Changing the Game (25 page)

She’d only meant to brush his lips, but, oh, how she loved his mouth, and the way he kissed her so deeply, the same way he was buried so deeply inside her, physically as well as emotionally. He was part of her and always would be. Making love like this sealed the deal.

She lifted, her face only inches from his as she slid down on his cock once again, so close to orgasm she had to fight to keep from coming.

“I love you, Gavin.”

His jaw clenched; he swept her hair from her face, brushed his thumb over her cheek. He rolled her over, then plunged deep inside her. She cried out with her climax, and as she was coming, he looked at her and said, “I love you, Elizabeth.”

As he came, he groaned and called out her name, his fingers tightly wound with hers.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she realized she would never forget this moment.

After, they stayed tangled together, their legs entwined. She didn’t want to move, and Gavin didn’t seem to be in any hurry, either.

“Will you move into Castle Grayskull with me?”

She laughed at the use of her insult for his house. “Yes. Will you let me redecorate it?”

“Any way you want to.”

She lifted and laid her chin on his chest. “You trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.” He frowned. “You aren’t going to do any rooms in pink, are you?”

“Ugh. Are you kidding me? Maybe the baby’s room, if we have a girl.”

His eyes widened. “Are you pregnant?”

She laughed. “Not yet, but I imagine with a concerted effort you could get me that way. I’m not getting any younger, you know. We should get started on that as soon as possible.”

He rolled over and got on top of her. “I’m ready if you are.”

She looked up at this man she loved and realized that though she had never thought she would have a perfect life, somehow, some way, she’d gotten everything she ever wanted. She’d worked so hard to have the career she’d always wanted. And for a while that had been enough for her. She never thought she was going to fall in love.

But she’d been wrong.

She’d hit a home run. Together, they’d pitched the perfect game of love.

She giggled at the baseball metaphors.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked.

“We won.”

He looked at her. “Won what?”

“The game of love.”

He rolled his eyes. “That was lame.”

“Wasn’t it? Come on, get up,” she said, climbing off the sofa and smacking him on the butt.

He cocked a brow. “What? Why?”

“We have to go to the grocery store.”

“Again, why?”

“Because it’s time I baked you a pie.”

He laughed and rolled off the sofa. “That’s worth getting up for. Let’s go.”

KEEP READING FOR AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT
PLAY-BY-PLAY NOVEL BY JACI BURTON

TAKING A SHOT

AVAILABLE SOON FROM HEAT BOOKS.

JENNA RILEY HATED SPORTS.

Which was ironic, considering she owned and operated her family’s sports bar. Doubly ironic, considering one brother was an NFL quarterback and the other brother was a Major League Baseball player. And triply ironic, considering her entire family loved sports of all kinds.

Personally, she was fed up with sports, having grown up with them shoved down her throat her entire life. And now she lived with it twenty-four hours a day, hearing about it every damn night at work. The bar was constantly filled with nothing but sports, from football to baseball to hockey to basketball to racing and everything in between.

She was in the wrong line of work. She should quit her job and be a roadie for a rock band. She snickered at the thought. Like she could ever be free from the chains of familial responsibility. Ever since her father semi-retired from the bar, Riley’s had become her responsibility, which meant, like it or not, sports had become her life. Big-screen televisions broadcast every sporting event, blaring out the excited voices of obnoxious announcers calling plays right behind her, in front of her, and to the side of her. Excited fans filled the bar after every game, so not only did she have to listen to the games on television, she also had to hear the patrons’ recaps after the game.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, there were the sports networks rehashing player stats and player drafts and all the game replays with analyst commentary.

For someone who hated sports, she had a head full of statistics on every player who had ever played any sport.

Which meant every patron at Riley’s loved her.

“Hey, Jenna.”

She glanced up from wiping down the bar. Steve Mahoney, one of her regulars, signaled for another beer. She grabbed a bottle, popped off the top and slid it over to him, then added it to his tab.

“You see the game tonight?”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course.” As if she had a choice.

“Two goals for Anderson. The Ice scored a winner by picking him up last year, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, he’s great.”

Dick Mayhew got into the action, sliding onto an available barstool someone had vacated. He lifted one finger and Jenna grabbed a beer for him.

“He and Boudreaux make a hell of a team at center,” Dick said. “I think they’re unbeatable.”

Steve nodded. “I think we have a serious shot at the cup this year. What do you think, Jenna?”

Jenna thought she’d like to extricate herself from this conversation and go refill some of her customers’ drinks down at the other end of the bar. Instead, she did what she always did when talk of sports came up. She grinned and leaned her elbows against the bar and did her best PR. “I think you’re right. Anderson is quick on his skates and he’s magic with his shots. It’s like he knows right where to put them. I’ve never seen anyone who can shoot a puck like he can. And we already know Boudreaux is a proven winner at center. That’s why the Ice have held on to him as long as they have. Together they make a hell of a duo. Their combined stats on goals are off the charts.”

“Not to mention power plays. When one is down, the other picks up the slack,” Steve said, and he and Dick launched into their own conversation, which freed Jenna up to grab a few drinks for her other customers and see to the bar orders from the waitresses who served the clients sittings at tables throughout Riley’s.

Rileys always got packed after a game, which meant Jenna lost all track of time. She’d been here since before noon and it was now midnight. Her feet hurt, she smelled like food and alcohol and she was ready to go home, fall into bed, and sleep for twenty-four hours.

Too bad she had to be here tomorrow and start all over again.

It was midweek. Maybe people would start clearing out soon. After all, it was a work night.

But the sounds of raucous cheers made her cringe. She took a quick glance at the door and her worst fears were realized when she saw a half dozen of the St. Louis Ice players stroll through the front door.

Crap. Now no one would leave until closing time, which meant almost three more hours for her and her team. And the players were probably hungry. She headed into the kitchen.

“Players just walked in,” she said to Malcolm, her head cook.

Malcolm, who had the patience of a saint and always took things in stride, just nodded. “I’ll get out the steaks.”

She laughed, shook her head and went back to the bar, refilled a few drinks, and decided to let her waitresses handle the players. She’d go over there and say hello when she had a free minute. Right now she was slammed filling drink orders. Something about players coming in made everyone thirsty.

It was good for business, though. She loved having the players frequent Riley’s. She had Mick and Gavin—and Elizabeth—to thank for that.

“You look busy.”

She lifted her head and stared into the steel gray eyes of Tyler Anderson. He wore his raven hair a little long and shaggy, just the way she liked . . .

No. She did not like this guy. He was a jock, a hockey player, and she most definitely did not like sports players. Especially not Ty.

“Yeah, Ty. I’m a little busy here. What can I do for you?”

“Thought you could use some help. Why don’t you have two bartenders?”

“Because I can handle it by myself. Is Lydia taking care of your table?”

“She is. We’re fine. Steaks are ordered.”

She planted her palms against the side of the bar, sucking in a quick breath. “Then what do you need?”

He came around the open end of the bar. “Nothing. I came here to help you.”

Her eyes widened. “Get out of here. You can’t be back here.”

“Sure I can. You need help.”

“No, I don’t.” She shoved at him, but she might as well be trying to move a car. “Go away.”

The crowd thickened around the bar as soon as Ty made himself at home back there. He filled drink orders while Jenna stared dumbfounded. He popped the tops of bottles of beer like a pro, poured hard liquor, fixed mixed drinks, and operated like he knew what the hell he was doing behind a bar, then took the customer’s money or credit cards and handled her cash register, too.

What. The. Hell?

He slid a glance her way. “You have customers at the other end of the bar.”

She finally gave up and took care of her patrons while Ty drummed up more business.

“Hey, Ty, your steak is ready,” Malcolm said a half hour later.

“Just leave it behind the bar. I’ll eat it here.”

“You got it.”

Jenna rolled her eyes and watched as Ty ate his steak standing up while he visited with the guys at the bar, then went back to serving drinks.

By two thirty she called for last round and everyone began to leave. Jenna started cleaning up while the last of her patrons made their way out the door. She called taxis for those who needed them, helped the waitresses bus tables, and cleared her bar registers.

She let the waitresses go, locked the front door and headed into the kitchen to find Malcolm and Ty chatting. The kitchen had been cleaned up, the other cooks and the busboys had left, and only Malcolm remained, with Ty—the two of them talking about football.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked.

“Sorry. Got involved talking postseason with Malcolm.”

“Who is now leaving,” Malcolm said with a yawn. “Want me to walk you out, Jenna?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got a few things left to do.”

Malcolm narrowed his dark brown eyes on her. “Go home. Don’t stay here all night doing paperwork.”

She laughed. “I don’t intend to.”

She locked the door behind him, then turned to tell Tyler to go, but he wasn’t in the kitchen. She found him in the bar pouring a whiskey.

“Hey. Last call was an hour ago.”

He didn’t look concerned as he smiled at her, tipped the glass to his lips, and downed the drink in one swallow, then put money on the top of the bar. She grabbed the money and slipped it into her pocket.

“Pocketing the profits, I see.”

“No, smart-ass. I already closed out the register. I’ll add it in tomorrow.”

He shook his head and leaned against the bar. “This is how you talk to your customers?”

“You stopped being a customer when you came behind my bar and served up drinks.”

“You needed help.”

“No, I didn’t.”

He folded his arms. “Are you always this bitchy, or just to me?”

“Just to you. Now get your ass out of here so I can finish closing up.”

He didn’t seem insulted, just smiled instead, showing off perfectly straight white teeth. Weren’t hockey players supposed to be missing a bunch of teeth because of all their fights on the ice? Why did he have to be so gorgeous? The damn man made her panties wet and had a habit of showing up here fairly regularly, which did make her bitchy because he hit all her hot buttons and she hadn’t had sex in a really long time.

She needed to get laid soon. Real soon. By someone who didn’t play sports.

She hit the master light switch, bathing the bar in darkness.

“Scared of the dark?”

She jumped, not realizing he was right behind her until she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck. His body was warm and she’d turned the heat down so now she was freezing. She bent down to grab her purse and sweater, brushing her butt against his crotch. He felt solid. Hard. Yummy.

Damn. She straightened, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“I’m not afraid of the dark.”

He turned her around to face him. The light from the full moon cast him in grayish shadow. She could see his face, though, as he cocked a grin. “Too bad.”

“Why?”

“Then you might have to lean on me to protect you?”

She took a step back. “Why the hard-core press here, Ty?”

“Come on, Jenna. You’re not a kid. You know why. I’ve been coming to the bar a lot, hanging around. I like you.”

“I don’t like you.”

He laughed. “Liar. I see the way you look at me.”

“You are so full of yourself, Anderson. Go pick up another girl. I’m not the least bit interested in you.” She brushed past him and headed to the door, waiting for him to meet her there so she could set the alarm.

He did, his coat in hand. She had her fingers on the keypad ready to turn the alarm on.

“Wait a second,” he said.

“Did you forget something?”

“Yeah.” He hauled her into his arms before she could take her next breath, and his mouth came down on hers.

For a fraction of a second she thought about objecting and pushing him away, but hell, it had been a really long time since she’d been kissed. It was January, cold as the polar ice cap outside, and Ty’s lips were warm. His body was hot and as he folded her against him, she felt that heat seep into her.

She dropped her purse and coat and went with it, letting his lips claim hers.

It was just as she’d imagined it would be, and okay, she’d thought about this a lot. His mouth was firm and demanding, a hint of whiskey on his lips. He didn’t kiss like a sissy, thank God; wasn’t hesitant at all. He just took the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth to wrap around hers.

She tingled all over, her toes curled, her panties got wet, and her sex pulsed with a roaring need to be fucked. If he put his hands down her pants, in two or three strokes she could come. The kiss was that good.

He reached up and cupped her breast and she moaned against his lips, pressing her breast into his hand. She wanted more, wanted it all, and wanted it right now. Her mind was filled with images of him lowering her to the floor in the back of the bar, or bending her over the pool table.

But that would be going against everything she wanted. And didn’t want.

She wasn’t going to let him have it. Not this guy. Not ever this guy. She pressed her hands to his chest and broke the kiss.

“Stop. We can’t do this.”

He stepped back, his eyes dark with passion.

“Why not?”

She fought for breath, for her bearings and some semblance of sanity.

“Because I don’t want to.” She licked her lips, bent down, and grabbed her coat and purse. She turned away from him and with shaky hands she set the alarm, walked outside, and locked the front door, Ty right behind her.

She started to walk away but he grabbed her wrist, burning her with a look that melted her to the cold cement sidewalk.

And then he smiled at her. “Good night, Jenna.”

She pivoted and walked to her car, conscious of him standing there watching her. He waited, hands in his coat pockets, while she got in and drove away.

Bastard. Her body was on fire from his kiss and she was going to have to take care of herself when she got home tonight.

She was never going to let him kiss her again.

TY WAITED UNTIL JENNA PULLED OUT OF THE PARKING lot and onto the street before he climbed into his car to head back to his place.

He had known Jenna for almost a year now, had met her through his agent, Elizabeth, and Jenna’s brother, Gavin.

Jenna wasn’t at all his type. Oh, she was beautiful, all right, but she was skinny with small breasts. He liked his women full and lush with big tits.

He liked his women with long hair he could run his fingers through. Jenna had short, spiky black hair that had weird purple tips of color at the end, which was kind of wild and funky.

Jenna had multiple piercings in her left ear and that tiny little diamond in her nose. It always made him wonder what other parts of her body were pierced. And those tattoos he’d only gotten glimpses of intrigued him. He wanted time to explore them, to study them, to strip her down and see where else she was tattooed.

But her eyes were what really drew him to her. They were an amazing sapphire blue that were so expressive and so vulnerable, even though she liked to play the tough chick.

Okay, so maybe she was a little different. And maybe he was drawn to how utterly different she was.