The Perfect Play

Until tonight. Tonight, outside the hotel, he’d looked at her that way for the first time. He’d looked at her like a man looks at a woman he’s interested in having sex with. Her breath caught and for one brief moment she’d wondered ...

“You hiding in here?”

She jerked around to face Gavin, her fingers clutching tight to the empty glass of wine.

“Refilling my wineglass.”

His gaze shifted. “Glass is empty.”

“So it is.” She lifted the wine bottle. “And so is the bottle.”

Gavin went to the wine cooler and pulled out another bottle, grabbed the opener and popped the cork out. His warm fingers slid over her chilled ones as he held the glass steady and refilled her glass, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Your fingers are still cold.”

There was that look again, that smile he’d given her outside the hotel earlier tonight, the one he’d never let her see before. Her belly tumbled and, oh, God, her nipples hardened. She wondered if Gavin could tell through her flimsy bra and silk blouse.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He held on to her hand and she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’ll have to spend the night.”

She swallowed. “What?”

“I’ve had three whiskeys. I’m not driving. You’ll have to stay here tonight.”

“Oh. Uh ... I could call a cab.”

He smirked. “You could. But you don’t want to, do you?”

What? What the hell was he talking about? Was he hitting on her?

Oh, no. Oh, hell no.

She went for her bag and dragged out her cell phone. “I’m calling a cab.”

He grasped her wrist and leaned into her. “We’re not done talking, Liz.”

He wasn’t referring to having a conversation. She knew it, and so did he.

“Why now, Gavin? Why, after all these years, are you doing this now?”

“Why do we have to dissect it?”

Her heart pounded so loud she wondered if Gavin could hear it.

He directed her phone to the counter, pulled her fingers away from it.

Call a cab. Go home. Get out of here now before you do something incredibly stupid, Elizabeth.

“I don’t have sex with my clients, Gavin.”

His lips quirked. “You want me to fire you so I can fuck you?”

Her body was going up in flames. Why was he doing this to her?

“Not particularly.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

She couldn’t breathe. How was she supposed to answer that?

Lie, you idiot, just like you’ve been lying for the past five years.

He moved to the center island like a predator, caging her between it and him by placing his hands on either side of her hips.

“You’re panting, Liz. Do I scare you?”

“No.”

He leaned in closer, his hips brushing hers. And then she felt the hard ridge of his cock and every ounce of common sense fled.

He bent and pressed his lips her neck, his hair brushing her cheek. She inhaled, breathing him in, realizing this was the closest she’d ever been to him. His smelled like fresh soap and everything she’d ever dreamed of. She gripped the granite counter so tight her fingers hurt.

She tried swallowing again, but she’d gone dry. At least her throat had gone dry. Below her waist she was wet, primed and ready for him to slide inside her and give her what she’d fantasized about for the past five years. Her * throbbed with anticipation, her breasts hot and swollen. Her clit tingled, and if he rubbed against her just the smallest bit, she could come, just thinking about how good it could be between them.

“Gavin,” she squeaked.

“Touch me, Elizabeth,” he murmured, sliding his tongue across her neck. “Put your hands on me and tell me this is what you want.”

Damn him. Damn, damn, damn. How could she not give him what he asked for? How could she not take what she wanted?

But this would change everything between them. And would undoubtedly cost her Gavin as a client.

Gavin pushed his hips against her, and she melted, slid her arms up and tangled her fingers into his hair. She pulled on his hair to bring his face up, and the wild need she saw in his eyes matched her own.

His mouth was on hers in seconds, lighting the fire that she’d banked for all these years. It exploded when his tongue slid between her teeth.

She’d dreamed of his lips, the taste of him. He tasted like whisky and hot sex. He licked her bottom lip, nibbled at it. Her fingers were lost in the soft thickness of his hair, the only thing soft about him, as his mouth ravaged her. She knew there’d be nothing easy about Gavin. He was hardness and pain and she reveled in it as he drove his tongue inside her mouth and tangled with hers, sucking her tongue hard until tears sprang into her eyes.

She let out a ragged moan. Gavin grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the counter, settling between her legs, grabbing her butt to draw her heated center against him. He pulled her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt, lifting it off her head in one jerky motion.

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