by Amy Andrews
He grinned at her apparent confusion. “I didn’t mean for food.”
And he tugged the sheets all the way down, sliding his body over the top of hers, kissing the midpoint between her breasts before heading south, his hot tongue leading the way. It was hard to gather her thoughts as his head slowly disappeared.
To her belly button. And further still…
It was then she realized his intended target. “No.” Her heart rate spiked, her hands flew into action, inserting themselves between his face and her pelvis, crossing them over to form a barrier.
He glanced up, a smile playing on his mouth as he rested his chin on the back of her upper hand, his fingers digging lightly into the flesh of her hips. He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t like?”
Eleanor would love to have an opinion to express, but given she’d never had a guy go down there, she was a novice. She’d heard a whole lot of sisterly girl talk about it and consumed enough media to be intrigued. The material she’d read on pornography in the nineteenth century and the photographs she’d stumbled across when researching lingerie of the era had left her positively agog.
But she wasn’t exactly well…groomed. She’d never really seen the point. Who was there to care out here? The cattle didn’t care whether she had a Brazilian or not. And she didn’t think in an area where males significantly outnumbered females that the men in these parts would be terribly picky.
But she’d read enough gossip magazines to know that city women took care of that shit.
“It’s not exactly…” Dear Lord, she did not want to be having this conversation. His warm breath flowed over her hands and whispered against her belly. “Vagazzled down there, if you know what I mean. I wasn’t expecting…”
Crazy hot rugby sex.
Hell, if she’d known what the gods-of-good-long-suffering-virgins had in mind for her tonight, she’d have buffed her muff until it shone.
“You,” she ended lamely.
He laughed. “Vagazzled?”
Eleanor blushed. That was the word all the in people were using, wasn’t it? She’d read it in a magazine somewhere. The familiar frustration at being out of step with her contemporaries stirred all her nerd girl insecurities.
“You can laugh.” She huffed out a breath. “But I’d bet my last cent the type of women you usually—” God…she couldn’t even say it.
“Go down on?”
Eleanor didn’t bother to confirm or deny, she just ploughed on, wanting the embarrassment to end. “Are all waxed and…bejewelled.”
“Vagazzled and bejewelled.” Laughter shone in his eyes.
God, where was a decent-sized hole to fall into when you needed it?
“Au naturel might have been all right in the eighteen hundreds, but not today. And I hate to break this to you, but I can’t exactly walk into the one and only beauty therapist here in town, who, by the way, knows my mother and plays the piano at church every Sunday, and ask for my pubic hair to be fashioned into a landing strip. Monica is sixty-three, it would probably give her a heart attack. She thinks a bikini wax is a mortal sin.”
He didn’t bother holding his laughter back anymore, belly laughing with gusto. His warm breath caressed her stomach, goose bumps breaking across her flesh in its wake.
“I’m sorry.” He half choked, trying to rein in his laughter. “I’m picturing how Monica might take it if a dude walked in and asked for some manscaping?”
Eleanor snort laughed. “I’m pretty sure there’d be some holy water involved.”
They laughed together this time but, when it settled, they were still back at square one, her hands still crossed in front of herself. He nuzzled the back of her hand for a moment before his gaze wandered up her body and settled on her face. His fingers crept from her hips to her wrists, attempting to gently prise them apart.
Eleanor locked them tight.
“Open Sesame.” The low authoritative streak to his voice and the steady, determined glint in his eyes breathed life into the pulse beating between her legs. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
Eleanor swallowed. She didn’t doubt it for a minute. “Maybe I should just go and have a quick shower?”
She’d showered just prior to the party but she had experienced a mind blowing orgasm since then. Things were not only a little overgrown but a little…slippery, too. She could smell the aroma of their sex clinging to her skin and the musk of her arousal floating on the air.
Surely he’d appreciate it a little less perfumed down there?
“Fuck no.” His instant gravelly denial was sexy as hell. “I’m already salivating for you.”
To prove his point he pushed his nose at her closed fingers and inhaled deeply before raising his head again and looking at her with a steady, steely determination. “And if you think I’m letting you up from this bed, then you’re crazy.”
He tugged her hands again, and again she resisted. A small knowing little smile—sexy as hell—heated things up behind her belly button and between her thighs. “There are two things I do really well, Eleanor. One is tackle, the second is giving head. Trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of the first but you do want to be on the receiving end of the second.”
It was breathtakingly conceited, but damn if it didn’t turn her thighs to jelly and melt her resistance like a blowtorch to an ice cube. Hell yes she wanted the second.
Her breath hitched as he tugged again and this time she let her hands fall away. That small smile broadened as the barriers to his further sexual exploration disappeared. “Good choice.” He held her eyes for a beat longer before dropping his gaze.
Eleanor’s heart pounded as he stared at her, his gaze fixed so intensely she wanted to squirm. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he half whispered, half muttered, his low breath caressing the flesh of her inner thighs. He shifted down some more to get a closer look, his shoulders easing between her legs, parting them wider.
“So pretty.”
Her cheeks heated as he continued to look his fill and when she couldn’t stand it a second longer, she reached over and flicked out the light. His warm chuckle vibrated against her slick folds, and she shivered.
“I don’t need the light, honey, I can make you come like this blindfolded with both hands tied behind my back.”
Eleanor had no doubt. Just as she had no doubt that she’d orgasm in about ten seconds flat. But she’d come a long way tonight and was so far out of her comfort zone she might as well be on another planet. Bodie doing this to her as well seemed downright greedy and thoroughly, wickedly debauched.
It seemed like it should be done in a very dark room.
Eleanor was so tense, waiting for his mouth, her muscles were at screaming point. The warm flow of his breath stirred her flesh, and she bit back a whimper as she ground her pelvis into the bed instead of his face.
He made a noise that was half groan, half growl. “Jesus, you smell intoxicating.”
The taut string of Eleanor’s anticipation snapped. She wasn’t a woman who was pushy in bed. Clearly—she’d been a virgin until half an hour ago! And being introverted meant she didn’t usually push for what she wanted. But if he didn’t stick his tongue where he’d been boasting he was going to stick it very soon, she was going to spontaneously combust.
Her heart hammered as she dared to push. “Why are you still talking?”
She registered his low laugh for two seconds before he buried his face between her legs and her pulse shot into the stratosphere.
“Bodie!” His name was torn from her throat as his tongue immediately found its mark, pressing hard and relentless over the screamingly sensitive bundle of nerves.
This was no gentle exploration, no slow tease, no lazy build. This was quick and hard and fast. This was about the destination, not the journey, and Eleanor sunk her nails into the balls of his shoulders and hung on for dear life.
She panted and moaned, writhing against his face, his hands two hot brands holding her hips in
place. Every time she jerked in his hold, he held tighter, pressing his tongue harder until the first ripple of pleasure hit the back of her thighs in very short order.
“Oh…God…Bodie.”
He didn’t reply, groan in encouragement, or lift his head. He just doubled down, sucking the taut bead beneath his tongue into his mouth. Eleanor cried out as the hard edge of his teeth proved just the right stimulus to trip her into the fullness of her climax.
Pulse hammering through her skull, she sunk her nails into his shoulders, gasping as the hot wave of pleasure flushed between her legs before rolling through her pelvis and buttocks and belly. It exploded like fireworks and sizzled like lightning through her system. Popping and fizzing, leaving her spineless, leaving her breathless, leaving her dazzled.
Leaving her spent.
Leaving her wondering how in the hell she was going to live without having Bodie and his magic tongue on tap.
Chapter Four
Bodie woke the next morning with a smile on his face and a dick hard enough to smash diamonds. Unfortunately, he was also alone. The thought Eleanor might just be in the bathroom was comforting until he rolled to his side and felt how cool the sheets beside him were.
Nothing but the lingering trace of orange blossom.
Well shit…that wasn’t how he’d planned on waking this morning. He’d wanted to feel her soft, warm body draped against his. He’d wanted to touch and stroke her in the morning light filtering in around the edges of the heavy hotel curtain. He wanted to bury himself inside her one last time, then figure out how soon she could get to Sydney and see him so they could do it all over again.
He laughed out loud. It was absurd to be feeling so damn…giddy about a woman after such short acquaintance, but Eleanor had made a lasting impression—and he wasn’t just talking about the nagging pull in his groin or the nail marks on his back and shoulders.
Although a woman who came loud enough to shatter the windows in the room did tend to swell a man’s head.
Both of them.
It was her softness and her lack of…guile that drew him. Her genuine surprise at his interest and her nervous prattle about Victorian hypnotists made him smile even now. It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone who didn’t want something from him. Who didn’t even seem to know who he was.
And that could be seriously addictive.
Bodie rolled on his back with a sigh, ignoring the persistent erection demanding to be serviced. How it was so damn perky this morning after last night’s smorgasbord, he had no idea.
He smiled to himself as he thought about laughing and talking with her into the night, the darkness and post-coital euphoria encouraging her to relax and open up. She told him about her lifelong obsession with everything Victorian, her collection of books on the monarch and the era as well as her collection of historical romance novels. And all about Queen Victoria’s Closet, her online vintage dressmaking business.
He’d talked about rugby. A much easier subject than anything more personal, although rugby was pretty damn personal. She seemed conversant enough in it to make conversation, but she didn’t ask him about his stats or his pay cheques or his endorsements.
Which was a breath of fresh air.
Instead, she asked him what else he would have done had he not played footy for a living, and if he was ever scared on the field, and how often his body hurt. Hell, not even his mother had asked him if his body hurt.
A real breath of fresh air.
And to have a conversation with a woman where his net worth and his rich-ass family weren’t mentioned was so damn good he’d kissed her for it at one stage and then they hadn’t spoken for quite some time.
In fact, they’d had sex two more times, because keeping his hands off her had proved to be impossible and she’d been so damn eager.
Bodie rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, wondering about tracking her down. He made a mental note to ask Ryder about her. If she was local, too, and lived out his way then Ryder must know her.
He stood at the vanity and inspected himself in the mirror, his gaze drawn to the livid scratch marks on his left shoulder. He twisted around to view his back, noting the double set of scratches, one on either side of his rib cage. They’d all scabbed and the skin around the edges had pulled taut.
Man. She’d really dug in there. Like his groin strain, he’d barely felt them at the time, but they were tender this morning.
His stomach growled and he headed out to the main room to dress.
Maybe Eleanor was downstairs eating. You never knew your luck in a small town, right?
He saw the note as soon as he neared the bedside table, and his heart skipped a beat as he grabbed the paper and sunk onto the mattress. It was written in a beautiful, feminine flowing script that could almost be calligraphy, and it made him happy just looking at it.
Nothing bad could be delivered in such a pretty hand, surely?
Bodie,
Thank you so much for last night. I had an incredible time. You are an amazingly generous lover and I will never forget the hours I spent in your arms.
I only ask that you don’t tell anyone what happened between us. I know guys like to brag, but I feel that my brother, in particular, may not be so keen on a blow by blow.
Goodbye and thank you. I will always remember the day the city came to the country.
Eleanor (Nell) Davis
Bodie blinked. Apparently, pretty writing could pack a real punch. Like a sledgehammer to the gut.
Holy. Fuck.
Eleanor was Nell? Nell Davis. Ryder’s sister, Nell.
He’d slept with his best friend’s sister?
Jesus. He was going to hell. Best-friend’s-sister-fucking hell. He’d broken the code. Unwritten. Unspoken. But very fucking ingrained. You didn’t bone a teammate’s ex. Or his mother.
Or his sister.
Pretty simple rules, really. And no real hardship. There were plenty of women out there more than willing to be with a rugby superstar. Steering clear of a few was no problem. And yet, somehow, Bodie had managed to screw it up.
Jesus.
Disbelief was starting to morph into irritation as unease pitched through his stomach. Why the fuck hadn’t she told him who she was? The warm buzz that had flowed through his veins since he’d woken evaporated. Every thought and feeling he’d had about Eleanor melted away. She’d known who he was all along.
Had she been playing him?
She had to know what this would do to his and Ryder’s friendship if it was to come out. What that kind of disruption could do to the team dynamic. Had she put on some clueless female act so she could sink her hooks into him? Was he some kind of ticket to the city for her?
He hadn’t got that vibe, but…
Another thought, born from the gnawing worry that had been there since Anna had left, struck. Did she know about his family? About his trust fund?
Fuck. Had he just fallen for the biggest honey pot scam ever? If it was, the goodbye and thanks for the memories letter was an interesting ploy. But she could be playing the long game.
Thank Christ he’d worn condoms.
He shook his head. No. Hell no. Eleanor—Nell—had seemed too damn genuine. He’d approached her for God’s sake. She’d have still been there trying to disappear inside that plant if he hadn’t made the first move, he was sure of it.
God, was his radar for scheming women really that far off? It had taken a huge hit since Anna, but still…
He stood. He had to find her. Had to talk to her.
It took Bodie about fifteen minutes and one overheard conversation in the dining room to ascertain that Eleanor had left the building. She’d hightailed it back to Shady Gums, the Davis family cattle property, at five in the morning.
Were they the actions of a woman who was planning on using him as a meal ticket? He wouldn’t have thought so.
But he still needed to talk to her.
He got the opportunity about half an hour late
r when he spotted one of Ryder’s sisters heading to the buffet unattended. Liza? Lisa? He couldn’t remember off the top of his head.
Damn it, if he’d remembered the names of his best friend’s sisters a bit better, he wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.
“Hey Lisa.” He sidled up beside her, and she smiled in acknowledgement. So…Lisa it was.
“Hey Bodie, great game yesterday.”
He nodded distractedly, wondering how to approach the subject but knowing he had to be quick. He wasn’t sure how long he’d have her alone in a crowded dining room full of people who all knew each other. “I was wondering if you could give me Nell’s—” He stumbled over the name. She’d always be Eleanor to him. “Mobile number?”
Lisa stopped serving herself scrambled eggs, the spoon paused halfway between the plate and the buffet. She blinked at him, clearly startled by the proposition. “You want Nell’s number?”
Ryder’s sister was a pretty blonde, very attractive, but her obvious incredulity pissed Bodie off. Why he should feel so defensive and offended for Eleanor after she’d lied to him and ruthlessly slept with him, he didn’t know. But he did.
“I was chatting with her last night about some Victorian stuff—”
Lisa interrupted with an eye roll. “Sorry about that. I hope she didn’t bore you to death?”
Bodie stiffened. “Not at all.” Still, she shot him a pitying smile. “I was telling her about this dress my family has in a First Fleet collection and she wanted to know the details, but I heard she’s already left?”
“Ahh. That makes more sense.”
Lisa resumed her activity like the world had suddenly been righted and life could continue. Like some old dress was the only reason a guy would be interested in her sister. But Eleanor was sweet and soft and passionate, and that made her ten times more attractive than her sister.
“Well, I’m not sure if she’ll know what to do when she gets a call from a guy, but she does love an old frock.”
Lisa quickly rattled the number off. Bodie tapped it directly into his phone, thanked her politely, then headed out the front door to call Eleanor in private.
