The Player and the Pixie (Rugby #2)

Before he could reply I was gone, already halfway to my cabin. Once there, I stripped off my soaking clothes and started the shower. When the water heated, I stepped under the spray, my kiss with Sean playing on repeat in my head.

I remembered the way he’d grabbed my arse, like a man possessed, and disappointedly realized I’d never taken the opportunity to cop a feel of his.

How ridiculously poetic had it been that a call from Ronan (well, technically it was Annie, but it was Ronan’s phone) was the thing to interrupt our moment.

I knew exactly why I’d kissed him, too. I’d seen more of Sean’s human side today, and combined with how physically attracted I was to him, it was almost impossible not to kiss him. He liked dogs, and when I’d told him of my volunteer work at the shelter, his expression told me he thought it was a worthwhile pursuit.

But most importantly, deep down, I didn’t think he liked himself very much.

It made me sad. It also made me want to make him happy.

I turned off the water and stepped out to find someone had shoved a small note under my door. My heart sped up, wondering if it was from Sean. But sure enough, this had become Broderick’s and my way of communicating the last week or two, and the note was from him.

I can’t find Sean anywhere, so I guess that means no steak.

Meet me in the dining hall for dinner?

I hope you enjoyed your hike ;-)

Rick.

I wrapped a towel around my body and scribbled a quick response on the other side of the note. It was the last night of the retreat, but I wasn’t in any frame of mind to be good company.

Not feeling well.

Breakfast instead?

Lucy.

As I went to quickly shove the note under Rick’s door, I stepped outside and came face to face with Sean. His fist was raised mid-air, as though he’d been about to knock. I looked him over, noticing he still hadn’t changed out of his wet clothes.

“Um,” I said, biting on my lower lip as his hot gaze swept across my toweled form.

He didn’t reply, but simply stepped forward, entering my cabin as I instinctively stepped back, dropping the note. Slamming the door shut behind him with a foot, he kept coming at me until the backs of my knees hit the sofa. I think I may have let out a tiny squeak but really couldn’t be sure.

“Let’s try this again. I want you,” he said as his hands clasped my neck and he pulled my mouth to his.

His kiss was hard and unrelenting, and I felt my legs grow weak. As though sensing this too, he slid a hand around my waist, holding me tight against him. Before I could stop him, he broke our kiss and released my towel. It fell away, exposing my entire body, and I trembled under his astute attention.

Sean’s molten-hot stare devoured me, tracing the dips and curves of my form before swearing and bending to suck one of my nipples into his mouth. I yelped in surprise because his teeth smashed against my skin.

Perhaps he was just eager.

This definitely seemed to be the case when he swiftly lowered me onto the sofa. My head knocked against the armrest and my breath whooshed out of me.

Well, that hurt a little . . .

Sean began sucking at my breasts in a hot frenzy as his hand went between my legs. I was so aroused by the fact that I was naked and he was touching me intimately that it took me a moment to realize he was doing everything wrong.

And I mean, seriously wrong.

His hand was on my vagina, but he was just rubbing away with no rhythm or technique. He might as well have been trying to get a persistent stain off the carpet. I mean, his fingers were nowhere near the vicinity of my clit, and that was the most important part.

The most important part, people.

His other hand squeezed my breast harshly and rotated it back and forth in a wax-on, wax-off movement, like he was disconnected from the ramifications of his touch. Plus, his tongue was playing no part in the action, only his mouth. I frowned but he didn’t see, because he was too busy giving me the worst foreplay of my life.

How could he be such an amazing kisser but such an unskilled lover?

Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I awkwardly pushed him away and he groaned like I was ruining a perfectly good time.

“Wait, wait a minute. Stop,” I said, wincing because I felt terrible. I mean, how do you tell one of the most attractive men you’ve ever met that he sucks at foreplay?

You don’t.

You don’t tell him. You beg off and pretend to have a headache, which was a crying shame. Really, Sean’s inability to put his body to good use was a crime against all womankind.

“Ronan will never find out,” he assured me and moved to get right back to business.

I stopped him again, wincing. “That’s not why it’s a bad idea.”

He stared at me, his eyebrows suspended between panic and frustration. “What’s going on, Lucy?”

His low, gravelly voice almost undid me. Almost. But then I remembered his clumsy, uncomfortable, decidedly unsexy maneuverings. I was never good at faking, and I wasn’t going to start now.