and he pulled her up and clutched her to his chest.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Good morning.”

  “Cole!” Finn leaped off his stool, somehow managing not to displace Carl, who clung to the little boy’s shoulder. “Can we practice some more kicking in the park today?”

  Bracing for impact as Finn threw himself at his legs, Cole felt a warm glow in the center of his chest. Finn had never hugged him before, and he kinda liked it. “Sure can, matey,” he said, cupping the back of the little boy’s head.

  Finn beamed up at him, clearly thrilled at Cole’s choice of endearment, and Cole’s heart went thunk.

  He glanced at Jane, who’d had her back to him, washing the dishes at the sink, when he’d entered the kitchen but was now looking over her shoulder at him, a tentative smile on her face.

  “Hey,” he murmured with a nod.

  “Hey,” she replied, her cheeks pink.

  He’d woken alone this morning. No surprise there, but he’d have liked nothing more than to have woken with her, and if Finn wasn’t here, for damn sure he’d be dragging her back upstairs. Or at least doing her on the kitchen bench.

  “I’m going to go get my boots on,” Finn announced, releasing Cole’s legs from their death grip and heading for the kitchen door without a backwards glance.

  Cole watched him go, then turned to Jane, who was still looking at him, her smile a little secretive now, like she was remembering some particularly salacious detail from last night. He had no idea which detail it might be—there were so many—but he liked the way she looked when she was thinking dirty thoughts.

  Prowling toward her, Cole crossed the distance in no time. It didn’t occur to him not to pull her in for a kiss. He just did it, deep and hot, her moan like dynamite to his system as she went up on tippy-toe and twined her wet, soapy hands around his neck.

  When he pulled away, they were both a little breathless, and the way she stared at him—a little dazed, her mouth wet and shiny from his kiss—made him want to fucking beat his chest. He’d been worried Jane might suffer some kind of buyer’s remorse. A morning-after oops and try to back pedal, try to establish some boundaries, talk about a slip-up that shouldn’t be repeated.

  But that wasn’t the way she was looking at him. She didn’t look one and done.

  “I missed you this morning,” he said, his eyes on her delectably wet mouth.

  “I’m sorry… I had to be back in bed for when Finn woke up.”

  “Yeah. I know. What time did you leave?”

  “About three.”

  “You should’ve woken me.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “For a goodbye kiss?”

  “Sure. Or, you know—” He grinned. “Whatever.”

  She smiled, and Cole dropped his mouth to hers. She tasted like coffee and smelled like soap, and her hair was up in a ponytail, and he wanted to pull it out and tangle his fingers in its richness. He wanted to pull her T-shirt up and fill his palms with her breasts. He wanted to turn her around, bend her over the sink, and push his aching cock inside her.

  He wanted this woman. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any other woman. He’d spoken last night about not finding someone he cared about more than his career, but, right now, in this kitchen on the other side of the world, it was possible he just might have found her.

  It was very possible Cole wanted Jane Spencer even more than playing rugby for the Sydney Smoke. And fucking hell if that didn’t blow his mind.

  Little footsteps clomping down the staircase penetrated their clinch, and Cole stepped back reluctantly. His arse was hitting the central bench just as Finn bounded into the room sans Carl. “I’m ready, Cole. Let’s go.”

  “Finn.” Jane wiped her hands on the nearby dishcloth, turning her attention to her son like she’d flipped a switch into mommy mode.

  It probably shouldn’t have been a turn-on.

  “You still have half your breakfast to eat, and Cole hasn’t even gotten to his yet. So cool your jets and finish your oats.”

  Finn followed the direction of his mother’s fingers as she pointed at the bowl on the bench top. He huffed at Jane impatiently, obviously chafing against her rules, and Cole couldn’t blame him. He remembered his mother constantly putting the brakes on him and how frustrating that had been.

  Who wanted to eat when there were balls to kick?

  But then Finn either thought better of complaining or remembered he was still hungry and jogged to the chair, practically levitating into it.

  Cole smiled to himself but didn’t make any comment as he grabbed some bread and popped four slices in the toaster, then ambled to the coffee machine, passing perilously close to Jane at the sink in the process. “You up for some cooking, Finn?” he asked as he poured himself a mug. “When we get back from the park.”

  “Oh, yes!”

  Cole didn’t have to be facing him to know Finn had just pumped his fist in the air. It seemed to be the boy’s go-to celebration move.

  “What are we going to cook?” Finn asked.

  “Anzac bikkies.”

  Finn frowned. “What are Anzac bikkies?”

  “Bikkies are what we call cookies where I’m from, and these ones are made with sugar and treacle and oats. I’ll check we have all the ingredients before we leave.” He turned and leaned casually against the bench just near the coffee machine, deliberately not looking in Jane’s direction. He wanted this thing too much, and he didn’t want to scare Jane off. “Have another floor picnic with your mum.”

  That suggestion was met with much rapture on Finn’s behalf. “Oh yes, please, Mommy?”

  Jane’s response was more measured. “Another floor picnic, huh?”

  He shrugged. “You gotta eat, right?

  “Yeah, Mommy. And I love cooking. And eating cookies. Cole does, too, don’t you, Cole?”

  “Oh, yes,” Cole murmured, his gaze meeting hers, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I love to eat.”

  She suppressed a smile. “Oh, really?”

  Cole’s smile morphed to a grin as he nodded enthusiastically. Yes, fucking really. “I could do it all day. And night.”

  Her quirked eyebrow left him in no doubt she knew he wasn’t talking about milk and cookies, and he grinned bigger. It wasn’t that long ago they both had their prickles out, and now they were using code to talk cunnilingus in front of her kid.

  “That sounds…fattening.”

  A picture of him lazily feasting away between her legs made things uncomfortably tight inside his shorts, but he gave a small laugh. “Not the way I do it.”

  “Please, Mommy,” Finn repeated, blissfully ignorant to the way this conversation had gotten dirty.

  “Of course,” Jane told Finn, her eyes firmly fixed on Cole. “I can’t wait.”

  Neither could Cole…

  …

  On Wednesday morning, much to Jane’s surprise, Cole appeared in the kitchen not long after Jane had settled Finn at the central bench to watch Bluey on the iPad while she fixed him breakfast. “Oh, hi,” she said.

  Finn abandoned his precious screen time in favor of bestowing a running hug on Cole, his little face pressed between Cole’s legs about mid-thigh level, and Jane’s stomach flipped over. His little arms held on tight around the backs of Cole’s legs, and the way that big hand cupped her son’s head made her chest cramp.

  Jane tried hard not to think about how quickly Finn and Cole had become a twosome. And how much that was going to suck when Cole left. She knew, she understood that Cole was here on a vacation from his life. Finn, however, was four years old. She’d been consistent in reminding her son whenever he talked about a future that
involved Cole that Cole lived in Australia and would be leaving soon. But she knew Finn didn’t really grasp the concept, and, frankly, she was too damn happy that Finn was happy to push too hard.

  Instead of being miserable and asking after his father a dozen times a day, he’d been having fun with Cole. And that wasn’t nothing.

  But yeah…Finn was going to miss Cole when he left.

  So was she. And not just because of how good he was with Finn, but because of how good he was with her. The Anzac cookies on Monday and the jam drops yesterday. The way he’d taken over a lot of parental duties so she was free to work. The way he made her laugh and used innuendo to talk dirty to her right in front of Finn. And the way he always looked at her like she was a popsicle he wanted to lick up.

  And after just three nights in his bed, Jane could safely say she’d never been more thoroughly licked up in her life.

  “You’re awake early,” she murmured. He usually made it down to the kitchen toward the tail end of breakfast.

  “Thought I’d join you guys for breakfast,” he said as Finn loosened his grip and trotted back to the bench and Bluey.

  Jane watched as Cole followed him, resting his cane against his thigh as he reached for Finn and swung him up onto the stool. Finn could do it himself, but the apparently unconscious move on Cole’s behalf did funny things to Jane’s pulse.

  “I can cook you some eggs,” she said as he turned back to face her. “I do a mean omelet.”

  She smiled at the eyebrow raise. It wasn’t that long ago she’d have snippily told him she hoped he didn’t expect her to make him breakfast. And now here she was, offering to cook him something.

  After going through three condoms with him last night.

  The irony was not, apparently, lost on either of them. He shook his head. “Toast is fine.”

  “Oh, come on, it must take a lot of calories to fuel such a big guy. You need to keep your stamina up, after all.”

  “I do, do I?”

  She nodded, not taking her eyes off the bright gleam of humor lighting the depth of his deep brown gaze. “You do.”