Page 30 of Game On

Whatever chivalrous objections Shane had disappeared once she started kissing him. He shed his shirt in one easy move. Pushing down Carly’s bustier, he gently bent her over the back of the bar stool giving him better access to her nipple. As he wrapped his mouth around it, a breathy sigh escaped her and she lightly ran her nails down his muscled back. Heat pooled between her legs and her caresses became more urgent. He responded by taking a nipple in her mouth and sucking. Carly moaned, snaking a leg up the back of his thigh.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he urged before taking her mouth in another deep kiss. Lifting her up, he carried her over to the sofa. Gingerly, he laid her down on her back, his mouth never leaving hers. She kept her legs wrapped around him, her hips grinding against his erection. She was so incredibly aroused that she nearly came as her body rubbed against his vibrating arousal.

Vibrating?

“Shane!” she cried as she pulled out of the kiss. “Oh. My. God!”

He jerked up on his forearms and reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Carly felt the blush spread from her face to her exposed chest. How embarrassing! She’d nearly climaxed because of his cell phone. She couldn’t help it; a giggle escaped.

“And I thought you had magic power in those pants,” she teased. Absently, he placed the cell phone on the photo shelf above their heads. A sly smile came over his face as he looked at her. A lock of hair hung in the middle of his forehead. His eyes deepened to a smoky gray.

“One of those girls, huh?” His voice was husky as he slid farther down her belly, his long legs hanging off the sofa’s edge.

“Shane!” Her body was so tense, she jumped as his tongue cruised the inside of her navel.

He just shook his head and slid lower. Expertly, he unsnapped her garters and skimmed a fingertip between her legs. Another moan escaped her. He dragged his tongue against her inner thigh; his five-o’clock shadow stung as it brushed against the tender skin. Her hips bucked at the pain and the pleasure of it. Pressing them back down with one hand, the other dipped between her thighs. Watching her intently, he slowly placed a finger inside her.

“Please, Shane,” she said, reaching out to grab his shoulders. “Come back so I can touch you.”

“Huh-uh,” he mumbled. “You’ll get your chance. Right now, I want to show you that the real thing is better than the toys.” Grinning widely, he slowly lowered his chin, his eyes never leaving hers. With his finger he stroked her intimately, following it up with his tongue. Throwing her head back against the cushions, she gasped for breath as he tasted her with his mouth. She dragged her hands through his hair as his tongue pulsed inside her. He found her sweet spot and coaxed it with his tongue. Carly’s back arched as she came, brilliant shards of light dancing behind her eyelids. He sucked harder and she heard a scream: hers. Her body was too satisfied to register any embarrassment.

“Oh God, that’s amaz— Oowh!” The vibrating cell phone fell from the shelf, hitting her in the nose.

Swearing, he crawled up her body to lie on top of her. His erection throbbed against her thigh as he fished the phone off the floor. Snapping the phone open to check the text, he sat up suddenly, Carly’s legs scissoring his body. For a long moment, he stared at the phone, the blue light of its text screen shining on his face. Feeling the tension rising up in his body, she bit her lip. Her own body, languid from her orgasm, began to come to life again.

“Shane?” she asked gently, her hand stroking his arm. “What is it?” He didn’t answer, continuing to stare blindly ahead. A slow knot of tension began to form in her back as she sat up more fully to caress his shoulder.

“It’s my father.” She almost didn’t hear him, he spoke so softly.

“Bruce called you?”

“No.”

When he finally turned toward her, she caught a glimpse of true pain on his face. It was fleeting before his eyes became hard again.

“He’s dead.”

NINE

Troy Devlin sat in the sunroom of his parent’s home watching the people milling about. He didn’t think their house could hold all these people. They were eating and drinking as if nothing was wrong. He tugged at the collar of the Easter Sunday shirt Consuelo insisted he wear. Everyone else was dressed in black. Consuelo said it was okay for him to wear his light blue dress shirt and his blue blazer. She’d gone to Macy’s to get him a new tie, though. It wasn’t a clip-on or zipper tie, but a real tie. Except it had footballs and basketballs all over it. His dad would think it was cool. His mom would say he looked grown-up. Tears stung his eyes again. He needed to stop thinking of his mom and dad.

He looked back over the sea of black rolling through his parent’s family room. They stood there, their plates heaped with food, chatting and shaking hands, trying to meet the famous people who’d come over after the funeral. Even his travel baseball team was here. They hadn’t come to see Troy. His teammates had only come to meet some of his father’s friends. Heck, they would probably drop him from the roster now anyway. Every kid on the team knew they’d only picked Troy because of who his dad is.

Was.

Randy Martinelli never let a practice or game go by without making some comment about Troy being a wuss. All because he’d cried the day the ball hit him in the eye. Well, it had hurt! His eye was black for nearly two weeks and the doctor said he had a hairline fracture in his eye socket. But all the guys on the team cared about was that he’d dropped the ball. And they’d lost the game.

Troy tried to convince his parents to let him play on one of the local city teams but his dad would just say that he’d grow into his talent. Travel team was for elite players like Troy, his father would say. He was a Devlin after all. Troy’s mom would just give him a reassuring smile and tell him how handsome he looked in his uniform. But he’d seen the looks they would exchange when they thought he wasn’t looking. He sucked at baseball—even worse than he sucked at football—and they all knew it. He wasn’t like the rest of the Devlins. Not anything like his dad. Or his brother.

Glancing across the room, his eyes landed on Shane. He’d waited all these years to meet his famous big brother and there he was, leaning a hip against his mother’s curio cabinet and scowling. His dad always said it would take something big to get Shane to come visit them. Well, he was right. Troy had been so relieved to see him yesterday he’d jumped into Shane’s arms, so glad someone was there to take care of him. But Shane, the big jerk, must think hugging was for girls, because he couldn’t wait to get away from Troy. He didn’t seem all that sad that Dad was dead. Heck, Shane had barely said one word to him.

Slumping farther back against the wall, Troy tried to inconspicuously wipe away a tear. He couldn’t believe his parents were dead. Two days ago they were flying to Ohio to meet a potential player. They never made it. Instead, the plane his dad was flying had some sort of engine trouble and crashed. The state trooper who’d come to the door said they died instantly. The officer got down on one knee, placing a big hand on Troy’s shoulder, explaining everything in a soft, soothing voice. He probably thought it would make Troy feel better. It didn’t. His parents were never coming back.

“Mister Troy?”

Furiously wiping another tear away, Troy turned to face Consuelo. Her eyes were as red rimmed and swollen as his. She gave him a wobbly smile as she brushed his hair off his face. Usually he didn’t like when she tried to mother him, but today it was okay. She was the only mother he had left. He swallowed to keep the tears from coming back.

“Your grandmama, she wants you to come and say good-bye to some of the guests, okay?” Consuelo made everything sound like a question. Troy’s dad would always make a joke about it.

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