Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (30 page)

He returned with his suitcase, unzipped the outer pocket and pulled out a tiny shopping bag from an upscale lingerie boutique. “See here?” he asked, exhibiting a receipt. “I bought them for you. For
you.
No one else.”

“Oh, God.” A new, stronger wave of humiliation crushed her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” he demanded. “Why would you think I’m dating other women? It doesn’t even make sense.”

Another rush of tears flooded her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. I
told
you, I don’t mind. It’s part of the deal, right? I’m f-fine with it. God, just go away.”

“This is nuts,” he complained, sounding almost angry himself. “I haven’t dated anyone else since I met you.”

“Don’t say that,” she warned him. “You can be honest with me. Always. We don’t have much, but we have that. And you’ve n-never lied to me. If you start now—”

“Rachel!” He grabbed her gently by both shoulders. “What the hell?”

She stared at him, miserable and feeling furious again. “Maybe ‘dating’ is the wrong word. Just don’t play games. You can see other women. Go prowling around Philadelphia with Sean. Bring hotties to Erica’s house. Bang bridesmaids. Bang strippers. But don’t
lie
to me about it. I trust you. I trust you.” She collapsed against his chest, sobbing.

He held her tight. “You’re crazy, baby. There’s no one else. No bridesmaids, no hookups. And geezus, Philly? With Deck? That was all about sandwiches. The stuff you don’t want me to eat.”

He tried to pry her face up to look at him but she just shook her head and assured him, “You haven’t done anything wrong. So please don’t say these things to me. I don’t expect it. I
want
you to see other women.”

“You keep saying that,” he murmured. “But I don’t think it’s true. And luckily . . .” His tone grew stern. “I haven’t touched anyone. Or banged anyone. Or even
thought
about banging anyone else since I met you.”

She knew it should make her happy, but it sent her world crashing instead. She hadn’t asked for this. Didn’t want it. She was one among many. The best among many. It was the way they rationalized everything. The way they made this work.

“Come on, teach. Look at me. I’m sorry I said all that stupid shit about strippers and bridesmaids. I’ve got a big mouth. Why do you listen?”

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look up at him, but he looked so innocent—so confused and so attacked—she turned away and insisted, “We should talk later. After we’ve had time to think.”

“You think too much already,” he told her. “And I don’t think enough, obviously. I knew you were upset Wednesday night. Is this why? You thought I actually
wanted
to bang bridesmaids? At Dub’s wedding? Right in front of you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Man, I must really be blowing it.”

She tried to tune him out so she could catch up with his other statements. He wasn’t seeing other women? How was that possible? He only visited her one night a week. And everyone warned her he was running around. Sean said it. Kerrie said it.

And if only her brain weren’t throbbing, she was sure she could remember times when
he
had said it. Banging, banging, banging. Left and right, night and day. She hadn’t imagined any of that.

“I’m so confused,” she admitted sheepishly.

“But you believe me?” His expression warmed. “Remember what I told you on the beach? That you were the only girl for me?”

“You said I was the best one. Not the only one.”

“Right. The best. Why would I bother with second best?”

She licked her lips but couldn’t think of anything to say. So she just said, “Good point.”

“I should have said ‘only,’” he admitted. “You’re the only one. But I’ve said it other times. I’m sure of it.”

“You told me I was the only one you were having unprotected sex with. And that was enough for me. It still is. So can we
please
stop talking about it?”

He was silent for a moment, then muttered, “Damn, I
knew
that was a trick.”

“What?”

“Just because I promise I won’t bang them
without
rubbers doesn’t mean I’m banging them
with
rubbers.”

She smiled wistfully. “It wasn’t just that. It was your reputation, I guess. And because you’re so—well, virile. You had sex with me five minutes after you met me. So I figured you had sex with strangers all the time. Which was fine with me,” she added stubbornly. “And it still is.”

“Stop saying that,” he warned just as stubbornly.
“You
had sex with
me
five minutes after we met, too. So why am I the bad guy? Man,” he added with a huff, “you’re like a freaking inquisition.”

An inquisition?

For some reason, it made her giggle, and for the first time since the hot pink panties appeared, she felt joy bubbling up inside her. The simple, perfect joy of being with him.

Without that, her life wouldn’t be the same. So she just pressed his face between her hands and said, “Aren’t you ever going to kiss me?”

“Not yet.” He flashed a masterful smile. “First, you need to take it back.”

“What?”

“You said you want me to bang other women. Take it back.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, only half kidding. “I’m so used to it.”

“It’s nuts,” he growled. “Plus, it’s like saying
you
can sleep with other dudes. Which obviously, you can’t.”

“I won’t sleep with other dudes.”

His expression softened. “You should have yelled at me sooner.”

She leaned against him again, exhausted. “I didn’t yell. I cried.”

“You yelled. But that’s better than crying.” He stroked her hair. “Why did you put up with me all this time?”

“You know why.”

He was silent for a moment, then murmured, “Because I get you off?”

She looked up at him, touched by the uncertainty in his voice. “Any guy can do that. I’m easy, remember?”

His blue eyes finally twinkled. “Because I make you laugh?”

“I love that. But what I really love is the way you make me feel.”

“Like you’re beautiful?”

“They all do that. But you’re the first guy who ever made me feel—well . . .” She struggled for the right word, then settled on, “Bang-able. You make me feel bangable.”

Apparently it was the correct answer because he was all over her after that, tumbling her onto the bed and covering her mouth and breasts with kisses, then focusing between her thighs, first with his hand, then his mouth, until she came as she had done with Sheriff Bannerman, again and again and again, her frame shuddering with wild, uncontrolled pleasure.

Still dazed, she thought he’d follow the sheriff-and-cowgirl pattern with doggie-style now, but he was too amorous, taking her face-to-face, pumping with reverent amazement. She didn’t think she would climax again, and she didn’t care. She just wanted
him
to get off.

And he did.

And so did she.

Drenched in bodily fluids—her own and his—she clung to him, rolling on her side and burying her face against his hairy chest.

Then he muttered, “Geezus, teach.”

She laughed, helpless again.

“I can’t believe you thought I was banging other chicks. Where would I get the strength?”

“You’re Bam Bannerman,” she reminded him. “God’s gift to women.”

He pretended to scowl at her. “I can barely crawl home on Saturdays. Then I just sleep straight through to Friday morning so I can fly back here for more punishment.”

“You do not.” She rolled him onto his back and straddled his midsection, intrigued. “Tell me what you do all week.”

“Now that you know I’m not banging my brains out?” He grinned. “You’re hilarious, Rachel.”

“Tell me anyway,” she insisted, admitting to herself that she really had pictured him that way. In bed with dozens of women, day in and day out. And because of that, she hadn’t tried to picture his life. Or even a flesh-and-blood man, really.

He quirked a teasing eyebrow. “You know I have a job, right? I’m at the gym five days a week. This masterpiece doesn’t build itself.”

“It’s a work of art,” she agreed, running her hands over his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms, savoring every bulge, every rock-hard weapon.

“I golf, too,” he said defensively. “And my college buddies and I do some climbing in the off-season. And some awesome salmon fishing.” His eyes clouded. “We used to go to Deck’s ranch for a few weeks during the off-season, but he hangs around Portland all the time now. Like a freaking basket case. And the big dog’s in New York with Erica every time I turn around, so he’s never free anymore.
You
should come to Portland and hang out with me.”

“You know my policy.”

“Yeah, I know your policy.” His tone grew wary. “So remember how you yelled at me even though I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“I didn’t yell. I cried.”

“The point is, I was innocent.”

“I know.” She brushed her lips across his. “I’m so sorry, Vince.”

“So here’s the thing. I actually messed something else up. So how about we pretend you already yelled at me for that one?”

“Okay.” She scanned his eyes, seeing the telltale signs of guilt. “Whatever it is, it’s fine.”

“Unless it pisses you off?”

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” she said sheepishly. “So what is it?”

“I told Deck I’ve been banging you.” His gaze softened in apology. “It was an accident. And he promised not to tell Beth. Or the McSpurlings. It just came out, teach.”

She hesitated, then admitted, “It’s okay with me. Really.”

But he was driven to confess. “He was talking about marrying you someday if neither of you finds someone else by the time he’s thirty-two. It pissed me off. Like he can still nail you any time he wants to.”

“He abandoned me in international waters,” she reminded him with a teasing smile “It’s maritime law pure and simple.” Stretching out beside him, she molded herself to his perfectly sculpted body in contentment. “I’m glad he knows. Maybe now he can talk to you about
his
secret girlfriends.”

“You mean blow-up dolls?” He chuckled. “So you’re not mad?”

“Not at all. And if we really do end up going to Sophie’s wedding together,
everyone
will know. Right?”

“What do you mean,
if?”
He rolled her onto her back and kissed her hard. “Stop thinking.”

“Okay.”

“That should be your new motto.
Think less, bang more.”

“It’s been my motto ever since I met you. And I’ve never been happier.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Can we get something to eat? Any place you choose.”

“How about tuna sandwiches?” she suggested, remembering her original plan, and amused it was settling back into place after all the fireworks. “I could make you a bunch of them and we could watch the game. I bought a huge cherry pie and some ice cream for dessert, so I guarantee you’ll be full.”

“You’re a cheap date,” he told her with a laugh. “But that sounds pretty good. As long as ‘the game’ isn’t the Super Bowl.”

• • •

She was so happy—so drenched in bliss—it took a while to realize Bannerman was extra exuberant too. Grabbing her whenever she came within reach, teasing her with supercharged bravado, pulling her close and kissing her so amorously it felt as though they had stumbled into a fantasy world.

And finally she realized what was going on. He had conned her. Just a little. And conned himself too. All those protestations of innocence. His insistence
she
should have known they were in an exclusive relationship this whole time.

It was all bullshit. Because
he
hadn’t known either. Not until today.

Until today, he might not have been touching other women, but he had had the
option
to touch them. And subconsciously at least, he had clung to that status. She couldn’t really blame him. It had kept things so simple between them. Kept the stakes so low.

And because of that, he could have stayed the course. Could have stuffed those pink panties back into his pocket, hopped a return flight to Portland, and tried again next Friday. She would have been hurt and angry, but those emotions would have faded quickly. By the time he returned, she would have welcomed him with open arms, unable to resist, and grateful for another few weeks of this, the best thing that would ever, ever happen to her.

But instead he had stepped up, making a crazy, impulsive declaration of exclusivity, probably scaring himself to death in the process. And scaring her too, because despite her jealous outbursts, she hadn’t craved monogamy. Not with
this
guy. She had valued those other women, partly because they helped keep him satisfied, but mostly as a reminder that this wasn’t going anywhere. It was a white-hot, hilarious, affectionate re-bang. Nothing more, nothing less. The inevitable breakup would have been painful, but part of the deal.

Now the breakup would destroy her. And it would hurt him too, because he would know he was breaking her heart. He’d do it gently. There was still no doubt about that. But he couldn’t just point to some outside complication, like the start of football season, or a breakdown of his pilot’s plane, or a busy schedule of bachelor parties and scouting trips. He would have to step up again, one last time, and tell her the affair had run its course.

But that was far away. Almost certainly past the third Saturday in May. And for now, they were like hormone-soaked, love-struck teenagers, especially with the kissing, which seemed endless and so much hotter than ever.

They were
definitely
going for it, God help them. And when they crashed and burned, they still wouldn’t regret it. Not ever.

Chapter 12

He ate six tuna sandwiches and agreed to watch the Super Bowl as long as she turned the sound off so he could do the play-by-play himself. Predictably, it reduced her to helpless laughter, especially when he recounted the insults he had traded with opponents as they faced off. Competitive, almost brutal, yet he seemed to consider those guys friends, at least of a sort.