Hearts at Play(44)

He listened to her heartbeat calm, felt her body find that boneless, after-release sedation.

“Bree?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t scare me again, please.” He looked up at her, and all the feelings he had for her collided together—the love, respect, lust, worry—and he needed all of her. Right then, right there. Bad idea. He glanced down the hall.

“I promise. Sidecar. Just remember sidecar.” She slid off his lap and reached for his zipper.

“No, not here.” He lifted his chin in the direction of Layla’s door.

She stood and took his hand. He followed her down the hall, past Layla’s door, and into her bedroom, which felt insanely naughty.

“You sure? What if she wakes up?”

“I locked the door. We’ll just have to be very quiet.” She fumbled with his button, and he settled his hand over hers.

“Bree. I can wait.”

“I can’t.”





THERE WASN’T TIME to think or even to breathe. Brianna had made one giant mistake that evening, and she’d never be so foolish again. The fear of losing Hugh intensified her desire to erase what she’d done. As their mouths mashed together and they fumbled with each other’s clothes, she let her mind go where she had been tethering it from meandering before. To the place that scared her the most. The future. He laid her down on the bed, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the fear to settle in as it had earlier. She felt his hands on the insides of her thighs, pushing her legs open, and she heard his whisper from earlier. Please do this with me? She summoned the fear, imagining herself at the race, watching women reach for Hugh.

His hands traveled up her sides, rough and sure.

She tried harder to bring the fear forward. Trying to imagine him closer, using the buxom blonde from earlier in the night as a visual, testing her own fear. She closed her eyes and tried again to imagine Hugh moving toward the blonde. She needed to see if the fear was lingering somewhere deep within her brain.

Hugh wrapped his lips around her hip and stroked her skin with his tongue. She rocked against his teeth, wishing he’d go lower.

The blonde pushed herself in front of him, and no matter how much Brianna tried to conjure an image of him moving toward the blonde with a wanton look in his eyes, his eyes remained trained on Brianna. The fear would not come out to play.

“Yes,” she called out in excitement. Her hand flew to her mouth, and Hugh looked up.

“Did I miss a home run?” he teased.

“Sorry,” she whispered. She bit her lip but could not suppress the smile that stretched her lips.

Then his body was on top of hers, and he was kissing her, hard and deep, and she could feel his hard length against her, and—Oh God—she wanted him so badly. She pulled at his hips, and he rolled to the side and snagged a condom from his wallet.

“Hurry,” she whispered.

He made a dramatic display of opening it painfully slowly and then rolling it on at the same treacherously unhurried pace. She groaned, and he slid back up her body, the tip of him resting against her center.

“What was the cheer for?”

“Come on,” she urged, hoping he’d drop it.

He pulled back, and she grabbed hold of him, pulling him up once again. “Okay, okay.” She sighed. “I was trying to envision you with a fan girl.”

He pushed himself up on one hand. “While I was…”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to make sure the fear was really gone.”

“You tried to bring a fan girl into the bedroom with us to make sure it didn’t scare you?” he teased.

“No!”

“Shhh.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I don’t swing that way, sweetheart. I’m a one-woman man. So if you need more than just me to satisfy you, you need to tell me now.”

She shoved him playfully. “Shut up.”

“I’m being serious.” He grinned and brought his hips between hers again.

“So am I. I can’t summon the fear. I’m sure it’s still there, lingering and waiting to attack at the worst time, but I’m going to tattoo sidecar on our wrists. Then we’ll be safe forever.”

He took her hands in his and stretched them above her head, holding them with one hand.

“Forever. I like that,” he whispered, then lowered his mouth to hers.

Within seconds, she was lost in the kiss. The best kiss of her life. He held her arms captive, rendering her defenseless and unable to pull his hips to hers. She arched in to him, and he teased her, sinking just the thick tip of himself into her, then drawing it out. She gasped with each withdrawal, her wrists straining against his strength. When he drew back, she was breathless, but not too breathless to plead for more of him.

“Make love to me,” she panted.

He sank the tip in again and then—Oh yes!—a little more.

“Yes. More.”

He withdrew again, and a cry escaped her lips. He tried to catch it in his mouth and was too slow. “Shh,” he reminded her.

How the hell was she supposed to be quiet when he was bringing every nerve in her body to a tantalizing, brain-numbing ache of need?

“Please,” she begged.

He sank his teeth into her neck and drove her up to the edge with three hard sucks and another taunting tease down below. She closed her eyes and groaned, struggling to free her arms and loving the restraint.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “See me. Feel me.”

The promise of feeling him drew her eyes open. She was so close to coming apart that when he said, “I love you, Bree,” it almost took her over the edge. She closed her eyes to savor the moment.

“Open your eyes. See me, Bree. Be with me.”

His voice was rich and smooth, and oh so sexy. She opened her eyes, and he drove into her, every magnificent inch of him, filling her completely, touching all the right spots as he thrust again and again, withdrawing almost completely and then returning with fervor, each time taking her higher. His eyes darkened and narrowed, but he held her gaze, and the strain of her arms against the thrust of his hips and the love in his eyes collided in a flash of lights as she reached her peak, and this time he caught her passionate cries in his mouth. A minute later, oxygen from his lungs filled hers as he found his release, and she held their silence by swallowing his gratified groans.





Chapter Thirty-Seven


IT WAS ALMOST three when Hugh arrived home. He showered and checked his email, then wandered around the house that didn’t really feel like a home. Brianna’s apartment felt like a home. No, that wasn’t right either. Wherever Brianna was felt like home. Yes, that was it.

He picked up his cell and punched in Treat’s speed-dial number.

“You’d better be dying,” Treat groaned.

“Nice welcome for your baby brother,” Hugh teased.

“Hold on,” Treat grumbled. Hugh listened to him walk across the floor. A door opened, then closed. Treat sighed, and Hugh pictured him in his boxer briefs, his enormous body stumbling in the dark house Hugh had yet to see.

“You all right?” Treat was more awake now, with a sharp, irritated edge.

“Sorry for calling so late. I need a favor.”

Treat sighed again.

Hugh ran his hand through his hair. “Treat. I don’t know who else to ask, man.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

And just like that his eldest brother, the person who had always watched out for him, taught him, riled him up like no other, and above all else, loved him, was ready to help. That was the kind of man who Hugh was striving to be.

“When you proposed to Max, remember how she rushed to our house and you showed up and she backed into your car?” He spoke fast, anxious to get his point across.

“Like it was yesterday.” Treat yawned.

“Were you guys having trouble? Why was it all so…urgent?” Hugh stood before the glass doors in the living room, one arm crossed over his abs, his other elbow leaning on his wrist.

“Hugh, this is what’s so urgent?”

“Treat, please.”

“Yeah, okay. We were having some trouble, yes, but not trouble because we didn’t want to be together. It was more like trouble because we did want to be together, but it was scary as shit.”

He heard Treat breathing as if he were pacing.

“Hugh, what’s going on?”

“I just needed to make sure I wasn’t crazy. Are you still coming to the race?”

“Planning on it, but still waiting to hear about your plans for that night.”

“Shit, I forgot. I’m sorry, man. Listen, I need a favor. It’s a big one.”

“Of course it is.”

Not for the first time, Hugh thanked the heavens above for his family.





Chapter Thirty-Eight


BRIANNA PULLED UP in front of the school Thursday morning, and when she turned to say goodbye to Layla, a knock on her car window startled her. Marissa’s mother, Cheryl, wearing thick eyeliner, red skintight jeans that accentuated her enormous ass and hips, and a thick black belt, stared into the car. She looked like Peg Bundy from Married with Children, complete with the eighties hair and spike heels. Brianna sighed and feigned a smile as she rolled down the window.

Cheap perfume assaulted her.

“Hey there, sugar.” Cheryl peered into the backseat. “Hi, Layla. How’s the birthday girl?”