Playing for Keeps: Harford Scarlet Series (5 page)

She felt the muscles between her legs clench. ‘It’s not going to happen. And that’s it.’ She smoothed down her hair and wiped the moisture from around her mouth, almost sighing at the deliciously male taste of him left on her tingling lips.

‘We’ll be good together, babe.’

‘
Babe?
You can’t even remember my name.’

The door squeaked open and they both turned. The volunteers began filing into the room. Sarah suddenly realised all the slips were scattered on the floor with the damaged box lying on its side.

‘Had an accident, have you?’ asked one of the committee members, Alan.

‘Er … yes. Tom was helping me get the box down and we dropped it.’

‘Ha ha! Well, I hope Tom will take more care with those passes on Saturday,’ teased Mike, the chairman. ‘Our scrum is strong but we can’t be giving the opposition too much ball.’

Tom and Sarah laughed stiffly and, after patching the box back together with parcel tape, bent down to start picking up the slips.

‘I’ll see you in the bar afterwards,’ Tom murmured to her under his breath. ‘We need to finish this conversation. And I know your name is Sarah. Do you really think that little of me?’

Sarah refused to answer or look at him. They filled the box in silence and Tom lifted it onto the table.

He closed the doors to the cupboard, moved the chairs back, and then walked past her, brushing a finger down her spine, out of sight of any observers. He strode away through the door towards the bar. Sarah tore her gaze away from his departing back, released a breath, gathered her thoughts, and turned to the watching committee.

‘OK, I’ve got the compliments slips. I’ll take them home tonight to finish stuffing envelopes. They should be out in the post tomorrow,’ she announced brightly.

‘Er, all right, Sarah. That’ll be fine. Are you OK?’ asked a concerned Mike.

‘Never better,’ replied Sarah. ‘Tom and I were just catching up on old times and got a bit distracted.’ There was a spluttering noise from Alan’s corner. ‘I mean, he was my coach and we were using some of our moves from uni.’ Another stifled laugh from the corner. ‘To get the box down.’

Sarah hurried over to her seat, blushing. Mike cleared his throat and started the meeting. ‘We’ll begin with apologies. Gwyn can’t make it, neither can Rachel …’

Sarah sat in a daze for most of the meeting, only speaking when needed. After Mike tied up at the end, she gathered her notes and coat, made her excuses, and bolted out of the door. Ducking past the entrance to the bar, she almost ran to the gates and turned up towards her street. Only slowing when she was outside her flat, she fumbled for her keys and wrenched the front door open. She slipped inside, then turned and locked herself in. Once the door was secured, she rested back against it, gulping for breath.

She was safe in her little flat. She paced through it, hands touching the oak cupboards in the kitchen, the overstuffed sofas in the cheerful living area, the ornate, twisted metal headboard in her blue-toned bedroom. She smoothed a non-existent crease out of the cobalt quilt cover – the colour of his eyes. A vision flashed of her and Tom naked, twisting on the bed, and her heart leapt.

Her knickers were damp between her legs, the tissues against them swollen. She resisted rubbing there, or at her breasts, the nipples as sensitive as if he had been sucking at them. She had to stop thinking about him, about
them
.

Slowly, she calmed herself down, poured a bowl of cereal, and sat in front of the TV. She tried to immerse herself in a crime drama but the images just flickered past. When she realised, after half an hour, that she’d seen that episode before, she got up and wandered into the kitchen.

The soft tap on the door took her by surprise. ‘Who is it?’ she quavered, her heart starting to race again.

‘It’s Annie, from next door. The postman delivered some of your post to me this morning by mistake.’

‘Oh. OK. Wait a minute.’ Sarah unlocked the door to see her elderly, stooping, purple-rinsed neighbour on the step. The woman handed her a couple of letters.

‘Thanks awfully for bringing them round.’

‘Ooh, I like to help. That young postman doesn’t really know the route yet.’

‘Thanks again. Would you like a cuppa?’

‘No, I’ll be getting back to my soaps. Charlene is dumping gorgeous Gerald in
Sunny Bay
and I can’t wait to see how he reacts.’ Annie giggled. ‘He thinks she doesn’t know about his affairs – fancy that!’

She turned and tottered down the steps, turning to wave goodbye with a grin on her wrinkled face. ‘Just like your young men down the club: not a faithful bone between them but they do make even my heart go pitter-patter.’

Sarah laughed obediently, waved back, and closed the door. Her laughter turned brittle and faded. Annie doesn’t know how right she is, she thought drily.

The second tap on the door didn’t make her leap and she pulled it back open.

‘Ann – Tom! What – how?’

Instead of her neighbour, a well-built, muscular figure filled the doorway. Tom glowered at her as heat refilled her body.

‘You forgot to meet me in the bar. And you also forgot to take the mailing stuff.’

She only then noticed a familiar box in his hands.

‘Mike was worried about you so I told him I’d drop them off as I was passing. He’s posting the ones you’ve done.’

‘H – how did you know where I lived?’ she stammered.

‘Your address is on the club contacts list.’

‘Oh, of course.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you for dropping them off.’ She went to seize the box from his hands.

‘Haven’t you also forgotten what happened last time you put your hands on this box? I’ll carry it in for you.’ He stepped into the flat, heading towards her.

Sarah flushed and backed away from him, coming up against the kitchen worktop. He continued in her direction, dropping the box on the surface beside her. He took a deep breath then placed a hand on either side of her.

‘So, what is making you so wary of me? What have I done since arriving at Harford Park to make you run away from me or ignore me?’

He towered above her, his scent filling her nostrils, her lungs. She stared at his chest as her legs weakened, moving her gaze up to his strong neck and his firm jaw. She noticed a small white scar on his darkly stubbled chin and felt an almost irresistible urge to lick it better.

‘Well, Sarah? Look at me.’ He raised a hand in front of her face to get her attention.

‘I am looking,’ she replied huskily, finally meeting his eyes.

She saw his pupils suddenly widen then his mouth crashed down on hers, his muscled arms wrapping around her as hers went around him. He pressed her back against the counter, reached to her waist and yanked her top off. He pulled back to stare at her heaving breasts, barely contained in a sexy, cream lace bra, then his large, scarred hands came round to cup them. Her nipples protruded against the lace, begging for attention. He caught them between his fingers, pinching slightly, and she gasped.

‘Do you want to stop?’ he dragged out. ‘Sarah, do we have to stop? Otherwise I need to have you; I’m burning to have you. And we can’t stop this time.’

Sarah breathed, ‘Please … please … oh …’ She scrabbled at his waist and he helped her strip off his top. His chest was lightly furred in a diamond shape. She ran her fingers over the smooth skin covering his powerful shoulders and down to his toned, ripped waist. He stripped off her bra and unfastened her jeans, pushing them down to her knees and then off. He lifted her out of them, and while she was held up, rubbed his face on her breasts then sucked each nipple deep into his mouth, alternating between them.

Lightning shot from her breasts to between her legs. Sarah sobbed and writhed, suspended in the air, only able to reach his massive shoulders with her hands. He let her down slowly, rubbing each inch of his body against her, squashing his chest against her breasts until they ached for more attention, more heat, more damp.

‘I was dying to do this earlier. How I kept my hands off you, I’ve no idea.’

‘You didn’t.’ Sarah panted. ‘And if you don’t get your hands on me now, the frustration will kill me.’

She grabbed at his firm, jeans-covered buttocks, pulling the huge bulge into her demanding pelvis. They strained together, both moaning until they realised it wasn’t enough. He slid one hand between them, pressing at her mound as he unfastened the buttons. He moved away just enough to strip off his boxers and jeans in one move and let her pull him in again.

She cried out and he swore as hard met soft and hot met wet. She was soaking through her knickers and writhing out of control. Tom ripped the seams on her hips and pulled the remaining fabric away, making her gasp at the friction on her swollen places. A rough finger pressed inside her and Sarah squeezed him, almost coming. She ate at his mouth and, as his fingers thrust inside her, clasped her own breasts, whimpering.

‘Down,’ he panted. ‘Floor. Must get …’

She let him pull her down to the tiled floor and mewled as his hands left her for a moment to dig in his discarded jeans. There was a rustling of cellophane and she sighed as they returned to her. Her legs slid further open and she pushed her pelvis towards his. He guided himself in, gasping, his hips flexing in slow movements, his buttocks clenching.

‘Take me. Take all of me, that’s it,’ pleaded Tom hoarsely. ‘Relax, sweetheart, let me come inside. God, you’re so tight.’

He stretched her wider and wider; she felt him slide in and it took for ever. He was hot, thick and long …

‘It feels sooo gooood.’ Sarah sobbed. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips and forced him further and further in. ‘More, more, more,’ she chanted.

He froze for a moment, fully in, then his hips undulated again towards hers as he started to move faster and deeper. His muscles tightened and the sweat ran down his body as he held himself over her. Sarah licked and nibbled at his chest and neck, breathing the scent of him in deep. He was all around her, inside her, dominating her and stretching her in pleasure-pain. He was so hard, so big, but so unbelievably good. Her hips began meeting his, straining to take as much of him as possible, mashing her womanhood into the base of his hardness.

The pressure swelled and swelled between her legs as the smell, feel, sight of him overwhelmed her. Her back arched and all her muscles spasmed as she came and came and came, screaming with sensation. Tom lost his final grasp on control as he felt her sucking and squeezing him and he exploded, jetting violently inside her. Their mutual moans of satisfaction filled the air.

He collapsed onto her, groaning with release. Seconds later, somehow, he managed to roll her over and on top of him. Tremors continued to run through both of their bodies for several long minutes as their hearts slowed down.

‘Why the hell didn’t we do this in uni?’ he grated. ‘We’d never have got to any lectures but it would have been worth it.’

She froze, started to get up, and gasped as he slipped out of her. Tom’s arm came round and arrested her move.

‘So, you’re still not talking to me? We finally get round to fucking and you still won’t discuss what’s between us?’ Tom stood up and pulled Sarah to her feet. ‘Well, this time we’ll find a bed to fuck in and I won’t let you go until you’ve told me what’s going on in that stubborn little head of yours.’

Chapter Four

‘Where’s the bedroom? Never mind, I can see it. We’ll have a quick shower first, though.’

Tom crowded her into the small room with a shower cubicle. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, there’s not going to be any
déjà vu
in here – that’s strictly one person at a time. Hurry up.’ He prodded her so, numbly, she took a brief shower and pulled on a towelling robe, then he went in and swiftly cleansed and towelled himself dry.

Sarah watched and gobbled up his body with her eyes: his slightly damp hair, the drops of water on his well-defined but massive torso, the swathes of muscles bunching and elongating under his skin as he twisted and turned with the towel. When he swung around and lifted one leg at a time to dry his feet, she couldn’t stifle a squeak – or the urge to cup his delicious backside with her hands. He faced her again and slowly dried between his legs, lifting up his still-hefty manhood towards her as he reached underneath.

‘You have the place to yourself?’ His eyes watched her hotly.

Sarah dragged her attention away from his mouth-watering body and tried to focus on his question. ‘Yes, it’s just me, just the one bedroom.’

‘Good, no interruptions. Lead the way.’

He followed her to the softly lit, cosy bedroom, stripped the robe from her with a growl, and pulled her under the sheets, naked. He placed an iron arm around her, securing her to him.

‘So, Sarah, now that we’ve been as intimate as possible, tell me about yourself.’

She turned to look at him, confused by the abrupt change in topic and by her total, uncharacteristic acquiescence. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘What happened to you after you … left Kent?’

‘Oh.’ Sarah took a few moments to organise her thoughts. ‘Well, I finished university, got a job, got a better job, then got a career. I travel a bit; when I’m here I try to support the Park. That’s about it.’

‘What about your friends? Family? Your sex life?’

‘My friends are mostly here in Harford although there’s a few dotted around overseas. My family is in Wales. I have one older sister, married with kids. I go to visit them a few times a year and for Christmas. My sex life is my own business but I’m single and intend staying that way –’

‘Why?’ he interrupted.

‘Because I’ve not met anyone. My parents’ relationship is so special: they’re so close and in love still. I can’t see that happening to me.’ She faced him completely. ‘That’s all there is. What about you?’

Tom took a deep breath. ‘I played rugby for a couple of years, then started the businesses. My family’s in Scotland. I have a younger brother who’s just settling down with his wife.’

‘A younger brother? That explains why you’re so bossy.’

‘Ha. Yeah, I had to keep him out of trouble when he was younger. He’s actually my half-brother but we grew up together and are as close as full brothers, especially since our mother passed away.’

Sarah went to touch him sympathetically but pulled her hand back. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t worry, it was years ago now.’ Tom dismissed it with a shake of his head. ‘Where was I? Friends? I have friends … dotted around and I’ve not settled down.

‘What about your businesses? Who looks after them?’

‘I have some excellent staff and I can work from home before and after training. We’re not far from London and I can fly up to Scotland easily enough. My … father has an interest in the property side of things.’

‘Your father? Is he the titled one?’

Tom looked away and stopped caressing her. ‘I’ve only known of him for four years, Sarah, it’s a bit difficult to explain. My brother and I, we only found out after our mother passed that we had different fathers. I traced my blood father to a Scottish estate; my mother had an affair with him when she worked there one summer. He wouldn’t or couldn’t leave his wife, so she left and fell in love with Dad. My father, he lost his wife and they never had children, so I’m his heir. I’m lucky; we get on really well. He’s taken an interest in what I do and it’s given him a new lease of life. So much so that he encouraged me to start playing again a couple of years ago – and here I am.’

Sarah took a while to absorb this, surprised he had told her chapter and verse. ‘Was it just his encouragement which made you return to rugby? Why did you give it up in the first place?’

‘My knee.’ He lifted it up and showed her the scars around his kneecap. ‘I had damaged it badly when I was 16, in a car accident. I had an operation but it didn’t stand up to professional rugby. A couple of years ago, I saw a new surgeon who operated again. He said I could start playing again and I did. I always felt there was a part of me missing when I wasn’t out on the pitch or at least involved in rugby.’

Sarah nodded and agreed; she’d felt the same.

‘Why don’t you still play?’ He brushed the hair back from her face. ‘You’re still fit, you were a natural – you could easily walk into the women’s team.’

She was quiet for a while. ‘I just don’t have the time. I can spend a lot of my week travelling, going to see properties or people. And if I turned up with a black eye, I don’t think it’d make the best impression.’ They both laughed. ‘I notice you’ve had your nose broken a couple of times in the last ten years.’

‘Occupational hazard. Just after uni and as soon as I started playing again.’

‘Does it hurt?’ She gently traced the bump on the bridge of his nose with an index finger, and followed a pale scar from his eyebrow to his hairline.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. ‘Not much any more. Why, do you think it spoils my looks?’ He struck a seductive pose, lying on his side.

Sarah gazed at him, enjoying his masculine face and body. ‘Not at all. Besides, you were just too good-looking before – it adds character,’ she said mischievously.

‘Character? You mean I’m a bit of an ugly hound now?’ He nipped at her earlobe and blew softly into her ear. ‘I don’t bite, although I have been known to nibble. That’s why you keep running away from me?’

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies between her legs. ‘You didn’t make the best impression, did you? Accusing me of all sorts. And it’s such a cliché; there are so many girls going after the players. I didn’t want to join the queue.’

He pulled her on top of him. ‘You didn’t need to, you have priority boarding.’ He leered playfully. ‘Any time you want to jump me is fine with me. In fact, I think I’ll insist on it.’ One hand on her buttocks, he rubbed himself against her as they both started breathing heavily.

‘Well, if you insist.’ Sarah leant forward and began leisurely exploring his broad chest, the smooth skin with its neat diamond of dark hair. She licked the hollow of his neck, enjoying the salty taste of masculinity, and she felt his interest grow.

They investigated each other’s body unhurriedly, joining slowly and enjoying every touch, every sensation. She spun in a haze of pleasure supplied by Tom’s hands and mouth on her skin; he appeared fascinated with every part of her. They eventually rested in the early hours of the morning and Sarah drifted off to sleep.

She woke to the rustling of clothes, the beeping of a mobile phone, and Tom brushing a kiss on her cheek.

‘I have to go. I’ll see you soon,’ he whispered.

‘At the weekend, yeah,’ mumbled Sarah. ‘Game, Saturday. Good luck.’

Tom was quiet for a moment. ‘OK, I’ll see you at the game.’

Saturday dawned, another clear day. Sarah had, for a change, spent the previous week in the UK, touring around a chain of hotels. Her body had ached for Tom while she was sleeping alone in the anonymous parade of hotel beds. She’d had countless hot dreams where he was ruthlessly seducing her, had awoken reaching out for him a few times, been distracted from her work many more. At random, she would have flashbacks to moments from that night: a kiss; a caress; him moving inside her; her moving on top of him. Her body would heat and yearn for him, and she would have to distract herself to calm down.

Harford Park had another home game that afternoon, the last before a slew of away games all over England. Sarah dithered over her wardrobe choices, this time plumping for well-tailored trousers and a couple of form-fitting crimson tops covered by her thick winter coat. She still had to stop herself from wandering down to the club hours before the game in the hope of seeing Tom, instead leaving it until her usual last-minute arrival. Clare and the rest of the supporters greeted her with their customary vigour and she returned an absent smile before grabbing her pint and turning to see the team run out.

‘So, what happened?’ Clare had noticed that she was miles away and was watching her intently.

‘Huh?’ Her heart dropped as she saw Tom, in a skin-tight red shirt and snug black shorts, run across the pitch, strapping around his knees, a strong, determined look on his face. ‘Is he starting, then? That’s quick; he can’t have been training with them for long.’

Clare looked over to see the focus of Sarah’s attention. ‘Hmm. I think I can guess who you’re talking about and his name begins with a Tom. Look, he’s in the programme.’

Clare thrust the small booklet at her and Sarah glanced down to see a picture of Tom with his statistics and a small article. ‘Thanks, I’ll read it later.’

‘Before or after you update me? I think it had better be after, straight after the game and before he comes out of the changing rooms. I’ll not get any sense out of you until then.’

In the bar afterwards, in a slightly earlier repeat of the previous week, Clare dragged Sarah off into a quiet corner with a couple of drinks.

‘You’ve seen him since last Sunday, haven’t you?’

Sarah nodded quickly and blushed. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, I really still haven’t figured out what went on.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not upset. I can guess that you weren’t just enjoying a drink.’ Clare smirked.

‘No.’ Sarah blushed even more. ‘I was here for the meeting on Monday and he helped me get a box down from the cupboard. Next I knew, we were grappling on the floor. Luckily, we were interrupted by hearing the committee approaching the room, but he followed me home and it took off from there.’

‘And?’

‘And no more encounters. He just said he’d see me later. Not exactly a “let’s do this again”, is it? Let’s face it, at least he said goodbye. Ish.’

‘So you’re not hoping for a repeat?’

‘Oh God, I hope so. I feel like a junkie craving her next fix. I’ve been dreaming about it, fantasising about it all week. It’s all I’ve been able to think about – his hands, his lips, his body, his …’ Sarah shivered. ‘He said … I have the impression he wanted a physical relationship so we’ll hopefully work through that until it burns itself out naturally. Until then, I’ll be putty in his hands.’

‘That good?’ Clare fanned her face.

Sarah rolled her eyes in simulated ecstasy. ‘Not just good, spectacular. Unbelievable. I felt like a kid in a sweet shop. He’s so assertive, so domineering, but instead of getting me angry like it normally would, I just melt.’

‘That’s just not like you.’ Clare frowned in puzzlement.

‘I know!’ The incredulity was plain in her voice and she half laughed.

‘What do you really want?’ asked Clare softly.

Sarah sobered up. ‘I don’t know. The attraction is so strong but I’d want to keep it discreet, I don’t want a reputation as the team bike!’

Clare chuckled. ‘Well, I don’t think there’s any danger of that – you’ve never been linked with any Park player.’

‘But you know what can happen.’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ Clare pulled a face. Two years before she’d had a brief relationship with Luke, who’d been playing centre at the time. He’d callously broken up with her by being caught
in flagrante
with another girl. She’d rebounded by having an alcohol-fuelled snog with one of the other players. Luckily, both men had left the club shortly afterwards, but ever since then, she had been wary of being too friendly. She still got strange looks from some of the squad who remembered the embarrassing saga.

Clare stood. ‘Well, we’ll see today if he approaches you. Drink up – let’s get back out there and dissect the game. Although I’m not sure how much you saw; you couldn’t keep your eyes off Tom.’

‘He did have a stormer too, running over that poor winger to score his second try.’

‘And he carried on regardless after that clout across the head. The opposition are bottom of the league, but Man of the Match in his first game is pretty good, isn’t it?’

‘His runs from the base of the scrum were good; it was taking at least a couple of players to tackle him and get him down every time. He’s so powerful.’ Sarah felt her blush return as she remembered a particularly salacious moment when he’d proved intimately just how strong he was.

‘Hmm, with your personal experience, you can definitely testify to that.’ Clare smirked at the pink in Sarah’s cheeks. ‘Come on, you look faraway and I’m getting jealous. It’s your round.’

Sarah and Clare continued their usual Saturday evening. One by one, the players straggled into the bar after having their meal in one of the back rooms. To a man, they were wearing the club dress of black trousers, white shirt, and the red and black Harford Park tie. All the players appeared – that is, except Tom, although Alex was only just visible behind a wall of women. Sarah saw Clare glance over a couple of times but her friend refrained from commenting.

At seven, they made their excuses and left. Clare was going to a concert and Sarah decided to walk with her to the station. On the way, Clare kept turning to speak to her and then appeared to change her mind. Finally, after another long look and Clare biting her lip, Sarah got exasperated.

‘What? What are you going to say?’

Clare stopped walking, faced her and took a deep breath. ‘I can’t decide how much you’re hiding behind that wall of yours. You’re not exactly forthcoming with your feelings; I’ve never seen you unduly upset in the whole time I’ve known you, apart from when Wales lose at rugby. You have a huge heart for those around you but when it comes to your own affairs – and by affairs I mean any emotional event – you close yourself in. This thing with Tom, I have a feeling there’s more to it than you realise, but by the time you recognise it, it may be too late. Just don’t get hurt like I was. There may be a reason he didn’t seek you out tonight: perhaps he didn’t want to embarrass you. Perhaps he was caught up elsewhere. Perhaps he was rushing off somewhere.’