Playing the Playboy (6 page)

“Probably,” she agreed, since there was no legitimate way to deny that obvious truth. She shook her head hard, trying to dispel the lingering effects of the kiss. “But…”

She couldn’t think clearly enough. She couldn’t figure out a way to use this to her advantage the way she’d been planning to two days ago. She didn’t even want to.

The inn wasn’t why she wanted Andrew. She just wanted him. And that made her even more vulnerable.

“Let me think about it,” she concluded at last, rather lamely.

“Of course,” he said, smiling again. He still looked a little tense, but he’d recovered more quickly than she had. “Take your time.”

Laurel stared at her dogs, who were trying to leap over the waves and return to the shore. When Theo started after another low-flying bird, she called out sharply so he would come back.

She’d had sex with a few boys as a teenager—a couple of whom she’d actually liked—but Jerry was the only man she’d had sex with for the last ten years. The sex had been fine…sometimes good, sometimes a little boring, never unpleasant or uncomfortable.

Sex with Andrew would be different. She knew that much already. There was no way she could use sex as part of claiming an advantage with the Damons, the way she’d been initially planning to do. She’d been stupid to think she could ever do such a thing.

Having sex with Andrew would be incredible, It might not be worth it, though. Whatever she decided, she had to keep her priorities straight.

And the inn would always be most important.

***

Laurel successfully kept her resolution to achieve proper distance and objectivity all through the afternoon and dinner. Andrew worked most of the afternoon anyway and ate in his room.

That evening, however, something told her she should probably stay in her private quarters, rather than going out to the pool deck. It was her habit in the evenings—to relax and let herself enjoy the Greek island setting she’d worked so hard for.

If she went up there, however, it was entirely possible that Andrew would show up as well. He hadn’t mentioned it, but he’d gone out the night before, and—if he really wanted to have sex with her—it would be a natural opportunity. So she probably shouldn’t change into her favorite green bikini, grab a towel, and stretch out on the chaise.

But she did anyway.

Maybe Andrew wouldn’t show up, in which case her decision would be easy.

A half-hour later, she was still alone. The sun was setting in an explosion of rich color, and she’d taken off her sunglasses to enjoy it. But she didn’t feel as relaxed as normal. She felt restless and unsettled.

It didn’t take a psychoanalyst to figure out why.

She was horny. She wanted to screw Andrew. She couldn’t remember ever being as intensely attracted to a man, and their kiss on the beach had only revved her up.

She kept remembering the kiss, how her body had responded. Then she imagined they hadn’t stopped—that they’d kept at it, tearing off each other’s clothes and having sex on the beach.

It certainly would have been uncomfortable, since the beach was so rocky, and the dogs might have been confused. But she pushed aside such irrelevant details and imagined coming hard in his arms.

She’d really gotten into the fantasy, aroused before she realized it, when she sensed something to her left and opened her eyes to see Andrew standing near the blue gate leading onto the pool deck.

He wore nothing but black swim trunks. He held a towel and stared at her like he wanted to devour her.

They held the stare for a few seconds too long—so long that Laurel shifted her hips, more aroused than was entirely comfortable. Andrew’s mouth quirked irrepressibly. “You’re wearing a top this evening.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never expected him to be so dryly clever. “Thought I better be on the safe side.”

“I’m disappointed.” He didn’t look disappointed. He looked like a fire had ignited in his eyes, and it was about to consume her.

It wasn’t smart. At all. But she was only human. She’d regret it forever if she didn’t give in to this temptation. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t interfere with any decisions she would make about the inn. Her decisions were logical, organized, focused—entirely separate from this wild heat. “You can take it off, if you want.”

She saw him take a quick breath and then take a few steps closer. He somehow seemed bigger than she knew him to be—too much broad shoulders and tight abdomen and lean hips and strong legs. He was all tension and physicality, and there was a fine line of dark hair that tapered down irresistibly to disappear under his waistband.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “I’m sure.”

He moved forward and she reached up, and he was suddenly on top of her, heavy and so much warmer than the evening air. He kissed her, and she responded eagerly, opening for his tongue and wrapping her arms around him.

They kissed for a long time, until there was a roaring in her ears and she was rocking up into his weight. Then he finally pulled his mouth away and stared down, something possessive, almost primal in his expression.

She cupped his jaw with one hand, rubbing her palm against the one-day’s growth of beard. “I was hoping you’d come up,” she admitted, the bristles against her palm doing startling things to her body.

His hot expression transformed to a grin as he lowered his head to kiss a line along her jaw and then down her neck. “I was hoping you wouldn’t throw me out,” he admitted, mouthing the pulse in her throat.

She wriggled beneath him, so turned on she couldn’t stay still. “I thought you were going to take off my top.”

“Right.” There was a smile in his voice as he gave a quick nip to a sensitive hollow above her collarbone. Then he reached around her body to undo the clasp of her bikini and pulled it away from her skin.

Laurel was briefly self-conscious as he stared down at her, the way she’d been the evening before when he’d caught her topless. Not because he was looking at her body but because of the intense look in his eyes as he did so.

He lowered his head and traced the curve of one breast with his mouth. She arched up into it, releasing a ragged sigh when he took her nipple between his lips. He stroked her free breast with his other hand, teasing her until she was on the brink of crying out and then lowering his palm to stroke her stomach and thighs.

She dragged him back up into a deep kiss, instinctively wrapping her legs around his hips. He grunted when she pressed into his erection and started to rock against it. “Fuck, Laurel,” he gasped, breaking out of the kiss abruptly. “You’re killing me.”

She was so eager she couldn’t seem to stop, her body desperately craving the release. At least he was just as turned on as she was. “Well, don’t die until you get me off.” She ran her hands down his smooth back until she found the firm flesh of his ass through the fabric of his shorts. She dug her fingers in, tightening her legs around him, seeking any sort of friction she could.

Unexpectedly, he laughed again, the vibrations rippling through her body deliciously. “If you’ll unwrap your legs so I can move, I’ll do the best I can.”

She did as he asked. As soon as he was freed from her grip, he lowered his mouth to one of her breasts again and then even lower to her belly.

She gasped. And gasped again as he nuzzled her intimately. She fisted both hands in his thick hair, feeling the muscles of her thighs and stomach tighten.

He tucked his fingers around the waistband of her bikini bottoms and glanced up at her, as if asking permission.

“Oh, yes,” she hissed, vaguely pleased that he was so careful, despite his desire and her own impatience. He pulled the little green suit down her legs and then nuzzled her intimately again, darting his tongue out to tease her in a way that felt so good she gave an embarrassing little yelp.

Then he kissed his way back up to her shuddering stomach and higher to her breasts.

“I should have known you were a tease,” she complained, trying to sound dry despite her panting and squirming.

He chuckled against her breast and slid one hand between her legs. “Have
you
ever tried to go down on someone before you’ve done anything else?”

She gasped in pleasure when he slid one finger inside her, but she fought through the sensations to respond in kind, “You’re saying you’re not up to the challenge?”

He laughed again, joining his first finger with a second. “I’m saying it’s more likely to be successful when you know what the other person likes. Much less embarrassing groping and  fumbling around.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his dry tone—the amusement mingling irresistibly with her desire. He wasn’t at all what she’d imagined a notorious playboy would be like in bed. He was so much better. “Sounds like a cop-out to me.”

He penetrated her with both fingers, her inner muscles clenching around him eagerly. “What does it sound like?”

She arched up helplessly as he stroked her and played with her nipple with his tongue. “Maybe just…just…” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, the sensations intensifying quickly toward climax.

“Just what?” he prompted, sounding far too smug.

It felt so good she didn’t even care, but she managed to get her thoughts together enough to conclude, “Maybe just strategic thinking.”

“Exactly. I’m all about strategy.”

She was too far gone to talk anymore, as he worked her over with his fingers and his mouth. She’d never been a noisy lover, but she kept making soft, silly sounds like “eh” as she shamelessly rode his hand.

She had to bite her lower lip hard as she came, the pleasure shuddering through her body. And she was still gasping as she relaxed and opened her eyes to see Andrew, that hot urgency in his eyes even stronger than before.

“Oh, God, that was good.” She stretched in satisfaction and pulled him down into another kiss. “Thank you.”

Her body hummed with pleasure but wasn’t finished the way it was when she got herself off with her own hand.

She wanted more. She hadn’t begun to get enough.

Andrew really hoped Laurel wasn’t about to go to sleep.

Her lush body was stretched out on the chaise beneath him, soft and relaxed from her orgasm, her expression so sated she almost looked drowsy.

He was going to be seriously disappointed if she decided she was satisfied.

His own body was coiled so tightly he was almost shaking with it, and his erection throbbed painfully in his shorts.

He shifted above her, straightening his arms to keep his weight from resting on top of her.

She smiled up at him. “You’ve got real talent.”

He let out a huff of amusement and would have felt pleased with himself had he not been in such an urgent physical condition. “Glad you approve.”

Her hand ran from his shoulder down the length of his chest and stomach until she’d found the bulge in his shorts. He let out an involuntary sound of pleasure when she squeezed.

“We better do something for you. Do you have a condom?”

He exhaled in relief and carefully readjusted, sitting up on the side of the chaise rather stiffly. He nodded over to the towel he’d brought up with him to the pool deck.

She was completely naked as she smiled teasingly and walked over to grab the condom packet. She appeared completely unselfconscious. She looked like a Greek goddess in the evening light, her long, lithe body almost luminous in the lingering glow from the setting sun. “I might have said no to sex, you know. Then what would you have done with your condom?”

“My condom and I would have slunk away in defeat, but I’ve always been an optimist.”

“Well, this time it paid off.” She looked from the chaise to the outdoor bed on the other side of the pool desk. The gauzy fabric of the canopy whipped gently around the frame in the breeze. “We might be more comfortable over there.”

Andrew agreed. The distraction had taken the edge off his arousal, so he could get up without groaning. “Very practical of you. I never take the time to plan so well.”

“I believe in practicality and in making plans.” She grinned at him as she pushed him down onto the bed. “Besides, I’m not sure how well that chaise would hold up.”

When she joined him in the bed, he was about to roll on top of her, but she flattened both hands on his chest and pushed him down onto his back. She climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs.

He had no objections to the arrangement. Particularly when she grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down.

When she’d stripped him as naked as she was, she stared down at his body with desire and something else—something stronger—in her eyes.

He tried to think of something witty to say, but his body had tightened instinctively at her proximity to his erection, and he was having trouble catching his breath.

Laurel ripped the packet open and rolled on the condom. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt her fingers running down and then up the length of him.

“Damn, Laurel, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered, as he watched her raise herself up above him, her long hair hanging down around her shoulders and half-concealing her breasts.

She smiled again, and he reached over to help as she aligned herself above him and then sank down.

She felt hot and tight and almost unbearably good as he eased slowly into the clasp of her body. He heard himself release a low groan, and one of his hands clenched in the soft flesh of her hip.

She arched and let her head fall back, her eyes closing as she moaned too.

His pelvis gave a little, involuntary thrust. For just a moment, he was afraid he might lose it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so uncontrolled in bed. Couldn’t remember the last time a woman had felt so good.

“So good,” she breathed, as if she’d read his mind.

He gave a grunt of affirmation.

She reached down and stroked his chest, her hands sliding against his skin, the texture of his muscles, the sprinkling of hair. Then, before he’d fully reined in his control, she started to ride him.

“Fuck,” he said, jerking his head to the side so he wouldn’t see her moving above him. The throbbing at his pelvis was almost painful, and he experienced a flare of panic that he wasn’t going to hold back his release. “Laurel, Laurel, fuck.”

She made a little whimper, as if in response, and didn’t stop moving.

He bit his bottom lip and started to calculate in his mind the amount of money it would cost to renovate this inn. He went over the construction costs, the necessary repairs, new furnishings for most of the rooms, possibly an expanded pool. It worked. In just a minute he exhaled in relief, the desperate edge of need back under control.

He opened his eyes and gazed up at her, gripping her hips in both hands. She was moving rhythmically, her full breasts and tight nipples swaying in a tantalizing way. Her hair curtained her face, and she watched him with an intense heat.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Oh yeah.” He smiled up at her, pleasure taking over the desperation he’d felt before.

‘You’re not going to come yet, are you?”

He laughed, which might have been a mistake. He felt another flash of urgent need and gave a few little bucks up into her before he could control it. “Probably not.” After sucking in another breath, he added. “I’m usually very impressive.”

She laughed too—soft and husky. “Believe me. I’m very impressed.” Then something in her expression changed. She leaned forward, bracing herself on his shoulders, and her rhythmic motion above him became faster, more demanding.

His fingers tightened against her hips as the sensations heightened. She was gasping above him, riding him with shameless abandon.

He slid his hands down to her slim, strong thighs, which were working urgently. He rocked his pelvis up to meet her motion and couldn’t hold back a groan when the sensations kept building.

She’d been mostly quiet, but she now started to gasp out wordless sounds. He thought she might have come, but she didn’t stop.  He didn’t know if she was on the verge of coming again or if she hadn’t come the first time, but her motion and urgency intensified. He’d never seen anything like her—so wild and beautiful and passionate and eager.

She gazed down at him the whole time, as if she might swallow him whole, as if she couldn’t get enough.

He raised his hands to her breasts, and only then realized he was grunting low in his throat. He was dying to let go but it all felt so good he couldn’t bear for it to end—agonizingly stretched between need and release.

She froze, arched backward, her mouth opened in a wordless cry of pleasure. Then she finally collapsed on top of him, gasping and exhausted.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his vision whiting out briefly as her change in position did something dangerous to his arousal. “You’re going to kill me for sure.”

She lolled limply on his chest, her mouth against his jaw, but she laughed. “I like to be on top. And I’ve got to say, you weren’t lying about being impressive. I don’t know if I’ve ever come so hard before.”

She was looking him in the eyes now, and he was sure she meant the words sincerely.

For some reason, it roused something inside him that had only been lurking before.

Without warning, he got a good grip on her body and flipped them over in a practiced move. She squealed in surprise at their suddenly altered positions, but didn’t resist.

When he’d settled between her thighs, her expression changed. The laughter faded, and her eyes were wide and strangely uncertain.

“Is this all right?” he asked, briefly worried she wouldn’t like it, even though it was a traditional position.

“Of course.” She smiled again and twined her arms around his neck. “You can have a turn on top too.”

Something had changed, though. Not in a bad way. The mood just felt more intense. He started to thrust, slowly at first, making sure she was comfortable.

She moaned and arched her neck, her eyes falling closed for a moment. Then she wrapped her long legs around his waist, causing him to sink into her more deeply.

He gasped at how incredible she felt. And gasped again as he gave another thrust.

She opened her eyes to meet his, and the last thread of his control snapped.

He started rhythmically, pushing into her with hard, short thrusts, driving toward what he knew they both needed. Then he couldn’t stop. Her fingers clawed lines into his shoulders, his back, his ass, and his motion grew fast and almost clumsy. They were rocking the bed, and she was crying out louder and louder as her body prepared for another climax.

He was vaguely aware that he was grunting like an animal, like something primal, like something not quite him.

“Andrew!” she gasped at last, writhing eagerly beneath him and her channel clamping down around him so tightly with her orgasm he let out a helpless sound.

He came hard, releasing a wordless exclamation as a deep wave of pleasure overwhelmed him.  He couldn’t move when it finally passed. Just collapsed on top of her.

She was just as limp and breathless as he was, and she kept breathing, “Oh, God,” in a hoarse, almost surprised voice.

At least he knew he wasn’t the only one who’d been blown away by this.

He wasn’t sure how long it was—since his mind was a hot, replete blur—but eventually she shifted beneath him. “Andrew.” Her voice sounded different now. “The condom.”

He groaned at the idea of having to move, but he pulled himself up from the bed and took care of the condom.

When he turned back, Laurel was stretched out on the white mattress in a debauched sprawl, her hair messy and her naked body relaxed. She smiled up at him drowsily.

He smiled back. He got back in the bed and pulled her against him. He didn’t consider himself a cuddly person, but it always felt rude to leave a woman immediately after he screwed her—so he’d rarely done so.

He didn’t even want to leave this time.

“That,” she said, curling up at his side, “was incredible.”

“No argument here.” He stroked her dark hair, relieved she’d enjoyed it as much as he had.

He couldn’t remember enjoying anything more.

He’d never met anyone like her. He couldn’t quite figure out what she was thinking, but he really wanted to find out.

***

Laurel woke up groggy, disoriented, and sore.

She lifted her head and realized the big, warm, hard thing beside her was a man’s body. Andrew’s body. Either she or he had pulled the sheet up over them sometime during the night. It was early morning now.

They’d slept together in the outdoor bed on the pool deck all night.

Andrew was still asleep. His body was completely relaxed, one arm hooked above his head and his chest rising and falling slowly with his breathing. His brown hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions. He had a day’s worth of beard darkening his jaw. He also had ridiculously thick eyelashes.

She stared down at him, feeling a weird clench in her belly.

Last night was the best sex of her life. No doubt about that.

But it had been a mistake.

Very carefully, Laurel climbed over Andrew’s body and got off the bed, taking care not to jar the mattress or wake him up.

She tiptoed over to pull on her cover-up and then farther over to where her bikini had been tossed on the far side of the chaise. Picking it up, and then grabbing the small wastebasket so she could get rid of the condom, she left the pool deck and went down to let out and feed the dogs, emptying the trash on the way.

As she watched the dogs snoot around their yard and gobble up their food, Laurel breathed in the cool morning air and tried to feel normal.

She didn’t feel normal. She felt deeply unsettled. Her stomach was heavy, and she was uncomfortably conscious of a slight soreness between her legs.

She told herself sex didn’t have to be a big deal—which was something she genuinely believed. But she still felt weird and disconnected. For some reason, she was bothered by the idea of Andrew still sleeping upstairs with his relaxed body and handsome, unshaven face.

In an attempt to pull herself together, she went to take a shower. She dressed quickly in capris and a t-shirt, and she twisted her hair up with a clip so she wouldn’t have to dry it.

Agatha and Hector wouldn’t be up for another half-hour—the sun hadn’t even started to rise yet. She normally enjoyed the quiet of the early mornings, but it troubled her today. So, after she got coffee, she went to turn on her computer.

Over the last twenty-four hours, several emails had come in from former guests, one telling her how much they’d loved staying at the inn a few months ago, a few asking if they could make reservations later in the season, and a couple wondering why she was currently closed for reservations and when she would be open again.

A number of people came as guests year after year, and they were surprised and unhappy about not being able to stay at the inn this year.

Laurel was unhappy too. The emails reminded her of everything she stood to lose, everything the Damons were trying to take away from her.