Passionate Game (Kimani Hotties) (9 page)

Her hurt was now his hurt. He wished he could rewind and pull back his harsh remark.

“I can tell that you won’t do it. Don’t worry, I won’t hold a grudge,” Tamara said.

“But I put my foot in my mouth there.”

“Yeah, you did.” She leaned over and punched his arm playfully.

But the mood, whatever they had been entertaining between them, had cooled. Their attempt at light chatter fell flat.

“I’ll head out.” Grant stroked her cheek.

“See you later.”

He turned and walked away. Getting used to having his head in a whirl over a woman was proving next to impossible. The way his thoughts were spinning with his insecurities and doubts was freaking him out.

This woman was quickly filling his head with delicious scenarios that may never come to fruition. Since when and how had she slipped into that role? Maybe fate wanted him to experience how it felt to want someone so much that it hurt.

“Grant.”

He stopped and spun around at the sound of Tamara’s voice.

She ran toward him and jumped into his arms. Her legs encircled his waist. Her mouth, with its warm welcome, covered his.

“I want to be with you.”

Grant groaned.

“Stay. Please.”

“You’re killing me.” He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them to see the wide smile that greeted him.

That smile did him in. His mouth touched hers hesitantly. Her arms gripped him harder, and he accepted the signal to proceed ahead.

Although he wanted to launch into all the things that he wanted to do to her body, he resisted. Instead, he’d savor each moment.

His mouth slid away from her mouth, trailing down to her neck. Her slender throat was such a seductive turn on that he almost lost control. Everything about Tamara threatened his ability to stay cool and collected. He’d have to be dead to be calm.

As his hands roved over her body, warm and reactive, he could feel his pulse throbbing in response. They tore at each other’s clothing desperately.

One T-shirt gone.

One dress shirt gone.

One pair of sweatpants gone.

One pair of dress pants gone.

They panted across from each other. They still stood in the living room, only a few feet away from the front door, where he had surrendered to her.

She held out her hand to him.

He took her hand and allowed her to lead him to her room. He had no illusions that she wasn’t in charge, and his ego didn’t mind one bit.

He would rock her world, either way.

He laid her down on her bed with his body firmly planted between her thighs. The red laced bra had to go. He slid his hand under her back and unsnapped it with a flick of his fingers. She accepted the cue and pulled it off, tossing it overhead.

Her breasts were pure delight. The brown tips were like lures casting a tightly woven net over him, leaving no chance of escape. His tongue stroked the point where her neck slid into the graceful line of her shoulder. Every angle, plane and line had to be remembered. His hand cupped her breast, massaging the delicate mound, playing with her hardened nipple. Her soft moan started deep in her throat and crept up, slowly getting louder. The vibration against his lips set off a chain reaction, starting with tiny shivers in his stomach and ending with his arousal, which was steadily growing harder.

She must have sensed his need—the urgency. Her hands pulled at her own panties. He did his best to meet the challenge
and
still keep contact with her skin.

“I had it in mind to seduce you.” She handed him a condom.

He put on the protection. “I think we must have been on the same page, although mine is in my pants.”

“Next time,” she whispered before pulling him down on her.

He kissed her. Now that the floodgates of their desire had been opened, he plunged his tongue into her mouth as a preview for what he wanted to do with her body.

He raised her hips before sliding into the juicy cavern between her legs. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing up against him. The invitation was raw and hot.

He pushed back harder, grinding down and deep to fill her need. She opened herself to him, responding with a sensual challenge for deeper thrusts.

He gripped the headboard and put his strength into each stroke, mixing and matching the rhythm with hers. Their dance had a savage quality that celebrated nature in its purest form. They followed whatever their hearts desired.

Their sweat-slicked bodies worked in a frenzied partnership. Neither one wanted to surrender to the release that their bodies ached to perform. No way. He wanted more time to play, tease and seduce.

With one quick move, he flipped to the bottom and kept Tamara in place on top of his hips. She rode her position as if she was a warrior going into battle. Her arms and shoulders were back, and her breasts were up and free and bouncing with each move. Her thighs tightened around his hips as she bounced her behind against his pelvis. His legs practically shivered as she rotated and clenched her vagina around his penis. When he thought he couldn’t be more aroused, she took him to another octave.

He tried closing his eyes, but he saw only stars, as if his blood had drained from his brain. Then he felt her tighten under him. He didn’t need any help to know that like him, she was close to climax.

“Let’s do this together,” he whispered, his voice tight and hoarse.

She gasped.

Grant exploded with Tamara. His back arched up, pushing his hips into and against her. Her walls quivered, sending shockwaves along his shaft that also pulsed his orgasm. He had to surrender to his complete mental shutdown. Nothing coherent could form in his mind.

He couldn’t stop grinding against her hips until the last drop had been squeezed out of his body. Then his legs felt weak, as if he’d run a marathon. Thankfully he was lying on his back. He suspected that his legs would be unstable if he tried to get up.

Even after Tamara had rolled off, he remained lying there, wondering if he needed an EKG to diagnose any heart issues. His pulse hadn’t returned to normal. Maybe he needed to blindfold himself from seeing her body. But that wouldn’t be enough. Seeing her was only part of his problem. Her scent was ingrained in his head. Her touch had the power to scramble everything in him, and her voice wickedly stroked him into mad cravings to be with her and in her.

Finally, after his body had returned to some semblance of normalcy, Grant propped himself up on his elbow. He looked down on Tamara lying against the pillows. Her hair fanned the pillows, and soft tendrils curled around her face. He kissed her softly on her forehead.

“Why do you blow my mind so much?”

“You have a knack for accusing me of things. But I accept the charge...this time.”

Grant kissed her shoulder.

“You know I wanted to be with you. That’s why I suggested the film.” She cupped his jaw. “I guess I do manipulate, a tiny bit.”

He kissed her forehead.

“It’s no longer business as usual,” she said.

“I think we’ve failed our trade agreement.”

“So what do countries do to solve such a crisis?”

“Continue diplomatic relations.” Grant pulled Tamara into his embrace.

“I’m game if you’re game.”

Grant didn’t need any encouragement. He closed the distance between them. To have her in his arms for an encore satisfied his endless craving. While his passion still raged, he wanted to take his time with her.

They moved with the grace and timing of partners in an erotic slow dance. She writhed under him as he tried to imprint every tantalizing detail about her body into his mind. His hands completed the rest of the orientation, smoothing over her butt, cupping each fleshy cheek with his palm. He wasn’t one to claim ownership over any woman, but damn it, this was his woman.

Despite all of his plans, he’d given up more of himself than he’d intended.

He entered her with condom on, gently wanting to feel and enjoy every inch of the way. She made it hard, though. Her hips had to do just a quick flick, and he was ready to change the tempo. He held on, clenching his teeth, toes tight, brain on override as he tried to savor every movement with delicious deliberation.

“You’re killing me. Shh...” she hissed, unable to finish what she was going to say.

Grant shook his head in an effort to forget her request. No matter what she said, he meant to hold on to her hips and ride the wave as long as possible. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at the swell of her breasts moving to her rhythms.

He wanted to suck on her nipples so badly.

Even that thought threw him off. He bucked for a second. Taking a deep breath, he readjusted to the rhythmic beat already in play.

Tamara moaned. In a quick and unexpected move, she slid her hand along his thigh and between their bodies. Before he could register what she was about to do, her hand closed around his balls.

He almost shot off the bed.

“Stop,” he hissed. She stroked him. His voice caught in his throat. All he could do was croak.

One more stroke broke him.

He grabbed her hips and pushed forward, lifting her with his thrust. She arched back with a scream that he swore the neighbors had to have heard. But in the frenzy, he couldn’t stop himself. His thrusts were thick and hard, pushing and retreating until he hit that spot that generated the quickening of her release beneath him. He waited for her to climax, and just as she was done, he surrendered, bringing her back to join him again. They played their game until exhaustion took over, and they both collapsed on the bed.

Grant closed his eyes with Tamara tucked in the crook of his arm.

* * *

An hour later, Grant got dressed. His mouth felt dry. He hated to admit that he was still suspicious that Tamara’s passion for this project might have selfish motives. He walked out of the room just as Tamara was also rising from the bed.

“You’re not saying anything,” Tamara said. “The fact that you’re keeping your back to me speaks volumes.” She followed him into the kitchen, clutching the bedsheet around her body. The white linen contrasted beautifully against her dark skin. Her shoulders were bared, begging to be kissed.

“I’m still thinking about the film. Don’t try to convince me why I need to do it. Instead, I want to hear what you think it’ll do for you.”

“Are you accusing me again? I thought we’d gotten past that.” She tilted her chin toward the bedroom. “I have no personal agenda other than helping the academy so we can help more kids.”

“And I’m a behind-the-scenes kind of person,” Grant countered.

“You don’t have to be in the film. I’m only focusing on the kids.”

Grant wasn’t sure how he kept getting bulldozed by Tamara. Just looking at her, with her hair mussed from their lovemaking, the sexy glow of her skin, the naked desire that was still reflected in her eyes, he knew that she had the power to knock him over, again and again.

“I can tell that you don’t trust me,” she said.

Grant didn’t respond. His comfort zone was getting smaller and smaller.

Chapter 9

G
rant couldn’t deny that he had an afterglow that was lasting well into the next week. He’d caught himself whistling while doing mundane tasks. He’d found himself not only participating in office pranks, but also serving on the planning detail. His assistant, Latrice, frequently asked where the real Grant was.

His state of euphoria extended even further when the guys showed up for their jobs. Grant personally oversaw their orientation and introduction to the team of employees assigned to the internship.

He itched to call Tamara. But he forced himself to show restraint. By the end of their sensuous night together, with the documentary proposal hovering overhead, they had agreed to keep things as casual as possible.

As he walked around and talked with his staff, he thought about Tamara’s request to film these young men. No matter how much she said that she would keep him and most of his employees out of the documentary piece, he sensed that somehow she would manage to wrangle him into giving her complete access. He stood in his office and looked out over the floor. What did he have to lose?

His employees certainly didn’t lack company loyalty, and moreover they were proud that they created and designed top-selling games. Their creative sanctum had been protected from the public eye. Only when the final game prototype was due to be unveiled did the camera enter the process. An introspective on him and his company could backfire. Instead of showing the company’s strength, its weaknesses—young business, young owner, small staff, grudging industry respect—could come across to viewers as inexperience. The competitive nature of the industry didn’t always bring out the best in others.

He turned toward his desk, where sat the final plans for the angels and demons game. They had been painstakingly reviewed by his inner staff. In his gut, he knew that once the project was complete, they would have a masterpiece on their hands. Most games had a small window of popularity, but a few managed to have a classic style that burned into people’s psyche for decades. That’s what he saw with the angels and demons game.

Guided by his gut, he was going to stand by this project with every ounce of his support and energy. His vision even saw the potential for a tie-in graphic novel or movie. He took a deep breath and settled behind his desk to survey the latest details.

An hour later he emerged from his office. His eyes felt bloodshot as he went around the building and viewed other computer games that were in various stages of production. Hadfield and Norton had also been sitting in his office, working out a few obstacles that challenged them. At least they had found their groove and worked well together. Their miniretreat to the golf course had proved successful, to the point that the two men had become avid golfers. He sensed a rematch on the horizon.

“Grant, we have a problem.”

Whenever his PR manager, Corey Tisdale, started off their conversation with that announcement, he tensed and the beginnings of a low-grade headache automatically began to slide into place. The man wasn’t known for histrionics. Grant followed him back to his office. Whatever the crisis was, he didn’t need the staff rattled.

“What is it?” Grant asked with outward impatience.

“Another article was published about local companies whose CEOs were not only social outcasts, but also tightwads.”

“And why do I care about this?”

“Remember, we are trying to woo some computer game creators from overseas. They are already skittish about coming to an American company. The Asian market is more attractive. We need to be squeaky clean.”

“That’s what I pay you to do.”

“So far, so good. But we need to take the offensive. There is a self-proclaimed citizens watch group making it its business to shine the light on local companies that don’t give back to the community.”

“This is wasting my time.”

“It’s a part of doing business.” Tisdale’s failure to get to the point grated on Grant’s nerves. “Why don’t we let people know about the internship?” Tisdale asked.

“Those kids aren’t to be used.” Grant stared at Tisdale until the man lowered his eyes. “Did Tamara put you up to this?” Grant’s temper heated up with an intensity that was ready to burn out of control.

“Who?”

“Never mind.” Grant was losing his mind thinking about it.

Grant paused on his way to the door. He still bristled under the thinly veiled criticism. All he wanted to do was create his games. He picked up the newspaper, scanned the contents and then tossed it aside.

“Sir, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it won’t go away. I have a few sources who confirm that people will jump on the opportunity to blow this out of proportion. You are a giant in the industry and you have an Achilles heel or two.”

Grant nodded. “I’ll get back to you.” He left the office without waiting for an acknowledgment.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the familiar number. After the conversation he’d just had, he had no desire to go down the same road with anyone, including Tamara. He pressed the ignore button.

According to his schedule, he had a meeting with a couple of graphic artists who had studios in the local area. He didn’t know if he’d ever use them, but he always kept his options open. Networking was another facet of the job that he enjoyed, especially if it was with industry professionals instead of the “civilians.” He headed out of his office to his car.

As he came through the main entrance, he was suddenly stunned by cameras snapping in his face. He was blinded by their flashes, and all he heard was his name being yelled at him in a disjointed chorus. The security guards attempted to keep the reporters out of his path.

Navigating the gauntlet of journalists proved difficult. Was all this mayhem the result of the newspaper article? Did people have nothing better to do than invade his privacy with stupid questions?

His phone buzzed again. He looked down at the incoming number. This time he answered, ready to talk to Tamara.

“Hey, just wanted to give you a heads-up about a news—”

“I know.” He cut her off, instantly regretting that it sounded curt.

“I know you’re busy.”

“Yeah, I’m heading to a meeting, but I always have time to talk to you.” Grant left out that reporters had draped themselves over his car.

“Well, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Grant tapped the phone against his temple, right at the spot where his headache seemed to thrive. He emitted a groan before returning the phone to his ear. “I’ve changed my mind. You may produce the documentary, but I want a say in the final cut.” His teeth gritted in frustration.

“Whoa! That’s a big change.” Her voice held a tinge of disbelief. “You’re a stubborn man. Why the change?”

“I thought about it and, well, your argument made sense.”

* * *

Two hours later, Grant sat in Tamara’s office repeating his decision.

“Okay, where’s the real Grant?” Tamara walked around the room, opening and closing doors, pulling aside the blinds. “Someone come get this impostor.”

“Keep it up and I’ll change my mind.”

“Spoilsport.”

Grant pushed aside the humor. “I know you’ve thought about the details, so fill me in with the what, when, where and how.”

To her credit, Tamara got straight to the point. She fed him all the information. He listened attentively, peppering her with questions only when some detail made him uncomfortable.

“How soon can you get started?”

Her eyebrows popped.

“You have every detail ironed out, so I’m figuring that you’re ready to fly with this.” Grant wanted to see her commit, but more important, he wanted the project to be done with the highest quality.

She nodded. “It will only take one phone call.” She gazed at him.

His agitation increased. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Weren’t you the one hounding me to do this?”

“Asking. Suggesting. Recommending. But, hounding—that’s a bit much.” She stepped back, resting her hip against the wall. Her expression showed how much she was interested in what he said.

“I don’t want to take advantage of the guys.” And somewhere not too deep under the surface, Grant knew that was exactly what he was doing.

“I don’t think you would do that.”

“You’d suggested that I should be putting on a different face for the media. What does that involve?”

She nodded. “But you look like you’ve had to swallow a bitter pill to agree to the film. If you’re hesitant or unconvincing, that will come through on screen. Then you’ll be faced with a bigger problem—damage control.”

Grant said nothing.

“Is there anything that you’d rather not come out under public scrutiny?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Grant stepped away from Tamara. This plan to keep her in his close circle should work, and it would also get the media off his back. Increasing the good press for the internship program would help all involved. Yet, he felt as if he’d walked in mud up to his knees to make this happen.

“You worry too much,” Tamara scolded. “You’ve got so much stuff locked up in that head.” She laughed, no humor lacing the sound. “The entire world isn’t your enemy.”

Her message came through.

They were already lovers. Since when was that enough to hold a relationship together, though? Lovers betrayed each other all the time. Witnessing and living through betrayal left the soul a minefield.

He wrenched his gaze away from Tamara. Her soft sigh did even more damage; it was as if she had hit him squarely between the shoulder blades.
She wasn’t the enemy.
His heart had made its declaration. But it did have a track record for faulty logic.

Tamara clapped her hands together. “Let me get on the phone and get the ball rolling. Then we can meet with the crew and talk about specifics,” she said in a crisp, all-business tone.

“Sounds good.”

Tamara walked to her desk and sat. Her face was stoic, giving away nothing. They said a quick good-bye and he took his exit.

Outside her door, he exhaled. A burden had been lifted, somewhat. The bad publicity against his company and his plans would be averted. He had to save what he’d built at any cost. His gut did its tap dance with indigestion. He popped an antacid and headed for his car.

* * *

Tamara had gotten what she wanted. Filming Grant in his surroundings, sharing his passion and presenting his vision, had quickly become her main goal. From the first time she’d met him, he’d had a unique ability to draw her in. And she didn’t count herself as someone who easily fell for a handsome face or even charming manners.

Grant had that “it” factor that caused everyone to want to be around him. She’d seen it with his employees. She saw it when they went out on their dates. She saw it with the young interns. But Grant never showed that he needed that stroke to his ego. If anything, he almost seemed bashful at the attention.

And yet, what did she really know about him? The media had touched on some of the sides of Grant that she wondered about, but she’d like to think that she didn’t believe some of the negative hype.

Liar.

Her cheeks burned with the thought that she did have reservations about Grant, especially his wealth and his motivation for doing what he did.

The next day, Tamara placed the last of the follow-up calls to set things in motion. She couldn’t help the excitement that was stirring into existence. Despite her curiosity about him and his company, he had nothing to fear from her motives.

By the time she hung up from the call, her writing pad was filled with pages of how the production would unfold. Little by little, she mapped out the story line, making sure to add pieces that highlighted the guys but that also detailed Grant’s personal involvement with them.

He had to come across as a man who was ready to roll up his sleeves and work; a man who wasn’t afraid to sit down among his employees and build something into a much-coveted product; a man who wasn’t so full of his success that he couldn’t reach out to be an inspiration to others.

Once she was satisfied with what she’d written, she emailed it to the head of the film production crew, copying Grant on the email. She didn’t want to spring anything on him. His feelings mattered to her, despite how suspicious he had been when she’d briefed him.

Her cell phone buzzed—Becky.

“What’s up?” she greeted.

“You’re sounding way too perky. I thought you’d be upset that I was gone for a bit longer than I said,” Becky said.

“I am. But I don’t want you rushing from your mom’s side. How’s your mother?”

“She’s not doing as well as expected. The fractured hip is now their main concern. Once she’s stable, they will deal with the pacemaker. She’s on complete bed rest, not that she has a choice.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll keep her health in my prayers.” Tamara dreaded what Becky would undoubtedly tell her next.

“I’m going to stay here. I have no idea about anything right now.”

“Hey, don’t worry about us here. Clear your head of this place. Okay?” Tamara’s stomach clenched. Becky was her right-hand woman. “Take as long as you need. Keep me in the loop, and pass on my love to your mom.”

“Thanks, Tamara. I’m so freaked out by everything.”

“By the way, what does your brother think?”

“He doesn’t have a say because his girlfriend is acting as if she’s his wife and she’s ruling the homestead. But I want to concentrate on making our mother as comfortable as possible. More than likely I will have to put her in a senior home. Not my favorite choice, but it’s that time in life to make the difficult decisions.”

“I understand.” Tamara pinched the bridge of her nose. Listening to Becky talk about her mother reminded her about how difficult it had been with her father. “Take care of your mother.”

“Thank you. I could just hug you.”

“I miss your hugs, too.”

“Hey, how is it going with your boy toy?”

“I will pretend that I don’t know who you are talking about.” Tamara filled her in on the documentary and updated her on the various stages of production.

“I’m impressed. You have way more sway than I thought you had over Grant. You are a woman of hidden talents. Or you’re relentless as heck and he couldn’t take your badgering anymore.”