Playing for Hearts (99 page)

Crista laughed on a sigh and collapsed flat on the bed. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

He rolled to the side and pulled her into the crook of his body, wrapping his arm around her waist. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “I pictured you smooth and charming in bed. I never imagined you'd like it rough and fast.”

“What about you?” He changed the pitch of his voice. “Yes, Yes, Yes,” he mimicked her earlier words.

She rolled onto her back and looked at him. “You're asking the girl who'd rather swim the Pacific Ocean than lounge in a pool. I prefer to run twenty-six miles in one event than jog around the block every morning. My bike doesn't have a basket and a bell on the handlebars, honey. If I'm going to fuck you, I'd rather win the prize after it's over.”

He'd found the love of his life.

He kissed her forehead and pulled her tighter, and even though he was exhausted and not quite ready for round two, nothing curbed his happiness. He chuckled against her hair, holding her to his chest. She laughed, and soon he'd lost control again and joined in the amusement. He couldn't wait until they were living together.

Three giant ropes, twenty-five feet long with a diameter of three inches, weighing approximating fifty pounds waved in motion across the room. Crista stood in between the ropes and clapped her hands. “Good job, guys. Next.”

Her next three clients moved forward, picked up the end of the rope, and began the up and down motion to get the ropes undulating against the floor. Crista glanced over at Bruce. God, he was sexy.

He talked on his phone quietly, not disturbing her class, but she was aware of him. Full of energy, she put her feet together and jumped over the ropes, grinning at Bob Lackey, who was struggling to keep momentum. She enjoyed her classes, and the extra time to work out meant faster progress for her, too.

“Ten more,” she called out, continuing down the line, jumping as if the gym workout was a playground routine instead of some serious exercise. “Five, four, three, two, and done.”

The ropes fell to the floor. Bob stumbled back and leaned against the wall. She walked over and planted her hand on his chest, making him stand up straight.

“Inhale through your nose, out through your mouth.” She dropped her arm. “Take your pulse.”

She paced in front of the room. When ten seconds passed, she said, “Record.”

Bob said, “One hundred-two.”

“Better. You've improved, Bob. By next week, it'll be down in the double digits. Good job.” Crista gazed at Linda and raised her brows.

“Ninety-five.” Linda accepted Bob's high five.

“Excellent.” Crista moved on down the line, adding four more motivating replies.

After four months, they were all at different levels, but the core group worked well together. Where one person lacked motivation, the others provided the boost. She handed out towels.

“Now you've got two days off. Follow your set program on your own. Remember, I will be able to tell if you slacked off and so will your records … the heart doesn't lie. This isn't about me, it's about you. The only way you'll succeed is to keep pushing yourself. It's much easier to look back and be proud of how far you've come than it is to regret the time you lost.” She smiled. “Class dismissed. See you on Monday.”

She moved away, heading toward Bruce, when Bob stopped her. She touched his arm. “Yes?”

“I want to thank you.” Bob pulled his T-shirt from his chest and fanned the material. “In nine months, I've lost fifty pounds, and while most of the people in our group are training for marathons, I needed to do this for my daughter.”

Crista tilted her head. “Your daughter?”

Bob nodded and his smile grew. “I was headed to an early grave, fighting obesity and a long line of ancestors who struggled with Type 2 diabetes. We had our daughter later in life, and I want to watch her grow up, walk her down the aisle, you know … ”

Crista nodded. “I understand, and you should be proud of yourself. What has got you this far in your journey is determination?”

“And stubbornness,” Bob added, chuckling.

“That always helps, too.” Crista laughed.

“Anyways, I wanted to say thank you and let you know I signed up for a 5k. I know it's nothing like a marathon and I can walk or run. It's just a community fundraiser to clean up the beach, but I'm going to finish the race. That's my goal.”

“That's excellent.” Crista hugged him, slapping him on the back before letting go. “There is no race that's too small. Leave a message on the bulletin board in the office, and I'll make sure I'm there at the finish line to cheer you on, okay?”

Bob grinned. “I'd like that a lot.”

Her client walked off to the locker room. She smiled on the way over to Bruce, and now that they were alone in the gym, she wrapped her arms around his waist and waited for him to finish his phone call.

“No, the blue tackle box, and make sure there's extra line in there, too.” He ran his hand down her back, finding her bra strap and sliding his finger underneath. “Both the fifty and forty pound weight nylon ones.”

She squirmed, tickled from the light touch. It'd been five hours since they'd made love. Touching him intimately, discovering where he liked her hands, her lips, her legs fascinated her. She was discovering another side of Bruce that she hadn't known, and she liked everything she found.

“Okay. Talk to you after I land.” He disconnected the call and kissed her upturned lips. “All done?”

“Yep.” She moved back. “Thanks for understanding that I had to work today.”

“I get it.” Bruce picked up her duffel bag. “But now I have twenty-four hours with you all to myself, and I'm not sharing you.”

She rolled her eyes. They'd been over her schedule and she'd given him as much of her time as she could allow. “You have four hours with me and then I'm hitting the beach and going for a six mile run. Care to join me?”

Bruce stopped walking. “You're trying to kill me.”

“Not at all.” She hooked his arm and pulled him out of the gym. “You've got stamina.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, pushing the elevator button with his free hand. “I'm about ready to prove it as soon as we get up to the room.”

She stepped into the empty elevator. “Oh yeah?”

The doors slid shut. Bruce dropped the bag and had her plastered against the side of the elevator before she could stop him. Not that she would've tried.

“Mm … ” She nibbled on his lip.

His hands went to her ass and lifted her up until she was straddling his waist. He supported her weight, and she sank her hands into his hair. Her breath caught, and time stopped.

The bell dinged, announcing their arrival to her apartment floor. She groaned and kissed him quickly, before wiggling off him. She was insatiable when it came to him.

“Cruel, honey,” she whispered. “Who's the one teasing now?”

“Smart ass.” He swatted her ass. The door slid open, and she pranced in front of him and right into Janelle who stood outside the elevator door. Crista stumbled back. “Oh, God. Sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going.”

Janelle used her finger and tapped underneath Crista's chin, forcing her to lift her head. “Head high, shoulders back, and carry yourself with confidence … try to walk with feminine prowess and seduction. Then you won't have these little mishaps that always seem to happen to you.”

Fury, hot and all-consuming, raged inside of Crista. She fisted her hand and brought her arm back when Bruce snagged her wrist.

“Let's go, sweetheart. Time's wasting.” Bruce hustled her down the hall and into her apartment.

She turned on him behind closed doors. “Why did you stop me?”

“I didn't want you to hurt your wrist.” He tossed her bag. “Have you ever punched someone before?”

“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I wouldn't have cared if it hurt me or not. I can't stand her, and she's only getting worse since you came to stay with me.”

“Well, we did play her,” he said. “She might be a piranha, but I'm sure even they have feelings.”

Crista gawked at him. “Are you defending her?”

“No.” He reached for her and she slapped his hand away. “I'm just saying it's best if you stay away from her, sweetheart.”

She glared. “Fine. Then you go punch her for me.”

“Right.” He laughed. “I've always had a rule that I don't put my hands on any woman.”

She snorted, turned around, and over her shoulder said, “Good rule. From now on, that goes for me, too. Hands off, Coldwell.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she yelled from her bedroom.

She stripped out of her clothes and headed to the shower. Women like Janelle were bitter, conniving bitches. She turned on the hot water. Worst of all, Bruce had to witness her humiliation. Nothing like having the woman he'd desired point out everything Crista was lacking. She was not a supermodel and never would be. Nobody had to shove it in her face.

Bruce scratched his head and gazed down the hall where Crista disappeared in a huff, unsure whether to follow her or give her a few minutes to calm down. Women had mystified him growing up, and they continued to baffle him as an adult. Especially Crista because she'd always seemed to be above the petty sniping women threw at each other.

She never acted upset when Shauna or Diana teased her. Hell, even Angie and Dana fell right into being friends with Crista as if they'd known each other for years. But something about Janelle rubbed Crista the wrong way. They were too different to have ever been real friends.

He walked toward the bedroom, paused outside the bathroom when he heard the water running, and continued into the room. He fell onto the top of the bed and rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand. There was only one way to put things back on even ground for Crista.

Heaving himself off the bed, he stripped off his clothes. Then he made the bed, closed the drapes, and tossed a condom on the pillow. He hesitated for a second and threw a second condom on the bed, too. Exercise always made Crista hot, and just seeing and touching her got him hard as a rock.

The bathroom door clicked open. He turned around and strode to the door, so when she entered the room, he was right there. She glanced down at his cock and reached out to the doorframe to steady herself.

He flexed his chest and grinned. Oh yeah, he still had it.

“That's unfair.” She unknotted the towel between her breasts and let it slip to the floor.

“All's fair in love and war, sweetheart.” He scooped her up and carried her to the bed.

He laid her down unrushed because he wasn't insensitive. Whatever Crista was upset with Janelle about, he planned to rectify her worries. He slowly turned her to face him.

“There's something special about the times when it's just us.” He linked his hand with hers, and lay face to face. Her leg draped over his, he felt more comfortable than he'd ever been with any other woman. “I like this.”

“You do?” She placed her head on his arm.

He kissed her forehead. “Yeah.”

“Me too.” She sighed. “You're warm.”

“You're chilled.” He untangled his fingers and rubbed his hand down her bare arm. “Soft. So damn soft.”

“Cocoa butter,” she mumbled.

That was the scent that he could faintly smell. He inhaled, wanting to absorb the soft, light fragrance. “It's good.”

“Better than Janelle's scent?” She lifted her head.

He studied her, and only found curiosity. “Y… es.”

She laid her head down. He was getting nowhere with her. She kept everything bottled inside under a tough exterior. It was almost as if she was jealous of Janelle.

“Stop thinking about Janelle,” he said.

She shifted her leg and shrugged. “Kind of hard not to when she's determined to put me down in front of you every time we run into her, and it sure seems as if that happens a couple times a day.”

He sprawled his hand on her hip and pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest and her sex cradled his thigh. He growled at the warmth permeating his skin and ducked his head to nibble on her neck. “Forget about Janelle.”

“Hm … ” Crista caressed his shoulder. “Make me.”

Never one to back down, he rolled until he was settled between her legs and took her nipple in his mouth. Sucking on the hardened bud, he rubbed his length against her sex lightly. Crista's swift inhale sent his heart hammering in his chest. A quiet but fierce need to calm her soul and make everything right in her world settled into passion.

Crista grabbed his hair, dragging him up. He stared down into eyes that shone with her arousal. “Janelle who?”

He grinned and dove for her neck. A skim of his tongue, a nibble from his lips, and he found the heat coming off the curve of her body where her collarbone protruded. He latched onto her skin, sucking gently, wanting to mark her. The act was juvenile and egotistical, but she was his and he wanted everyone to know.

Crista's hand went between their bodies. He sucked in his breath and his toes curled at the firm grip on him. Her fingers worked their magic until his balls tightened and he grabbed her wrist, dragging her arm above her head.

Her gaze nearly stole his breath in its intensity. Without letting her go, he used his other hand to touch her. The softness of her skin, the fragileness of her petite size compared to his was a map of a land he wanted to discover. His fingers slid over her flat stomach, her pubic bone, and between her legs. He shuddered in pleasure as the heat and wetness coated his finger.

In tiny circles, he paid attention to the nub peeking out between her folds, begging for his touch. He opened his mouth to inhale more air. The room grew hotter, and his muscles were hard and demanding, working to stay in control.