Playing for Kicks (Play Makers Book 5) (34 page)

“Wait a minute,” he protested. “How did your
folks take it? They said
any
school, right? So you found a
loophole.”

“Except it really
wasn’t
a loophole,”
she murmured. “I went down to Dad’s office to announce I had
finally picked a school. And he was sooo happy. And then I told him
my choice, and he—well . . .” She sat up straight, surprised
by how the memory tore at her. “He lost it. Started yelling at me.
Which was so surreal because he had never even raised his voice
with us. But he went ballistic. Told me he wasn’t spending fifty
thousand a year so I could shack up with some surfer dude and
string puka shells for the rest of my life.”

“Geezus.”

“I was in shock,” she confirmed. “I told him
not to worry. That I’d never take a penny from him again. Not for
school, not for anything else. Then I ran to my room and started
packing. Then Mom and Dad started yelling at each other, which once
again had
never
happened at our house.” She bit her lip. “My
siblings rushed home and tried to calm me down, since I just wanted
to—well, I don’t even know what I wanted. Just to get out of there,
I guess. Start running and never look back.”

Sean’s face had gone ashen, so she touched it
in confusion. “Are you sorry you asked? It all worked out, you
know. Dad did some research on UH and realized it was a great
school academically. Then he apologized and offered to pay for
everything. I said ‘no,’ obviously, but I accepted his apology and
stayed until graduation, so crisis averted.”

“Man, talk about a clusterfuck.”

“It all worked out, which is the moral of the
story. My massive student debt was the reason I got into
bartending. And even before that—almost from the time I stepped off
the plane for the first time—I felt the pressure lift. Because
sure, there are overachievers in Hawaii, but it’s not the dominant
culture. And I guess I was tired of being dominated. Even in a
loving way.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Then it got even better. I could feel it
wash over me. The sheer perfection of it,” she added
blissfully.

“You were in the moment,” he agreed, nuzzling
her neck. “Tantric, right?”

She laughed happily. “Tantric isn’t Hawaiian.
That’s all you.”

“Sounds good.” His green eyes twinkled.
“Let’s give it a shot.”

Her body warmed on cue. “Okay, but let’s do
it right.” Jumping to her feet, she motioned for him to stand in
front of her, reminding him, “No touching.”

“Huh?”

“Remember that night? All we did was chat and
make eye contact.” A wave of excitement coursed through her, and
she realized it might actually happen again.

Sean seemed to get it too, his tone softening
as if by instinct. “Your voice drove me crazy that night. All soft
and breathless like you were getting excited and you wanted me to
know it. But you were scared of me too. And I was just falling for
you. Your mouth. Your lips. Even the way you breathed. So sweet, so
slow . . .”

“I was trying to explain about the articles,”
she stammered through a haze of arousal. “But it wasn’t about the
articles anymore. It was about you. Because you were getting me off
so casually. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.”

“Yeah, that’s how it was,” he admitted. “You
liked it. Man . . .”

Hs gaze penetrated hers with slow, sexy
pulses of emerald green heat, and she almost swayed against him,
desperate for contact as her nipples reached out for him and a
delicious throbbing welled up between her legs.

“Sean . . .”

“Hell, yeah,” he groaned, tumbling her to the
couch and kneeling above her to strip off his polo shirt, as if he
needed skin-to-skin as much as she did. As he pulled her Lancer tee
over her head, she unhooked her bra, then trembled when his mouth
descended on her, worshipping her breasts, playing with her
nipples, chanting her name as he fumbled to slide her yoga pants
down her legs.

“No, Sean,” she pleaded. “Just you,
okay?”

“Come on, baby,” he whispered in a husky
voice, his hand slipping under the stretchy waistband. “Let me
touch you.”

“Sean . . .”

“You’re wet, right? Let me see.”

He was inside her panties now, and when she
moaned happily, he used his fingertip, first to tease her, then to
dip inside, gently but with greater and greater mastery. “You’re so
wet, Tess.”

“Oh, God.” She arched as he worked her into a
frenzy while his other hand freed his erection so she could stroke
it as she had before. Their pleasure built—his and hers—and then to
her amazed relief she climaxed with hot jolts of pure pleasure.
Sean came too, his groan—half frustration, half
anticipation—rumbling in her ear, vibrating through her in perfect
harmony with her own release.

“Damn,” he said reverently. “That was good,
right? I mean . . .” He lifted his head to look down at her,
his green gaze solemn. “It was wrong. I get that. But otherwise,
you liked it, didn’t you?”

“Don’t even bother,” she muttered.

“I know you said ‘no touching.’ But it seemed
like you were touching me too.”

“Just stop.”

“Don’t be mad,” he coaxed, nibbling her ear.
“I dig this Tantric stuff. Even though it’s wrong.”

She tried to arch a stern eyebrow, but ended
up laughing instead. “That wasn’t Tantric. That was a buffer-zone
violation on steroids.”

“Yeah, but not sex, right? So we’re still
good.”

She bit her lip, in love at least for the
moment. “You get so cocky when you get off. It’s unbecoming,
Romeo.”

“You got off too, didn’t you? I mean .
. .” He winced as though losing his confidence. “It seemed
like you did. I
wanted
you to. I swear it.”

“I’m not ready. As I’ve mentioned a million
times. So let’s drop it.”

When he studied her face, she knew he
wouldn’t let it go, so she told him wistfully, “I know I’m being
silly. Because I’ve had sex with other guys, right? The French
dude. And a friend of my brother’s, although that was just a
one-time mercy lay. Still, it begs the question: why won’t I do it
with
you?
The most attractive guy I’ve ever known.”

She would have continued, but he cut her off
gently. “I don’t want it to be like the French guy.
Or
your
brother’s friend. I want to be like
us
. And I’m willing to
wait. Especially if we go Tantric while we’re waiting, because, man
. . . that was fun.”

She hesitated, then murmured, “Thanks,
Sean.”

“No problem. I do have a request,
though.”

Refusing to panic, she asked, “What is
it?”

“Are you my girlfriend? Or just my buffer
girlfriend?”

“I’m your girlfriend,” she confirmed in
relief. “I thought you knew.”

“Yeah, I knew. I just wasn’t sure
you
did.”

Pleased, she slid out from under him, found
her shirt and bra, and said, “Give me a minute,” as she dashed to
the downstairs bathroom.

• • •

Her plan was to escape without further
conversation. She had notes to make. Doodles to draw. Ideas to
crunch. Not to mention an orgasm to reenact.

Not that you climaxed,
she teased
herself as she ventured back to Sean’s living room, ready to say
good-bye. But there he was, munching on re-heated chicken wings,
and because she loved that sauce more than life itself, she joined
him willingly.

“You’re the devil,” she complained as she
scooped three juicy wings onto a paper plate.

“These are from Gusterson’s, right?” Before
she could explain, he admitted, “They’re good. And it’s your call.
So if you want to start going there again, no problem. Bam’ll come
too. John might be the holdout, since he was pretty pissed.”

It’s your call . . .

She loved the way he did that. Deferred when
he could, pushed back gently when he felt he had no choice. And
since she wasn’t sure she had given him the same courtesy—mostly
because of his romantic history—she decided to give it a try.

So she took a deep breath and told him the
truth about Gusty’s quote-unquote insult, adding quickly that it no
longer mattered because she and Gusty were friends now.

He seemed shocked. “You lied to me? Why?”

“I thought you’d take it better.
Unfortunately, you took it worse.” She grimaced. “Would it help if
I promise not to lie to you anymore? I didn’t really know you back
then. Now I do. So it’s different.”

“It was last week,” he drawled.

“You’re saying nothing changed this
week?”

His eyes twinkled. “You’ve got me on that
one. Because yeah, what a week. You know what the biggest surprise
was?”

“Oh, God,” she said, laughing again. “Please
tell me it was the talk with Riga. Not the hand job.”

To her surprise, he didn’t joke around.
Instead he insisted, “I liked how you told me about that fight with
your dad. I feel like I know you better now. And that matters.”

Embarrassed, she murmured, “Like I said, it
was awful. But it happened for a reason, so all is well.”

“We need to tell each other things. For
example . . .” He exhaled sharply. “If you have questions
about Kerrie—”

“What?” She touched his wrist. “It’s just the
opposite. Because my favorite thing about you is you
don’t
talk about her. You moved on. That’s all that matters. And I’m not
the jealous type
. Or
competitive. Just ask my sister,” she
added fondly. “She desperately wants me to compete with her but I
just let her win instead. It pisses her off.”

“Yeah?”

Tess sighed. “I miss her.”

“Yeah, she sounds cool.”

“She’s the
opposite
of cool.
Completely naïve, even though she thinks she’s worldly. And she’s
such
a goody goody.”

“But you’re not competitive with her?”

“Exactly,” Tess began, then she glared. “You
were doing so well.”

He grinned. “I’m doing great, actually.”

“Oh, my God, just get over yourself.” She
caught his chin in her hand. “You’re lucky you’re so gorgeous.”

“I’m lucky
you’re
so gorgeous.”

Overwhelmed, she reminded him she needed to
get some work done at the hotel.

And he must have remembered her note-taking
and doodling process because he didn’t push back, saying instead,
“Drive carefully, okay? And use valet parking this time. It’s late,
Tess. The crazies are out.”

“I promise.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Have
fun with the high school kids tomorrow. Do
not
kick the ball
too far.”

• • •

After climbing into bed, she checked her
notes, just to be sure. But they were perfect. Because Sean was
perfect.

So what are you waiting for?
she
teased herself as she studied her top-ten drawings. Every single
one of them confirmed the truth—he was the guy. Maybe not forever,
but surely for now. Maybe for months. Maybe for years.

Tantric rays shooting out of his eyes?
Kicking the football like a game changer? Adoring yet teasing her
without missing a beat?
Shark Week,
tacos, scones, raccoon
parties—this guy had it all. Plus he could sing.

Inspired, she climbed out of bed and wandered
to the closet for a look at her all-time favorite piece of
clothing—a gorgeous dress in scarlet and navy silk. It was actually
the uniform from her first real job in the fancy Hawaiian resort,
and while it was styled like a sarong, it didn’t wrap around.
Instead, it was tailored to fit even more perfectly, complete with
a hidden zipper in the side seam. Bare shoulders, suggestive yet
still modest cleavage, molded to her ass like life itself depended
on it.

She had scored countless tips with this baby
but hadn’t worn it in years. Not until now. But if she and Sean
were destined to make love—and they were—she would be wearing this
dress when it happened.

Wriggling into it, she stared at the mirror
with awed eyes. As much as she loved her body, she knew it had
flaws. Except when she was wearing
this,
because this cured
all ills and added taut, provocative curves for good measure.

In her fantasy, they would fly to Hawaii.
They would dance. He would sing that romantic Eagles song to her.
She would do anything he asked. They would make love for hours,
heedless of time. Heedless of anything but each other.

And the next morning? Pancakes.

By then, they would know if it was a
beginning or an ending. Not that it mattered because it would be
perfect either way. The ultimate experience of being in the moment,
Hawaiian style. No past. No future. Just Sean and Tess. Romeo and
Juliet. Destined for greatness at least for one night.

After stripping off the dress and returning
it to its padded hanger, she crawled back into bed, finally
exhausted. She had other things to think about thanks to her
conversation with Gusty’s nephew, which had provided legal fodder
for Noah Cunningham’s defense. But that could wait until morning,
couldn’t it?

Noah doesn’t even want you to defend
him,
she reminded herself as she snuggled into the pillows.
He wants you to let it go. Just like you didn’t want Sean to
romance you. Right until he did . . .

Laughing at the silly analogy, she finally
drifted into sleep, hoping for Tantric dreams to get her through
the night.

• • •

On Thursday morning, she was all about Noah
Cunningham. He hadn’t had an advocate back in college, and Gusty’s
nephew had fired her up about hypocrisy in the NCAA rules, echoing
what Sean had said—those rules weren’t there to protect the
students or even the sport. They protected the NCAA and the revenue
stream and, to the extent they could favor the schools, damn if
they didn’t do that as well.

She definitely needed a do-over with Noah,
and while she didn’t want to sacrifice a Saturday for it, since it
was her only full day with Sean, it was a good cause.