Games We Play (28 page)

He was leaning over her now, his head in the crook of her neck, breathing hard. She moaned again at the unrelenting movement of his hand playing her in its soft but relentless pursuit of her orgasm, made stronger by him pressing forcefully in and out of her body. It was too much. She moaned.

“Say my name,” he whispered against her lips a moment later. Her eyes popped open as another moan escaped her lips.

“Say my name,” he said, still at her lips, his eyes open and staring into hers even as he moaned.

“What?” she whispered, not really getting what he was asking.

“Say my name,” he said, lifting his upper body away from hers, his hands on her hips as he began to thrust harder into her, only to pull out slowly and push back in.

“My name. I want to hear you say it,” he said as he moved into her.

“Barnabus,” she said.

“No, wrong answer,” he said slowly, and lightly slapped her right butt cheek—not hard, but it felt incredible coupled with the forceful thrust of his hips into her.

“Say my name,” he said, quietly, matter-of-factly, as he thrust into her again, his head next to her ear now. She was having a hard time remembering her own name, let alone his.

“Barnabus,” she said, and felt the sting from his hand on her other cheek this time. As he pushed into her again, her feet left the floor completely, his hips pushing her upward. She moaned.

“Bar,” she said, more a pant followed by a moan, ’cause he’d started to set a faster rhythm, and God, he felt so good moving in and out of her, lifting her hips off the desk with each thrust.

“Say it.” He grunted out the words this time, breathing heavily now, panting as he continued to move in and out of her body. His one hand had returned to his spot in front, playing her like some instrument as he thrust hard into her, in and out and in and out and in.

“Say it,” he said, louder than he’d meant to, his teeth together, trying to stave off the climax that was starting to build.

“Say it,” he said, and she was moaning now, continuously, and in time with his thrusts. He slowed down, put his mouth over hers, catching her moans, giving them both a moment, and then he went back to playing her, bringing her to…oh God, she was coming hard, moaning in his mouth, trying to pull away from his hand. She pushed her hips back into him just as he thrust hard, hard, harder into her, and she came, calling out his name.

“Cooper,” she shouted as she reached her climax.
God
, she thought, and he pushed into her again, then out, faster now. He needed both his hands to hold his body upright, they were now beside her head, and he thrust into her again, lifting her off her feet, moving her forward on the desk before she slid back down, only to have him push her up again on his next thrust.

“Please don’t stop,” she said, not done yet, his grunt and moan his only response. And then he was silent, concentrating, she guessed, as he continued to thrust his hips into her again and again, and she was coming again, with him this time. “Cooper,” she said again, upon his one final, hard push into her body before he leaned over her, groaning his release into her hair, his body stiff with his climax. He held himself over her for a second or two before he sighed again, coming to rest on top of her body. He laid his head on her upper back. She could feel his stomach against her as his lungs expanded and contracted, seeking air. He let go of a smaller moan, and his body shook a little, some residual pleasure.

“Cooper,” she said, and he laughed, and she loved the way his stomach touched her back when he did that.

It went quiet then, their strained breathing the only sound in the room. He stood up, helped pull her up into an upright position. He pulled her into his arms and held her, arms locked around her waist, his head in her hair as they both sought to regularize their breathing.

“All summer, huh?” she said, and smiled, leaning up to touch her lips to his.

He smiled. “All summer.”

She kissed him again and he pulled her close, giving her mouth more time and attention. He finally pulled back and smiled again.

“Bathroom,” she said.

“Sure,” he said, pointing to the one in his office. Watched as she stepped out of her jeans, picked up her shirt, and carried them with her. He kept his gaze on her until she closed the bathroom door behind her.

He stood staring at the desk for a second. He’d never done that before. He reached for his keys when he was done setting his clothing to rights and waited for her. In less than five minutes, she stood next to his desk, looking pulled together and fresh, like nothing had happened. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. If she was surprised by his actions, she didn’t let it show. He locked up, and five minutes later, he was parked in front of Myra’s home.

“You don’t have to walk me in,” she said, stopping him as he opened his car door.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” she said, standing on the outside of his truck now, holding his gaze through the open door. “Until later?”

“I’ll be in touch,” he said.

She smiled and made her way to the front door. He watched as she opened it, letting herself in. He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it.

He drove away, his mind one big swirl.
Damn
was the only word that would stay put in his brain, all of his other thoughts long gone.
Damn
at that the surprise of her stripping and standing in front of him, nude and beautiful.
Damn
at the way he felt inside her, moving, and at the end—a more perfect climax he’d be hard pressed to find. Damn, ’cause he couldn’t shake the image of her lying on his desk with that beautiful ass in the air, reminding him of a ripened peach for some reason, and all for his private viewing pleasure.

He could still feel the smoothness of it, and his fingers twitched like they were remembering too. He shook his head, trying to free his mind of that image, but nope, there it was again, front and center, pushing everything else to the back or the side, or wherever there was room.

He ran his hand over his face, turned into his yard, and cut the ignition. The whole summer lay before him, with her all in and game too, the professor, an unexpected surprise, an unexpected something. She was Kendall now, and he was Cooper.
No more Barnabus
, he thought, mentally patting himself on the back. He’d done an excellent job of putting that to rest.

And it wasn’t just about sex. She wanted friendship. She wanted to know him. He’d had fun at the stupid tournament that had turned into more than even he’d imagined. He liked her, like the way she treated her aunt. He liked how she just fell right in, went with the flow, like she’d been a part of this town for a while now. He liked—no, he
loved
—how she stood up to him and challenged him.

He sobered up a little at that thought. A summer of her getting to know him, the parts he was willing to show her at least, and maybe more…well, it had been a very long time since he’d let in someone new. Not all of who he was and what he’d done in his life was fit knowledge for everyone. A summer fling wasn’t the person with whom you should share your deepest, darkest secrets. Those were reserved for the
one
, someone he could trust to not run scared, appalled.
Kendall had the makings of the
one, a flickering, fleeting thought in his brain.

He rubbed his hand over his upper left arm, the place where he kept a reminder of who he’d been before Myra and George had stepped in and helped to change the course of his life. A rescue for which he was eternally grateful, and his reasons for helping Myra do whatever she asked of him. He pushed those more serious thoughts aside. He would enjoy Kendall for the summer if it killed him, and if tonight was any indication, it just might.

Fourth week of June, Sunday morning

“What happened?” Lark asked. She and Kendall sat on the couch in the back room, the TV tuned to some station that neither of them was watching. Everyone had awakened to the smell of breakfast cooking. The smells of bacon, coffee, and some bakery-like flavor had made Lark and Kendall follow their noses to the kitchen, where Aunt Myra, who was one hell of a cook, moved around the kitchen.

Myra and Butch had gone to church following breakfast, leaving Kendall and Lark home alone.

“Any buyer’s remorse?” Lark asked. Her sister always cut straight to the point.

“Nope. I like him. We talked last night about getting to know each other as friends. He’s too close to Myra for us not to know more of him, right? We both seem to want this, and we’re consenting adults.”

“Do you think you could live in a town this size?” Lark asked. She’d seen Cooper and her sister, watched the way they looked at each other, and it would be what it would be. She was willing to wager her savings that they would be together.

“I don’t know, maybe. But I don’t expect it to get that serious.”

“But if it did. Austin is not that far away from here, and you could rearrange your teaching schedule. You wouldn’t have to drive every day if you didn’t want to.”

“I do like it here—the people are friendly and I love what Myra and her group does, looking out for the town like they do. Her philanthropy feels personal, and most of the people I’ve met believe in looking out for their neighbors. That attitude is something I’d like to see in my partner, which is part of the reason Houston and I didn’t work out.”

“What if this Cooper turns out to be the man, the one you’d hoped Houston would be? Would you consider living here then?”

“I would. But I’d slow down if I were you. He doesn’t trust women any more than Houston did. Plus I like my home, my job, and my life in Austin.”

“You never know,” Lark said.

“If it goes that way, then it goes that way. But it’s not my intention. Anyway, that sort of planning would be something Vivian would do. I am going to enjoy the summer, and for once, I’m just going to enjoy a man, getting to know him without worrying whether it will lead to something more. I won’t have to interpret his every action, or he mine. All we have to do is enjoy. You know?”

“If you’re sure.”

“Believe me, I’m so sure,” she said, smiling.

M
onday morning Hank sat cooling his heels in the waiting area of the city hall. It was nice here—it had been remodeled after he left town. What had once been a small, two-story building that housed the jail and all of the city’s businesses had been transformed into the town square. Three buildings, shaped into a squared C configuration, surrounded a small area that held a fountain and benches for seating.

He was seated in the waiting area of the middle building, here to visit to the mayor. The administrative assistant for the mayor and the city manager sat at a desk in the corner. It was the only desk in the room; all the rest of the furniture were chairs and a small sofa. Not many people stopped by, he guessed. It was located just off 1341, across the street from the Coopersville Brewpub.

Barnabus Lee Cooper, his old friend, was the owner and proprietor—no, make that president—of the cooperative. Coop was the youngest son from that family of vultures, working to be a new type of businessman, not anything like his daddy and granddaddy before him, which was a good thing in his book.

Hank took a breath and smiled, his way of calming his nerves and putting a pretty face on the emotions that being back here evoked. He was here to offer a proposal that would change the face of this town if approved by the city.

Coopersville had been a home to him once. He’d spent the first part of his childhood wishing to be someone else’s son, a dream that had never materialized. He’d hated living here after that, and he’d spent his high-school years a very angry young man. Revenge had been his fuel, and it had helped him become a prosperous businessman. The image of Cooper Two broke and suffering, dying alone, had helped him become richer than even he’d imagined.

“Mr. Ryder? The mayor is ready to see you now. He’s in the first office down the hall,” the assistant said, interrupting his musings.

“Thank you,” he said, following her directions.

Juan was the mayor now. Hank vied between laughing out loud and feeling proud that a person who had once been another good friend had reached such a lofty position. It used to be the four of them—Juan, Luis, Coop, and him—growing up, all antic-filled boyhood fun until it wasn’t.

Hank stepped into the mayor’s office and found Juan sitting behind a desk, ear glued to the phone. His office looked out over the city-hall square through a nice-sized window that took up most of one wall. No hiding in here from the citizens. Hank could see the fountain in the middle of the complex and Cooper’s pub across the street. He stood at the door and waited.

“Yes, yes,” Juan said into the phone. He smiled at Hank and waved him in with his free hand. “Yes,” he said one final time before placing the telephone back on its receiver.

“Hank Ryder,” he said, hands and arms spread open, matching his smile as he stood to greet him. “How long has it been?” Juan asked, striding over to meet him at the door.

“Twelve years,” Hank said, placing his hand in Juan’s.

“Well, that’s way too long,” he said in that lyrical way of his, a hint of the Spanish he’d grown up speaking. “Have a seat.” Juan pointed to one of the two chairs placed in front of his desk. “How is life treating you?”

“Good. You?”

“Everything’s good here, man. Hell, I’m the mayor,” he said, laughing. “I remember, you and me, us…ah…youth. Those were the good old days.”

“Some of them were,” Hank said, and smiled. “How’s your family? How’s Luis?”

“Good. Neither of us are married; we’re still holding out for the right women.”

“Cooper?” Hank asked.

“He’s fine, not married either,” Juan said, losing a little of his smile.
Ah, some things never change
, Hank thought, watching Juan, and his smile tempered now.

“So what brings you to town?” Juan asked.

“I’m here on business,” Hank said, pulling out a small leather portfolio from his briefcase. He handed it to Juan.

“It’s a proposal that I would like to present to the city,” Hank said, watching as Juan opened the folder and began reading the contents. It took him about five minutes to make it through the major points.