Game Plan (9 page)

“Definitely not cripple, but I like the idea of having you confined to a bed for a few days. Also, you’re damn sexy when you talk about fucking.” He tore into one packet and handed her the goods. “Put it on.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have a cock. Feel free to go back down there and conduct another search, though.”

“What, I wasn’t thorough enough the first time?”

“You missed a spot.”

A groan slipped out, even though he tried to keep his cool. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Because it sounded like an invitation to play with her ass. No man in his right mind would refuse that suggestion, not with Andie, who had a fucking phenomenal booty. Round and firm with skin he wanted to touch for hours. He closed his eyes, pictured spreading her cheeks, feasting his eyes. Touching her. The sound of her moan as he worked his finger inside her in preparation for bigger and better things. Shit, he couldn’t, not this time. Thinking about it had him at the edge. Any attempt at the real deal and he’d lose it altogether.

“Don’t think that you have to…” She turned away, burying her cheek in the cushy blanket. “I mean, I know that not everybody wants to do stuff—back there.”

“Are you kidding me?”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. Her chin quivered when he touched her cheek. A little stroking across her smooth skin and he coaxed her to look at him. Those eyes, so honest. And damn if he didn’t see insecurity lurking there. Unbelievable.

“Babe, every guy wants to do things
back there
, especially when their lady is beautiful and sexy like you.”

“Not every guy,” she whispered.

No way. That explained the stammering and the timid eyes. Fucking moron, her ex. “This guy does. I’m ready to explode just from thinking about your sweet ass. From thinking about every part of you. Your soft, sweet-smelling hair, those delicious pink lips, all the way down to your red toenails.” He rolled to his back and eyed the condom in her hand. “Put it on me.”

The simple act of her holding his cock at the base made him suck in a breath. Gentle and tentative as her touch was, it launched him into a worse state. He barely fought back the urge to thrust up into her hand. To pump until he came in her fist.

The hand with the condom wavered above his cock. “Do these things come with instructional diagrams, because I’ve never done this before.”

Some women did adorable, some were sexy. Andie pulled off both at the same time.

“I’ll help.” Electricity flared between them when he put his hand over hers. “Pinch the air out of the tip, like this. Now put it over the head and roll it down the sides.”

“Is this good?” she asked while smoothing the latex along his shaft.

Good—fuck, it was great. Sensations assaulted his system, even with the damn condom buffering her touch. His balls clenched. Mouth went dry. The best he could do was nod and pray she noticed. His plan to draw things out, give her a couple of orgasms before sinking himself into her? Yeah, that was history.

“Climb up here.”

She swung one shapely leg over his chest. Centered herself over his throbbing cock and brushed her heat over the tip. She lowered slowly—holy fuck, was it slow—taking him inch by agonizing inch. Heaven swallowed him whole. Her muscles squeezed him, amplifying every pulse of his cock. Baseball. If he thought about his swing or the batting order, maybe he’d last until she hit bottom. Hell, he hadn’t been wound this tight since he was a teenager.

She ground herself onto him in deep, deliberate circles. “You feel so good inside me.”

The words were real, and that made them hotter than any forced dirty talk. For a few seconds he simply looked up at her. The sensual line of her neck, the fullness of her tits, the spot where her waistline dipped in and her hips began their sexy outward curve. Fuck, she was beautiful. Natural. Totally relaxed with her sexuality. A rare combo. One he could get used to, easily.

Her back was smooth and soft under his palms as he guided her forward enough to catch one nipple in his mouth. The soft little moan she made went straight to his cock. He tipped his hips, thrusting, driving his pubic bone against her clit.

“Oh god—that—I—” Her voice was a throaty whisper, the disjointed words proof of her pleasure.

He was ready to come. Too fucking soon, but knowing she was on the edge with him zapped the last of his control. He pulled her down, mashed her tits against his chest. Then it was warm lips, desperate tongues, clashing teeth. Anything to get closer. He cupped her butt. Swiped some lube from their fucking and eased the tip of one finger into her ass. And fuck, did she welcome him.

“More,” she whispered between kisses.

Hell, yeah, he’d give her more. He pushed deeper, and was rewarded by the sexiest fucking moan he’d ever heard. It filled his head, rang through his body, made his balls clench with need. He thrust hard, burying his cock to the hilt. Andie writhed on top of him, eyes closed, sweet lips parted and gasping. No turning back now.

“Babe, I’m gonna come.”

“Uh-huh. Please…yes.”

His pulse pounded in his ears, he wouldn’t have heard a parade go past, but he was completely tuned in to her soft voice, answering. Telling him what his senses already knew—she was already there. He let go, joining her in the best feeling alive.

She lay plastered to his chest, unmoving and silent, until he started to pull out. “I wish you could stay.”

What the hell? Did she sense that he was the type to fuck and run, or was she politely telling him to split?

“I suppose it’s nature’s part in the whole male anti-cuddling thing.”

Now he was really lost. “How’s that?”

“Post-sex slippage. No matter how much I put my Kegel exercises to use, I can’t keep you in there.” She sighed, rolled off to his side and propped up on one arm. “There, you’re free.”

So she wasn’t booting him out. Good. He made a quick trip to the bathroom to deal with the condom, then slid onto the bed, facing her.

“Here I am, ready to cuddle. What’s your preference, face-to-face or spooning?” The sound of her giggle stirred his cock. When she turned her back to him and nestled that sweet ass against his hips, every drop of blood in his body changed course to southbound. He cruised one hand over her curves and down to her sweet spot, eliciting an approving moan. They weren’t going to get much sleep tonight.

Chapter Six

Mason expected Andie’s designer kitchen to have a high-tech, fancy coffeemaker. Gourmet beans from some obscure mountaintop plantation. Instead he found a plain, stainless-steel kettle—the old school, stovetop kind that whistles—and a jar of instant. Her house oozed pretentiousness. She didn’t seem to have an ounce.

They’d stayed up past two, alternating between fucking and talking. He’d woken at seven with Andie’s face on his chest, her leg draped over him and her hand curled around his cock. She looked beautiful, peaceful and unbelievably sexy. And, unfortunately, not nearly as alert as the part of his anatomy in her grip. So he’d snuck out rather than disturb her. She needed the rest. He had plans for her today. Big ones.

He whisked eggs, chopped red pepper and grated cheese. Found spices in one of the million cupboards and put a large skillet on to preheat. His cell vibrated on the counter as he poured the ingredients into the pan. A quick glance at the screen told him it was the after-hours service, meaning he had a possible emergency to deal with. Maybe he’d get lucky and it’d be as simple as calling a worried client. He stirred the eggs while he called for the details. Damn. A legit emergency, one he had to go in for—now. So much for surprising Andie with breakfast in bed.

He turned off the burner and charged up the stairs, laid a quick kiss on sleeping beauty to get her attention. Pulled on clothes as he explained about the Great Dane with possible gastric torsion, a life-threatening condition that even surgery couldn’t always resolve.

“Oh, no. Can I do anything?”

“Cross your fingers it’s something less severe and be ready for me when I get back.” He leaned over the bed and gave her a deeper kiss than he had time for, given the circumstances. “I made breakfast. I wanted to feed you in bed, but I’ll have to do that next time. Go grab it while it’s hot.”

Her whole face lit up. Damn, he’d love to slide back into bed with her. Push the covers off and settle his mouth between her legs while watching sunlight dance on her skin and pleasure play across her face. He gave his head a shake and pushed to a stand.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said from the doorway. She didn’t answer. Just smiled and waved her fingertips. For the first time in years, he couldn’t wait to get back to a woman, instead of putting distance between them.

* * * * *

Sunday morning dragged into afternoon. No Mason on her doorstep. No call or text. Disappointment set in, despite her best attempts to ward it off. Last night had been the most incredible night of her life. Fun and passion with a ridiculously hot man who’d even made her a gourmet-style breakfast. She had no business expecting anything more to come of it. And yet here she was, foolishly staring at the phone for hours on end.

She jumped when it finally rang, then dropped the handset on the floor. Twice. One more ring and it’d go to the machine. “Shit!” Damn klutz gene was going to make her miss the call. She quickly jabbed the talk button and attempted a sexy yet casual hello.

“I assume that extra-friendly tone was meant for one of your gentleman callers, not me.” Scott seldom let emotion color his voice, but his agitation was obvious.

“Excuse me?”

“I received an email from Judy Fenwick, detailing your run-in last night at the bowling alley. She said you were draped all over some man, and when she came over to catch up with you, you were offensive and raunchy.”

Nasty bitch. “Only by Judy’s standards.”

“And mine, from the account I received.”

“Judy was her usual, obnoxious self. She was rude to me…and my date.” There. Maybe Lasha was right, and he’d put the idea of reconciliation aside now that she’d publicly moved on.

“Irrelevant. I have a reputation to uphold. Your behavior and activities reflect on me, despite the fact that we aren’t married at the present time. I can’t have you talking and acting like a loose woman. You need to be more—discerning.”

The floor probably had a dent from her jaw, it’d dropped so hard and fast. “You make it sound as though I’m running around town with an
open for visitors
sign slung over my hips.”

“Remember the terms of our separation agreement. None of your
visitors
are permitted near Dylan without my consent.”

The lid blew off her barely contained control. “I’ve been out a couple of times with one man. I’m not signing anybody up for stepdad duty, nor am I whoring my way through the city’s bachelor population. There’s nobody Dylan needs to meet.” At first, she took Scott’s silence as a small victory. As the seconds ticked away, she realized the opposite was true. The rat-bastard had gotten to her. She’d told him everything he wanted to know. Worse, she’d fueled his damn hope.

“For the sake of the family and our future, please be more discreet while you’re working through this midlife crisis.”

How could such an intelligent man be so dense? “We don’t have a future. You need to accept that.” The jerk, he actually had the audacity to cluck. “I honestly don’t know what’s worse, Scott. The way you belittled me while I was your wife, or how you think you’re entitled to keep doing it now that I’m not.”

* * * * *

The telephone diagnosis had been right. Unfortunately. The Dane’s stomach was in bad shape and Mason had spent two hours doing everything in his power to correct it. In the end, the dog had needed to go to the veterinary hospital at the U of Guelph, where a team of doctors had saved the gentle giant. But it’d eaten up his entire day, because he’d driven the patient and the distraught owner. Mrs. Anderson didn’t have a vehicle or a license, and the cab fare would’ve been one hundred and ninety-seven dollars. Each fucking way. Not a chance he’d have let them go that route.

By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been too late to head back to Andie’s. So he’d missed out on seeing her again. But their texting, especially the late-night parts that had included a few photos, had given him plenty to smile about.

Hell, he was still smiling.

He tied the last suture on the young Doberman he’d just spayed. Monday’s morning lineup of routine surgeries didn’t stop him from thinking about Andie’s eyes looking up at him while she sucked his cock, or her soft but strong legs wrapped around his back, urging him deeper inside her body. Fuck. Too much detail going through his cerebrum.

His assistant, Sally, shook her head as she helped him settle the pretty Dobie into a recovery stall. His distracted state hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sally rolled her eyes at his grin and went about her duties. Keeping Sally had been part of the deal when he bought the clinic from a retiring vet. A lucky break for him, because she was as good as they came.

He turned and slammed into the clinic receptionist. A friendly girl he’d hired to appease his mother, Cara tended to be away from her post more than she was at it. No lucky breaks there. She’d have to be replaced. One day he’d be able to pay an office manager for stuff like that. For now, the job was his. Owning a clinic had its perks. Having to fire sub-par employees wasn’t one of them.

“Oopsie. Sorry, Dr. Lang.” Cara made a point of straightening any areas she may have wrinkled on his scrub shirt. Not too obvious, was she? “You have a call waiting. Andie Finkle, or was it Finley…”

“Neither, it’s Finch. Excuse me.” He practically sprinted down the hall to his office, shut the door and pressed the handset to his ear. “Hey.”

“Not the greeting I was expecting,” she said on a laugh.

“You’re right. Let me try again.” He waited a beat. “Hey, beautiful. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the past twenty-four hours. I’m in withdrawal here.”