Game for Marriage (8 page)

Harsh. “You presenting me with a challenge, wife? Because I love a good one.” She was that and more. An intriguing little challenge packaged in the sweetest, sexiest body he’d had the privilege to indulge in—and he wanted to indulge in again. She was his wife, for God’s sake. “I know I could have you panting and begging me for it.”

“Please. I’m not your usual groupie, Jared.”

Right. And they never presented a challenge. He could scratch his butt and burp and they’d throw themselves at him anyway.

“I know. You’re my wife, Sheridan.” He leaned in, as close as he could get to her, his lips brushing against the delicate skin of her ear. “And I’m ready to make a bet I could seduce you with words alone.”

A little shudder moved through her. “What’s in it for me?”

He smiled. A long night of pleasure, if she’d let him. Though they’d be breaking all the damn rules. Harvey would kill him if he knew about it. “What do you want?”

She leaned back, her gaze meeting his. “If I don’t react, if I can prove to you that your raunchy dirty talk doesn’t affect me, I want you to come in during one of my ladies’ night out classes and do a meet and greet.”

“Done.” He’d do it anyway. That sounded like fun. His pretty little wife working hard and showing him off to her students. Damn, he was turning into a sap. This marriage stuff warped his brain already.

Sheridan chewed on her lower lip. “What do you want if you win? And how are you going to prove it?”

“Oh, I’ll know.” She was halfway there already, though she didn’t even realize it. Damn, his wife was hot. “If I win, I get to do whatever I want to you tonight when we get home.” His seduction had already begun, with those particularly chosen words.

Her eyes widened the slightest bit. “But we’re not supposed to…”

“I can keep a secret if you can,” he murmured, reaching out to trace her lower lip with his thumb. “Game on, wife.”

Chapter Eight

Jared made her incredibly nervous. Sheridan had thrown down the gauntlet, presented the challenge, and Jared was now hell-bent on proving himself right.

And proving her all sorts of wrong.

She was out of her league, playing this wicked game with him. Four men. She’d been with four men these twenty-five years of her life, including Jared. That was far from impressive. Pitiful, actually, and certainly proving her point—she was not sexually adventurous. With the exception of her night with Jared. Only one of them had wanted to try the dirty talk thing with her and they’d been young. Nineteen and twenty-years-old and drunk, they’d laughed the entire time as he whispered all sorts of stupid things in her ear.

It just flat-out always made her uncomfortable. Or so she’d thought.

Until Jared had said to her,
“If I win, I get to do whatever I want to you tonight when we get home.”

The promise in his deep voice, the heat in his gaze, had nearly sent her straight into giving in so she could find out exactly what he had in store for her. And once they’d made the bet, his single-minded pursuit seemed to be trying his best to drive her out of her ever-loving mind.

He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t attempted to whisper one dirty thing in her ear yet, but he was plotting. And planning. Touching her the entire time he was doing so, too.

Her husband had magic hands. Fingers that could touch her in such a seemingly innocent way but drive her absolutely wild. Reminding her of their night together, the way he’d touched her. How easily he’d brought her to orgasm. That damn index finger of his was intent on caressing every bit of exposed skin she had, which was a lot. And that was her own fault.

But that finger. It traveled everywhere. Down her neck, tracing her ear, across her shoulders, hooking just beneath the front of her dress, and touching the top of her breast, for goodness sake. He’d touch her while having a conversation with God knows whom, his expression neutral, his presence utterly at ease.

All the while she felt like a volcano, all swirling heat and scalding lava flowing through her veins, ready to explode if he kept up this slow, exquisite torture.

Appetizers arrived at their table, everyone crowding around for a chance to sample the new menu. Jared leaned in to her instead, his mouth pressed against her ear.

“I’d rather have you as my appetizer,” he murmured.

She smiled. That was sorta weak. “Really?”

“Mmm, hmm.” He slid his hand over the top of her thigh, grasping her flesh. Oh, the man was bold, but hell, they
were
married. This sort of play was allowed publicly. “I know you’d taste infinitely better.”

“You’re such a flatterer.” His words were child’s play. If he thought that sort of talk would melt her like butter, he was sadly mistaken.

“Just speaking the truth.” His hand dived beneath the hem of her skirt, his fingers skittering along the inside of her thigh. “Tell me, Sheridan. Are your panties wet?”

Oh, God. They certainly were now. A giggle escaped her and she tried to compose herself. “You’re not playing fair, you know.”

“I never said anything about playing fair,” he murmured.

She tried to shove his hand away but he wouldn’t budge. “Are you unfair on the field, too, Jared?”

“We’re not talking about work tonight.” His fingers traveled higher. Higher still. Both scaring and arousing her at the same time. “Tell me. If I touched you right now, I’d find you completely dry. Unaffected?” She didn’t want to be caught doing this.

She desperately wanted to be caught.

“You wouldn’t dare touch me right now,” she whispered.

“Why not? No one’s paying attention.” Those long fingers slid upward, closer to her panties and she held her breath, her entire body focused on where he might touch her next. “I could make you come and no one would be the wiser.”

Sheridan released a shuddering breath. He probably could, the bastard. Just the image his words conjured had her shivery with need. “It’s not working.”

“Liar,” he whispered just before he bit her earlobe.

Shoving his hand away, Sheridan stood, nearly toppling over on her stilettos. The man turned her into a complete klutz. Her skin felt tight, too hot, and she desperately needed some air. “That was a low move, Quinn.”

A single brow rose. He didn’t look like he regretted his cheating ways. The jerk. “Going somewhere,
Quinn
?”

The smug look on his too-handsome face made her want to smack him. “The ladies’ room,” she lied, figuring he wouldn’t follow her there.

He grinned. “Better not go off and cheat.”

She frowned. “Cheat? I’m not the cheater in this game.”

The grin eased, his gaze smoldering as he drank her in from head to toe. He grabbed her hand, pulling her close so she had no choice but to bend toward him, his mouth at her ear. “No touching yourself in a bathroom stall, baby.”

Shaking out of his grip, she took off with a huff and stalked through the crowd, smiling as politely as she could to passersby while deep inside, she burned. Not with anger, though maybe just a little bit. Anger directed more at herself for falling for his smooth lines.

Arousal made her twitchy, uneasy, and she slipped out the back door of the restaurant into a beautiful little courtyard, complete with twinkling white lights wrapped around the trunk and branches of the trees that created an intimate canopy of leaves over the small iron tables that dotted the cobbled patio. She swore she saw a couple under one of those trees, locked in a rather passionate embrace.

Damn it
. She couldn’t escape a crowd to save her life. Turning, she went back to the door, her fingers resting on the handle when she heard an unmistakably familiar voice.

“Sheridan. What are you doing out here?”

She turned to find Willow standing before her, her dark hair mussed, her lipstick gone, and her mouth swollen. “Needed fresh air.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Willow smiled, pushed her hair away from her face. “Um, you want to go back inside together?”

“Uh…” Sheridan shook her head, looking over Willow’s shoulder for her mystery kisser but he remained beneath the tree in shadow. “Who are you with?” she whispered.

Willow shrugged. “I need my secrets just like you need yours.”

Ouch. That hurt. She and Willow had never kept anything from each other. They’d been best friends since they were eight. Had shared every hope and dream. “Are you mad at me about Jared?”

“No, I…” Willow shook her head. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I should probably go back inside with you and forget him.”

“Fine. I guess I should get back to Jared.” God, she sounded downright reluctant, didn’t she?

“Not wanting to return to your husband?” Willow’s tone was mocking.

“Of course not, he’s just…”
Driving me crazy with lust? Teasing me when he knows we can’t do any of that kind of stuff due to the stipulation I insisted should be in our agreement?

She was starting to second-guess herself. Maybe that stipulation had been a huge mistake. Maybe she should make an adjustment to that stupid contract that allowed for free sex for an entire year.

Didn’t that sound full of potential?

“He’s being too grabby,” she said lamely, instantly feeling dumb for whining.

“If Jared Quinn was being too grabby with me, I wouldn’t be complaining.” Willow hooked her arm through Sheridan’s. “Come on. Let’s go. You can hang out at my table for a few minutes before you find your husband.”

Sheridan went with Willow back inside the restaurant, glancing over her shoulder at the last minute in hopes of catching a glimpse of the guy Willow had been with. She saw him, barely. He’d emerged from the shadows, tall, broad, similar in build to Jared. A giant grin on his face, too, as their gazes met for the briefest moment before the door shut.

“I saw your mystery man,” Sheridan murmured as they re-entered the crowded, noisy restaurant.

Willow waved a hand. “He’s no one.”

“He’s handsome.” Sheridan wondered if it could be that Nick Hamilton Willow had mentioned before. “So was it Nick?”

Willow’s cheeks turned pink. As in, she was blushing and that never, ever happened. “Maybe.”

Sheridan let it drop. She wasn’t one to probe. After all, she had a bazillion secrets she needed to keep. And she had to hold every single one of them close to her chest.

…

Jared kept his gaze fixed on the open doorway that led to the back of the restaurant where their table was located, waiting for Sheridan to return. He wanted her back, wanted her close. Wanted to see if he could cause that same hazy look in her eyes he’d noticed earlier when he’d slipped his hand beneath her skirt.

He knew he was being a jerk. But there was something about her that drew him. Her sassy attitude, how she treated him like a real guy versus a superstar, he liked it. She didn’t put up with his crap and he could appreciate that.

And she was damn sexy. The way she pretended his touch, his words meant nothing. She was completely full of shit. He’d heard the hitch in her breath when he touched her thigh. Felt the tremble move through her when he said he could have her coming. Could only imagine slipping his fingers between her legs, encountering damp, creamy heat, stroking her just right so she had to bite that sexy lower lip of hers to hold back the moan…

“You let someone have my chair?” Sheridan’s incredulous voice reached straight into his brain and snatched him out of his dirty thoughts. She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “How could you?” There was humor lacing her voice, thank God.

“Uh…” He glanced at the chair, which was now occupied by none other than Flynn Foley. How had he let that happen? “I could give him the boot.”

“Hey, I stole your wife’s chair?” Flynn turned and smiled at Sheridan, causing her to beam in return. He laid on the charm with such effortless ease, Jared wanted to punch Flynn in that pretty face of his. “I’m sorry. I’ll get up.” Flynn started to stand but Jared snagged Sheridan’s hand, pulling her down onto his lap.

“Wha—”

“Shh.” Jared curled his arms around Sheridan’s waist, keeping her in place. “Thanks for taking her chair, Foley. Perfect excuse for me to get her close.”

She sent Jared a withering stare before she held out her hand toward Flynn. “I’m Sheridan Ha—Quinn.”

“Flynn Foley.” He took her hand, gave it a brief shake. As affable as ever. Jared wondered if the guy was ever in a bad mood. “Great to meet the woman who finally tamed Jared.”

She blushed, and Jared hauled her in as close as he could, his arms tight around her tiny waist, her bottom nestled close to the V of his thighs. Causing his cock to instantly react, the horn dog that it was. “I don’t know if I’d say she tamed me.”

“Please.” She turned, pressed her hand against his stubble-covered cheek. “I’ve completely domesticated you.” She slapped him, lightly but enough to make a smacking noise.

Flynn laughed, the jackass. “Looks like she’s got your number.”

“I’d say,” Jared drawled, letting his hand slide down to cup her ass. She jumped when he touched her, that death glare of hers coming at him tenfold. “What? You don’t like blatant displays of affection?”

“Well, well, aren’t you two cozy?”

Jared groaned inwardly, his whole body going tense. Charlie and Jim stood before their table, the very last two people he wanted to piss off. And here he was playing grab ass with his fake wife when he was supposed to be calm. Respectful.

Tamed.

Instead all he could think about was coming up with inventive ways to get under Sheridan’s dress with no one noticing.

As if sensing his unease, Sheridan started to stand, and he loosened his hold on her. “Don’t break it up on our account,” Charlie said jovially. A giant smile curving his lips, he looked pleased as can be. “It’s sort of sweet, seeing you two.”

Sweet? If Jared didn’t watch it, he could turn the cuddling into a soft porn show. The woman had this way of pushing at the very limits of his control. “Yeah, uh, she’s irresistible.”

Sheridan snuggled back in, looping her arms around his neck. Her fingers played with the hair at his nape, making his skin tingle and he tried his best not to react.

But damn, her touch felt good.