Page 37 of Play for Keeps

“Usually, I’d be better prepared myself,” she said, rolling her shoulders as she sauntered back to the bed, triumphant. “If I’d known you were coming home, I would have stockpiled.” She waved the condom at him, then tore the wrapper in two. “Lucky for us, I have what Avery likes to call ‘a little packet of hope.’”

She waited until she saw his gaze drop to her satin bikini panties. Once she was sure she had his full attention, she hooked her thumbs into the band and shucked them. Crawling up onto the bed, she shed the shirt as well, glad she’d chosen to wear a semipretty lace-edged bra that day rather than the jog bra she sometimes wore under her clothes for convenience. The lingerie wasn’t from her top drawer, but thankfully, it wasn’t laundry day stuff either.

“Do this for me?” she asked, handing over the condom.

Ty snatched the coil of latex from her fingers with one hand and pushed at his jeans and briefs with the other. She took over, curling her fingers into the double waistbands and drawing them down. The reveal was at once too slow and way too fast. She stared openly at the length of him as he set to work with the condom. While he was busy, she pulled his worn jeans down over taut thighs and below his knees.

“I say we go for hot and fast first, work on messy later.”

“Good plan,” he agreed. “But, Mil, I’m gonna get you messy. Every way I can.”

The creak in his voice nearly set her off. Abandoning his pants, she crawled up to straddle him. Ty rose to meet her, his hand sliding slowly up her spine and coming to settle at her nape. He drew her down and kissed her. Slow. Deep. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her lips before plunging in to take what she so desperately wanted to give. His cock pressed against the curve of her stomach. He moved his hips, each undulation timed to match the swirl of his tongue and the thrum of his heart.

They broke apart, breathless, panting, and damn near feral with want. Even with her seated on his thighs, they were still eye to eye. Looking directly at him was too much. She wanted him too badly. And having him only for a little while would certainly bring her heartache. Needing to claim a modicum of control, she pressed the heel of her hand into his shoulder and created some distance between them.

He stared back at her, sleepy-eyed and too gorgeous to be real. He must have seen something in her face. A flash of apprehension, a hint of fear, some chink in her armor. She knew that stare all too well. He wore the look of a warrior. A champion. Someone born to win at all costs.

“You still game, Millie?”

The challenge was unmistakable and irresistible. She hadn’t backed down from a dare in over twenty years, and she wasn’t about to start now. Not when she wanted this every bit as badly as he did. If he broke her heart, she’d survive. She had before. She would again.

Sliding her hand to the center of his chest, she lifted her hips as she pressed him back into the mattress and positioned herself over him. “You bet, Coach. You watch how game I am.”

Chapter 9

Ty knew of nothing better than watching a mostly naked woman climbing on top of him. Okay, maybe atotallynaked woman swinging a leg over would top the list, but this was good. For now, he was content with the visual. He’d make sure they had time for totally naked later.

High, small breasts curved over the top of her bra. Her lingerie wasn’t porn-star quality, like the stuff Mari preferred, but the bra and panties were pretty and feminine. No one would ever accuse her of being a Barbie doll. Her figure was slim and subtle, her waist a trim indention and her hips rounded enough to give him something to hang on to. So he did.

His eyes closed of their own accord as she lowered herself onto him. Christ, was there any better feeling on earth than the give of a woman’s body? He felt her hand on his shoulder and forced his eyes open. Millie leaned down over him, her wild, red hair tousled and her eyes bright with arousal.

“You ready for this?” she whispered.

Any words he might have conjured tangled in his chest. The only thing that escaped was a strangled groan. She moved. Up. Down. Lord, she was hot. Tight. He clenched his teeth, his fingertips pressing into the soft curve of her ass. How could anyone possibly be prepared for this? “God yes.”

She rode him, holding him to every promise he’d made concerning speed and intention but spinning them higher than he’d pictured in his fantasies. She was a Technicolor dream. Vivid hair. Flashing eyes. Her black skirt was bunched around her waist. Pale-blue lace obscured but failed to contain her breasts. He could see her nipples pressed against the peekaboo fabric, hard and red as ripe berries. Could almost taste them. Damn, he needed to taste them.

Ty tried to rise, but she planted both hands on his shoulders and slowed, her eyes narrowing in unspoken challenge. Wetting his parched lips, he gave in. Plenty of time to make good on the laundry list of things he planned to do with her. To her. In her. Later.

Holding her hips as she stepped up the pace once more, he sank back into the pillow, prepared to enjoy the show. If she wanted to call the shots for now, that was okay by him. This wasn’t a one-sided thing. And certainly not a one-time chance either. He’d have to work at getting to her, but he would. Soon.

He blinked hard, willing his mind to stay sharp despite the fuzzy edges of pleasure threatening to encroach. He needed to stay with her. In her. Holy hell. He tensed his abdominals, trying to hold back the surge rising inside him. He needed to think about something other than the sultry pull of her body.

Baseball. Trite but true. The national pastime was, after all, the world’s most boring sport. Aside from televised golf. Or curling. He wasn’t a big NASCAR fan—

“I wanted to climb up in your lap and do you like this on national television.”

The breathy confession jolted him straight out of the wide world of sports and plunged him right back in the here and now. Heat. Friction. Her hot, slick pussy clenched tightly around him. Her breaths coming fast and shallow. His voice came out so rough and deep he almost didn’t recognize himself. “You what?”

“When that tight-ass Chambers had you in his hot seat, I wanted to do this,” she said, holding his gaze. “When he was talking to you like he could ever be half the man you are, I wanted to hike my skirt up, straddle you in that hideous chair, and show the whole damn world how fuckable you are.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned the words, acutely aware they were half prayer, half blasphemy, and entirely necessary. If she kept on saying shit like that, he was going to need some divine intervention on his side.

Warming to the subject, Millie leaned down. “I wanted you in the car. Hell, I’d have given old Manny a show that would have ruined him for Broadway.” Her face hovering above his, she pumped him like a piston. “Might have reminded him of Times Square before the facelift.”

She huffed and puffed, but her pace never slackened. The muscles in her thighs tensed and flexed beneath his roaming hands, but he didn’t feel even a tremble of exertion.

Not on her part at least. Hell, he was straining so hard not to come he was pretty sure his fucking lips were quivering. Not above cheating a little to keep the playing field even, he slid a hand between their bodies. Her clit was swollen and slick. The damp curls of her pubic hair were thrillingly exotic. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and smother himself in those damp curls.

---