The Name of the Game (23 page)

He leaned forward until the chair touched the floor. “You're just making it harder on yourself.”

“I'm fine,” she said, and wanting to change the subject she added, “I went to the paper today and placed a help wanted ad. I also posted it online. I wanted you to know because I'll need you to meet whomever I decide to hire, since you live here too.”

“And you want my read?”

She flashed him a smile. “Of course.”

Sam's gaze narrowed. “But you don't want my read on this?”

Temptation ate away at her, chipping at her resolve. She'd learned over the years that Sam's premonitions were a double-edged sword and sometimes it was better not to know. But how did she know if this was one of those times? She swallowed hard and shook her head.

“All right, then. Have it your way.” He got up, stretched, all lazy, and she wanted to throw something at him.

Yes, that's how she needed this to stay. Her way. At least until she figured out how she'd become so addicted to James.

And what, exactly, she was going to do about it.

Chapter Twenty-One

Two weeks later James had compulsively checked the clock at least five hundred times while he waited for Gracie to show up on his doorstep. It seemed impossible, but somehow she'd seeped through the telephone lines and become a part of his flesh and blood.

He was antsy, without even a modicum of his customary control. It both enflamed and scared the shit out of him, but right now all he cared about was seeing her.

After three long, excruciating weeks he'd finally be able to touch her. He needed inside her like she was a shot of heroin, and doubted his ability to make it to a proper bed. His desire for her bordered on animalistic, like a clawing ache that had only grown with every passing day.

She'd texted to tell him she'd be there in ten minutes. That was ten minutes and fifteen seconds ago, and he could only sit there in brooding silence and watch the clock tick by.

Was this what all-consuming passion felt like? This odd mix of uncomfortable and intoxicating? He drummed his fingers on the arm of his club chair, fixated on the clock.

He sprang from the chair, sprinting to the door, and yanked it open. Finally she stood in front of him and he could only stare, drinking her in. She wore a black trench coat and her blond curls were in pigtails, which he'd never seen her wear before, but were very cute. Her arms were full with her signature pale pink bakery box, a big tub of popcorn, and what looked like a DVD.

She gave him a huge smile. “I'm here.”

“Yes, you are.” Thank God. Unable to attack her with her arms full, he took the pile from her and carefully put them on the foyer table.

He turned back, reaching for her.

She held up a hand, a peculiar expression on her face that stopped him short. She batted her lashes at him. “Thanks for inviting me over tonight, Jimmy.”

Before he could ask any questions, she continued. “I promised my mom there would be adult supervision. I hope she doesn't call later to check in on me.”

Completely confused, and already half crazy for her, he could only blink. “What?”

She walked over to the DVD resting between the bakery box and popcorn, and held it out to him. “I've always wanted to see it but I heard it was too scary to watch alone.”

He took the DVD.
Halloween.
And, finally, he got it.

It was like a kick in the gut.

She was giving him his fantasy, the one he'd told her about that first night they'd talked.

He looked at her and she gave him the most feline smile, before blowing a pink bubble in his face. When it popped, she sucked the gum back between her glossy lips, and put her hands on the belt of her trench coat. “I hope you'll be a proper gentleman even though we're all alone.”

“Gracie,” he said, his voice husky with emotions he couldn't even begin to contemplate.

She untied the belt and let the coat slip from her shoulders. “I'm a good girl, so you have to promise there will be no touching below the waist.”

Dressed in a red and white cheerleading outfit that would be outlawed in any high school, Gracie stood before him. The top barely covered her chest. The skirt was so short it kissed the curve of her ass. While she wore the white gym shoes he'd remembered as a teenager, she'd improvised with a pair of thigh-high sports socks. If he were a weaker man he would have fallen to his knees, but instead he only gaped at her.

Was this heaven? Or hell? He cleared his desert-dry throat. “Did you drive here in that?”

She gave him a wide, doe-eyed look. “I didn't have time to change after practice.”

His chest tightened as his cock turned to steel. “You're kidding, right?”

She ran her hands over her tiny skirt. “I most certainly am not.”

“Gracie, I haven't touched you in three fucking weeks.”

Another dazzling smile. “We can touch, just not below the waist. I took a chastity pledge with my cheerleading squad.”

He was only human, and a man could only take so much.

He growled and lunged for her, but she danced away, twirling to flash red panties that matched her outfit. “If I can't trust you, I'll have to go home. I promised my momma.”

“Be reasonable.”

“Where's your discipline, Jimmy?”

“I expended it three weeks ago.” His voice was barely discernible as his own.

She grabbed the DVD and plastered it to his chest with her open palm. “I want you to have this. Let me do this.” She rose to her tiptoes and leaned in close, intoxicating him with her clean, lightly-floral-mixed-with-vanilla-cupcake scent. Her lips brushed his ear. “Pretty please.”

He groaned. “You're killing me.”

She scraped her teeth along his jaw. “That's the idea.”

“All right, but I'm kissing you properly first, and my hands will wander below the waist.”

She shuddered against him and in that moment he knew her need was as great as his. “It will only make it harder, but I'm giving you your fantasy.”

“Until the credits roll.” He nipped her earlobe.

“Deal.”

The DVD clattered to the floor as he slammed his mouth over hers.

It was instantly hot.

Instantly frantic.

Instantly consuming.

His tongue tangled with hers and a low, visceral sound rumbled from his throat. She arched into him, wrapping her arms around him. His hands were everywhere, running down her back over the curve of her ass. He backed her up, pushing her against the wall.

Something clattered to the floor, followed by the sound of broken glass, but he ignored it all to feast on her mouth.

He couldn't get close enough.

She rocked into him.

Since he'd be playing with her breasts for the next two hours, he bypassed them and palmed her cotton-covered mound, grinding the heel of his hand against her clit.

With a needy little gasp, she pressed into his hand. Never in his life had he been consumed like this. He felt like a madman as he ate at her mouth. He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head with one hand.

Her head thunked against the wall as she moaned. He slid his fingers into her panties. He whispered against her lips, “You're already so wet, so how are you going to last, baby girl?”

He circled her clit and she keened and gasped, “I don't know, but I will. Oh God, you feel so good.”

He slid inside her hot, tight center and pumped. Once. Twice. Three times. “Like that?”

“Yes, James.” She kissed him with a dirty, wanton abandon that left him breathless and aching.

He stroked the bundle of nerves until he felt her body quicken, then he pulled away.

She moaned and broke away from him. “This is going to be torture.”

He hugged her, his hands roaming one last time over her ass. “This is your game.”

She shivered. “I've been planning for weeks. Don't ruin it.”

He traced a path down her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her swollen mouth. “I won't.”

Her tongue flicked out, licking at his skin. “This is going to be fun, I promise.”

“You are always fun.” He pulled away, already counting the minutes until the movie ended. He glanced around, spotting the DVD along with shattered glass from the picture frame they'd knocked off the wall. She made a move toward the mess but he took her hand, scooping up the DVD. “Later.”

Gracie nestled into the crook of James's arm like a proper young lady would, and not like the raving slut she'd become in her mind since he'd kissed her.

She'd never wanted to fuck more.

Just thinking about the way his cock stroked hard and high inside her, relentless in his determination to make her come, was enough to abandon this plan and climb on top of him.

But as tempted as she was, she wouldn't. Ever since he'd told her about how he'd never had a hot and heavy make-out session as a teenager, she'd been determined to rectify the situation. Even if it killed her in the process. She shot a glance at him, and she shuddered. Maybe implementing this plan after a three-week absence wasn't her brightest idea, but she'd committed. Now it was time to execute.

He pushed play on the remote and the piracy notice came on the screen.

Time to get back in character.

She looked at him, her eyes wide and trusting. “Do you promise not to take advantage of me?”

He twirled a curl around his finger. “I promise. No touching below the waist, even if you beg me otherwise.”

She scowled. “I don't think a sixteen-year-old boy would say that.”

He laughed. “Maybe not.”

“Play nice.” How could she keep with the program if he kept acting so damn hot?

“Believe me, I intend to.”

Determined to collect herself, she turned back to the screen. The classic horror movie opened with the jack-o'-lantern on the porch steps, and she grabbed the popcorn she'd bought from a nearby movie theater, even though she didn't eat any.

No, instead she obsessed about how good he felt beside her. How happy she was to finally be sitting next to him. His body was warm. His arm strong around her. For three weeks she'd waited, and in that time something miraculous had happened. She'd grown to understand him.

The distance had forced them to spend time talking, and their relationship no longer seemed to be just about chemistry. It was real. Authentic. Men had always lusted after her, but with James it felt like he wanted
her
. More than he wanted the fantasy of her.

It scared her. Sure she knew how to have a good time, be fun and sexy, and charm the pants off a man, but relationships eluded her. She was like her daddy that way, only without the mean. But was she worse because she did it all with a smile on her face?

James's palm settled on her neck, as though sensing her troubling thoughts, and she relaxed. She wouldn't think about that now. It wasn't like James had asked her to marry him. They weren't in love. There was nothing to worry about. And, after three long weeks, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Nothing would ruin that. She wouldn't let it.

The killer crept up the stairs and opened the door to find a naked girl.

James found the spot on her neck that was always sore, and stroked in small, rhythmic circles. She bit back a groan, tilting her head to give him better access.

“They don't waste any time with the nudity,” he said, sounding like the stuffy professor she'd always assumed him to be.

Seconds later the girl lay stabbed to death on the floor. “Or the murdering.”

She giggled.

James's lips grazed over her throat. She shivered in sheer pleasure as he whispered, “You smell delicious.”

“Thank you,” she said demurely, crossing one leg over the other and kicking her foot. Her costume was a stroke of genius, complete with Keds. His reaction had been worth the effort. She put a hand on his jeans-covered leg, loving how the muscles there tensed under her touch.

They sat like that for a good thirty minutes, watching the movie, the untouched popcorn between them. The sexual tension grew to near monstrous proportions, their abstinence mirroring the awkward anxiousness of teenage uncertainty quite nicely, if she did say so herself. She jumped at a scary part, terrified right along with Jamie Lee Curtis. She covered her face in the crook of his neck. “Tell me when it's over.”

His chuckle rumbled against her lips and she was unable to help herself. Her tongue licked over his skin and he groaned, his whole body tensing.

He took the popcorn from her hands. She tilted her chin up and their eyes locked.

He stroked a finger down her cheek. “You are the absolute best.”

She licked her lips. “Right back at you, Professor.”

He brushed his mouth over hers. Once. Twice. “How did I get so lucky?”

She twisted closer, putting her hand on his broad chest. Throat too tight to speak, she shook her head.

He kissed her. But unlike the hard, frantic kiss at the door, this kiss was slow. Deep and sensual.

He took his time. His lips a slow tease over hers.

There was a dreamlike quality to the kiss, intoxicating as it sucked her into a sexual haze, where his mouth became her only focus.

He gathered her up, shifting them on the couch. Never breaking contact, he lowered her until she was under him.

He didn't try to touch her; his hands stayed locked with hers as they kissed for what seemed like forever. It was romantic, hypnotic, and somehow, despite its innocence, one of the most erotic kisses she'd ever experienced.