Playing for Hearts (100 page)

Crista's breath caught. He shifted his pelvis and placed his cock at the entrance to her sex. Bracing himself with both arms, he held himself still.

“Tell me what you want.” His hips moved and he teased her with his length.

“You,” she whispered, lowering her arms and raking her fingernails along his ribs, down his sides. “Forever.”

He smiled and gave her an inch. Her legs spread apart more, giving him access. Every cell in his body screamed to plunge inside of her and take everything she was offering. But he held back.

He wanted to enjoy every second, make it last forever, and give her everything she wanted. “What do you need?”

“You.” There was no hesitation. Her hands pulled on his biceps, trying to push herself onto him more. “I need you—” she panted “—inside me.”

One more shift of his hips and he was farther inside of her. He closed his eyes an extra beat, luxuriating in the pulse of her muscles squeezing, kneading, caressing him. It was almost too much.

“Who loves you?” he whispered, shocked to hear the
thrumb
in the base of his throat of his heart pounding.

She slid her hands around his neck, pulling herself off the bed, and kissed his mouth. A soft, gentle kiss that carved her name on his soul. When she pulled away with small kisses, easing herself down until she looked up into his eyes, she said, “You do.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, plunging into her balls deep.

Crista's eyes fluttered and she gasped. The scene before him was an erotic dream. He plunged into her and rolled, taking her with him, until she straddled his body and sat on top. His hands went to her hips, holding her there.

“Show me how much you love me, sweetheart.” He lifted her up an inch to get her going.

She planted her hands on his chest and lifted her ass, until the head of his cock was the only thing remaining inside her body. She sucked in her lower lip and caught it between her teeth. Her whole body trembled and he had a hell of a time not putting his hands on her to impale her back on him.

“Do you want me?” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

“Fuck, yeah,” he said.

He held his breath, waiting for more of her heat to encase him. In the slowest, most painful pleasure possible, she lowered herself on him. His fingers tightened on her thighs, holding her in place.

She moistened her lips. “Do you need me?”

He nodded, unable to find his voice and having to clear his throat. “Absolutely.”

Her nails dug into his skin. His legs stiffened and the blood pounded in his lower half, numbing him to anything but what she was doing to him.

“I don't … need to ask anymore.” She plunged all the way down and leaned forward. With her lips upon his mouth, she whispered, “I love you.”

He growled, unable to take anymore, and captured her lips. His hands went to her ass and guided her movements. So slick, hot, and tight she fucked him.

Crista cried out, a whimper of pleasure, and went limp atop him. He rolled her over and thrust once, twice, three times, and held himself deep inside her as he climaxed. Light exploded behind his eyes as his body rocked against her, one jolt after another. And then, before the world stopped spinning and the shockwaves wore off, he kissed her with everything he was feeling.

Several minutes passed, and he finally found the strength to shift his weight onto one arm and roll to the side. His fingers tangled in her hair, now dry from her shower. He took in her beauty, her contentment, and he swore if he had to kill himself making love to her every hour of every day, he would die a happy man.

Two days later, Crista stood in front of the open doorway of her apartment. She hefted her bicycle onto her shoulder and faced Bruce. He wanted to talk, and she needed to train.

“So, you're going to move in with me?” he asked.

“I gave you forty-eight hours, and have only taken minimal time to exercise, just so we could spend more time together. Why didn't you ask me that question before I'm heading out the door?” She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “Later, okay?”

“Later, we'll be having sex.” He put his shoulder to the door and crossed his arms. “Let me hire someone to come and pack up your apartment. You can take care of your clients and rearrange for someone else to take over your job in the fitness complex. The plane leaves tonight, so we're running out of time.”

She swallowed. He'd asked her three times in the last two days to move in with him, and until now she'd been able to distract him without giving him a straight answer. She wasn't ready to make a life changing decision when the Ironman was coming up in a few months. She had to find another job, and she had clients that depended on her. There were too many people relying on her, and though she knew this would be her last Ironman, she had no idea what she was going to do afterward or where she could get hired to do what she loved.

“We already made plans to live together, but I need time. I have a lot to do and a lease … ” she said. “Please. We'll talk later.”

“We leave tonight.” He raised his brows. “I can't leave you here.”

“Why not?”

His jaw hardened and he glanced down at the floor. “I need you, sweetheart.”

His confession wrapped around her heart and penetrated her doubts. She shifted the bike, which was digging into her shoulder. “After I put in a few hours training today and clear my head, I'll discuss how we'll move in together. Right now … I can't think past what you did an hour ago.”

His gaze snapped to hers, and his lips softened. She smiled at him. He'd challenged her by saying he'd never had sex with a woman who was standing on her head. She'd proven to him and herself it was totally possible when the woman is strong enough to hold herself up by her arms and a lot shorter than the man. She kissed him quickly. “I'll see you later.”

She escaped before she could change her mind and tell him she wanted to move in with him more than she wanted to compete. To do that would be admitting defeat. She was worn out and tired of the constant training. It also made her doubt everything she thought she believed in. How could she be sure she was doing the right thing by moving forward with Bruce if she changed her mind about a lifelong dream? What if she decided Bruce was a better friend than lover in a few months or a year?

She was not a quitter, but her thoughts were more about ending her career and starting in a new direction. For some reason, she couldn't wrap her head around giving up.

She punched the elevator button harder than necessary. Her head was going to explode if she didn't get out and get in her zone.

“Hey, Crista,” Janelle called out.

Crista's shoulders sagged and the bike cut into her muscle. “Hey back.”

Janelle strolled down the hallway on five-inch pumps, even though it was only seven o'clock in the morning. Crista took in her cocktail dress, her immaculately made up face, and the waves of hair cascading over her shoulders. No doubt, the woman never needed to sleep.

“I was wondering how you're doing?” Janelle hitched her hip and planted her hand on the bony angle. “I haven't seen you around, and your boyfriend hasn't come out of the apartment in two days.”

The elevator doors slid open. She stepped in between them, trying to make her escape without telling Janelle anything about her private life. “We've been busy. I'm late for training. I'll catch up with you later.”

She stepped through the doorway and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed and Janelle stayed on the other side. Just thinking about Bruce wanting that woman and what they could've done together irritated her. She snorted. Irritated was too mild a word. Janelle plain pissed her off.

Too late now, Bruce was hers, and Janelle was out of the running.
I win.

Ten minutes later, limber and warmed, she threw her leg over the bicycle seat and stopped. The hair on her nape tickled her.

A Velcro pouch attached to the handlebars was not there the last time she rode, and she never put anything on her bike. Clean lines meant everything to keep the bicycle wind efficient. She opened the flap and pulled out a cell phone.

Before she could decide where the phone came from and what it was doing on her bike, it vibrated in her hand. She looked at the screen and read the incoming text.

It won't ring and bother you on your ride. Call if U have an emergency or need me. Or if you feel like it. Ride safe
.

She looked away from the phone and scanned the beach across from the apartments. Satisfied that no one was watching her, she tapped the screen and smiled when a small keyboard popped up. She texted back.
I don't ride with a phone.
Two seconds later, Bruce typed:
You do now. Don't want anything happening 2 U
.

She smiled and held the phone to her chest. Her stomach fluttered and she had the wild urge to laugh. No one had ever taken care of her before. Sure, Bruce in his best friend status had tried, but this was different. It was good.

She typed:
Thanks. I mean that.

He ended their conversation with a smiley face, so unlike Bruce's rough and gruff exterior, but so like the man she'd gotten to know in bed. She slipped the phone back in the pouch, shaking her head at how mushy she was feeling over carrying it. He always bugged her about going out of the apartment without her cell, and no matter how many times she explained that she had no use for one, he never gave up.

Now because they had sex, he thought he could get away with bullying her. She hopped on the bike and pedaled. She'd give herself one mile to get her head in the route and wipe the contented smile from her face.

Maybe it was okay to be thrilled with the overbearing attention from a man. He supported her and only wanted to protect her. She liked the attention, obviously, going by her happiness. Maybe she could find a way to move with him too …
shit
.

He'd never even mentioned in which one of his houses he wanted them to live together. How could she leave when she had no idea where she was going?

She adjusted her gears and left the boardwalk, heading toward the hill on Seventy-Eighth Street. Later, after her ride, she'd have all her answers, and really, it wasn't so much the what, if, and buts that needed to be settled. She was okay with anything he wanted to do within reason and in a responsible time frame because he meant the world to her.

Her feelings went beyond friendship or sex. He was her soul mate. He understood her needs better than she did, and deep down, she enjoyed having him shouldering some of the things for which she'd always been solely responsible. Maybe that's what she'd been training for her whole life and why lately she'd been feeling unsettled—because she was tired of being single. She wasn't striving for independence or to be the best but to fill her life with someone she loves. She put more power into the pedals and leaned forward on her bike. She liked the thought of being a couple.

For her, it was only him. It'd always been him, even before she realized he was the one she wanted. She'd tested the dating scene before, and everyone she'd met lacked that one thing she desired. Bruce saw past her tough exterior and treated her like the woman she was—the woman she hid from everyone else. A woman he wasn't afraid to stand up to and make feel cherished.

She no longer had a decision to make. Her heartbeat increased and the endorphins kicked in. She wanted to be with him, and she'd be flying out with him tonight. Decision made.

She shifted to a lower gear and stood up on the pedals, putting her leg muscles behind the force getting her up the hill. Her mind cleared and she focused on what was ahead. Left, right. Left, right. Inhale through her nose, exhale out her mouth.

For the next twenty miles, she lost herself in her mental zone. Nothing existed, and it was pure contentment.

A hundred feet from the top of the last and longest five-mile hill, a hiss followed by a drag on her back tire brought her to a stop. She planted her feet on the ground and looked behind at the bicycle. Her inner tube slowly deflated, leaving her rim on the asphalt.

“Shit.” She climbed off the bike and carried it over to the grassy area on the side of the road, well away from traffic, and next to the cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

She flipped the lever under her seat and pulled the whole apparatus off. She peered down into the frame tube and frowned. In the chaos of the last few days, she'd spaced on replacing a spare inner tube and pump back in its hidey hole.

A car drove by without stopping. She looked down the hill at how far she'd ridden. Running the twenty-six mile distance back to the apartment would be possible if she didn't have her four thousand dollar bike to carry. The first thing she taught others while training was to protect themselves from injury. She did not need to tweak her shoulder or throw off her pace because she was stupid enough to leave her spare parts at home in the corner of the living room.

Her only course would be to hike to the top of the hill, find the nearest phone, call Mr. Fredrickson, and have him …. She squealed, remembering Bruce's gift of the cell he'd fastened on her bike. “Oh, Bruce. You rock hard, honey.”

Delighted over Bruce's thoughtfulness, she quickly retrieved the cell and dialed her home phone. Disaster turned to excitement because now she could go back and spend the day with Bruce and hit the pool after dinner to do extra laps to make up for her failed bike ride.

The phone stopped ringing and a familiar feminine voice said, “Hello?”

Her back stiffened. Had she pushed the wrong button?

“Janelle?” she asked.

“Yes. Hang on a second.” Janelle spoke to someone in the background, and Bruce's voice came across the line, answering her.

Crista pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen. No, she'd definitely called her home phone and not Janelle's phone.