Power Play, page 8
A delightful game of cat-and-mouse kissing that had always gotten her worked up in the past.
And it seemed nothing had changed in that regard.
I let one of my hands drift down to her denim-clad ass, cupping it lightly as I drew her against the erection behind my shorts. She rubbed her body on mine, digging her fingers into the hair at the back of my neck.
Fuck.
This was so damn good, I was going to embarrass myself if we kept this up.
I reluctantly pulled away, taking in the glassy look in her eyes as I pushed her hair back behind her ear.
“It’s almost three,” I said gruffly. “If we’re going to continue this, we should take it somewhere private.”
“Yes.” That one word held so much more meaning than simply leaving.
“Home?”
“Absolutely.”
I took her hand and headed for the exit as I pulled up the app to call for an Uber.
“My car,” she whispered when she realized what I was doing.
“Baby, there’s no way either of us is getting behind the wheel tonight,” I said. “You want Ivan to take it home with him? He stopped drinking a couple hours ago because we figured someone had to be sober.”
“Oh.” She hesitated but then nodded. “I really don’t want to leave it at that lot.”
“Okay. Let’s take care of that and then get out of here.”
“You realize what we’re doing is crazy, right?”
“What fun is it if you don’t have a little crazy in your life once in a while?”
11
Harper
The Uber arrived fifteen minutes later, and I tumbled into the back seat of a little Honda, with Gabe crawling in after me. His long legs were cramped in the small car, but he didn’t seem to mind as he slid his arm around me, turned his head, and pressed his lips to mine. It was hard to think when he was touching me, and though I had enough presence of mind to not want to give the poor driver a show, I didn’t want Gabe to stop touching me.
I was drunk and horny, my inhibitions nowhere to be found as I leaned over and licked the spot behind his ear. His neck had always been sensitive, and I felt the goose bumps break out on his skin as I nibbled and lightly sucked.
“I wish you were on my lap,” he growled against my ear in a low voice that made my girlie parts clench in anticipation. “Grinding on my dick while I finger you.” He squeezed my thigh, his eyes burning into mine as we stared at each other. He brought his other hand up to cup the side of my face.
“You sure about this, Harper? We’re both pretty drunk.”
“Sober enough to know we’re probably going to regret it but drunk enough not to care.”
I would have sworn I saw a look of regret flash across his face, but then he was kissing me again and I couldn’t think. Or breathe. Or do anything but kiss him back.
By the time the driver pulled up to my house, we were breathing hard.
“Sorry about the PDA,” I murmured to the driver. “You’ll get a good tip.”
“Have a good night!” The driver laughed as he drove away, and Gabe and I stumbled into the house.
Before I could think about our next move, he had me up against the nearest wall, kissing me with purpose. There was nothing chaste or cautious about these kisses, his mouth and tongue pillaging mine. I moaned into him, kissing him back with reckless abandon, as if my next breath depended on it.
Every swipe of his tongue brought my dormant libido to life, the ache between my legs getting stronger by the minute. My heart raced and the blood running through my veins felt like liquid fire, every sensation heightened as he groped and kissed me.
“Please,” I moaned.
“Please what?” He trailed his lips down my throat, nipping at the skin. “You have to say the words, Harper.”
“I need you,” I whimpered. “It’s been so long… please.”
“Say it,” he growled. He sucked on my collarbone, grinding his hips into mine. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
I’d never been one to talk dirty, even though I’d loved it when Gabe did it. For some reason, it was difficult for me to get the words out.
Apparently, not when I was drunk.
The alcohol took away my inhibitions and the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Fuck me, Gabe. I need to feel you inside of me.”
“Right here?” He started to unbutton his pants.
“Yes.” I wiggled out of my top.
And then we were touching each other everywhere, re-establishing possession and finding our groove. He bent his head to nuzzle my cleavage as he unhooked the back of my bra, letting it fall away. My breath left me in a rush when he closed his mouth around one of my nipples, sucking lightly. I pressed my nails into his scalp, scraping them softly across the skin and watching as he sucked and kneaded my breasts.
Everything seemed to move in a rush of frantic groping, kissing, and touching. I shimmied out of my jeans with his mouth attached to mine and the next thing I knew he’d lifted one of my legs and pushed into me. I still fit him like a glove, and we moaned simultaneously. My fingers clutched at his shoulders for balance as he started to move.
He felt so damn good.
I wiggled, desperate to have more of him, and he reached down, lifting me off the ground and guiding my legs around his waist.
“Like that?” he whispered against my mouth.
“More,” I pleaded.
He slammed into me recklessly, over and over, the sound of our bodies slapping together bouncing off the walls.
It was primal.
Brutal.
Borderline painful.
Exactly the way I liked it.
My heart thumped against my chest, and I squeezed around him, taking him as deep as possible. I loved the way it felt when he bottomed out, our bodies crashing together with beautiful symmetry, making us one. Bringing us to a point of no return.
“Fuck, yes!” Gabe grunted as I began chanting his name.
“Gabe-Gabe-Gabe!”
“Come for me, baby… just like that…”
The roaring in my ears told me I was done, and my orgasm was an explosive detonation of pleasure. So much so that I nearly blacked out. All I could do was hold on and howl, barely aware that he shot off inside of me a moment later.
“Fuck, Harper.” He was still breathing hard, holding me against the wall, our bodies still tightly connected.
I felt him pulsing inside of me with each aftershock, my vagina convulsing a little each time he did it. Still perfectly in sync. Even after all this time.
“Let’s go to bed,” I whispered when I caught my breath.
He scooped me up in his arms and carried me down the hall to the primary bedroom, unceremoniously dumping me on the bed.
“Ready for round two?”
The pounding behind my eyes woke me, along with the screaming of my bladder, and it wasn’t until I tried to roll over that I realized I was tangled with a warm, hard body. A moment of panic washed over me as my eyes popped open, but then I saw who it was, and I felt a mixture of horror and relief.
Gabe.
I was naked in bed with my ex.
I stared at him in disbelief, despite taking in his chiseled features and the scruff of his five o’clock shadow. How was it possible he got better looking with age? Was that what had drawn me in last night? Along with too much alcohol?
Jesus.
I needed to get a grip.
I’d been lucid enough to know there would be regret, but I hadn’t anticipated how much.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate.
What I was feeling was regret, but not because of what I’d done.
My regret was the lack of regret.
My first inclination, once I got my wits about me, had been to smile.
At how handsome he was.
At how good he looked lying here in my bed.
At how I wanted to jump on him again, since I knew he always woke up with morning wood.
Shit.
I tried to slip out of bed, but his arm tightened around me.
“No running away,” he murmured in a sleep-laced voice.
“I have to pee,” I whispered.
“Hold it. We both know once I let you out of this bed you’re not coming back.”
I sighed but relaxed against him.
He had a point.
I was absolutely, positively never doing this again, so I might as well enjoy it.
“Now isn’t that better?” he whispered, closing his arms around me. “This is so much nicer than arguing all the time.”
I couldn’t disagree, so I nestled against him.
If there was one thing Gabe was good at—well, there were a few things, but I was talking about non-sexual things—it was cuddles. Hugs. When he put his arms around me, there was nothing better. He was strong and warm, muscular enough to feel safe but not so much that it was intimidating. As a goalie, his focus was on stamina and agility more than speed or strength. And that translated to other aspects of his life as well.
“Don’t start thinking,” he warned. “We’re just having some morning-after snuggles, which I seem to remember is your thing. Well, it was. Is it still?”
I chuckled. “Yup.”
“When you watch movies too?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Gabe, this isn’t the start of something. It’s more like…unfinished business.”
“Is that so?” He didn’t sound impressed.
He was going to get annoyed now, and then we would argue, which I didn’t want. I had enough stress in my life.
I turned over so I was half-sprawled across his chest and could look into his handsome face.
“Let’s not fight. Last night was awesome. A much better way of saying goodbye than how we did that day at the courthouse.”
The day we’d signed our divorce papers and went our separate ways.
That day had sucked.
Today he sighed heavily, as if the memory was emotionally taxing. “This is definitely better than that, but we can’t just say goodbye, Harper. I basically live with you. Work for you. We see each other every day.”
“Yes, but we’re not going to sleep together every day.”
“Every other day?”
“Stop it. Let’s just chalk it up to a night of fun and put it behind us. Please?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. It has to be. You know that. Casual sex between us would be a nightmare. Especially if we ever got caught.”
“We’re consenting adults. Who’s going to catch us, and if they do, what are they going to say? Oh, wow, two single people in their mid-thirties are fucking—that should stop immediately.”
I sat up shaking my head. “As you pointed out, I’m your boss. I’m about to shake this team to its core. You think the news that we’re sleeping together is going to help in the locker room?”
“I don’t really give a shit what the guys think about me in the locker room.”
“But I need you to care,” I said softly. “I need you to be a leader, to—”
“You want me to be your spy,” he interrupted dryly, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t need me to do shit, but that’s what you want, and I told you from the get-go, I wasn’t going to be your pawn.”
“You did not,” I said, scowling. “You said you couldn’t afford to live here and that you wanted to retire in Florida. You never said you wouldn’t do what I asked of you in the locker room. I handled your money problems and have made your life here pretty damn comfortable. All I ask in return is that you play to the best of your ability and make sure things don’t spin out in the locker room. I don’t want you to be a spy—I just want you to make sure the rumor mill doesn’t go wild and that there’s a modicum of respect early on.”
“You have to earn respect. You know that. Especially in a locker room.”
“Yes, but that takes time. Which is why I said early on. They don’t have to respect me, per se, but they have to be respectful.”
“Look, no matter what, I was never going to let anyone talk about you inappropriately. That’s not who I am, even if you weren’t my ex. Beyond that, you’re on your own, darlin’. It’s not my job to fix this for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to fix anything. I just told you what I needed from you.”
“Whatever you say, Harper.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded across the room toward the bathroom.
I wanted to tell him to use the other bathroom, since I really did have to pee, but I was too damn distracted by his gloriously naked body.
The guy was Adonis personified.
And I absolutely had to stop thinking about that.
I got up and stubbornly followed him into the bathroom.
I refused to be locked out of my own bathroom out of some ridiculous sense of modesty. After all the things we’d experienced together? There was very little he could do to shock or surprise me.
Watching him urinate was oddly intimate, though, and I averted my eyes as I brushed my teeth.
How many times had we done this exact routine when we’d been together?
More than I could count.
But that ended now.
“Could you give me a little privacy?” I asked as he washed his hands.
He arched a brow. “What, you can watch me take a piss but I can’t watch you?”
I huffed out a breath. “Gabe.”
“Harper.” He met my gaze in the mirror.
Apparently, we were at a standoff, and I didn’t know if it was worth the energy to fight it.
“You know I get stage fright,” I finally said.
“Fine.” He wiped his hands and walked out, leaving me blissfully alone.
Except when I sat on the toilet, I felt the strangest moment of discomfiture. As if his departure from the bathroom was indicative of something else. Something more permanent.
And I fucking hated it.
Everyone fucking left me.
My parents.
Gabe.
Edward.
Even friends, like Sloane, who’d moved to Fort Lauderdale, and Cheyenne, who was only in L.A. a few months of the year.
Why did everyone leave me?
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply through my nose, counting to eight.
I was using a technique my therapist had taught me because abandonment had been a recurring theme in our sessions.
Then I breathed out through my mouth.
People weren’t leaving me.
My parents had been young and incapable of raising a child.
Technically, I had been the one to leave my marriage to Gabe.
Edward hadn’t wanted to die.
And Sloane and Cheyenne had lives, careers, and relationships that took them away physically, but we still had close, if not geographically challenged, relationships.
I had to remember that.
Slowly opening my eyes, I’d just gotten up from the toilet when reality hit me.
Holy fucking shit.
There had been… evidence of last night’s sexual encounter on the toilet paper.
Which meant Gabe hadn’t used a condom.
Holy fucking hell.
I was going to kill him.
12
Gabe
“Gabriel DeLugo!”
I was in the kitchen making coffee when I heard her yell and I winced.
Now what?
I probably should have made my escape while I’d had the chance, but now she was pissed about something. Had I missed the toilet when I took a leak?
“What?” I asked, irritated at the turn the morning had taken.
“Did you use a condom?” she demanded, storming into the kitchen with her hands on her hips.
I stared at her, desperately trying to recall if I had or not. It was usually second nature, but things had escalated quickly last night.
The minute we walked in the door.
Up against the wall of the foyer.
There had been no time for a condom.
Shit.
And despite papers that said otherwise, in my heart, Harper was still my wife.
There was no concern about diseases or a paternity suit.
Condoms hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Uh…”
“Gabe!” She glared at me. “Are you serious right now?”
“Hey, it takes two to tango.” I glared right back, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “We were both drunk. I didn’t use one… I mean, I don’t think I did, but you don’t have to worry about diseases. I’m not twenty anymore. I’m cautious.”
“Apparently, you’re not even a little bit cautious or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“It’s different with you,” I muttered.
“Different?!” She threw up her hands. “You know I’ve been contemplating getting pregnant, so I’m not protected! Jesus fucking Christ, how irresponsible was this? Have you grown up at all since college?”
“You didn’t say anything either!” I shot back, folding my arms across my chest. “I asked you if you were sure and you said you were. In fact, I seem to recall you—”
“This isn’t about consent, dammit! This is about pregnancy. Oh, my fucking God, what have you done?” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
For some reason, I smirked.
The asshole in me was strong sometimes.
It was one of many reasons she hadn’t believed me when I’d denied cheating on her. One of many reasons she’d divorced my ass without a backward glance. Probably one of the many reasons we fought like cats and dogs. When we weren’t fucking anyway.
Once I got pissed off, there was a huge disconnect between my brain and my mouth, and I said things I probably shouldn’t.
“You think this is funny?” she demanded.
“Well, getting knocked up by me can’t be worse than by some random dude who jizzed into a cup for money. At least you’ll know where to find me if the kid needs a kidney or something.”
