The Player Next Door (16 page)

“Lick it, Tori. Tell me how you take me in your mouth.”

“I told you. I’ll lick the tip, like it’s the very top of an ice cream cone. But then I slide my hands lower to stretch you. Then I’ll nibble along the ridge. Which do you like best, Mike? Which—”

“All of it, Tori. Take all of me.”

“I would. That’s the last part. When you’re thrusting hard into my hands. When your belly’s tight and I can hear your breath loud and harsh. Just like you are now.”

He was. Jesus, his heart was pounding. God, he wanted her here.

“Then I open my mouth wide and let you push all the way deep inside. So much you bump against the back of my throat while my tongue strokes you. Guess what happens next.”

“What!” It was a demand.

“I suck. Hard. Right now, Mike. I’m sucking you as hard as I can, as deep as—”

He came. He came hard and hot and he must have made noises into the phone, but he didn’t even know what they were. It was the hottest thing he’d ever done and he couldn’t believe she hadn’t been touching him for real.

“God, Tori…” he finally breathed.

“I’m going to hear that in my sleep. That was great, Mike. Thank you.”

She was thanking him? Jesus. “Sweetheart, we’re not done yet. Let me hear you.” Then he smiled. “Or better yet, let me come over and see you.”

Silence. Then, “Mike, remember when you asked me what I was wearing and I didn’t tell you the truth?”

“Tell it to me now. What are you wearing?”

“Nothing. No electricity, remember? That means no air conditioning.”

“Tori, it’s like a hundred degrees out there.”

“Eighty-four and humid.”

She must be sweltering. “Want to come over? In the interest of avoiding heat stroke?”

“Want to shower with me? I’m kinda sticky.”

God yes. “You’re not getting off that easy. I want to watch you bring yourself off in my shower.” Then he was going to spread her legs and do her from behind just like he fantasized. And again front-wise. And again. And again. Until he ran out of fantasies or died of bliss.

“You’re not too freaked out?”

He was still freaked out, but other things were taking precedence. “The way I see it, I just need to work through the lust now. Before the season. That way I won’t screw with the system.”

She didn’t answer at first. Lord save him from women who thought instead of just ran over when he invited them to his bed. But even as he waited, he pictured the tips of her white teeth showing as she bit into her bottom lip. Then she spoke.

“I just gotta find my shoes. Oh screw it, I’m coming over barefoot.”

“I’m unlocking the door.”

“And turn on the shower.”

“Nuh-uh. Bathtub.”

Pause. “Okay.”

What a woman.

...

Tori was Sated. Capital S. Totally Satisfied. Totally in love. And totally unwilling to tell him that particular secret. If Mike freaked at meeting her father, the L word would create a nuclear meltdown.

She stretched in his bed, relishing the slide of silk against her sore body. She wondered if these were Mike’s or the Ketchums’ sheets. Either way, she vowed to buy a set as soon as she could find them on the internet.

She stretched a hand out, feeling the depression that had been filled by Mike. Damn, he was skillful in bed. And in the bathtub. And in the front hallway. He’d made her come right there at the base of the stairs before he’d even let her upstairs to the bathtub.

But now he was gone—off to physical therapy—while she waited with an anxious knot in her stomach to see if he was going to come back with another excuse to keep them apart.

So she lingered there even though he’d told her it would take a couple hours. And just when she was reveling in her memories, the phone rang. She made an effort to keep it with her when her mom was out of town. Just in case.

She answered it badly, cursing as she fumbled to find it. Then she cursed again when she realized who it was. The electrician was waiting for her on her doorstep. So she dressed and went back to her real life. Mike would find her when he came home or he wouldn’t. Damn it, she didn’t want to care as much as she did, but that was love for you. A complete pain. And a complete wonder.

Maybe she’d spend the afternoon re-reading Aphrodite myths. All in all, the Greeks had it right when they called her a spiteful bitch of a love goddess.

And maybe she’d make Mike come to her for once.

Chapter Thirteen

Tori made a decision that morning. While the electrician set about restoring her power, she resolved to not be an obsessing, clinging woman. It didn’t matter what Mike felt or did. The point was that she had some self-respect. She would not throw herself at a man. Especially since he was heading off to the other side of the country in just a few weeks.

So when the electrician left with two weeks’ of her pay in his pocket, she decided to bury herself in the pounding beat of African drum music. Now that her air conditioning was restored, she could finish laying down her wood floor. Her decision came right after she spilled coffee
—
again
—
on the unfinished sub-floor. It would be healthy hard work, excellent at taking her mind off a man. So she got down on her hands and knees and set about making steady, clear progress.

It almost worked. Every five minutes or so, she would glance at her phone, wondering if he’d called. And when he hadn’t, she’d look outside to see if he’d returned home. She couldn’t see that from her living room floor, so she’d invent an excuse to wander into the kitchen. Glass of water. Wash her hands. Grab a yogurt. She did them all while looking out the window to his driveway.

Idiot.

So much for her resolve not to be obsessed with him. She’d never been this anxious about a man in her life, and the last thing Mike wanted was another fangirl hanging around. She would not be a clinging woman. It was humiliating. Which sent her back to her flooring until the next time she invented a reason to wander to the window.

Pathetic.

But undeniable.

She’d turned into an obsessed woman.

She sighed and banged the floor with special flair. She was busy tapping out her own drum rhythm in counterpoint to the music when he showed up. She pretended she wasn’t hyper-aware of the screen door opening. She pretended to not notice when he leaned against the wall and watched her half dancing, half banging to the music. But when he stayed there, just staring, she finally admitted that she sucked at pretending and looked up at him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, a sexy grin on his face.

She pushed to her feet then turned down the music. The drums still throbbed through the speakers, but not at a deafening level.

“How was therapy?”

“I told Joey he was not to make any moves on you at the barbecue.”

“Is he a jerk?”

“Major.”

“Then let him hit on me. I’ll shoot him down and you can laugh at him afterward.”

His grin widened. “I should have thought of that, but it’s too late. I’ve already staked my claim on you.”

She arched a brow. “So you’re the only NBA player who gets to be with me?”

“Sorry,” he said as he sauntered away from the door, easily filling her living room with his very hot presence. “I’m afraid the list of people who can’t have you is a great deal larger than just the NBA.”

“Goodness. You are staking a claim.”

He nodded, his large hands going to encircle her waist. “If I’m going to be a rebound lover, then I’ve got to do it right.”

“Right how?”

“Neanderthal how. Me big man, you little woman, that’s how.”

She arched her brow. “So you’re building in the breakup from the start. Because you know I’m not going to tolerate that for long.”

His expression sobered. “How long, do you think?”

“Until the sex starts to suck.”

He gave a slow nod as he pretended to think about her statement. “I’ve got to be back on the East Coast at the end of August.”

Her heart lurched in her chest, but she did her best to hide it. “Classes start revving up then too.” Then she arched her brow, attempting to look saucy. “Think you can keep being spectacular in bed until then?”

“I’m spectacular all year round. In bed or otherwise.”

“Wow. That’s cocky.”

“You have no idea,” he said with a chuckle. Then he tugged her steadily closer until her pelvis pressed against his erection.

“Hmmm,” she murmured, hating how easily she melted into his arms. “I begin to see your point.”

He leaned down. “So long as you feel it, too.” He kissed her. Hard and deep. God, she was already keyed up. Her belly was quivering, her breath was short, and she was all but climbing his thighs.

This was not good. Mike would hate a clinging woman, and even if he didn’t, she would hate herself. Their relationship was short term, so she had to force some distance between them. She broke the kiss and managed to put all of two inches between them.

“I promised myself I would finish this today,” she said, gesturing to the half-done floor.

He nodded, though there was a flash of disappointment on his face. “So do you need any help?”

She smiled. “Need? No, I can handle it myself, but it’s more fun with a friend. Assuming your shoulder can take it.”

He grinned, rolling his shoulder. “It’s healing well. Faster than expected, really, so yeah. I’d be happy to help.”

She almost said something about a reward afterward, but held back. She didn’t want to bribe him to be with her. And just because she was lusting for his astounding bedroom skills didn’t mean she had to admit to it.

She swallowed her words
—
and her lust
—
and offered him a mallet. He took it and looked around the floor. “If we finish in an hour, I’ll spring for the pizza.”

“And I promise to rub your shoulder if it gets sore.”

He grinned. “It’ll definitely get sore.”

She rolled her eyes, but inside all of her went liquid with hunger. But she was not going to be a desperate woman, so she turned away and knelt down to start working. He did the same, but from the opposite side of the row which put him too far away from her, as far as her hormones were concerned.

She ignored them.

And they began to work. Steady banging punctuated by the occasional comment or lemonade break. She kept an eye out to see if he rubbed his shoulder, but there didn’t seem to be any hesitation or hitch when he used it. And
—
to her shame
—
he caught her looking and did a little elbow dance to the music just to prove that it was solid.

“I doubt that’s an approved exercise,” she drawled.

“Hmmm. How can I convince you not to tell on me?”

God, they were getting into sexual banter. As if she needed any more reason to watch his biceps flex as he hammered or his thighs bunch as they braced him on all fours. And shit, he was covering twice the area that she was because she was spending so much time ogling him.

She dropped her head and began to work in earnest. She had a damned PhD. She knew how to concentrate when she had to! Except he was really sexy there pounding boards into her floor. And she could really use a break. And what red-blooded woman wouldn’t stop to watch?

“We’re never going to make that pizza.”

“I’m not that hungry anyway.”

He looked back. “Really?”

Well, not hungry for food, obviously. And he knew it. “Mike…” she began.

He shook his head. “You set a goal. We finish this floor. Then I’m going to show you what I want way more than pizza.”

Okay. So that was a goal she could get on board with. So she picked up her hammer and went to work. Funny what the right incentive could do. They had it done in just over an hour. She hammered in the last board and sat back on her haunches.

“Done,” she breathed, beyond satisfied with the work. It looked great and she’d managed to not get distracted by… Ooooo. She felt his hands on her shoulders, big fingers kneading into the knots there. He knew just what she wanted, and her muscles stretched beneath his touch.

“That’s good,” she breathed.

She felt him lean down until his breath was by her ear. “I have a fantasy, Tori,” he said.

She felt her insides quicken. “Isn’t that what rebound lovers are for?”

“Will you stay there? On the floor?”

Given what he was doing to her back and shoulders, she would stay wherever he put her. Damn, who knew she’d been so tense? Flooring was hard work. “I’m putty in your hands.”

His lips curved against her ear and his breath heated her already flushed skin. Then his hands slid lower on her back. His fingers still pushed into her muscles, but in a few short moments, he’d slid under her shirt before gently pulling it off. Her bra came next, and soon she was sitting there topless.

He kissed along her neck, his hands skimming over her belly. But then he slid up to her breasts, holding them in his large palms. Her nipples were already tight, so he had no problem taking hold of them with two fingers while still palming the rest of her.

Twist, pinch. Squeeze. Pull.

She let her head drop back onto his chest. Her breath deepened while her body liquefied. She reached behind her to touch him, but he nipped at her ear.

“Lean forward, Tori. Onto your hands and knees.”

She did with him supporting her as she settled. His fingers slipped to her Lycra shorts, peeling them down with ease. She was shaking with desire as her panties slid down to her knees. Then he supported her while he lifted first one leg then the other to get her totally naked.

There she was, quivering on all fours while he stroked her back, her breasts, and down between her legs. His fingers were long and clever as they pushed through her folds. He was leaning over her, surrounding her as his hand worked between her legs.

“Mike,” she gasped, her body struggling to stay still as he worked first deep inside her, then up to her clit.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked.

“God, yes.”

He pulled away. She didn’t have to look to know that he was stripping out of his clothes and suiting up with a condom. She heard it clearly even over the music. And better yet, she twisted just enough to see him outlined in sunlight. Taut, passionate man in his prime. Muscles stark, belly rippling with his movements, and a long thick organ stretching for her.