Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (11 page)

He chuckled and pulled her against himself, quiet for a moment. She was truly wiped out, and he seemed to be powering down too, despite one possessive hand between her thighs.

Finally, she said, “You should have that sandwich now. And then you should go. I’ve loved this so much, but it has to end.”

“Didn’t you tell me you never got off three times in one day? Why do you think I’m here?”

“
That’s
why you’re here?” She pretended to glare. “And I didn’t say three times. I said twice. I never climaxed twice in one night until you. Now I’ve done it twice, twice. Plus . . .” She couldn’t help but smile. “I think I went twice in here, and once in the kitchen. So we’re good either way.”

“Don’t embarrass yourself.
I’m
the expert, and I say it was once here, once in the kitchen. So I’ll eat the sandwich for strength. Then we’ll do it doggie-style.”

“We will not.” She didn’t even try to soften the emphatic words. “I actually find that distasteful. And so impersonal. And the expression? Yuck, I really hate it.”

“So, what? We’re always gonna do it face-to-face? Won’t that get old?”

“Excuse me?”

He grinned. “You’re so easy, Rachel. It’s awesome.” Jumping to the floor, he pulled her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s split that sandwich.”

• • •

She had been naked in bed with a few guys, but at the kitchen table? She wasn’t ready for
that,
so she donned a white cotton robe over her nude body and tied the belt loosely, imagining that his hands would find their way inside sooner rather than later. Then she headed for the small master bath, directing him to the half bath in the hall, which was so tiny she wondered if he could actually turn around in it.

She loved this little cottage but couldn’t imagine what the wealthy halfback thought of it. At a little less than a thousand square feet in size, it was only slightly larger than the suite Sean had provided her at the Ashton Hotel. It was also woefully out of date, from the electrical outlets to the cracked terra-cotta tiles that covered most of the floors.

Vince probably lives in a palace,
she told herself.
Or more likely, some medieval stronghold complete with dancing girls.

She considered jumping in the shower, just to rinse off, but again, what would be the point? This guy wasn’t done yet, which led to a challenging dilemma. How was she going to get rid of him? And even if she did, would he just come back when he felt like banging a schoolteacher again?

Probably not. It was a long way to travel just for that. And he had explained his obsession, hadn’t he? He felt he owed her—and himself—that third time.

Smiling as she freshened up, she remembered how he had said it at the wedding:
Take that bath. Then we’ll try for three.

So hilarious. And because he loved a good challenge, it had stuck with him.

If you ever want to get rid of him, you’ll do it doggie-style and send him on his way,
she teased herself. But she needed
some
boundaries, didn’t she? Although her objection to that style of lovemaking was that it wasn’t romantic and personal. Did that really matter with this guy?

Good lord, Rachel, have some pride.

She was laughing when she entered the kitchen and saw him seated at the table in his black boxer shorts. He stood up, which surprised her, but it wasn’t gallantry. He just wanted to paw her, which he did, striding over and sliding his hand under the front of her robe.

“You’re so predictable,” she teased him.

“Don’t parade these beauties around if you don’t want me on you,” he said with a laugh. “They’re amazing. You know that, right?”

“Stripper level,” she agreed.

“You remembered that? It’s true. When I first saw them, I thought they were fake.”

“Why would I pay for medium-sized breasts?” she demanded. “I’d go bigger if I ever had them done.”

“Rookie mistake. These are gold standard.” He nibbled on her ear. “Did you change your mind yet?”

“About what? Oh! Honestly.” She pulled away and arched a reproving eyebrow. “Just sit down. I’m going to serve you, but not the way you mean.”

He grinned and sat back down. “What kind of sandwich?”

“Turkey and Swiss cheese. I hope that’s okay.”

“You’re a freak, Rachel. But I’ll eat it for you.”

She laughed as she moved to the refrigerator. “I have homemade soup too. It’s delicious if I do say so myself.”

“What kind?”

“Vegetarian minestrone.”

“Vegetarian?” he drawled. “I’ll pass.”

She spun toward him in surprise, then saw the twinkle in his eye.

He was teasing again, and she loved it more than she loved anything in the world. On impulse she walked over and sat in his lap, then pressed his face adoringly between her palms, whispering the single word, “You.”

His gaze warmed. “Tell me what that means.”

“It means I love your face.” She kissed him with quiet, restrained passion, and was pleased when he responded the same way. No tongue, no groping, just the lip lock to end all lip locks.

Then she pulled back and told him simply, “You’re having soup.”

“Yes, Ms. Gillette.”

She could feel his gaze on her as she served him, and was pleased when he waited for her to be seated before he began eating ravenously, pausing after a minute to suggest she split the sandwich with him. But he was clearly hungry because he didn’t argue when she insisted the minestrone was enough for her. His only teasing remark was asking why there wasn’t any meat in the soup, which she ignored. Then he asked for another serving, and she smiled appreciatively. Apparently he had manners after all.

When he wasn’t banging or re-banging.

The sandwich was gone and he was on his third helping of minestrone when he mentioned mischievously, “Did you notice I used a new rubber for round two? Just for you.”

“It’s nothing to joke about, Vince. They’ve done studies, you know. It will leak someday and then you’ll be sorry.” Regretting the lecture, she added quickly, “The good news is, it didn’t leak at the wedding. I got my period Sunday night, so that’s not what I’m talking about. Just in general, you should take it seriously.”

He seemed surprised. “You were worried about it?”

“Not worried. But I was relieved when I knew everything was fine.” She smiled as she stood up. “Do you want more? I made a whole pot last night. Some sort of premonition, right?”

“Hold on.” He took her hand and waited for her to sit down again. “Can I ask you something?” When she nodded, he cleared his throat and asked, “Would you have told me?”

She studied his serious expression, realizing what he meant. “You mean if I had been pregnant? Yes, I would have told you.” She smiled wistfully. “I would have gotten a restraining order ten seconds later, but definitely, I would have let you know.”

“Smart thinking.”

“Do you want more soup?”

“Would you have kept it?”

She took a deep breath, surprised by his dogged interest. But it made sense, didn’t it? He had sex so often with so many women, he probably wondered if he had accidentally impregnated anyone, and if so, what had happened thereafter. Miscarriage? Abortion? Adoption? Was someone else raising his child? How crazy that must feel, she decided sadly. And even sadder, she didn’t know him well enough to guess what he wanted her to say.

So she just answered honestly. “Yes, I would have kept it. I have this adorable house and a good job and a settled lifestyle. And obviously I love children.” She touched his hand. “I would have told you, but I wouldn’t have
wanted
anything from you. That’s the truth.”

He nodded as though absorbing the information. Then he said quietly, “Thanks for being honest.”

She couldn’t help arching an affectionate eyebrow. “Just be more careful in the future. You owe it to yourself. And to the lives you could affect.”

“Way to ruin the moment,” he complained. “Are we going for the record or not?”

She knew what he meant. Three in one night. And while a fleeting sense of shyness washed over her, she didn’t have the will to resist. So she stood and pulled him by the hand until he was towering over her, his eyes hot with anticipation. And then she gave him permission with a smile.

“Anything I want, right?” he asked hopefully.

“In other words, doggie-style?” She reminded herself that saying “no” would just make him more determined, so she tried looking unimpressed. “I suppose. Even though”—she curled her arms around his neck—“I’ve never made love in the shower, believe it or not.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that?” He grinned. “Yeah, I’ll take a shower with you.”

“And then you’ll go? And never come back? No offense.”

“Sounds doable.”

“I’m serious. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re killing me, but I can’t say ‘no’ to you. At least, not until after the shower.”

Chapter 5

Rachel had never felt so clean yet so dirty as when she finally escaped, laughing and dripping wet, from the cramped shower. He was right behind her, toweling her off, praising her body and asking if she wanted to go for five, since three and four had just come so easily to her.

“Think of the children,” she told him with a teasing smile. “If I can’t recuperate by Monday, they’ll have a substitute. Five-year-olds don’t react well to change.”

He caught her naked body and pulled it against his. “You’re really kicking me out?”

She nodded. “I’ll never forget you. And”—she brushed her fingertip along his lips—“I want this to end on a good note.”

“Yeah, so do I.” His eyes warmed. “You’re a sport, you know that?”

“And you’re a miracle of nature.”

“Awesome.” He kissed her, draped the towel around her shoulders, and went to the bedroom without another word.

She watched him dress, feeling a bit forlorn, especially because
he
wasn’t watching
her
. Not that she was doing anything interesting. Just putting on the same cotton robe.

Nothing to see here,
she assured herself.

When he was ready, she walked him to the front door, wondering how to preserve this perfect ending without encouraging him. A kiss on the cheek? That seemed silly after their rowdy shower.

A simple good-bye made more sense. They couldn’t top what they’d already had together, at least not in her mind.

So she settled for touching his shoulder. “Have a safe flight, Vince. I meant it when I said I’d never forget you.”

“Good.” His expression turned mischievous. “I brought you a present.” Before she could react, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a lacy pair of panties. Stretchy, skimpy pink lace. She recognized them instantly as the ones she had worn under her mermaid dress, and so she grabbed them from him, pretending to frown. “You had these in your pocket all day? Even in my classroom?”

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.” Unrepentant, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her lazily.

And because she didn’t really want to say good-bye, she responded in kind. As though they had all the time in the world.

Then he pulled back and murmured, “Take it easy, teach.”

“You too, sheriff.”

His warm chuckle confirmed how much he liked the title. She almost hoped it would provoke another seduction, but apparently he was done, because he strode onto the porch and down to his rental car, turned for a friendly wave of his hand, and drove out of her life.

• • •

Keeping busy would have been the smart move, but instead Rachel curled up on the couch and relived every moment, clinging to the glow.

Hadn’t she felt this way after their lovemaking at the wedding? The desire to soak in a bubble bath in the huge sunken tub in her hotel suite, partly because she was raw, but mostly to drift into erotic reverie.

Somehow a bath in her shallow tub-shower didn’t have the same allure.

She needed a distraction. Something productive or personal. Which made her think of the letter she had written to her father about the wedding. She had basically finished it but wanted to make a nicer copy on parchment stationery. His penmanship was outstanding and she always tried to emulate it, just to show him she had noticed and appreciated the effort he put into writing to her.

She had filled her letter with delicious details—the beauty of the bridal tableau; the orange flecks in the cake filling; the disastrous date with Sean, complete with a description of his various crushes; and a bit about Bannerman too. The toast and the kiss, not the rest, but she wanted her father to know she had discovered something about herself—namely, that her ideal man would be laid-back and adorable like Sean, but with a hint of the irreverence that made the rowdy halfback so irresistible.

Despite her exhaustion, she felt exhilarated. And so, so grateful to Vince Bannerman. He had done a lot for her in a very few hours. More than any other guy had done, even in relationships that spanned months.

It was tempting to imagine what
he
was thinking. He had enjoyed himself, and if they ever crossed paths again he’d be hilariously attentive. She was sure of that. Still, he had left as easily as he’d arrived.

He was finished with her, not from lack of enjoyment or respect, but because he had exhausted her limited repertoire. She wasn’t about to apologize for that, but knew it mattered to a guy like him.

And that was fine.

More than fine.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was only nine p.m. but decided to go to bed anyway. In addition to a million chores, she had promised to attend a gymnastics competition the next day, cheering for one of her former students who, at the age of ten, was already a superstar. Rachel had kept in touch with little Lizzie and her family, and they always alerted her to the big events.

“You’re my good-luck charm, Ms. Gillette,” Lizzie always insisted.

It meant a lot to both of them, and so she collapsed into bed, inhaling the scent of Bannerman on the sheets as sleep overcame her.