Knowing the Score (10 page)

“Don’t worry. I’m too old to have body issues anymore,” she said a bit huskily. Her eyes went unfocused as he swept his hands over her curvy hips and waist in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.

“Did you used to have body issues?” he asked.

“Sure. Who hasn’t?” She quickly looked him up and down, spell broken. “Oh, wait.”

“Hey, I’ve had body issues,” he tried to reassure her.

“Having too many women want to touch your body is not an issue.”

He smiled and let her go before it became too obvious how much he was enjoying touching
her
body. He couldn’t resist reaching out once more, though, and cupping her cheek as he stared down at her with all the regret he’d stored up these past several hours. “I’m sorry, love.”

Her brows drew together. “You don’t need to apologize on her behalf.”

“I’m apologizing for myself. For this afternoon, at St. Paul’s. I don’t want you wrapped up in that part of my life, the publicity. It can be—” he fought for the words, “—brutal. I want to keep you to myself.”

She twisted away from him for a second so she could pick up her wineglass from the counter, then took a slow sip as she eyed him over the rim. “Like a dirty little secret.”

His whole body flinched. “What? No!”

“It’s all right.” She set her glass down and patted his chest as though it might soothe the angry bear. “That was a joke. A bad one, obviously. Don’t worry about this afternoon.”

She wasn’t going to make him pay? “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She waved her bandaged hand in the air dismissively. “I wouldn’t have known what to say to your fans, anyway. I couldn’t understand a word they were saying—something about scum and the mall. Everything else was white noise.”

Scum and the mall? “Ah. Scrum and maul. They’re...you know what? They’re complicated. Probably better if I show you during the season.”

Except you won’t be together during the season
,
arsewipe.
Clearly thinking along the same lines, Caitlyn perched against the sink. She stayed silent for a second before changing the subject. “What’s Liam like?”

Spencer smiled. “Bloodthirsty and brutal on the rugby pitch. But off it he’s the most genuine bloke I know. He’d do anything for anyone.”

“How can a man like that stay with a woman like Megan for so long?”

He shrugged. “She lets him touch her fanny.”

Caitlyn’s brows bunched together. “He has that much of a butt fetish?”

He stared at her in utter bafflement until his brain caught up. Laughing, he said, “Right—fanny means bottom in America. Here it’s—” he whistled and shot a glance at her crotch, “—a lady’s front bum.”

She blinked. “Oh. Oh! Ooohh,” she groaned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Remember how I slipped in Minnie’s pee and fell on my ass the first time I was here?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I think I bruised my tailbone. That Monday, I was still walking funny, and my coworkers asked what was wrong. I told them I had a sore fanny.”

“Oh, Jesus!” he laughed.

“I thought I was being polite! I was trying to avoid saying ‘ass’ at work.”

He laughed harder, his abs aching from it. Gathering her against his chest, he slipped his hand down the small of her back and over the curve of her American fanny. She yelped, her hips thrusting forward to rub against his eager cock. She looked up at him in surprise, but he kept hold of her ass cheeks.

“Too much?” he asked.

She hesitated a second before lifting onto her toes, her mouth finding his as her arms wrapped around him. He dragged her closer, gripping her as her mouth opened, her kittenish purr of eagerness stroking all his nerves. His tongue wrapped around hers, exploring her mouth until she hummed around him. His whole body reverberated with her noises of need. He spun her toward the kitchen counter, hoisting her onto it and shoving her knees apart so he could step between them.

Bull’s-eye
. His cock tucked perfectly against the hot niche between her legs. His hips jerked as he rubbed against her, wishing like hell nothing separated them and no one waited for them in the next room. Her knees tightened against his hips, and Spencer forced himself to lift his mouth from hers. Her head fell back and hit the cupboards, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were closed, and she licked her lips.

Groaning, he dropped his face to the crook of her neck. “Please let me get you naked soon,” he whispered against her flushed skin. Where would the flush start? Her breasts? Farther south? Did it cover her whole body?

Her shaky laugh vibrated against his temple. It wasn’t a yes—but it wasn’t a no, either. He straightened enough to drop another kiss on her lips and then stepped back. His hands didn’t seem to get the message. They stroked from her knees to her hip bones, tangling in her skirt, his eyes following every centimeter of exposed skin along the way.

Caitlyn gave him a shy smile. “I don’t think I can go back out there yet.”

No shit. She didn’t wear lipstick, so there was nothing for him to smear, but she still looked every bit the ravaged woman.

Her gaze flicked down to his crotch. “You can’t either.”

He pressed her legs closed and helped her hop off the counter because his very obvious interest wasn’t going to die down as long as she was spread before him like a feast.

The door opened and Philip walk in. “Anything I can help with in here? Please?”

* * *

Spencer’s tiny touches ignited something wild and desperate in her. Throughout dinner and the relaxed, banter-filled conversations that followed, he seemed to continually seek her out with his eyes, his fingertips. Beneath the table, he slid his hand under her skirt and drew tiny shapes on the top of her thigh. She nearly choked as she realized the shapes were words—dirty ones. Commands, promises and anatomy lessons. He was certainly concise. None of the words was more than four letters long.

Even still, his message came through clearly: he was back in charge.

And thank God for that, because otherwise she would’ve been caught with her hand inside his pants when Philip had burst into the kitchen earlier.

Though the party was small—her, the birthday boy, two couples and three single men—they’d made an impressive dent in the food. Most of the men except Liam and Spencer were already in preseason training and couldn’t drink much. Since Spencer and Liam had been chosen to play for England in South Africa, they had two more weeks off. Only two weeks. Knowing she would jump him if she didn’t put a bit of distance between them, Caitlyn escaped to the balcony and pretended to ponder Tower Bridge as she chilled her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Mind if I join you?”

She turned and smiled at Amanthi, the woman she’d immediately recognized as the starry-eyed admirer in Spencer’s high school photo albums. She now lived with his teammate and best friend, John, who’d apparently been his biggest rival when they’d played against each other as teens. “Not at all.”

The balcony was only big enough for the two of them, and they each sat on a chair staring at the lights twinkling on the river. The sun had set during dinner, so it had to be well past ten.

“Spencer tells me you’ve worked in Sri Lanka,” Amanthi said.

Caitlyn propped her feet against the metal railing and leaned back in her chair, too relaxed to care if she didn’t look ladylike or proper to the roomful of Brits inside. “Yeah. A couple of years after the tsunami, when the conflict heated up again. I worked there for six months, teaching women how to rebuild their sanitation systems.”

She’d recognized Amanthi as Sri Lankan the moment she saw her photo. Hearing her accent—a mix of very considered words delivered in a lilting cadence—had confirmed that. “When did your family come over?”

“When I was twelve. Last year for the first time, John and I took my parents back to visit their relatives.” She grew quiet. “The ones who survived, anyway.”

“I’m so sorry.”

A sad smile twisted Amanthi’s lips. “It was more difficult for my parents. I barely remembered home. I think I’d blocked a lot of memories, but my parents hadn’t. It was very hard for them.”

Instinct had Caitlyn reaching across and squeezing Amanthi’s hand. The woman looked at her in grateful surprise. “Losing loved ones isn’t something you ever get over. Your parents are really brave for going back and facing the past, especially knowing everything they’d lost.”

Caitlyn could never have that much courage. With another squeeze, she released Amanthi and pressed her own hands together. Her skin itched until it burned under the thick bandage. Scratching would irritate the stitches, but putting pressure on the healing wounds brought a little relief.

“How did you hurt yourself?” Amanthi asked.

“By showing off her ability to crush glass with her bare hands,” Spencer said from the doorway behind them.

Viewed from her spot in the low-slung chair, he seemed gigantic. Judging on appearances alone, he was the type of man who would normally set her aquiver with a need to flee. But Spencer set her aquiver with an altogether different need. He stepped onto the balcony and leaned against the railing across from Caitlyn. Her feet dangled on the ledge right next to his hip. He took one of her ankles in his palms, slowly slipped her shoe off and braced her foot against his hard stomach. Even through his shirt, she could make out the ridges with her toes. His fingers busied themselves rubbing her ankle, her calf, all while holding her gaze with eyes that promised long nights of intense touches.

Amanthi cleared her throat. “Looks like the party will be over soon. When are you opening your prezzies?”

Spencer broke eye contact so he could answer, but his hands kept rubbing in a way that shortened Caitlyn’s breath and made her heartbeat pulse all the way down to her throbbing girl parts.

“On my birthday.”

Amanthi gasped. “What? But that’s not for months!”

“I know,” Spencer laughed. “Which is why this party of Granddad’s is ridiculous. I mean, I’m thrilled to see you all.” He glanced inside. “Most of you, anyway. But I don’t need to pretend it’s my birthday to invite you over.”

“What if John and I got you a puppy?” Amanthi asked.

“Then I hope you put lots of breathing holes and kibble in the box.”

Crap. Caitlyn had to get him to open at least her gift today. The promise that accompanied it would have expired by his actual birthday. “Spencer, you can’t leave your gifts until your birthday. Philip did this so he can be part of your celebration, and that means opening gifts in front of him.”

His hand stilled. “You think I should open them tonight?”

“Definitely.”

With a decisive nod, he lowered her foot to the floor and offered her a hand. “C’mon, then.”

Five minutes later, he’d gathered the troops and sat on his couch surrounded by gifts. Philip had a camera out and snapped away. Minnie had been invited to join them, on the promise that she’d be a good girl and not pee on anyone—Caitlyn smothered a grin as she remembered the bewildered expression on Spencer’s face as his granddad had tried to elicit a response from the dog. Minnie had immediately made a beeline toward the coffee table, jumping onto it and then launching herself at Caitlyn’s chest. Caitlyn settled herself on a chair across from Spencer and stroked Minnie’s fur as the dog curled on her lap with a grateful moan.

He ripped a bit of wrapping off a book-shaped gift, groaning before anyone else could see what it was. He shot a barbed look at Liam, a man Caitlyn had immediately pegged as the second sexiest and least serious man in the room. “Mate, are you kidding me?”

Liam laughed, absentmindedly scratching his abs and revealing a strip of skin so taut Caitlyn’s eyes nearly crossed. Then she noticed him glance in her direction.
Busted.

Liam sat up a little straighter. “I didn’t think you were doing anything with it. I know how you hate to waste anything.”

“Seriously, my granddad’s here.” Spencer glared in obvious disbelief and ignored everyone cajoling him to show them the gift.

Philip moved closer and used his camera’s zoom function to get a better view. “Ooh! I could really use that book at the pub.”

Spencer’s face turned horrified. “Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

Philip grinned and said nothing.

With a resigned sigh, Spencer tore off the rest of the paper and held the book up for everyone to see. Outrageous laughter and shouts of encouragement followed as he revealed a cookbook with recipes containing semen. Caitlyn covered her mouth and blinked at Liam, who winked at her.

“I didn’t think he was putting his to good use,” he said. “Obviously I was wrong.”

Suddenly the center of attention, she grabbed a random gift from the table and thrust it into Spencer’s hands, making everyone—including Spencer this time—laugh harder. If anything, the presents got even more bizarre and seemed to reflect inside jokes he had with his friends. Caitlyn liked the rugby memorabilia best, since it brought a gleam of adoration into Spencer’s eyes. But the antique dildo from John and Amanthi intrigued her the most.

“We didn’t realize he was getting any, either,” John explained, giving her an open smile that set her heart racing with embarrassment. Sheesh, these people talked about sex so easily and thought nothing of referring to her own sex life—or, the sex life they thought she had. And why wouldn’t they? Who would’ve thought Spencer would touch her the way he had been without having slept with her?

Who would’ve believed a woman could hold out for a week when Spencer made his interest so clear?

Unfortunately, her gifts to him wouldn’t dispel any of their assumptions. In fact, they’d just turn the assumptions into truth. With shaky hands, she pushed the big boxes in his direction.

He’d saved them for last, and her belly fluttered as he shifted forward on the sofa, as if he’d been anticipating them all night. His strong hands lifted the smaller gift and carefully tore through the paper, taking his sweet time revealing the plain white box inside. He popped open the lid and stared inside, his brow furrowing.

Shit. He didn’t get it.

He pulled out the sleeping bag and gave her a confused smile.