Rachel actually looked a bit afraid now, and she took another retreating step on her own, her back hitting the corridor wall. Thea stepped forward one more time. “And I’m the kind of baseball wife who put her own goddamn dreams on hold for three years so I could support my husband’s career and try to fit in with the likes of you, but that is a mistake I am finally fixing. And the only reason you actually hate me is because you don’t have the guts to do the same. You’d rather lash out, blame other people. But no one broke up you and Jake but you.”
She spun on her heel but then stopped and came back for one last comment. “And for your information, yes, Gavin stutters in bed. And it’s fucking beautiful.”
And then, without even looking at Gavin or the rest of the team, Thea lifted her head and stalked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Gavin caught up with Thea at the elevator. She’d retrieved her scarf and her purse.
“Thea—”
She held up a hand. “Don’t. She had it coming.”
The elevator arrived, and he followed her in. She was still breathing hard from the argument, and her words reverberated in the charged air between them. Yes, Gavin stutters in bed. And it’s fucking beautiful.
He should be humiliated. Furious. But he wasn’t. He was hard as a fucking rock.
Thea met his eyes and he felt a shock wave all the way to his groin. She was as turned on as he was. They peeled away from their corners at the same time and collided like two mating animals on a crash course with nature’s primal calling. Gavin stumbled, and together they fell against the wall.
“You’re not faking it tonight,” he growled into her mouth. “You hear me? You’re not faking it ever again.”
He’d never driven so fast through the city. The hotel was only a mile away, but it felt like the far side of the Earth. He screeched to a stop at the entrance and tossed the keys to the valet. The kid could keep the car for all he cared.
Gavin grabbed their bags from the back seat. Thea waited for him on the sidewalk, eyes dark and hooded with desire.
His wife has having an orgasm tonight if it killed him.
Checking in took no more than five minutes, but it felt like an hour. In the elevator, they collided again with hands and lips, stumbling out when the doors opened on the top floor. He’d booked a suite because he could, and because tonight was special.
His hand shook as he shoved the key card into the slot.
It beeped red.
Gavin growled and tried again. Finally, the light turned green. He shoved open the door, threw their bags inside, and turned around to reach for his wife.
They hit the wall again, grinding into each other. “Turn around,” he ordered.
His fingers shook again as he lowered the zipper to her black dress. If he weren’t so desperate, he’d take his time. Undress her slowly and kiss every inch of exposed skin, but that would have to wait for another time.
The dress pooled at her feet, and she kicked it aside as she turned around. She stood before him in nothing but stiletto heels and a thong. Gavin made a noise that was barely human as he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her close. She kissed him with an unguarded passion that had been missing for so long. She had been missing for so long. This feisty woman he’d fallen in love with. And God, he’d missed her.
Between their bodies, Gavin slid his hand down her stomach, and she arched with a moan. When he reached her wet curls and parted her with his finger, she cried out and lifted her hips into his touch. God, if he could make her come just like this, standing here as she rode his hand.
“Gavin,” she said, gripping his head. “Make love to me.”
Gavin palmed her ass and hoisted her in his arms. Her legs went around his waist, the heels digging into his ass. She was so keeping those on.
He stumbled toward the bed and lowered her to the mattress. His hands whipped off his shirt and fumbled with the zipper of his pants, which were already about to burst. Thea shimmied out of her thong, leaving her bare but for those shoes.
Gavin groaned and fell to his knees at the edge of the bed. Time to put the book lessons to good use.
“Gavin, what are you doing” Thea whispered. “I want you.”
“Let me love you like this first,” he said, thanking God that Lord Sex Machine knew the right things to say.
Gavin slid his hands under her ass and leaned forward until his lips touched the seam of her desire. “Oh my God,” Thea panted, her fingers fisting the comforter.
Gavin blew on her heated skin and was rewarded with another gasp, another arch of her back. When he parted her with his tongue, her guttural groan nearly made him explode right there.
He licked until she squirmed, alternating between gentle flicks of his tongue and sucking on her swollen nub. Her moans made him wild, but he pulled back to let her breathe. Something he learned from Lord Happy Tongue. Let her adjust to the sensations before going deeper. Use words, not just body.
He blew gently on her heated skin again. “I love the w-way you taste,” he said, licking slowly up and down.
He’d never thought to tell her that before until the book. She reacted as he hoped. She hooked a leg over his shoulder. “You do?” she whimpered.
“I could kiss you and feast on you all day, Thea,” he growled.
Her hips lifted, seeking his mouth again. This time when he lowered his lips to her clit, he worked two fingers inside her. Pumped them in and out in time with his tongue.
Thea bucked. Her hips pumped against his face. Her hands were in his hair.
He increased the pace to match hers.
Her thighs began to tremble.
Her moans became whimpers.
Her pleasure built until she was writhing. Writhing. And it was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen. A wave of tenderness washed over him as potent as the lust surging through his veins. She was his wife. The love of his life. And for three years, he had failed to make her feel this way. To make her feel safe enough to be open to feeling this way. He had failed her so many ways, so many times. He wasn’t failing her again.
“Gav . . .” She couldn’t say his name. She was so close.
“Yes. Yes, oh, God.”
Her fingers dug into his scalp, and she wrenched her head back with a cry. Her body shook. Her intimate muscles clenched and pulsed around his fingers. Her hips lifted into his face for one last grind against his mouth.
And then she went limp. Her throat cry faded into a soft grunt, another whimper, another oh, God.
Holy shit. He’d done it.
He’d made his wife come.
Holy shit.
She came.
From Gavin’s hands and mouth alone. Thea’s legs went lax on his shoulders as she came back to her senses. “Gavin,” she whispered.
He kissed a path up her stomach. “Talk to me,” he said, voice shaking.
“I want you inside me.”
He didn’t bother shedding the rest of his clothes. Gavin shoved his pants and briefs down and leaned over her. The urgent press of his erection against her still-throbbing vagina sent her hips off the bed in search of the pleasure again.
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “Say the w-words. Say exactly wh-what you want me to do to you.”
“I want you inside me,” she said again.
“Tell me more,” he panted, pressing just the tip of himself inside her.
She lifted her mouth to his ear. “I want you to make me come again.”
Gavin thrust inside her. Fully. Deeply. He buried his erection inside her body, sending a cry of bliss from her mouth.
Thea wrapped her legs around his waist. “I want you fuck me, Gavin,” she groaned, and holy shit, that was the hottest fucking thing his wife had ever said.
She clung to him. “I want you hard and fast.”
She came so suddenly that he wasn’t prepared for it, could do nothing but hold still as she dug her fingernails into his back, until he could hold on no longer and he followed her over the cliff, thrusting one last time with a shudder, a grunt, and the hoarse whisper of her name.
Her muscles turned to noodles, and she went limp beneath him, her hands slipping from his sweat-slicked back to the comforter beneath them. Gavin fell heavy on top of her, every last ounce of strength in his body vacated with his release. Twice. He’d made his wife come twice. He could win the World Series five times in a row, and it wouldn’t feel as good as that.
“Gavin,” she said, turning to press her lips to the side of his head. “Guess what?”
He mumbled a response, his face pressed to the bed.
“I didn’t fake it.”
Gavin lifted his face and kissed her. “Guess what?” he murmured when he pulled away.
“Mmm?”
“Neither did I.”
* * *
• • •
Thea laughed. Gavin rolled over on the bed and pulled her with him until her naked body lay draped across his bare chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her secure and then curled the other up around her head, holding her there, cradling her.
His stomach rumbled. Thea ran her fingers down his abdomen. “Hungry?”
“Always,” he said.
“You want room service?”
“Are you on the menu?”
Thea laughed again. “I’ll get the menu.”
His arms tightened around her. “I’ll get it. You stay in bed and do not take those shoes off.”
“Oh, you like the shoes?”
He rolled them again in one strong move until she was once again beneath his body. He peeled himself off her with a line of kisses down her throat, her chest—stopping to pluck at each nipple with his lips—and farther still to her belly button.
Then he stood with a groan. “Be right back.”
After he left, Thea rose and dug into her bag for his jersey. She pulled it on over her naked body and—
“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?”
She bit her lip and turned around. “You like this?”
“Better than any lingerie on the planet.”
She tugged at the hem of the shirt. “Really?”
“You want to see what’s happening in my pants right now?”
“Yes,” she said, breathless as an erotic thrill shot through her. Where had this confident, dirty-talking man come from?
Gavin dropped the menu and stalked to where she stood. Grabbing her hand, he tugged and settled it over the growing bulge.
“I d-didn’t even know it was humanly possible to get hard again this fast, Thea.”
She licked her lips. “Then we definitely shouldn’t waste it.”
“Definitely not.” He hooked an arm around her waist, dragged her backward toward the bed, and freed his erection.
He sat, pulling her with him until she straddled his lap. With a single thrust, he was inside her again. At the intense pleasure, something took hold of them both, something primal, fierce, unrestrained. Thea burned with a fire she’d never felt before.
His hands slid down to palm her butt cheeks, squeezing and kneading and holding them steady as she used her knees on the bed to lift and lower in an erotic rhythm. She gripped his shoulders, dug her fingers into his skin, and rocked against the hard length of him. His thick, calloused fingers brushed the underside of her breasts and then higher still until her pebbled nipples strained beneath his hurried exploration.
When she looked down, her hands on his shoulders, he met her gaze with a hungry, possessive fire.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped. Then he tore open her jersey, sending buttons flying, and leaned forward. He took one hard nipple into his mouth. Thea let out a cry and tilted her head back, her hands threading in his hair to hold him there. He lavished each breast with attention, sucking and licking until the pressure between her thighs became unbearable.
Thea lowered back down on his erection. He wrapped his arms around her and they clung to each other, moving and groaning. Thea widened her legs to go deeper, to thrust against the hard walls of his stomach.
The deep, guttural sounds he made filled her with an erotic satisfaction that she never knew she possessed.
“Fuck, Thea,” he groaned, grinding against her. His hands dug into her ass. And then he spanked her.
Holy shit.
Thea froze and looked down at him. “Did you just spank me?”
“Uh, did, um, did you like it?”
“I think so. Maybe, maybe you should do it again to be sure.”
Gavin said something that sounded like holy muddy-mottled wagtail, which was weird, but she would have to figure it out later, because his hand spanked her again.
“Oh, God, yes.” He did it again. “Yes, I like it.”
Her body exploded in color and sensation, and as she rode it out, he joined her until he fell back against the bed with a surprised look on his face.
She laughed as she gazed down at him. “I’ve come three times, and you haven’t even taken your pants off.”
“Honey,” he panted. “We’re just getting started. I have three years to make up for.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
He made up for it.
Once more in bed.
Once on the floor in the outer room after finally ordering room service.
At three o’clock, when she woke up from an exhausted slumber to the feel of his hands on her breasts.
At six o’clock, when she woke him with her hand on his morning surprise.
After that one, they slept like the dead.
When she woke up next, she found him staring at her from his pillow, a tender look in his eyes and a sweet smile on his lips. He reached over and brushed the hair from her face. “Morning,” he whispered.
“Hi.” She yawned. “What time is it?”
“A little after ten.”
She mmm’d in disappointment. “We have to check out soon.”
“I know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was thinking that maybe after we pick up the girls, we could stop and get our Christmas tree.”
“We could decorate and make hot cocoa.”
“Let the girls watch a movie.”
She kissed him softly. His forehead rested on hers. “I’m afraid to leave this bed.”
Warmth spread through her chest. She hated to leave this bed too, but she looked forward to what came next. “Our bed at home is better.”
He covered her mouth and kissed her senseless. A little while later, she snuggled, warm and sated, into the crook of his arm. “Let’s go home, Gavin.”
Courting the Countess
Irena was right. Balls were a horrid, stuffy affair. And not just for all the reasons she disliked them, but because society’s rules for some bizarre reason prohibited a husband and wife from dancing with each other more than once.
Benedict wanted her in his arms. Now. Always. Everything had changed since the night he finally opened up to her. Her innocent touch and hesitant kiss had lit a fire, and though he would have been willing to wait longer, she consummated their marriage at long last. Making love to his wife was so transcendent an experience that he resented the very appearance of the sun every morning.
“Latford.” A hearty, heavy hand slapped him on the back.
Benedict turned away from watching his wife to find his friend, the Viscount Melvin.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Melvin said.
“Why?”
“Your last appearance among the ton left quite an impression.”
Benedict didn’t want to think about that. He’d thrown his wife to the wolves and naively thought she was strong enough to fight them off with sheer will alone.
“I daresay you’re making an entirely new impression tonight,” Melvin mused.
“Why’s that?” His eyes strayed once again to Irena.
“It has not gone unnoticed that you have all the appearances of a man completely besotted with his wife.”
“I am.” A strange giddiness that felt entirely unmanly but completely freeing lifted his chest. “I am a happily married man, my friend.”
“And I am glad to hear it. Just be careful, Latford. Not everyone is forgiving.” He nodded toward the group of women where his wife had been standing.
Just in time to see Irena dash away.
Benedict followed in the direction he’d seen his wife disappear. To the outside world, she would have appeared fine. But he knew her better, and something was wrong. It was in the tight line of her lips, the way she clutched her hands to her stomach, the quick steps in slippers she despised.
He found her in the library.
Of course.
He closed the heavy door behind him. The click of the latch was the only sound in the room save a soft, uneven breath.
“Irena?”
He found her sitting on a straight-backed chair facing the massive hearth on the other side of the room. She looked small against the imposing velvet piece. But not just in stature. She looked defeated. “Are you unwell?”
He crouched before her and covered her hands with his. They were ice cold. As was her gaze.
“Irena, what is it?”
“What could possibly make a man and wife despise each other to the point that they abandon their own child just to avoid being in the same house?”
The Bromance Book Club Page 24
