Player's Challenge (12 page)

“Really?” His hands tightened around her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as he sat forward. “Enlightening
how
?”

Gemma leaned into him. The fresh scent of his cologne tickled her nostrils and she breathed him in, setting off a catalyst of chaotic sensations. “You’re jealous,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Possessive, jealous, obsessive…all of the above when it comes to you.” He undid her bra then flung the garment over his shoulder.

The heady combination of his words and the cool brush of air against her naked skin made her nipples harden. Devin also noticed. He shifted his hands and thumbed the puckered buds.

“Stu knows about us,” she gushed. Whenever the man had his hands on her, she couldn’t hide anything from him.

“And how did that come about?”

Like a moth to a flame, she placed her hands on his thighs and leaned toward him. “I was preoccupied most of the meeting. He put two and two together, came to the conclusion my mind was on a man, which it was since I was afraid you were going to come charging through the door.”

“But I was a good boy. I respected the boundaries you set.”

“And I’m grateful.”

“So what did he say when you told him you were shagging a client.”

“He asked why I didn’t consider him.”

Gemma could almost see the steam gushing from his ears. “Next time I come across Wirth, I’m going to kick his balls into his throat.” Low, bordering on menacing, his voice pulsated with anger.

“You’re not going to do any such thing because he was only kidding.” Craving more contact, Gemma wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her breasts flattened against his chest. The contrast between hard and soft, caused goose bumps to whiz up her arms. “And he’s sworn to secrecy.”

“Secrecy, you say?” He cocked his head and licked his tongue along the pulse in her throat.

Gemma inched closer. …“His lips are sealed.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He grasped her hips and pulled her toward him, fusing them together, groin to groin.

His voice dipped another octave to barely a whisper. “How do you do it?”

Equally affected, Gemma sighed into him. “Do what?”

While his lips blazed a hot trail, he hooked his hands inside her panties and pulled, popping the thin material. “Make me so hard, and yet so vulnerable. You have me so wide open, you have my world spinning.”

So vulnerable, so wide open he would possibly tell the truth? Unable to let this opportunity pass, Gemma cupped his face. “What happened between us?” She kissed the side of his mouth, earning herself a tormented groan. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

“I was a coward,” he muttered. “I didn’t say goodbye because I feared I wouldn’t be able to leave if I did. And where would that get us? Miserable, living in a cubby in Birmingham. And you…you can be mean. And I…I would drink all the time”

“We can be heroes for ever and ever…what’d you say?” A smile quirked Gemma’s lips. “You remembered my all-time favorite song.”

“How could I forget? Whenever you were in one of your funks, you had Bowie on repeat,” he said, rubbing his forehead as if trying to wash away the memory.

Gemma nodded. Whenever she had a bad day, she used to come home, lock herself in her room and decompress with the Thin White Duke. “After you left for Croydon, I played it over and over every day for about month,” slipped out before she could catch herself.

She glanced at him, hoping against hope he’d missed it. No such miracle. His expression said it all. Shock. Pity. Remorse. Stomach knotting with angst, her arms wrapped around her middle.

“Come here you.” Chuckling he pushed his hands into her hair and pulled her toward him until their foreheads kissed. “And here I thought I was the only one pining away. Can you finally let the past go and forgive me?”

“Yes.” Gemma cringed. Her voice didn’t sound like it belonged to her, clogged as it was with emotion.

In one quick movement, he rolled her beneath him and unbuttoned his shorts, exposing the veiny, hard length of him. He lifted her legs to wrap around his hips, then pushed home.

He was rough and impatient, lacking the smooth moves she’d grown accustomed to and Gemma loved it. “Yes,” she moaned, digging her nails into his back.

“I love making up with you.” He braced his hands above her head and arched his hips to push a little deeper.

Everything tightened, a sweet tension building with each rhythmic stroke. With each thrust, he hit that sweet spot, which made her head spin. Panting and frantic, she reached between her legs. Finding her clit, she raced toward another orgasm.

“Christ church!” Neck corded with strain, he hovered over her. “You’re about to come. I can feel…”

He came with an animalist growl, his body shaking with a ferocity and such a raw, organic beauty Gemma lost her vulnerable grasp on reality. Eyes squeezed shut, trembling like a leaf, she succumbed to bliss.

Struggling for breath, clasped in his arms, Gemma floated back down to Earth. Devin cupped her chin, turning her to face him. He brushed his lips over hers, and like a match to a wick, he ignited her passion once more. Her sex pulsated, clamped down on him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, acknowledging her body’s response.

“I’m sorry.” Gemma made to separate their bodies, untangling her limbs, but he flexed his arm keeping her close.

“Don’t bloody apologize. I’d die a happy man making love to you.”

“You’re not the only one,” Gemma murmured, overcome with emotion. What they had was inexplicable. “Too bad we can’t bottle it or we’d make millions.”

“Always looking at the business angle.” Chuckling, Devin rolled her beneath him, seating himself deeper. His lips played with the fine hairs at her temple and all thoughts of business faded.

The moment was intimate, in direct contrast to their previous lovemaking. One could get used to this, she deduced as he cooed words of praise and endearment and molded her body to his enchanting rhythm.

***

A week turned into two, then another as they fell into a comfortable routine. Gemma converted Devin’s dining room table into her temporary office. Up by eight every morning, she worked until four. Devin left the house intermittingly for his twice a day workouts or for business. If it was the latter, she usually accompanied him.

Gemma loved her work, the haggling over numbers, fielding media inquiries, and stroking a half-a-dozen egos, and yet she never hesitated to set it aside to spend time with Devin. In or out of bed, they were so well suited. They could talk for hours about anything or simply sit in the same room and say nothing. It was as if each were the puzzle and the other was the missing piece that completed them.

Even now, in the middle of booking Amberson Park for Devin’s soccer camp, Gemma kept glancing at her watch, wondering why he wasn’t home from his morning workout. He should’ve been home over two hours ago.

“Is there anything else you think you’ll need, Miss Clarke?”

Amberson’s Facility Director, Peter Moultrie, pulled her back into their phone conversation.

“No. I believe we’ve covered everything.”

“Well, I’ll put the event on the calendar. We’re really honored to have Mr. Spencer. This is going to be great for the community. See you next month.”

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Moultrie,” she said, hanging up.

Unable to contain her enthusiasm and using the news as the perfect excuse to check on Devin, she speed dialed him.

“Hey, babe,” he answered on the second ring. An involuntary smile touched Gemma’s lips. Hearing his voice always did for her.

“Hey, yourself. I have fabulous news.”

“Dish ’cause I need it.”

“I secured Amberson Park for the soccer camp. The press release is already drawn up and the poster design is at the printers waiting for our confirmation. All they need is the location and date and we’re good to go.”

“That sounds great,” he said, his tone far from ecstatic. Even through the phone, Gemma could feel him pulling away from her. Her heart thundered in her chest.

“Devin, what’s wrong?”

“Your flat’s ready. The security team called. They want to meet up around one o’clock this afternoon for a walk through.”

The honeymoon was finally over. Even though she knew her living with him wouldn’t last forever, Gemma was rocked by a sudden dejected feeling. Crestfallen, she glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s half past twelve, Devin.”

“Sorry, love,” he said sheepishly. “I got caught up. If you want, I can meet you there.”

He wasn’t going to pick her up? Gemma gulped. Her heart had wedged itself in the back of her throat. The connection between them was already slipping away.

When Gemma pulled up in front of her flat, a Lock, Stock and Barrel work truck was parked in front. Right behind it, Devin’s Porsche Panamera. On the drive over, she’d used the time to put on her big girl panties. Whatever she felt for him, she stuffed into the small cubbyhole in her heart marked ‘Devin’. If he was going to end things, she refused to break down.

After all, moving back into her place was for the best. What they had these past four couldn’t possibly last. Devin was her client, first and foremost. Being her lover had been a nice perk, a very, very nice one.

Almost dizzy with anxiety, Gemma climbed the front stoop and entered her flat. She walked down the hallway and found Devin standing in her family room talking with a representative from the security company. He must have showered and changed at the gym because he wore dark rinse denim jeans, a heather gray t-shirt and white high-top trainers. The t-shirt’s light color complimented his tanned skin and intensified his good looks. Overcome with emotion, Gemma averted her gaze before she gave herself away.

“Are you the owner of the house?” the rep asked.

“In the flesh.” Gemma plastered on a smile as she shook the man’s hand.

“O’Doul. I think you’ll be mighty pleased with what we’ve done. Mr. Spencer didn’t spare any expense.” He gleefully smacked his hands together. Gemma could almost see the pound signs reflected in his eyes. “How about we start the tour on the outside, then work our way in?”

Devin’s gaze burned into her as she followed O’Doul from the family room. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then shut it. Was he as confused and torn up about her imminent move home as she was?

Get real!
More than likely, Devin was already lining up the larks to replace her now that he would have his place to himself again. If only she’d followed her instincts and kept things professional. Once again she would be the one left holding the bag, while he moved on to the next conquest. Well she’d done it before, she could do it again. This time, she vowed, would be the last.

“We’ve installed surveillance cameras in the front of the house as well as here in the garden,” O’ Doul pointed out. “They’re activated by motion and can be monitored via the telly and your cell phone.” He stepped forward and fingered what appeared to be new locks on her French doors. “We’ve also changed out all your latches with high security keyless and voice activated locks.”

Gemma’s eyes widened. “Keyless and voice activated?”

“We’re called Lock, Stock, and Barrel for a reason.” O’Doul’s chest expanded with pride. “You’ll never have to worry about fumbling with keys again or some creep jimmying the lock.” He motioned for her to step closer. “From now on, your doors will open with a touch of your finger.”

O’Doul closed the garden doors, then rattled the knobs to prove they were locked. “Place your index finger in this little indention, and voila, open sesame.”

Feeling like an extra in a James Bond flick, Gemma swiped her finger over the latch. As if by magic, the pen clicked. Beaming, O’Doul touched his finger against the lock and the pen clicked again.

“Now say,” he stepped back, “I’m home.”

Gemma glanced at Devin. He winked, and she responded in kind. This kind of made up for being kicked to the curb. Mood improved, she cleared her throat with a heavy dose of dramatics.

“I’m home,” she declared, and once again the deadbolt clicked.

“What do you think?” O’Doul asked.

“Bloody, freakin’ fantastic,” she gushed.

“Great! Then my job here is done.” O’Doul swept past her, and back inside. In the front foyer, he stopped to hand her his business card. “Here’s my card. Like us, refer us.”

“I sure will,” Gemma promised as she opened the front door open for him. Instead of closing it behind him, she kept it open for Devin, giving him an easy out.

With more exuberance than warranted, Gemma chirped, “thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure.” Devin sidled over to the door but didn’t breech the threshold. “If there are any glitches, note them and I’ll have him back out to fix them.”

“I will,” Gemma muttered, feeling an unsettling sadness.

“I’ll pack up your stuff and have your things delivered before the end of the week.”

He really was getting rid of her. He wouldn’t even let her come back to his flat to collect her things. Still, she managed to dredge up a smile. “I’ll be here.”

“Well…I better get going.” He stepped over the threshold, straddling it. “Thank you for all you’ve done with pulling together the soccer camp.”

“My pleasure.” Smile still intact, Gemma walked the door forward, edging him onto the stoop. There was no need to prolong things any further.

He had other ideas. “What about my contract?”

Nonplussed, Gemma didn’t stop her momentum. “If anything comes up, I’ll give you a ring.”

As soon as she shut the door, she leaned against it with a heart-felt sigh. Thank goodness she’d had the smart idea to make a quick stop at Tesco to pick up a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough. Only a dozen, fresh-baked cookies could distill this emptiness.

Knock…knock…knock.

Gemma frowned. It could be no one else, but Devin. In that short of time, he wouldn’t have been able to clear the front walkway.

Exasperated because the cookie dough was calling her name, she flung open the door. “Did you forget something?”

Devin stepped toward her at the same time he captured her by the nape.

“Devin—”

“Shut it. One of us has to be an adult.” He pulled her into his arms and ran his lips along her jawline to her lips. “This time, this is going to work.”

His declaration caused sparks to run along Gemma’s skin and she melted into him. She wanted this…him…as much as she needed her daily cup of Illy coffee.

“I hope so,” she confessed, “I’m not ready to go back to how we were before.”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs to the right.”

He slid his hands under her butt and lifted her. “I’m going to make love to you until your eyes cross. Afterward, we’re going to pack up whatever you need to function.”

“Does that mean I’m not staying?”

“Or I can move in here with you?”

“A two-bedroom flat in Camden or a three-thousand square foot penthouse with a view of London…hmm,” Gemma tapped her chin with her index finger. “I rather like your place…and you.”

Their gazes locked and held, and then Devin pressed his forehead against hers. “I rather like you too, babe.” He cocked his head. “I like you a lot,” he said.

It wasn’t the three words Gemma desperately wanted to hear, but it still made her melt all the same. “Take me upstairs.” She pushed her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. They came together so fiercely their teeth clicked.

Getting to her bedroom wasn’t easy. Devin stumbled a few times or fell against the wall, but they eventually tumbled into bed without any broken bones.

They rolled across the mattress in a snarl of arms and legs, the cool sheets a startling contrast to his burning touch. Feeling a spurt of inspiration, Gemma threaded her legs with his and pushed with her upper body. He accommodated her by rolling onto his back, which turned into an opportunity to divest her of the rest of her clothing. He tugged at her bra until it snapped open, and her breasts spilled into his hands. He plumped and squeezed one before taking a chocolate-tipped nipple in his mouth. Gemma cried out at the hot lash of his tongue, her belly quivering in excitement.

The sudden realization that she’d almost lost this…him…goaded her into an odd urgency. Hands shaking, she helped him tug off his jeans and boxer briefs. She palmed his cock and his hips shot from the bed.

“Christ!” he grunted, thrusting into her hand. “Protection is in the back jean pocket. Hurry! I don’t think I can hang on.”

One hand still holding his shaft, Gemma plucked the condom from his pocket and ripped into it. She couldn’t wait much longer either. His fingers were tweaking her nipples and driving her bloody crazy.

With a little bit of handling and patience, she rolled the condom over him then rose onto her knees. He sat up as well and slid his hands to her lower back to give her support. Beyond wet, she sank down with ease.

“Gemma,” he grunted. “You feel so good.” He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her closer. “If you have second thoughts about us, say so now. I’m a one-woman man and I’m never letting go.”

Cupping his face, Gemma slowly rocked against him. His green gaze met hers and her heart contracted like someone reached inside and squeezed it.