Skin in the Game (16 page)

“You can show your imagination in other ways.” She released her grip on his shoulders and ruffled his hair. “Besides, I seem to recall you saying something about me being the boss now, and I think it’s about time you demonstrated your work ethic.”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way…” He got to his feet. “I suppose I have no other choice.”

“You’re right. You don’t.”

She took his hand and led him toward the bedroom, acutely aware that she was treating him to an excellent view of her bare bottom as she walked in front of him. If he’d been any other man, she probably would have been embarrassed by what she was doing. She would have been self-conscious and uncomfortable, wondering whether he truly found her attractive or just desperate. But with Cade, she didn’t worry because he’d made it absolutely clear to her—with his words and with his actions over the past week and a half—that he wanted her. Badly. If she was desperate, well, so was he, and that knowledge was thrilling and empowering.

And so she slowed her steps, swaying her hips in deliberate provocation. Cade’s reaction was immediate and thoroughly gratifying. He closed the distance between them until his chest was pressed against her back and muttered, his voice hot and thick in her ear, “This is one instance in which a little more speed wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

She smiled, but she didn’t walk any faster. “Who’s the boss here?”

“You are,” he growled, not sounding at all happy about it.

When they got to the bedroom, she turned around to look at him. God, he was handsome.

And unbelievably turned on. His eyes were dark and dangerous, his mouth set in an almost grim line, and the bulge in his just-tight-enough-to-be-ridiculously-sexy jeans was enormous.

Oh yes, he wanted her. There was no doubt about that.

“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to get undressed?” she asked.

Those grim lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He whipped his T-shirt off over his head, revealing the sculpted musculature of his chest and abdomen. Although there was no way to achieve that degree of definition without a lot of weight training, he didn’t have the exaggerated proportions of a bodybuilder, just a perfectly chiseled set of pecs and lightly ridged six pack bisected by a fine trail of dark hair that disappeared into his waistband. Or it did until he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them and his boxers toward the floor.

Angie sucked in her breath at the pure masculine beauty of him. She’d seen him naked before, of course. That wasn’t what affected her. Or at least, it wasn’t the primary thing. No, what made her knees weak and her breath catch, what brought a liquid rush of desire to her sex was the unmistakable, gorgeous evidence of his arousal. Of what she miraculously, inexplicably did to him.

She had never considered the penis to be a particularly aesthetic element of the male anatomy, but Cade’s cock—long and thick and as perfectly proportioned as the rest of him— forced her to revise her opinion. There was nothing about the man that wasn’t beautiful. It was as simple as that.

And he wanted her. Incredible, but true.

“Your turn,” he said gently, his eyes boring into her with the heated intensity of a laser beam.

“My turn…?” Then she remembered she was still wearing her blouse and bra. “Oh.”

Their gazes locked as, one by one, she undid the buttons, slowly because her fingers were trembling, and then shrugged the blouse from her shoulders. When she was done, she turned her back to him. He read her request immediately, his warm fingers making short work of the clasp of her bra. As soon as that last scrap of fabric between them was gone, he slid his arms around her and cupped her breasts in his palms.

“Beautiful,” he murmured in her ear as he kneaded her flesh, his thumb and fingers tugging rhythmically at her nipples.

“I could say the same about you.” She leaned back into him, trapping his cock between her ass cheeks and his abdomen.

He made a guttural sound in his throat as she rolled her hips from side to side. “You’re making it very difficult for me to do a better job this time around.”

“I told you,” she said, twisting in his arms to face him, “I’m not sure it’s possible to do better.”

His eyes narrowed, and his mouth drew into a feral line. “Them’s fighting words, Miss Peterson,” he drawled, deliberately laying a thick Texas accent over the top of his Minnesota vowels.

She twined her arms around his neck. “Then let’s get to the fighting, Mr. Reynolds.”

Before she knew how it happened, she was on her back on the bed, the length of Cade’s body stretched out over hers. “I aim to please,” he said with a grin.

And please her, he did. His hands and mouth were magic, finding erogenous zones she’d never even known existed—the tips of her fingers, the edges of her rib cage, the backs of her knees. He teased her nipples to tender, aching points with his teeth and tongue before settling between her legs and bringing her to a swift, sweet climax with that very same, incredibly talented tongue.

When he was finished, he donned a condom, then shifted her onto her side, facing away from him, and slid into her from behind. The sensation of him filling her from this angle was so exquisite, it was almost painful. As he moved inside her, he pressed his fingers to her clit, making slow, dancing circles over the tender bit of flesh until she was frantic to come again.

“Jesus, Cade,” she whimpered. She’d always thought the G-spot was a myth, but she was pretty sure he’d found hers.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He was trying to sound casual, but his voice was as strained as hers.

She shattered a few seconds later, the orgasm pouring through her like a monsoon, wet and hot and wonderful. His mouth captured hers as he stiffened and came with her, the pulsing of his cock as palpable as the beating of her own heart.

He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “Now, be honest with me. That was better, wasn’t it?”

Angie twisted to face him and dragged a finger down the center of his chest. “I’m not sure. I might need another demonstration before I can make up my mind.”

Grabbing her hand, he brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I think that can be arranged. Very soon.”

The phone was ringing.

Barely conscious, Cade flung his arm out to answer it, knocking the receiver off the hook before he realized the sound wasn’t coming from the hotel phone. The ring tone was too tinny and too distant.

A cell phone, he thought. And not his.

Memory rushed in, along with a heady dose of the scent of sex and the soft warmth of Angie’s body spooned against his.

She was still here.

He jostled her shoulder gently to rouse her. The room was dark and a quick glance at the bedside clock verified it was coming up on three a.m.

“Angie, your phone.”

“My what?” she mumbled, snuggling back toward him so that his half-erect cock seated itself in the crack of her ass.

He grimaced as he came to near-instant attention. Apparently, three times in one night hadn’t been enough for him. He wasn’t sure three hundred times would be, either.

“Your phone. It’s ringing.”

That, combined with the next jangling sound, was enough to rouse her. She struggled up onto her elbows and glanced over him at the clock.

“Oh, shit.” She threw off the sheet—with their combined body heat, they hadn’t needed a blanket—and pitched her legs off the bed.

Cade smiled in the darkness. He’d only heard her curse once before. As a high school teacher, he supposed an ability to avoid using profanity was a practical necessity.

“What’s the problem?”

“My dad. I never called to tell him I wouldn’t be home tonight.” She pushed off the bed and headed toward the suite’s living area, where her handbag was probably somewhere on the floor near the door. The motion-sensitive nightlight in the hallway clicked on, bathing the elegant curve of her back in a dim, golden glow before she disappeared around the corner.

The cell jingled again, and she muttered something indistinguishable. This was followed by one more ring and the muted clank of car keys.

“Hello.”

That was the last thing he heard before she appeared in the hallway again. Her front side looked even better in the soft light than her back did, and her back had looked pretty damned terrific.

She gestured with the phone as she walked back into the bedroom. “I just missed it.

Rolled to voice mail.”

“Was it your father?” he asked.

With a morose nod, she sat down on the bed beside him and stared at the phone. “He wanted to know if Jake is okay and to make sure I’m all right after what happened. He knew I’d blame myself. I’m going to have to call him back.” She sounded as though she considered the idea about as appealing as walking on hot coals.

Cade reached over to switch on the light before the motion sensitive ones went out, then pushed himself to a sitting position and tucked the pillows behind his back. “Why is that a problem?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s my father. Can’t you guess?”

“Hey, you’re a grown woman, not a teenager. This can’t be the first time—” He broke off when she gave him a biting look.

Oh. Well, that was interesting. And more than a little flattering.

“I should get dressed and go home.” She sighed.

“Oh no, you shouldn’t. You promised me the whole weekend.”

“That was before I considered the implications of telling my father where I’ll be spending the next two nights.”

Cade frowned, trying to square the Daryl Peterson he met last Saturday with a man who’d have issues with his adult daughter’s sexuality. Granted, Peterson was of a different era, but he’d fully embraced Angie’s decidedly non-traditional career choice. It was difficult to imagine him going medieval over her spending a weekend with a man.

“Why do you still live at home, anyway?” Cade asked. The question had been niggling at him since he’d stopped by the house with the playbook over a week ago. “Surely being a teacher pays well enough for you to afford your own place.”

She looked away, her mouth pulling into a frown. “After my mother died, he was just so lost. I couldn’t leave him alone; I was afraid he’d die, too. Since then, I just haven’t found a good reason to move out. I have my own space upstairs, so it’s almost like having my own apartment, and this way, I can be sure he’s okay. Losing my mom like that was awful. I’m not ready to go through it again.”

“You don’t really think he’s going to think less of you if you have a relationship, though, do you?”

Angie laughed mirthlessly. “You don’t get it. He’s been after me to ‘have a relationship,’ as you put it, for the last two years. He won’t be upset. He’ll be thrilled. And worse, he’ll have…expectations.”

“Is that why you don’t date?” Cade asked. It still baffled him that a woman as smart and gorgeous as Angie was not only unmarried but not even seeing anyone. She ought to have men stacked up at her door ten deep. Not that he was complaining.

“I date,” she contradicted. “Just not very much.”

She stooped down to pick up something off the floor—her blouse, he realized—and slipped her arms into the sleeves, clutching it closed over her breasts before sitting on the bed beside him. He resisted the urge to pry the fabric from her hands. As much as he loved to keep looking at her luscious naked body, doing so wasn’t exactly conducive to conversation.

“Okay,” he amended. “Why don’t you date very much?”

“Well, it’s not like there are a lot of opportunities in Harper Falls. This is a place people move to when they’re married to raise their families, not a place people live when they’re single and looking. Almost everyone we went to high school with has moved to the Cities or even farther away. And the ones who are left…” She shuddered and shook her head. “Besides, even if I did have opportunities, it’s weird to date someone who lives in the same town when you’re a high school teacher. Especially a town as small as this. Everyone knows everyone’s business.

Nothing’s private.”

Cade nodded. He understood what it was like not to have a private life. As a celebrity, he hadn’t had one until he’d dropped off the map after his injury. Every date he’d been on in the previous fifteen years was a matter of public record. In fact, ironically, it was only since he’d gotten back to Harper Falls that he’d been to bed with a woman without it making the gossip columns. At least, it hadn’t yet.

But it was different for Angie. She wasn’t a celebrity, and she had a certain reputation to maintain. He’d have to be careful not to compromise her standing in the community. Which meant he’d better fish or cut bait.

“Well,” he said, “I can’t say I’m sorry the pickings here are slim.” Leaning over, he nuzzled her neck. “It gives me a fighting chance.”

She let out a sigh that was half surrender, half exasperation. “You always had more than a fighting chance. But you need to stop that before I forget to call my dad back. He’s probably worried sick.”

Cade straightened up. “As long as you promise you’re not going to go running home at the sound of his voice.”

With a grin, she stood up. “I promise. But don’t be surprised if the next time you see him, he’s calling you ‘Son’ and asking when you’re going to make an honest woman out of me.”

As she walked back into the living room, the sweetly rounded cheeks of her ass peeking out beneath the hem of her blouse, Cade decided that was a risk he was more than willing to take.

***

“Love you, too. ’Bye, Dad.” Angie pressed the end button on her cell, completing the most uncomfortable conversation she’d ever had.

It was silly, of course. She was twenty-nine, not eighteen. But still…there was something about telling her father she was spending the weekend with Cade Reynolds—and knowing her dad knew exactly what they were doing together—that made her want to crawl into a hole and die. Her father wouldn’t think less of her; she knew that. But she hated that when this whole thing came to a crashing halt, his heart would be as broken as hers, because she would never date anyone he’d like as much as he liked Cade.