Page 66 of Putting Out
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“Ninety-six,” she whooshed. “Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. One hundred.” Reilly exhaled and groaned as she stretched her arms out over her head while she pointed her toes forward.
“You forgot ninety-nine.”
Reilly sat up and saw Luke leaning against the door frame of one of the second- floor French doors that led out to the veranda from her room.
“How did you get out there?”
“My bedroom is on the other side of yours. The veranda connects them.”
“I guess that means I’ll have to start locking both sets of doors from now on.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who snuck into my bedroom at your grandparents’ house. It’s only right I return the favor.”
“Yes, but you’re not here to seduce me,” Reilly said in a cheeky tone that hid an undercurrent of disappointment.
“You’re here to count. Which you totally blew by the way. I absolutely counted ninety-nine. You just didn’t hear it.”
“Are you properly pumped now?”
Not properly, she thought sourly. It wasn’t helping with him playing the role of the southern gentleman, either. The climate for February in Savannah was a balmy sixty degrees compared to the below zero temperatures they’d left behind in Nebraska. Luke wore an untucked button-down shirt, probably silk knowing his propensities for all things quality, with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. All that over a pair of loose-fitting slacks. The soft breeze coming through the open door rippled his clothes and hair like something out of a movie.
The two glasses of wine in his hand didn’t hurt the image, either.
“I suppose. I didn’t work quite as hard as Pierce would have worked me, but I’m sweaty.”
Luke sniffed the air but in a way that indicated to her what he smelled wasn’t at all distasteful. “Yep. I would say you’ve properly exerted yourself. I’m cooking downstairs, and when I say cooking, I mean I’m ordering in. Before it gets here I thought I would bring you a glass of wine for all your hard work.”
“What are we drinking?”
“A nice Pinot Grigio. I was doing the manly thing with Kenny earlier and guzzling beer, but I prefer a nice light wine with dinner. We’re having fish.”
“You cooked, and when I say cooked I mean ordered in, fish. You’re bringing me wine. You’re dressed like someone from the cover ofSouthern Gentlemen Living. Youarechanneling Rhett Butler,” she said as she smoothly gained her feet and took the glass from his outstretched hand. “And I think you are trying to seduce me.”
Luke’s lips twitched. “Now Reilly, would I seduce you knowing your brother is downstairs at this very moment awaiting our return?”
Reilly eyed him suspiciously even as she took a sip of the crisp wine. “You might.”
Luke chuckled. “That’s true. But I’m not now. Come downstairs to eat and drink. Afterward we’re going to watch DVDs of old American tournaments to help you get a feel for the holes. And, you know, to mock the players who crashed and burned.”
“I really have more reps I should be doing,” Reilly said as she bit her lip. Her reputation as a hard worker was at stake and she wasn’t going to blow it.
“The boys have about a twenty-hour trip. If they’re switching off and on they should be here sometime early tomorrow afternoon. That will be soon enough for you to continue working on your…hub, center…whatever.”
“Core. It’s my core. And it really is getting hard as a rock.” Reilly slapped her belly then belied the action with another sip of wine.
It wasn’t the only thing growing hard as Luke watched her hand rub along the silky spandex material. He imagined for a second it was his hand and then a sharp memory of her pressed against the window with only the moon at her back had him cursing softly under his breath.
What was the point of holding back? Oh, that’s right. It was part of the plan. But with so many sensual memories to dwell on, it was hard to keep his focus on the plan. Forget the night at the farm. That had barely held a candle to the last time they were together.
The ESPY’s over a year and a half ago. Between her divorce from the quarterback and months before she started seeing Buck, and his divorce from his second wife and a few months before he started dating his third ex-wife.
A perfect storm of singleness. She was receiving the award for best female golfer and he was presenting the award to best male golfer. They ran into each other for the first time backstage and it was like a lightning bolt had hit the ground between them, the tension was so electric.
They’d practically mauled each other. Finding the closest private spot — an alcove behind the stage away from the throng of athletes and stars — he’d taken her so hard and fast he might have worried he’d hurt her if she hadn’t been with him every step of the way, urging him on. Taking him to depths he’d only dreamed about.
Sex with Reilly wasn’t like sex with any other woman. The truth was, sometimes it scared him. Too raw. Too elemental. There was no softness when they fucked, only need. Had he even kissed her that night at the farm? He could only remember hammering into her.
