Talking Dirty With the Player(30)

She arched into him, into the heated length of his body, feeling the hard press of his arousal against her hip. He growled and his palms spread suddenly over her butt, hauling her close, one powerful thigh pushing between her legs. She gasped against his mouth, the pressure sending a bolt of white hot pleasure through her. Oh God, too much. Way too much. Wanting to get some control back, she slid a hand between them, stroking over the sharply defined muscles of his abdomen. His skin was so hot, damp from the press of her wet T-shirt. She slid her fingers lower, to get a handle on the situation so to speak.

But he moved, one hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, gripping her tight. His other hand remained on her butt, holding her firmly, right where she was. Then he shifted his thigh, so the hard muscle pressed against the exquisitely sensitive place between her legs, and she shuddered, unable to prevent the urge to move her hips, relieve the unbearable ache somehow.

His mouth moved from hers, along the line of her jaw, and she let her head fall back into his cradling palm, giving herself up utterly to him.

Then he lifted his head, his hold on her loosening. She blinked, unfulfilled desire coursing through her, not understanding yet quite what was happening until he’d pulled away from her completely and she stood alone, trembling.

He’d let her go. What the hell?

He was breathing fast, his hands curled into fists. His dark eyes glittered in the brightly lit locker room, the black of his tattoo startling against his tawny skin.

“No, Judith,” he said softly and for the first time she could remember, used her whole name. No shortening it. Plain and without any innuendo at all. “I’m not doing this with you.”

She felt cold and shaky, folding her arms to hide the tremors and the aching tips of her breasts. “Why not?”

“I told you why not. I’m leaving the country and I won’t be back.”

His chest heaved as he sucked in a painful sounding breath. “And you deserve more than a quick screw in a locker room.”

“You can’t…I don’t know, come back and see me sometimes? Australia’s not very far.”

“No,” he said flatly. “I can’t.”

A familiar sense of humiliation crept up on her. He’d rejected her once before. After disappearing from her bed the night they’d slept together, she hadn’t seen him for days and then he’d turned up on her doorstep one night, a hard look in his eyes, jaw tight. She’d flung her arms around him, tried to kiss him, only for him to do exactly what he was doing now—taking her hands away. Putting her at a distance. She’d begged him to tell her what was wrong. Cried when he told her. That it was over, that it couldn’t happen again.

Oh yes…and not forgetting the whole “I love you” fiasco.

Good thing you’re not still in love with him then, right?

Judith took a slow, silent breath. Okay, so, maybe she’d been wrong then. Maybe that guy wasn’t there after all. Maybe Abs of Steele is who he was now. In which case there was no need to feel so angry or humiliated. Because this was no big deal. Only a momentary loss of sanity over a typical player. A brief, intense lust-filled madness that—thank God—he’d managed to stop before it had gotten out of hand.

She lifted a shoulder, as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the other. “Well at least one of us was thinking straight, huh?” she said, trying to make her voice sound clear and level, and not hoarse and shaky.

“Judith—”

“No,” she held up a hand. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Would you mind if we just forget coffee for now? I’ve got some stuff I need to do. You know, work stuff.”

She turned, trying to ignore the tight feeling in her chest and the simmering anger in her gut for revealing so much. For continuing to want what she knew she couldn’t let herself have. And most of all for the stupid hope that perhaps the Caleb Steele she’d once loved was still there.

“Jude, I’m sorry,” Caleb called after her as she walked away from him. “It’s not you, okay?”

She didn’t stop. Tears pricked at her eyes, which was just downright humiliating. “No problem, I get it.” She flung the door open.

“Can we go back to being friends? Or colleagues at least? Jude? Wait.”

But she didn’t. She went through the door and out into the rain.

…

“What do you think, Mr. Steele?”

Caleb leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. Across the other side of the boardroom table, the TV execs were looking smug and self-satisfied as TV execs were wont to do. Even Mike, sitting beside him, had an overwhelming whiff of smugness attached to him.