Table for Two-epub (12 page)

“Go ahead,” she grumbled. “Go out. Have fun.” She raked her teeth over his neck. “Drink with the boys.” She nipped his chin. “Indulge in your usual post-game amusement.” No nipping now. More like a sharp bite to his throat. The agony was nothing compared to the ecstasy as she wrapped her palm around his cock and dragged it up and then down.

Hot chills raced up his spine, scrabbling his brain, and working out what the hell she meant by his usual post-game amusement instantly became impossible.

“But before you do…”

A crinkling sound filled his ears a heartbeat before Liv planted a hot kiss on his lips, her tongue licking into his mouth. He opened to her, returning the kiss with every bit of zest and passion she infused into it.

She squirmed on his leg, grinding down harder, and deepened the kiss.

James’s reality narrowed to the shape of her slim, toned ass cheek, the hot, wet pressure of her pussy against his thigh, her soft breasts pressed into his chest and the hypnotic seduction of her tongue and lips.

Kissing had always been enjoyable, a good way of connecting with a partner. But good didn’t begin to describe Liv’s kiss. It was thrilling. Soul-destroying. It was carnal, all-consuming and a barrage on his senses. Her mouth tore through every one of his defenses and left his heart wide open to her deadly assault.

In a word, Liv’s kiss slayed him.

She ripped her lips from his. “Before you go…” She panted heavily and again something crinkled. “Before you leave…” The hand around his cock was gone. But not for long. Mere seconds and it was back, gripping him at the base as she worked something over his tip.

A condom.

Her agile fingers rolled it down his throbbing erection, and his balls tightened in anticipation.

“…Fuck me.” The order was coupled with another sharp nip on his neck.

James tackled her where she stood.

They hit the ground together. He used his arms to break her fall, and the instant they were down, he did just as she ordered. Pinned her to the floor, kneed her thighs apart and climbed between them.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist by the time the tip of his cock found her pussy.

Sharp nails raked the length of his back as he plunged inside her, and he swore a blood vessel burst behind his eye as he bottomed out, his entire length encased in Liv’s hot cunt.

Convinced he’d found heaven in her scorching heat, James was content to remain still forever, but Liv squirmed, thrusting her hips against his, demanding more. 

Raw lust shook him to his bones, and animalistic need tore through him. One second he was sheathed in her warmth, the next he was pulling out and slamming his cock back into her.

He held his weight on his hands and knees, and drove into her ever harder and faster, her excited cries encouraging him. His entire world was focused on the woman beneath him, pressing the heels of her feet into his ass, pushing him harder, urging him on.

She clawed at the flesh on his back, and he dropped his lips to hers, claiming another of those soul-destroying kisses.

She fed her mouth to him, both slaking his thirst and increasing his voracious appetite. As satisfying as her tongue and lips tasted, the more James had of Liv, the more he wanted.

Liv’s thrusting became wild. She circled her hips in unrestrained arcs.

Up until this moment sex had always been fun. Gratifying. And, yep, required on a regular basis. On occasion, in the absence of a warm, soft body, his hand sufficed.

But this moment changed everything. This could never be described as fun or gratifying. Being with Liv was feverish and all-consuming. Passion blazed between them, her blistering touch searing every inch of his flesh.

And that touch only became more maddening as Liv lost control. She broke the kiss with a fierce cry and rammed her hips into his. Her nails dug into his back.

“God, James,” she panted. “C-coming. I’m…coming.” With a cry, she convulsed, her pussy muscles clamping around his cock, squeezing him, enthralling him, stopping his heart.

She arched her back, squashing her breasts into his chest, the tightened nipples drilling hot sparks into his skin.

James grit his teeth. Sweat beaded over his forehead and slickened his hips and hers. Never had he seen anything more magnificent than the woman shuddering beneath him. Never had his heart squeezed with emotion as he watched someone break.

Liv’s surrender moved him, rocking his world, shattering whatever stability he’d once known. As his body yielded to the tempestuous storm that raged in his groin, his heart yielded to the emotion.

James plummeted over the edge, falling hard as he exploded in the depths of her trembling body.

Liv awoke on Sunday morning to find a voice message on her phone.

“
Phoning to say g’night, pretty one,
” James’s voice drawled. “
Been thinking about you the whole night. And smelling your perfume.
” Interesting, because she’d been smelling his aftershave the whole night. It must have rubbed off on her when he’d tackled her to the ground and fucked her like a man possessed. “
It’s driving me crazy. You…you’re driving me crazy. Damn, Liv. Just… Damn.
”

She smiled to herself as she set her phone back down. If James had phoned to say goodnight well after midnight, she could only assume he’d come home alone. That made a part of her she didn’t wish to explore too deeply very, very happy.

She spent the entire morning with James on her mind. The entire afternoon, too. Not that her thoughts were solid or made sense. They didn’t. They just swirled around her head, images of James—dressed and naked—filling her mind.

Reading a book was a waste of time. She saw only James’s face on the pages. Walking from Bondi to Coogee took a good hour longer than usual. Instead of placing one foot in front of the other, Liv kept finding herself motionless and staring out at the ocean, her belly warm from memories of the previous night.

Cooking a simple dinner for herself and Ava became a complex, lengthy activity, as she kept forgetting what she was doing. And once the mac ’n cheese was ready to be baked, she had to wait another ten minutes for the oven to heat up because she’d put it on the wrong setting.

Worst of all, during dinner Ava shook her head, muttering something about one-sided conversations, rampant hormones and new love, before giving up any attempt to talk to Liv.

By eight o’clock, Liv was crawling the walls, desperate to think about anything but James. She even tried to focus on her problems at work—with no luck.

Tossing her hands in the air, she gave up. Fighting the instincts that had plagued her the whole day left her exhausted. Liv gave in to her impulses—and made her way upstairs.

She almost wept in relief as James swung the door open, took one look at her—and tossed her over his shoulder. A minute later, she lay naked on his bed. Three minutes after that, she cried out as an orgasm took her breath away. Twenty minutes later, she and James lay gasping and sweaty on the floor, and another ten minutes after that, Liv let herself back into her apartment with a self-satisfied smile.

Ava simply laughed at her.

At midnight she was awake when the phone rang. This time, instead of James leaving a message, he spent a long time telling Liv—in detail—what he was going to do her the next time she knocked on his door.

And the next time she knocked on his door, less than twenty-four hours later, James did every one of those things to her.

James blinked the water from his eyes, straining to keep his gaze on the ball through the unexpected downpour. Mud splashed at his feet, but his studs kept a firm grip on the grass as he ran down the field, the ball in the air just ahead. He snaked his way around an opposition player, shoved another out of his way and jumped, snatching the ball from the waiting, open hands of a third.

Had Ava been at the game, she’d have been crazy with excitement, yelling from the sidelines. But this was an away match, and none of his mates came to the away games.

Adrenaline raced through his veins as he landed and sprinted to the try line. Lucky for the adrenaline. It made up for the serious lack of sleep this week. Liv had taken to visiting him every evening after dinner, and he’d taken to phoning her at midnight every night.

Over the last week, they’d spent hours making love, and even longer talking on the phone. He relished their late-night calls, and he fucking loved her nightly visits. While his first choice would have been to have Liv spend the whole night and share his bed until morning, Liv refused to stay over. Frustratingly, she left almost as soon they’d done the deed. But if he couldn’t whisper in her ear as she lay beside him, talking to her on the phone in a dark room while wrapped up in the warmth of his doona was a good second choice.

And even though it meant he was seriously lacking sleep, he’d rather cut off his left testicle than give up their midnight chats.

The try line wasn’t far. Five meters, tops. All he had to do was slam the ball on the ground on the other side, and victory was guaranteed for Randwick. With less than a minute to go, it would be the deciding try.

Eye on the goalpost—or try line in this case—he added a burst of speed. His lungs burned and his muscles stretched and retracted with the increased exertion.

Four meters away… Three…

Rain pelted down and wind whistled through his ears. He felt neither the cold nor the wet.

Less than two meters now. So close, so damn close. He gulped in vital oxygen to take him the distance—and rocketed through the air headfirst as a pair of arms grabbed his shins, tackling him from behind.

James tried to combat the fall, twisting midair and kicking one leg free. He went down anyway, his entire body—from his toes to his skull—slamming into the ground, his free leg landing at an awkward angle.

A muffled
crack
reverberated through his head, though James wasn’t sure whether he’d heard it or felt it.

Pain exploded in his shin.

A player landed on top of him with a thud, followed by another. The breath was knocked from his chest as hands scrambled for the ball, yanking it from his grasp. He would have held tight, should have held tight, but sharp bursts of fire shot through his leg, making movement of any kind impossible.

James was capable only of lying facedown in the dirt and breathing—and even that seemed to not come naturally. He couldn’t get enough air in to combat the fierce agony in his shin. Nausea tore through his stomach, and the lunch he’d eaten a few hours ago threatened to reappear.

Sound blurred into white noise around him. Sweat coated his already-wet skin. Seconds passed, minutes, maybe even hours of undiluted torture before a whistle pierced the air.

Game over?

Then he heard the shout. “Player down.”

This time when men descended on him, it wasn’t to throw their bodies fiercely on his. This time, concerned hands rolled him over.

After ten years of club rugby, James was no stranger to injury. He’d had more sports-related problems than Sydney had beaches. Hell, his knee hadn’t fully healed from that meniscus tear five years ago.

He’d taken each injury stoically, gritting his teeth and bearing it.

This time, no amount of teeth-gritting helped. The instant he was rolled from his front to his back, shifting his leg in the process, his vision went black and a harsh yell tore from his throat.

“Jimmy?” Olivia smiled as she answered her mobile. His call was completely unexpected—midnight was hours away—but that didn’t stop the rush of pleasure that came from knowing he was on the other end of the line. Talking to James before falling asleep had fast become the second-favorite part of Liv’s day.

“Liv.”

“Hi.” Oh, God. She sounded like a schoolgirl, all breathless and excited.

“How are you?” His voice had that smoky, tired quality to it. The one she heard every night, just before hanging up and going to sleep.

Lord, she loved the sound of it. “Good, you?”

“Mm.”

“Mm?”

“I’m not sure.”

Liv narrowed her eyes. “You’re not sure?”

James was quiet.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how you are?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course I know.”

O-kay then. “So, how are you?”

“Fine. And not so fine. Really good, you know. Or maybe not so good.”

Um...
“Well, there’s a straight answer if ever I’ve heard one.”

“Straight. Crooked. It’s all the same when you think about it.”

What the fuck? “Jimmy, are you okay? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on where?”

“What’s going on with you?”

“There’s something going on with me?”

Dear God. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yes. Of course,” he said disdainfully. “I drink every day.”

“Where are you?”

“Oh, that’s a good question. A really great question. And that’s what life’s all about, isn’t it? The question. Not the answer. That’s never important. It’s knowing which question to ask.”

Olivia pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, perplexed.

“Hello? Anyone there?” James’s muted voice rang out.

She placed the phone back to her ear. “I’m here.”

“Who’s there?”

“Olivia.” Who did he think?

“Liv? Hey. How are you?”

Jesus, seriously? How many post-game beers had the man consumed? “Tell you what, Jimmy. How about you hang up now and call me tomorrow.”
When you’re a little more sober
.

“Why would I call you tomorrow when your name’s Liv?” He sounded as baffled as she felt.

She huffed in exasperation. “Very funny.” 

“What is?”

“You are.” Not really.

“I am what?”

“I’m going now, James.”

“Going where?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“You’re on the phone?” a female voice cut across the line.

“I am?” James asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes, Mr. Elliot. You are.”