The All-Star Antes Up (Wager of Hearts #2) (14 page)

As another dancer bumped against them, Luke ended her debate by pulling her in so her thighs were between his as they swayed to the insidiously seductive beat. She gave in and raised her free hand to his shoulder. That put her nose almost against his chest, another awkward position. She allowed herself to do what she had wanted all evening, turning her head to rest her cheek against the cotton of his T-shirt. It held the warm, male scent that was simply Luke. She could feel his breath riffling the hair on top of her head, making her scalp tingle.

Enveloped by the heat and power of his body, her own throbbed with awareness. He surprised her by being completely in sync with the music, his movement and the sound amplifying each other. The room was dark, lit only by colored lights along the walls, and they were surrounded by couples locked in each other’s arms. No one was paying any attention to them, so she relaxed, letting his body carry hers into their own private rhythm.

He responded by moving his hands to press against the upper curves of her behind, sending ropes of heat searing through her. They coiled low inside her, stoking the growing ache of arousal. She sucked in a breath as she willed him to move lower, to cup her with his hard, warm palms.

Instead, he rubbed his thumbs in circles over her lower back in time with the music, so the yearning within her pulsed with every movement.

It was a strangely primitive end to what was supposed to be a day of high culture. Maybe this was what he needed to balance it, something wholly physical.

The thought made her stiffen, and he flexed his fingers into her flesh to bring her more firmly against him.

She let go of her resistance. She hadn’t been held like this by a man in too long. In fact, she’d never been held by a man like Luke Archer.

After all, they were only dancing.

And then he shifted so that one of his knees drove between her legs, his thigh hitting just where her yearning was most concentrated. She gasped against him and dug her fingers into his shoulders as a shock of hot desire ripped through her.

Feeling rather than hearing a vibration in his chest, she dropped her head back to look up at him, trying to hear what he said. Another wave of arousal flooded her when she met the blaze of his eyes under their half-closed lids. The planes of his face were taut with tension, and his hold on her grew almost harsh as he shifted his thigh against her again. The friction sent her arching back against his hands.

His mouth came down on hers, his tongue stroking her lower lip in time with the music. The same rhythm was repeated in the thrust of his thigh between hers and the glide of his thumbs on her back.

She tried to change the angle of her hips to reduce the friction, but Luke gave her what she’d wished for. He moved his powerful hands down to grip her bottom and bring her in hard against his thigh. The extra pressure detonated the arousal that had been building inside her all day, her orgasm exploding in a blast of heat and sensation. She jerked and shuddered in his arms as the delicious shocks rolled through her, her groans swallowed by his mouth and the relentless sound of the music.

As the spasms subsided into tiny rippling quivers, she turned her head away from his kiss and buried her face against his chest in embarrassment, hoping he would mistake her climax for a new dance move. Pleasure still throbbed low inside her, and she wanted to fold up into a boneless heap on the floor.

Instead, she felt him moving them both toward the edge of the dance floor. She didn’t want to look him in the eye right now, so she kept her face plastered against his T-shirt and tried to slow their progress without being obvious about it. All too quickly, however, they were in the dimly lit hallway through which they’d entered the club.

Luke took her shoulders and peeled her away from his chest, so she straightened her spine and raised her eyes to his. If she’d thought his gaze was hot before, it had become positively blistering.

“Was that what I think it was?” he asked.

She could feel the blush radiating over her neck and cheeks. She swallowed. “I . . .”

“Did you just come on the dance floor?” His fingers tightened on her shoulders, and he stepped into her, sandwiching her between his body and the wall. She could feel his erection against her stomach as he leaned in, his mouth closing on hers. Her breasts were so sensitized that the pressure of his hard muscles against her nipples sent streaks of fire through her as he teased her with his tongue.

He pulled away an inch to say, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I couldn’t stop it,” she managed to murmur, inhaling as he slid his hands between the wall and her behind, curling his fingers to pull her even closer. He bent his knees and flexed his hips, making her moan as the ridge under his jeans pressed between her legs.

He huffed out a laugh that sounded almost like he was in pain. “We need to leave. Now.” He stepped back and spun her against his side, holding her there as he headed for the exit at a near jog.

Nerves and longing twisted together in her gut. How could she feel shy about being alone with him in the limo when she’d climaxed in the middle of the dance floor?

The bouncer opened the club’s back door for them, telling them to have a good night. Luke jerked the door of the limo open before the driver could straighten away from the hood, where he’d been having a smoke.

“Take us home,” Luke called out before helping Miranda onto the leather seat with a courtesy that contrasted with the devouring hunger in his eyes. He lunged in beside her and hit the button that closed the privacy screen between them and the driver. His gaze was locked on her face, and the set of his jaw showed tension. “You didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect this. But I say we go with it. Come back to my place,” he said in what was more a command than a request.

She hesitated as the implications of what he wanted sank in. He dated the most beautiful women on earth. And the most sexually experienced. Miranda had slept with exactly three men in her life, and two had been at college. She couldn’t begin to imagine what someone like Luke Archer would expect in bed.

Before she could respond, he angled his head downward and kissed her—this time with a slow, sensual touch. In the closed, private space of the limo’s interior, he could have overwhelmed her with his big, powerful body, but he touched her only with his mouth, giving her room and freedom. Or the illusion of it. His mouth was mesmerizing, robbing her of the last shreds of sanity. She whimpered and grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt to draw herself into him.

That was all the answer he needed.

He seized her hips and lifted her off the seat and onto his lap, so she straddled his thighs. She thought she heard him grunt in pain, but his movements were smooth and sure. “I want to touch your skin.” He slipped his fingers under the hem of her top at the back of her waist and pushed them up under the fabric until they were splayed across her shoulder blades.

The feel of his palms against her skin made her breasts grow heavy with longing. Shocked at her own daring, she leaned close to his ear and said, “You can unhook it.”

Her bra came loose immediately, and he slid his hands around under the silky knit of her top to cup her breasts. She let her eyes close as she pressed herself into his touch. He groaned and rolled her nipples between his fingers, sending pure electricity sizzling down into her core.

“Yes, Luke,” she breathed, tilting her hips so she could rub herself against his erection. All she cared about was finding some relief from the rekindled burn of arousal inside her.

He released her breasts and seized her hips, holding her still. “Slow down, sugar. You deserve better than a quick screw in the back of a limo. We’ve got all night to—” His expression went from hot anticipation to irritated frustration. “Oh, crap—Trevor!”

It took her a moment to clear the sex haze from her brain enough to remember who Trevor was. The sleazy brother who was staying with Luke. She did
not
want Trevor to find out about this.

Luke’s eyes lit up again. “I know how we can get around that.”

“How?”

He moved his hands back to her breasts, gently brushing his thumbs across the hardened peaks. “My private gym. It has a separate entrance for my trainer.” His dimple appeared in all its seductive glory. “There are a lot of interesting ways to use exercise equipment.”

Chapter 12

Miranda followed Luke out of his private elevator and into an elegantly paneled and carpeted hallway. This was the floor below his living quarters and accommodated his private gym, lap pool, and media room.

“I’m pretty sure Trevor won’t be using the gym at this hour,” he said. “But just to make sure, you wait here.”

The thought of Trevor doused some of the fire smoldering inside her. But then Luke brought her up against him and took her mouth in a potent kiss before he strode away down the hall. She drank in the rear view of wide, rippling shoulders, well-muscled butt, and mile-long legs before she sagged against the wall and tried to pull herself together.

After a steamy ride in the limo, he’d backed her up against the wall of the elevator and practically made her come again before they’d reached his floor. Now that his enthralling presence had been removed, cold sanity seeped into her brain.

He’d said this was unexpected and she deserved better than sex in a limo. But she didn’t kid herself—she was no more than a diversion for him because he’d been benched.

Was being with him worth the risk that someone at the Pinnacle—like Orin—would find out? Or that Trevor would interrupt them? Or even just the awkwardness of seeing him around the building after she became a notch on his bedpost? That last wasn’t fair. He would treat her with unfailing courtesy after tonight . . . if she ever encountered him again.

“The playing field is all ours.” Luke came toward her with that ground-eating stride of his. As she let her gaze drift over the shimmer of his g
olden hair, the burn of his blue eyes, and the hard male perfection of his chest and thighs, all her concerns evaporated like morning mist on a sunny day.

She wanted to peel off his T-shirt and jeans, trace her fingers over the lines of muscle and tendon, and feel him moving within her.

She trotted down the hall to meet him halfway. Running her hands up under the fabric of his T-shirt to feel his warm skin, she murmured, “Make me stop thinking.”

Hunger flared in his eyes. “Inside,” he growled.

He spun her around, swept her through the gym door, and turned to lock it. She took a quick survey of the room. Only one row of the overhead lights was on, casting a low-level glow over various machines constructed of stainless steel, metal cables, and black vinyl cushions.

He did a brief scan, too, before he grabbed her hand and led her to a massage table, also covered in padded black vinyl. Before she could move, he had grasped her waist in his big hands and lifted her onto the end of the cushiony table. If the effort hurt him, she saw no sign of it.

Then he was pushing her knees apart to stand between her thighs. “I want your skin,” he said, as he pulled the hem of her top upward. “Lift your arms.”

She obeyed and felt the soft fabric skim up her arms and over her hands before he flung it away. He snaked his hands around her to flick open the hooks of her bra again. “Practice makes perfect,” she said, trying to counteract the intensity of her reaction to his touch.

He threaded his fingers under the straps and slowly pulled them down, his focus locked on the curve of her breasts as he uncovered them. “So beautiful,” he muttered and then snatched the bra off and tossed it into the corner, too. His hands went back to her breasts, and she nearly forgot what she wanted as his palms pushed against the sensitive nipples. But she wrapped her fingers around his wrists, feeling the unyielding power in them as she tried to pull them away from her. “I want skin, too,” she said, giving up on trying to move his hands, and reaching for the hem of his shirt instead. She tugged upward, exposing the rippled planes of his abdomen.

“Just like the statues,” she said, with a sharp inhalation. As she pulled the fabric farther upward, she saw the spread of dark bruising.
But human and vulnerable to pain.

“Fair’s fair,” he said, releasing her. He crossed his arms, grabbed the bottom of his shirt, and yanked it up over his head, leaving his hair delightfully mussed. The shirt followed her clothes, and then he bent to take one of her nipples in his mouth, making her forget about his injury.

The hot, moist friction of his tongue sent a wave of arousal crashing through her body. She buried her fingers in the satin of his hair when he drew on her, the suction making her whimper. He moved to her other breast, his hands warm and slightly rough against the bare skin of her back as he pressed her into his mouth. The moment of respite let her run her fingers down through his hair to glide along the curving muscles of his shoulders and back. When he scraped the edge of his teeth around her nipple, she dug her fingers into his shoulder blades, arching against him on the exquisite balance of pain and pleasure.

Desire seared through her like tropical sunlight, blinding and hot. She wanted him inside her with a fierceness that unnerved her. Seeking his belt buckle, she dragged her hands down his chest and stomach. She felt the contractions ripple through his muscles wherever she touched him. He straightened away from her, but his gaze was downward, watching her hands on his skin.

As she scrabbled for his belt, her hand brushed against the denim-covered ridge of his erection. A hiss came from between his clenched teeth, and he took the end of his belt from her to unfasten it with one swift jerk. He wrenched the button out of its hole and hauled the zipper down before reaching into his back pocket and producing a foil envelope.

“I’ll bet you were an Eagle Scout.” Miranda took the condom from him and laid it on the table beside her so she could fumble at the button of her trousers.

“Let me.” He opened her pants in two swift movements. “Lie back on the table,” he ordered before he worked her trousers and panties over her hips as she arched up. He yanked them down to her ankles while she toed off her shoes.

“Yes,” he said, his gaze skimming over her naked body. He shoved the waistband of his briefs down and freed his cock.

Miranda ran her fingers along the hard length of him, pulling a low groan from his throat. Then she ripped open the envelope and rolled the condom on.

He started to push at his jeans, but she shook her head. “I like that look.”

His smile was tight. “If you like it, you got it, sugar. Because I sure like your look.”

His hands were on her thighs, pushing them wider apart. She leaned back on her hands, slanting her hips up to give him easier access. She kept her gaze on his face, where a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. His grip tightened, and she felt the head of his cock against her, pressing slowly into the slippery heat between her legs. “You are so ready,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” she gasped as he pushed inside, stretching her, filling the hollow ache.

He thrust hard to seat himself fully in her, throwing back his head and growling as she pulsed her hips to meet him. “Yeah, that’s good,” he said, moving his hands to cup her bottom and bring her forward so his cock went even deeper. The power and intimacy of their joining spiraled down inside her, pushing her beyond just physical pleasure.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

She ran her ankles up along the seams of his jeans to lock them together behind him, opening her even more. He moved in closer and pushed in farther. “And now, sugar, let’s get to know each other.”

With his cock impaling her in place, he traced a line up the indentation of her spine with one finger while he nibbled at the side of her neck. He twined his hands into her hair, using it to angle her head back so he could lick his way down her throat to her cleavage. He released her hair and brought both hands to her breasts, lifting them with his palms and flicking his thumbs over the nipples.

His exploration was slow and thorough, as though he was truly fascinated by her body. She let herself go, reveling in her unrestrained responses to his touch.

Every time he moved, she felt the shift of his hard length inside her and the press of his groin against her wide open thighs, winding the tension tighter and tighter. She couldn’t stop him from touching her wherever he chose. And each touch made her pulse around the fullness within. It was so overwhelmingly erotic she almost forgot she could touch him, too.

Somehow she brought her hands up to flatten her palms on his chest, carefully avoiding the dark bruises, so she could savor the slight roughness of his wiry hair, the immovable stone of his pectoral muscles, the living warmth of his skin, and the hard thudding of his heart.

She wielded power over him, too.

At her touch, he sucked in a breath so his abs defined themselves even further. She spread her hands to thumb his nipples and make him moan. He pinched hers, so sparks showered through her. She traced the lines of definition down the front of his hips until she brushed the base of his cock where it was pressed so close to her. He rocked into her as though he couldn’t stop himself, sending her arching back as a shock of pleasure seared through her.

“Lean away from me, darlin’,” he said, moving his grip to her behind. “Put your feet on the edge of the table.”

She braced herself on her hands and bent her knees so her heels rested on the padded tabletop, against her bottom. The new angle of his cock set off another shudder of arousal. He kept his eyes on hers and began to move, withdrawing almost completely before he eased back into her. She dropped onto her elbows as her muscles melted under the sensual assault.

The tendons in his neck drew taut and the heat in his eyes blazed while he drove into her harder and faster. Every time he pushed in, he rotated his hips, grinding against her, ratcheting her closer and closer to orgasm. “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes. More.”

He thrust and pulled her in sharply, so she was fully open to the friction of his body against hers. The hard, hot pressure set off her climax, her body going rigid as all her muscles seemed to clench at once before exploding in a release so mind-bending she screamed and bowed back, her head hitting the vinyl padding. As she convulsed around him, she felt him go still, his fingers digging into the flesh of her behind.

After the shocks ripped through her, she collapsed so she lay on the table, quivering with little echoing ripples of sensation. Luke was still huge and hard inside her, which made her insides begin to hum with anticipation again, despite her release. She levered her hips up in invitation.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.

She opened her eyes to see him nearly grimacing with the effort he was making to hold on to his control. “So ready.”

That blasted his control to bits, and he started to thrust in a wild rhythm. She could feel the brush of worn denim on the backs of her thighs as he pulled her hips up even higher to give himself a better angle. The table bucked in time with his hips, and she could hear it scraping across the floor. Her inner muscles quivered and tightened with the power of his strokes. She lifted her arms over her head to hang on to the top edge of the table.

“You look so hot like that,” he rasped, his attention concentrated on her jutting breasts. Her nipples tightened in response.

He drove into her and stayed there, throwing his head back and shouting at the ceiling as he came inside her, his cock pulsing so strongly she could feel it along its entire length.

When the pulsing stopped, he eased his hold on her hips, and she wondered if she would have bruises where his fingers had dug in. He slid out of her and turned away for a moment. When he came back, the condom was gone, and he bent over the table to brace his elbows on either side of her. “You are amazing,” he said, his breath whistling through her hair as he rested his forehead on the pillowy surface beside her neck.

She let her heels drop off the table so her legs dangled on either side of his. Now the denim was scraping against the sensitized spot between her thighs. “So are you.” Draping her arms over his back, she gave her hips a little grind against him.

“Sugar, allow me a few minutes. You take more out of me than an entire defensive line.”

She rotated her hips again, igniting little flares of heat in her belly. “Are you one of those players who doesn’t believe in sex the night before a big game?”

He stiffened slightly and she regretted her joking question. Then his body relaxed against hers. “I try to keep my focus on football during the season, but sometimes it’s worth making an exception.”

“Because I’m exceptional.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You are that.” And then he was sliding down her toward the end of the table, trailing kisses to her navel and below.

“I didn’t mean for you to—”

He put his mouth between her legs, and a jolt of electricity flared through every nerve in her body. She shuddered and hissed and grabbed the edge of the table again as his tongue traced down and inside her, then swirled around her hypersensitive clit. A few more of his touches sent her raging into another orgasm as mind-bending as the one before. He sucked on her until he had wrung every ounce of response from her body.

She lay limply on the table, her legs draped over one end, her arms dangling over the sides.

“Stay here,” he said, stroking his hands down her thighs.

She moaned her agreement. It felt as though her bones had melted in the inferno he had generated inside her.

So she stayed, her body slowly easing down from the sensual heights Luke had taken her to, while he rustled around somewhere across the room.

When she finally mustered enough energy to prop herself up on her elbows, he was walking barefoot across the polished wooden floor toward her, his half-unzipped jeans riding low on his hips, a smile softening the angles of his face.

She let her gaze drift over his gorgeousness and saw for the first time the full extent of the bruising on his left side. Guilt made her sit up when he came near enough to touch. She skimmed her fingertips ever so lightly over the dark shading on his skin. “I keep forgetting you’re so hurt you can’t play. I shouldn’t have . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. “Sugar, I haven’t thought about that injury since our dance together.”

Blood rose in her cheeks at the reminder of her public loss of control.