Game Saver (6 page)

He crashes his lips on mine, his tongue spearing into my mouth at the same time as his fingers dive inside my underwear and his thumb is right there.

“Cade,” I whisper hoarsely, the sound muffled by his mouth on mine.

“If you’re going to look that fucking hot sitting at the table opposite me, I’m going to do it knowing it was my fingers you were riding when you made yourself come.”

Fuck me sideways and call me Nancy, why does his dirty mouth make me want to fall at his feet and offer him everything I have?

He slowly presses one finger inside of me, his thumb enacting glorious swirls over my clit.

Dragging his mouth over my jaw and down to my neck, his lips, teeth, and tongue torture my skin, causing my limbs to convulse and cling tighter to him. I anchor myself while undulating my hips and taking everything he gives me. Cade bites into my neck, and my climax catapults towards me. My back arches and I grind down, just about to go over, but he quickly pulls his hand away, my responding growl bouncing off the walls.

Cade hums against my skin, and I try to catch my breath while secretly planning his death in my head. I jerk away from him and he chuckles, gently kissing that perfect little spot beneath my ear before simultaneously lifting his head and righting my panties.

Looking down into my wide—and no doubt dagger-wielding—eyes, he grins and slides his hand from my hair down and round to cup my cheek.

“You look suitably finger-fucked. My job here is done.”

“It’s unfinished,
actually,
” I harrumph.

“Everyone seeing us will still know you got yourself some before going out.”

“I got myself a little bit, not some.”

“A little bit is something, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes dancing wickedly.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “And you?” I ask, rolling my hips against his hard cock wedged between us.

“Later,” he murmurs, kissing me soft and slow and setting the heat level to slow burn. He jerks himself away. “We’ve gotta go, otherwise I’ll be eating
you
instead of a meal.”

I tilt my head to the side and shoot him a wicked grin. “Sounds fine to me.”

“You’re trouble with a capital T.”

He takes a step back and holds his hand out to me, the hand that just moments ago turned me to a writhing wanton mess.

“Somehow I think you like my brand of trouble.” I look down to his tented slacks then back to his face. “
Really
like it.”

He grabs my hand. With our fingers laced together, Cade bends down to pick up my discarded purse, and leads me out the front door without saying a single word about his predicament.

He doesn’t need to. The heat in his gaze speaks
volumes.

“This feels like a date,” I announce, now seated opposite Cade at Gaston Brasserie.

His lips quirk as he looks up from the menu. “We’re just two friends having dinner.”

“Friends?”

“Are you saying we’re not?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“Friends don’t bang each other’s brains out on a regular basis.”

He places the menu on the table and leans back in his chair, studying me. “They don’t?”

“Not usually,” I mumble, his heated gaze not helping my concentration levels. I’m still coming down from my almost-orgasm against my couch. I swear it would only take two strokes and a poke and I’d be singing the high notes.

“I beg to differ. I think that’s the
best
kind of friend to have.”

Maybe one stroke . . .

The waiter comes back and takes our order, but I don’t let the interruption stop me from pursuing what I
really
want to know.

“Do you have a lot of friends who you sleep with?” I ask before I can stop myself. Why would I care?

His smile gets impossibly bigger, his eyes full of amusement. “Why’s that, Spitfire? Do you want me all to yourself? Because I’m totally down with that. In fact, I think we should be monogamous in our fake relationship with benefits.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I snap, more out of principle that anything else.
Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway.

“Oh no, no take-backsies.”

I burst out laughing. “Did you just say no take-backsies? What are you, twelve?”

“It’s a thing us kids used to say. Guess it stuck,” he says with a shrug.

“You’re so cute,” I tease.

“Would rather you think I’m hot, sexy, and impossible to resist.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I giggle.
Seriously cute . . . and dangerous

“You’re those, too. In fact, when I clocked you at Throb that first night I thought all of those things.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I thought you were the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.” His voice drops low, that same raspy tone he gets when he’s deep inside me and telling me—in graphic detail—all the things he wants to do to me. My gaze drops to his lips and I find myself no longer hungry, at least not for food.

“Stop looking at me like you’re thirsty and I’m a glass of water.”

“I’ve got a drink right here,” I retort smugly, picking up my glass of the wine Cade ordered as soon as we arrived and bringing it up to my mouth for a sip.

“That won’t sate what you’re craving. It won’t quench the thirst; you need to be—”

“Wet. You’ve already succeeded in
that
department,” I mutter.

Cade groans and bites his lip, his fingers raking through his hair and his dark eyes dropping to my chest. “You’re not helping my self-control here. We’re supposed to be having dinner in public, with clothes on, and talking.”

“We’re talking, aren’t we?”

“And my cock will drill its way through the table if you keep thinking those thoughts.”

It’s then—thank God—that the waiter arrives with our starters.

“So tell me about yourself,” Cade says once we’d finish eating, making me burst out laughing.

“What’s this? The fake girlfriend interview?”

“No,” he says with a wry grin. “It’s me getting to know the beautiful woman I’m having dinner with.”

Well, that got a tingle in my happy place. I pick up my glass of wine and take another sip. “What would you like to know?”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Colorado. Dad got a transfer here when I was ten.”

“And college?” he continues, lifting his own glass of wine to his lips and distracting me wickedly as he takes a slow, measured sip.

“Business Management at Northwestern.”

His eyes widen in surprise and he nods. “Impressive. So hotel management was always the goal?”

Seems Dani has been talking about me, or Cade has been asking. I’m not sure which is better or which I’d prefer. “Not initially, but I’ve always liked dealing with people and tourism has a lot of that so it has been a good fit.”

“And the stripping?” he asks, his eyes looking straight into mine, and for some reason it reassures me that he wasn’t just blowing smoke up my ass on Sunday when he said he was fine with it.

“I was living with a guy in my early twenties who totally conned me. Lost his job, got into debt, then got
me
into debt. I was young, naïve and cock-dumb, or that’s what I like to think, but I honestly thought I loved him and—despite his many faults—that there was a good guy still under there. I kicked Bryce out when I discovered he didn’t have a job because he was a drug addict, and I had effectively been funding his habit for a year.”

Cade’s face grows dark, and his jaw tightens. Needing to say something—
anything
—to break the silence, I sally forth. “So in order to pull myself out of the hole I dug myself in, I went into the Pink Monkey and asked about getting a job. And voila, four years later, here I am. I’m only dancing one night a week now, not because I need to anymore, but because I like my boss, I like the other girls—and if I’m honest—it’s a bit of fun.”

His expression softens, and it scares me more than his dark and brooding look from before. “You’re fucking
amazing,
Abi.”

Say what now?
That is so far from what I expected him to say.

“And what about you Mister Hotshot Doctor?” I ask, needing a subject change so that I don’t do something completely inappropriate for a
date
‘get to know you’ dinner.

“NYU undergrad, then Northwestern for med school.”

“Nice. Why New York?”

“I wanted to stretch my legs a bit and get out of the Carson family shadow.” He frowns but quickly hides it. “That’s where I met Daniel, Noah, and Thomas.”

“Thomas? I don’t think I know him.”

“He was at Throb on Saturday with us. Blond hair, preppy-looking. One of my best friends, and currently my roommate.”

“Ah yep, I know the one.”

His eyes widen, and he nods. “Checking him out, were you?”

I gasp in mock offense. “What kind of woman do you take me for?”

“One who is not ashamed of the fact she checks men out. You’re just lucky I’m confident enough in my own looks and performance to know I’ve got nothing to worry about when it comes to you and Thomas,” he says with a wink and a smile.

I shake my head. “Is that so?”

“You know it.”

“You don’t think I’m weak? I ask, thinking again of Bryce and what an idiot I’d been.

“Fuck no,” he bites out, and my head jerks at the weight of his denial. “You did what you had to do to get yourself out of that mess. There is not one thing you should be ashamed or embarrassed about.”

“Wow.”

“What? You thought I’d think badly of you for finding yourself in a situation and doing whatever possible to get yourself out of it? That shows more strength than most people have in their little finger.”

“I—”

“And, just saying, if you ever see that asshole and I’m with you, don’t tell me because it won’t look good for the future mayor if one of his sons is facing an assault charge—again.”

“Again?”

“Let’s just say that my brother, Cameron, went into the army for a number of reasons.”

I lean forward onto my elbows. “Now
this
sounds juicy.”

He chuckles, taking another sip from his wine glass. “Together we prove that the adage that twins can be polar opposites is true when it comes to Cam and I.”

“Twins,” I say dreamily, a smirk playing at my mouth. “Is he the yin to your yang?”

“More like the oil to my water.”

“You don’t get on?” I ask. My own twin brothers are closer than anything.

“We do, we’re just different in a lot of ways, although we do look alike.”

“Identical?”

“Yep. Five minutes between us.”

“Younger or older?”

“I came first.”

“Lucky you got out of
that
nasty habit when you grew up.”

His eyes widen before he bursts out laughing, drawing the attention of diners around us. When he composes himself, he pins me with a heated stare and lowers his voice, the carnal undertone doing downright delicious things deep inside me. “There’s no way I’d give up hearing you scream ‘oh God’ for anything, Spitfire,” he replies, a devilish smirk playing on his lips.

I cough loudly just as the waiter appears at our table. “Your mains.”

Cade doesn’t miss a beat. He looks up at the waiter and grins, directing the plates onto the table.

“So this mother-buffer assignment of mine. What should I expect at this fundraiser?” I ask after we’ve both finished eating.

“Lots of men trying to prove they’ve got the biggest balls and women trying to outshine each other,” he explains flippantly.

I study him for a moment, seeing for the first time that he’s not at all that he seems—in a good way. “Not your scene?”

He snorts. “Nope. Don’t get me wrong—my father’s money meant I could go to any college I wanted without loans or debt.”

That
must have been nice.

“But with wealth comes status and—in my parents’ minds—responsibility to uphold the Carsen family name.”

“And that’s not your deal?”

He looks out the window toward the Lake Michigan beside us before returning his attention to me. “I’ve always wanted to be my own man, do my own thing. You know?” I nod in agreement. “And for the most part, my mom and dad leave me to it. But when things like a mayoral campaign come around, it’s ‘all Carsens on deck.’“

It’s as if I’m seeing a whole new side to him and damn, I’m fucking liking it. Shit. Fake girlfriends are not supposed to like their fake boyfriends.
Friends with benefits, Abi. Nothing more.

I decide we need to go back to light and easy, not deep and serious. “Any arranged marriages on your horizon then?” I ask with a wry smile.

“My mother has tried, starting with wrangling a date with her best friend’s daughter a few years ago. Hence the need for a mother buffer.”

“With a side of hot sex?”

“Is that a request or a requirement? Because either option works for me.”

Oh God. We’re back here again and damn, if it doesn’t hit me right in the money spot. “Definitely a requirement,” I reply. “Fair’s fair, Dr. Carsen. I scratch your back—”

“I get you to lay you flat on yours.”

“Check please,” I whisper, and my entire body hums at the sight of his devilish grin, one that guarantees multiple orgasms in my future.