Talking Dirty With the Player(60)

“Of course,” he said, but the words sounded oddly flat.

“You don’t sound very certain.”

“I am. Going to be signing the contract tomorrow probably.”

“Why? You don’t want to do it, even I can see that.”

He turned away, running a hand through his black hair. “Because the exposure’s good. I need some way of keeping my image in the public eye once I stop playing.”

“That’s the only reason? For your image?”

His hand dropped. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But…that’s not all you want, Cal. I know it isn’t.”

He swung round to her, the look in his eyes becoming intent. “Come on, darling. I’m sick of this conversation. Let’s go home.”

She still couldn’t let it go. “It’s not too late, Cal,” she said.

He stopped. “Not too late for what?”

“To make that difference. To care.”

A strange expression crossed his face, almost like regret. He reached out and cupped her cheek in one hand. “Yeah, honey. It is.” His thumb traced the line of her lower lip gently and she shivered, electricity whispering across her skin. “Now stop talking. I have better things for us to be doing.”

God, she wished—wished so much—that he could see himself the way she saw him. Could understand what an amazing guy he was. Although, perhaps now wasn’t the moment to push it. Perhaps it was better to just enjoy this connection for a while longer.

“Fine. Have it your way.” She looked down, realizing for the first time that her toe was hurting where she’d kicked the ball and that there was mud on her legs and her dress. She reached down to try and brush it away, only to be stopped by Caleb’s fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“No,” he said softly. “Don’t. I like you mussed up.”

“I’m muddy.”

“I don’t care.” He released her wrist and picked up her shoes in one hand. “If you’re really worried about it, I’ll carry you back to the car so you don’t get any muddier.”

“Cal—” His name ended in a small shriek as he suddenly swept her up into his arms.

“Great,” Judith said once she’d recovered. “There go my feminist ideals.”

“Okay, fine. You can walk.”

She tightened her arms around his neck. “Did you hear me say I’d like to be put down? Uh no, I don’t think so.”

…

It took far too long to get back home. Far too long to get up into her apartment.

As they walked up the corridor to her front door, Caleb reached for her hand and she gave it to him, a tight, hot emotion gathering in her chest as his fingers curled around hers.

She fumbled a little with the keys while unlocking her door and once they were inside, he took them from her, drawing her close and kissing her with such heat she could barely stand it.

After a moment he wordlessly led her into the bedroom and kissed her again. A brush of his lips against hers. A gentle taste. Judith closed her eyes.

He moved behind her and she felt him undo the zip of her dress, the velvet falling down and away from her body. His hands stroked down her arms, down her sides, a light caress that brought goosebumps to her skin, that made her shiver with delicious anticipation. He touched her without hurry, as if he had all the time in the world, trailing his fingers down over her thighs then back up to her hips, one hand moving to unhook her bra. The fabric dropped away and she sighed as he stroked her spine, as his hands slid around and cupped her breasts. She whispered his name as his mouth moved to her neck, another tantalizing kiss pressed to the sensitive area between her shoulder and neck.

There was something careful in the way he touched her. Something reverent that made her heart contract. Made her ache.

His caressing hands moved to her hips, slid her panties down her thighs, and then she was stepping out of them, naked.

“I should have a shower,” she murmured. “My feet are all muddy.”

“I like the mud, but okay. We can do both.”

He took her hand, led her into the bathroom and turned on the water, and while it heated up she watched him take of his clothes. Because, damn, it was a good view.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, giving in to the need to touch him, tracing the black spirals of his tattoo with her finger. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of touching you.” And then remembered that she was supposed to keep her distance. Except she didn’t feel distant now. She felt so close to him. Too close.

Caleb said nothing to this, merely opening the door to the shower and ushering her inside. She should say something neutral, something to minimize her slip. But she couldn’t think of what, especially when he picked up the soap and began to run it over her skin. Judith shivered as he pulled her against him, her back against his chest, and closed her eyes. The slick feel of the soap and warmth of the water was so good, but it was the touch of his hands that undid her. Careful. Gentle. Taking care of her. She could get used to this.