Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) (9 page)

His jaw clenched. “Stop saying that.”

She searched the hallway, watching for anyone from the Ice
Cats and trying to make sense of his anger. They were still alone but they were
pushing their luck. With a sigh, she yanked out her key, opened her door and, with
bitter resignation, lifted an arm in welcome. He stepped in and closed the door
firmly behind him.

He seemed inordinately large in the tiny hallway.

“What are you apologizing for?”

She looked down at her feet and studied her new shoes. They
were cute. And her feet hardly hurt at all.

“Savannah?”

She sighed and moved farther into the room, giving herself
space, some time to try to sort out her words. His coat landed on the corner of
her bed with a soft thump. She kept her back to him.

“For being so crazy.” She hoped he would leave it at that.

“Define crazy?”

So much for that hope.

“You know…yelling. Thrashing around.” She waved her hand
vaguely, not sure how to put it into words without making her mortification
worse.

“Who told you that was something you should apologize for?”

She really didn’t want to get into that.

“Savannah?”

“A few people.”

“Who?” he demanded.

He wasn’t going to let it go, damn it. “A boyfriend in
college. A man I dated for a while a few years back.” She shrugged, wondering
how many others had thought it and not said anything. “I sometimes get…I don’t
know. Ridiculous.”

She jumped when he spun her toward him.

“At no time have I ever seen you ridiculous. You’re one of the
most dignified people I know.”

She gave him her best
bullshit
look. “Really? What
just happened in the limo? You call that dignified?”

Rather than answer, he started to pull off her coat.
What
the fuck?
She batted at his hands, trying to get him to stop, but he wasn’t
deterred and stripped it from her quickly.

He reached for her again and she opened her mouth to
protest, but stopped when instead of trying to divest her of more clothing, he
turned her to face the mirror over the dresser.

He met her gaze in the reflection, his hands gentle on her
shoulders.

“You’re beautiful.”

Forcing herself not to look away, she shrugged, uncomfortable
with his fierce regard.

“And you have terrible taste in men.”

She laughed despite her embarrassment. “That’s a strange
thing for
you
to say.”

His slow smile made her acutely aware she’d just admitted to
something she hadn’t intended to reveal.
Damn.

“I’m proof your taste is getting better. But those other men?
The ones who chastised you for the most beautiful, uninhibited,
honest
response to lovemaking I’ve ever seen? Those guys were a bunch of complete
assholes.”

Savannah smiled sadly and shook her head. Garrick told
himself to be patient, even if every particle of his being wanted to shake some
sense into her.

Ridiculous?
Someone—some stupid fucking
boy—
had
told her she was ridiculous?

“That’s very nice of you to say, Garrick. Thank you.”

He grimaced at her formality. Funny how good manners were sometimes
as effective as a good
fuck you
. She held herself rigid, her arms locked
to her sides, her chin high. He fought a sigh. The buttoned-down professional
armor was back in place. As if she could pack away the passionate woman he’d
held in his arms a few minutes ago.

That was how he wanted her. Always. Anything less than her
true, uninhibited reactions, her honest response, would be selling herself
short. Even if he couldn’t be with her again after tonight because of her
stupid rules, he wanted her to believe her passion was glorious. Not
ridiculous
.

He slid his hands down her arms and back up again, the touch
meant to be reassuring, comforting. A reminder he was there.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m not saying I’m ugly or anything. Just…”

“Every second of what happened in the car was beautiful.”

She sighed. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t placate me,” he warned, utterly failing to keep his tone
gentle.
Stubborn woman.

Her eyes narrowed but he avoided her icy stare, skimming his
gaze over her neck. Her shoulders. The hint of lacy bra through her blouse. His
hands explored, running over her ribs, around to brush her belly. He could only
imagine how soft the skin still hidden beneath her clothing would be.

His gut tightened. His cock, having abandoned its enthusiasm
sometime around the fourth apology, started to regain interest. Quickly.

He held himself away from her, mere inches separating his growing
erection from the long curve of her spine. Once again, he waited to see if she
would make the first move. If she hadn’t been watching his face in the mirror,
he might have laughed at them both. He was generally a take-charge guy in the
bedroom, and here he was with a lovely woman who seemed to enjoy giving over
control. Yet he did nothing.

They had a knack for making things complicated.

He shoved back the growing compulsion to take. To touch and
taste. And focused on making her see the truth. Making her believe it.

“You are beautiful.”

A little line formed between her eyebrows. Was it so hard
for her to accept? He stroked his hands along her hips and belly again and her gaze
focused there. He let his fingers play for a while, holding her attention while
he spoke softly into her ear.

“You should see yourself when you’re in the moment. When you
let yourself go.”

She shook her head, though her gaze never left his hands.

He drew them higher, skimming her torso until his fingers
rested just beneath the curve of her breasts, his thumbs pressing the sides of
her ribs.

Her nipples beaded to hard points, the pull of his hands on
the thin fabric of her shirt emphasizing her reaction to his touch.

She shifted and he held his breath, certain she was going to
move away and send him from the room. His heart skipped a few beats when she
brought her hands to his and pushed them higher, lacing her fingers through his
so that together they cupped her breasts.

His breath locked in his chest as the heavy weight settled against
his palms, her hands warm beneath his, her long fingers offering herself up to
his gaze. He slid forward as she leaned back, their bodies aligning and coming
into full contact.

She gasped and arched her back, rubbing against him like a
cat. The brush of his cock against the top of her ass tore a grunt from his
chest.

She might hate her lack of inhibition in the moment, but she
could not tame it.
Thank god
.

He whisked his thumbs across her nipples until the hard
beads punched through the confines of her bra and begged for more. His fingers slipped
from hers to pinch and tease. She left her hands where they were, holding her
breasts up to him, bold and without shame. As she should be.

Her face was beautiful, lips parted, her eyes heavy-lidded
and fixed on his fingers as they worked her nipples. Her hips worked in a slow,
rhythmic roll against the tops of his thighs, as if searching for the answering
press of his erection, which throbbed with the need to reciprocate. He grasped
her hip, responded to her whimper of protest with a hard pluck to her nipple.

“God, how is this anything but beautiful?
Gorgeous.
”

He drew her back, higher, using his hands to cradle her closer.
His cock lodged against the firm swell of her ass. She jerked, her eyes fluttered
shut and she ground herself back against him.

Jesus, it was so
honest
.

“Open your eyes,” he said softly, his lips brushing her ear.

She stilled and he waited. His thumb lazily skimmed one
nipple.

She slowly lifted her lids, her gaze locked on his. The
dilated pupils ringed in deep glowing green caught him. The pinch of worry
around the edges of those sultry eyes punched into his gut.

“Look at yourself,” he said, his hands roaming over her body
once more.

He slid her blouse from her waistband and ducked his head to
suck the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“Take it off,” he whispered. His tongue rasped over the
gooseflesh on her neck.

“What?” Her voice was breathless. The husky timbre rubbed
along his skin.

“Take your blouse off. I want to see you. I want
you
to see you.”

She looked at him, so damn uncertain. Her hands lifted
tentatively.

He held his breath, his body locked against hers, as she
slid the first button from its hole.

Yes.

She worked quickly, as if once her nerves were conquered,
she had to act before they returned.

The moment the last button came unfastened, he stripped the
blouse from her, then yanked his tie over his head and shucked his shirt in
record time. The cuffs almost gave him a problem, but he managed. He could sew
the buttons back on later.

He turned his attention, his absolute focus, to absorbing
the sight before him.

“Your skin is incredible,” he murmured. Though he’d seen
hints of it in the passing lights of the street lamps, he hadn’t known she was this
fair—a warm mix of pink and cream. The dusting of freckles surprised him and he
wanted to kiss each one. He started at her throat, his nose rubbing under her
chin, his lips moving over the sensitive skin where neck met shoulder.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

He pursued each spot with zeal, all the while watching in
the mirror. She was staring down at her hands, her fingertips resting on the
dresser. The high color on her cheeks increased with every word of praise.
Every kiss. She was not unaffected by his touch, but he could practically hear
her brain working.

He brought her idle hands back to her breasts, fascinated by
the sight of her long fingers framing her white lace bra. The dark circles peeking
through hinted of cinnamon and rose.

“I like it when you touch yourself,” he admitted gruffly.

She shook her head and he sucked harder along her neck.
Bending his knees, he pressed his cock into the valley of her ass.

He couldn’t tell whose moan was louder.

Savannah’s, though, was cut off with a strangled gasp.

He ground against her again and brought his lips back to her
ear. “You can be as loud as you want. As loud as you need to be. I want to hear
it. I
need
to hear you.”

She shook her head, her lip caught between her teeth.

“Yes, Savannah,” Garrick groaned, arguing with her and
encouraging her all at once.

She gasped when the force of their frottage tipped her off
balance. He caught her hips as her hands planted on the mirror. She stared,
wide-eyed, at her own imagine within the frame of her fingers.

“Do you see how lovely you are?”

She studied her reflection as if looking at a stranger.

He tugged the teak pins from her hair and let it tumble down
around her shoulders.

He wanted her to see herself. To see her true face, not the
professional mask she wore all day. He was transfixed by the glossy mahogany
mane flowing halfway down her back. The thick fall of silk framed her face. Its
rich, dark color and her pale skin emphasized her bright eyes and soft pink
lips.

“How can you not see how stunning you are?”

He hooked a finger around the heavy curtain of hair and drew
it away from her face, her ear. He began another exploration of her neck, the
freckles on her shoulder he hadn’t worshipped yet.

She held perfectly still and he closed his eyes, afraid to
see her shutting down. He was determined to bring her back into the moment.

She jumped when he pinched a nipple. His other hand drew down
her side and skimmed over her hip to slip beneath the hem of her skirt and
stroke up the inside of her thigh.

She still didn’t move. His anxiety grew, his mind spinning
with ways to entice her back. To make her let go. He stroked higher, lifting
her skirt.

Her leg shifted and eased into his hold. He smiled against
her skin.

Taking shameless advantage, he brushed his fingers over her
panties. Her whimper rang in his ears. His other hand gathered more of her
skirt and forced it higher, until he could hook his fingers into the strings
running over her hips.

He looked at their reflection and saw how she stared down at
his hands and the delicate fabric covering the junction of her thighs.

“May I?”

“Yes.” The word was barely more than a soft exhalation.

He tugged down on the tiny scrap of lace and she wriggled
her hips, helping him ease them lower. He stroked his palms over every inch of
skin and stocking, admiring her strong calves, the soft curve of her knee.

“Your legs are incredible.”

She made a soft sound, a laugh of sorts. He grinned. Not a
denial. Progress.

He bent to pull her panties off and thought his heart might
explode when she daintily stepped out of them. She left her shoes on, which was
hot. And helpful. The height gave her, them, an advantage he had every
intention of pressing.

He knelt at her feet and she flattened her hands to the
mirror, her ass canted toward him. She looked down at him over her shoulder,
her gaze hot and without inhibition or shame. Damn good thing he was kneeling or
his legs would have given out.

He stroked his hands up her legs, trying to retain what
little grip he had on his control. He was unbearably tempted by the sights
before him—the smooth curve of her ass, the hint of labia in the shadow between
her legs, the shine of arousal on her thighs.

Need gnawing at him, he leaped to his feet, placed his hands
over hers on the mirror, and wrapped himself around her. She was still turned
to look at him and he captured her mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers,
the erotic dance a precursor to what his body clamored to do. For what he
prayed might come next.

Groaning, he broke free of the kiss and used his cheek to
turn her face back to the mirror. Smoky green eyes met his.

“Do you see it?” he asked.

“What?”

“That this—” he rolled his hips against her ass “—is not
ridiculous?”

“No.”

He ran a hand down one arm and cupped her breast. “No,
what?”

Her mouth fell open, her eyelids fluttered as he pinched her
nipple and snugged his erection into the crease of her bare ass.

“Not ridiculous,” she breathed.

He smiled and rubbed his face against her neck, burying it
in her silky hair.

“This is beautiful.” He dropped his hand to her hip and rocked
against her.

She thrust back. Their teasing quickly took on a rhythm.

“Beautiful,” he whispered into her ear.

“Yes,” she groaned.

He pressed his hands back over hers on the mirror. “Keep
your hands here. Don’t look away.”

She nodded. His heart stuttered as he took in the tops of
her stockings accentuating pale, smooth skin, the damp curls in a little V covering
her mound.

His cock lurched. His stomach clenched.

Now. He needed her
now
.

“Please, tell me you have a condom,” he said hoarsely,
regretting his lack of foresight and the blunt question.

She moaned and rubbed her ass back against him. If she kept
that up, he’d go in his pants and the question would be moot.

She shook her head. Garrick’s heart plummeted.

Then her head snapped up. “Wait. Yes!” She plunged her hand
into the girly make-up kit on the dresser in front of them.

She pulled out two strings of condoms taped together with
the words GET LUCKY IN MONCTON written with one letter on each little foil
packet.

Garrick laughed.

“Oh god,” she groaned in obvious embarrassment. “It’s my
friend Grace. She’s kind of a nut.” Her cheeks heated to a deeper pink, even as
she planted her hand back on the mirror and thrust her ass back, forcing another
grunt up from his chest.

Garrick tugged the chain of condoms from her hand and tore a
packet loose. With it clenched by one corner in his teeth, he shucked the rest
of his clothes, leaving them in a heap by their feet. He ripped into the packet,
rolled on the condom, and turned back to Savannah as quickly as he could.

But not fast enough.

In the twenty seconds he’d taken to prepare, to protect them
both, she’d gone from confident to cautious.

He wrapped his arms around her and brought them back into
complete contact. His cock glided along her ass before coming to rest in the
crease, his thighs framed hers, tickled by the lace of her stockings. He curled
his arms around her ribs, pushing her breasts together and enjoying the rough
rub of the lace cups against his biceps.