Game Saver (7 page)

Cade waves his hand up for the waiter and gives him his credit card to settle the bill.

I’ve been on dates before, but this date—I mean, dinner—has been an education, a torture session, and drawn-out foreplay all in one.

Cades leg slides against mine sending tingles
everywhere.
My body is a dirty slut needing her next Cade fix—preferably involving a warm meat injection from the man in question. I used to have a ‘take it or leave it’ attitude when it came to sex. After spending that second night with him, I’ve turned into an addict with Cade being my drug of choice.

“Your eyes darken when you’re turned on,” he says quietly, his foot inching higher beneath the table.

Two can play at this game. I slip off my black patent pump and glide my foot up his leg, running my toes along his inner thigh before resting lightly on his straining cock.

He slouches down in his seat, pulling his leg sideways and pushing my foot firmly against his hard-on. A flex of my toes sees him groan, his eyelids going half-mast. “We
really
need to get out of here, otherwise I’ll be dragging you to the bathroom.”

“I will if you will,” I shoot back.

He growls under his breath, his expression turning predatory. “Let’s go.”

“Your credit card?”

“Let them keep it.”

“Cade!” I say on a laugh. “I’m sure you can wait five minutes for the waiter to come back.”

He gets up from the table and walks over to me, stopping in front of me and holding out his hand.
Guess he really is in a hurry.

“Just saying, this gentleman act of yours is
totally
working for me.”

“Give me twenty minutes and you’ll be the one working me.”

I’m coming off a long shift and making my way to my car in the hospital staff parking lot when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I swipe the screen and bring it up to my ear. “Hey Mom.”

“Caden,” she says warmly. “Can you talk?”

My mother never shortens my name. I’ve always been Caden to her; Cade is the name reserved for my father.

“I just finished my shift and am about to drive home so yep. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she replies. “I wanted to check in with you to make sure you have a suit for your father’s fundraising dinner next week.”

My father, Cade Carsen II, will announce at his ‘fundraising dinner’ that he is running for mayor of Chicago.

This isn’t a closely-held secret. In fact, it’s been rumored in the press and political circles for weeks now. Unfortunately for me, that means that my sister Callie and I are going to be called upon on a regular basis over the coming months to join him at campaign events.

My brother Cameron—the lucky bastard—gets to miss out on all the fun because he’s currently stationed in Afghanistan. Of course that doesn’t stop my father from using him for political fodder .The three Carsen children—a doctor, a lawyer, and a soldier—have all provided him with the perfect family image.

I may be a little resentful, but that’s only because my parents are all about reputation and perception. It’s not what they can do for you but what you can do for them.

We had a good childhood—it’s just that it was steeped in high expectations and pressure to excel. It’s probably why Cameron enlisted at nineteen—one reason, anyway—and has served two deployments so far.

“Yes, I have a suit, Mom.”

“I was talking to Emily Gregory’s mother a few days ago. She’s going to ask Emily if she’ll be your date for the evening.”

Emily is a family friend and was my high school girlfriend for all of two weeks. That’s how long it took for us to realize we had a) nothing in common, and b) were not interested in anything more than friendship. As we’ve gotten older, we’ve become more acquaintances than anything else.

“Mom, I already have a date for the dinner.”

“You do?” She gasps. “Do I know her? Who are her parents?” Her voice is a high-pitched shrill and I can’t help but grin, knowing that Mom won’t like my answers to her questions. “You don’t know her.”

“And you’re in a relationship with her? How come I don’t know about this?”

“It’s new.”

“How did you meet?”

Shit.

“Through friends.”
Kind of true.

“You should introduce her to us beforehand. You could bring her to the house this weekend, make sure she knows what’s going to happen during the campaign.”

The words “hell no” spring to mind right about now. “No need. You’ll meet her at the dinner.”

“But—”

“Mom, no. Just stop,” I say with a laugh. “She’s nice, and I like her. That’s all that matters, surely?” I don’t mention that I
really
like banging her brains out, though.

“Oh,” she says, her voice now cold. “Will we be seeing you this weekend then? I know your father would want you to visit.”

“I’m working this weekend, Mom. I’m sorry.”

I almost hear the Stepford wife persona click into place. “That’s okay, dear. I know how busy you are. We’ll catch up next week at the dinner when we meet your lovely new girlfriend. What was her name again?”

“Abi. Her name is Abi.”

“That’s a lovely name. What’s her family name?”

Shit. Um. How the hell don’t I know that?
Think, Carsen.
“You’ll meet her next Saturday, Mom. We’re both really looking forward to it,” I lie. “But I’ve gotta go. I’ve just gotten to my car and I’m beat. I’ll call you next week.”

“Okay, dear. I have to call your sister now anyway. Take care.”

“Bye Mom.”

“Bye Cade.”

I hop in my car and realize I really do need to find out more about Abi if this ruse of ours is going to work at all. Putting my cell in my Bluetooth cradle, I pull out of the parking garage and head towards home. I press the button on my steering wheel to activate my phone and say “Call Abi” to the car at large. Moments later, the sound of the call connecting fills the cab just before she picks up.

“Hey. For what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Don’t talk about owing pleasure you less you plan on following through, Spitfire.”

“I’m not the one who doesn’t follow through. Need I remind you of that little teasing manoeuver you enacted before dinner last night?”

I chuckle, remembering how fucking amazing the sex between us was last night once we got home from the restaurant. I was so hard that I could barely walk straight, let alone wait until we got back to her apartment. That was why I’d shifted my seat back, she’d hauled herself into my lap, and we proceeded to dry-hump each other into explosive mutual orgasms in the parking lot of Chicago’s swanky restaurant.

“I can’t help it if I believe in delayed gratification. I was motivating you to get through dinner and take me home.”

“Is that right?” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“I also thought you might’ve been nervous so I figured it would distract you.”

“Oh, it distracted me alright. I couldn’t think straight.”

“You seemed fine at dinner. Especially afterwards.”

“Are we talking about the frottage in the car, the blow job in my elevator, or you turning me into a contortionist on my dining table?”

“Hmm . . . I can’t remember. We might have to do a step-by-step reconstruction to jog my memory.”

She laughs, low and husky, a sound that reaches down and wraps itself around my dick.

“Are you at work already?” I ask, having a brilliant idea of swinging by her place for a quickie.

“Yeah, I’m sitting in my office.”

There goes that plan then.

“Is the door closed?” I ask, a rather nice image of Abi taking care of herself in her chair and describing it to me in vivid detail flashing through my mind.

“Cade . . .” she warns, but her tone is not cutting. There’s a vein of amusement and a raspy undertone running through it.

I chuckle. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave.”

“Good, because after last night’s efforts, I can still feel where you’ve been and that’s had me at level five all day. You instigating phone sex in my office when I can’t do anything about it for eight hours is just cruel.”

My mouth goes dry, and my groin tightens. “You can still feel me?” I ask gruffly, thinking phone sex is a fucking fantastic idea as I scan for the next exit.

“Cade, my vagina has had more of a workout in the past week than it’s had in the ten months between visits.”

That
grabs my attention. “Ten months?”

“Shit,” she mutters. “Forget I said that.”

“There’s no way I’m letting you out of this one. Are you saying you didn’t sleep with anyone else after me?”
Why the hell do I like that so. fucking. much?

“I was busy! Doesn’t mean I didn’t give my toy chest a good workout.”

“Yes. The toy chest. Guess what just got scratched onto our to-do list?”

“You mean the to-do-me-with list?” she says with a giggle.

“That too.”

“Cade. This conversation is worse than the prospect of phone sex.”

“You’re telling me. I’m on I-55 and contemplating the merits of pulling over to jerk off and whether it’s worth the risk of a standing vehicle violation.”

That earns me a giggle. “I vote that it would totally be worth it.”

“Maybe if you were the one with your hand wrapped around my dick.”

“That can be arranged next time we see each other, Doctor Hottie.”

I snort. “I don’t know if I want to ask where that name came from.”

“I actually can’t remember. Might’ve been something Dani and I came up with one night.”

“You talked about me?”

“Um, hello? I’m a woman. We talk about
everything.
”

“Everything?” I ask, my interest now very much piqued in what the word ‘everything’ might entail.

“When you’re with your girls, nothing is off-limits,” she says.

“Oh to be a fly on the wall . . .” I muse, and she bursts out laughing.

“Seriously, you really don’t want that. The things that can come out after a tequila or five would blow your mind. So I’m guessing you’ve finished for the day?” she asks, wisely changing the direction of the conversation.

“Yeah. Just wanted to check in with you since I wasn’t very talkative at five a.m. this morning.”

“I thought for sure you’d be a morning person but every time I’ve woken up with you, you’ve barely been human until after coffee.”

“Even barely human I still gave you a double orgasm before leaving.”

“Oh believe me, I’m not going to forget that special talent of yours any time soon. But remember, no sex talk while I’m at work.”

“Spoilsport,” I reply with a grin.

“I’m just being smart. If I give in to my curiosity of just how well you can give phone sex, then we’ll need to carry it through, and although I haven’t been opposed to getting down and dirty on company time in the past, with you I think that it would be putting myself through cruel and unnecessary torture. I much prefer the real thing.”

There’s something about meeting a woman who doesn’t play games. After growing up in a world where game-playing is paramount to success, I really like spending time with Abi outside of the bedroom. I groan, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Ah Cade, you hanging in there?” she asks with a giggle.

“Believe me, there’s nothing hanging anywhere right now,” I grind out.

“Poor baby,” she says mockingly. “If I was there I’d totally lick it all better.”

“Not. Fucking. Helping, Spitfire.”

“Think of it as payback, Dr. Carsen.”

“What for?”

“In the past week I swear you’ve given me internal chafing. Is there such a thing? Because I swear to God you fucked me so hard my vagina is in desperate need of downtime between orgasms.”

“I know for a fact that you can give just as good as you get.” I
really
wish she wasn’t working right now.

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that. It’s just that with your magnificent ability to give orgasms, I’m scared the next one you give me could very well kill me.”

“What a way to go, though,” I muse.

“You’re telling me,” she replies. “So did you really just call to check in?”