Scored (19 page)

He cocked his head. “And what’s that?”

“You join me.”

He grinned. One of his lovely genuine smiles that melted my heart. “I was hoping that would be the case,” he said, peeling off his top.

The sight of his bare chest bowled me over. I’d seen it before, but to know I could touch him, kiss him, made me feel like a kid let loose in a candy factory.

“You want me to undo your zipper?” he asked, kicking away his sweats and standing utterly naked before me.

I swallowed and felt my pussy dampening all over again. He was truly stunning, and not only that, completely comfortable in his skin. A perfect specimen of the male species sent down from Heaven to put all other men to shame.

And he was mine; for now, at least.

He walked over to me, his semi-erect cock bobbing.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, touching the small patch of golden hair feathering over his sternum.

“So are you.” He reached behind me and tugged down the zip on my dress. Lifted the straps and let it fall to the floor. “I’m just a guy,” he said. “You, honey, are Aphrodite sent to tease me and play with my thoughts and fantasies until I can barely think straight.”

A thrill traveled through me.

Aphrodite.

“But,” I said, almost sternly. “We both know that’s not right. Not really.”

“Why not?” he said. “It certainly feels right.”

“Because you’re here to win the tournament, not think rude thoughts about me.”

“Too late, you’ve got under my skin big time. And if you think one fuck is going to make me less in lust with you then you’re sorely mistaken. Great as it was, that, little lady, has barely scratched the surface.”

Tracing my fingertip down his cheek, I settled it in the dent in his chin. “Good, because you promised it slow and indulgent later.”

“And that’s what you’ll get, and any other way you’d like it too, plus a few ways I want that you probably haven’t even thought of before.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Then you’ll like the real thing even more.” He kissed the tip of my finger. “But first, let’s bathe, open the bubbly and celebrate finally being together.”

“Don’t you have to be somewhere this evening? What about Fellows?”

“No, I ate earlier with a group of the guys then pleaded a headache. Said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“They’ll have a neurosurgeon here in a heartbeat.”

He laughed and swept his gaze down my bare body. “Come on, get in.” He gestured to the bath and held out his hand.

I took it and stepped in. The water was perfect. Skin-tingling hot, slightly creamy with moisturizer and fluffy with bubbles. Sitting down, I was immersed over my breasts and the tips of my hair floated around me.

Lewis climbed in and sat opposite with his knees slightly bent. He reached for the champagne and popped the cork. It whizzed across the room and dinked into the shower cubicle.

I laughed and held up the flutes. He over-poured them and fizz trickled down the stems, over my hands and into the water.

“Now we’re really having a champagne bath,” he said, setting the bottle back on ice.

“Definitely a first for me.”

“Me too. Strawberry?”

“I don’t believe that.” I took a fat, blood-red strawberry and popped it into my mouth.

“What?”

“That you’ve never had a bath with champagne before.”

He held up his glass and chinked the rim to mine. “Not with you I haven’t. Cheers.”

I had to give him that. “Cheers. What are we toasting?”

“Us and keeping this thing we’ve got going under wraps for a little while longer.”

I sipped my drink and let the bubbles pop on my tongue and palate. “This is crazy, you know. Me being here.”

“What’s crazy are Fellows’ stupid rules.”

“But you agree with them to some extent, for the younger players.”

He reached for a strawberry. “It’s a case of do as I say and not as I do.”

“I suppose you should be entitled to some privileges as captain.”

He ran his hand from my ankle up to my knee and left it there. “And I’m feeling very privileged indeed to be sharing my bath with you.” He leaned forward and kissed me. He tasted of champagne and strawberry. Delicious.

“So tell me,” he said, pulling back. “How was the journey to Donetsk today?”

“Okay.”

“No problems with the train?”

“I didn’t catch the train in the end.”

“You didn’t.”

I shook my head.

“So how did you get to and from Kiev?”

I hesitated. “Phil hired a car. He drove us.”

His eyes narrowed. “Phil. Your colleague who thinks its okay to wrap his arm around you whenever he feels like it?”

Slugging back a big mouthful of drink, I willed my voice to stay calm. “Like I said, he’s a bit flirty, doesn’t always understand the meaning of personal space, but he’s just a friend.”

Lewis now looked decidedly sulky. “You reckon? He’s a guy, you’re gorgeous, and not only that you’re nice to him. He’ll think he’s in with a chance.”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“So tell me what it’s like?”

“I told him I was seeing someone.”

“You did?” He raised his brows.

“Yeah, it just makes it easier. That way he knows I’m off the market.”

“Mmm.”

Okay, now I was a bit irked. “Listen, Lewis. Phil is a friend. Yes, he’s a journalist and the first whiff of a story and he’s like a terrier after a rabbit. But he also looks out for me.”

“What do you mean?” He seemed shocked by my statement.

“Well he was worried about me getting across Kiev in the dark on my own the other night so he drove me back to my hotel. And he made sure that guy at the conference didn’t whack me again with his microphone.”

Lewis reached for the champagne. His leg brushed mine. He topped up our glasses but didn’t speak.

“And let’s face it,” I went on. “You were in no position to help me out with either of those situations. It’s a good job Phil was there.”

He paused, mid-pour, and his gaze settled on me. “So I should thank him?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He nodded slowly. “I will when all this is over and then you won’t need him anymore. I’ll make sure you get home safe and no one cracks you over the head at press conferences or anywhere else for that matter.”

I loved the thought that this was just the start of something big between us. That it was more than a bit of flirting and giving in to our desires. Perhaps I was delusional. Who cared. I was happy delusional and I couldn’t keep a smile from spreading on my face. “Lewis Tate, are you getting all Neanderthal on me?”

There was a rise of color on his cheeks and a muscle twitched in his jaw. For a moment I thought he was going to shift into a grump, but instead he just spoke low and huskily, “I guess I am, and you know what that means, don’t you?”

“No.”

“It means I’m going to carry you off to my cave and have my wicked, Neanderthal way with you.”

After soaping himself down Lewis stepped from the bath. His movements were as graceful as ever as the water trickled in small rivers over the perfect dents and ripples of his body.

Quickly I rubbed the creamy bar of soap over myself, splashed water onto my breasts to rinse the suds, then stood.

He held up a huge white towel and wrapped me in it. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“No, not at all.”

“Good.” He had that look in his eye again. The one that made me feel like I was being hunted and just one teeny tiny step away from being caught. I liked it, that feeling. It was new and had an edge of danger to it. Kind of like playing with fire or knives or poking a wasps’ nest. I hoped to hell I wouldn’t get burned, cut or stung though. That didn’t appeal at all.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, hooking a towel around his lean waist.

I stepped from the bath. “Yes, I think so.”

A slow smiled curved his mouth. “That was the right answer.”

He pressed his hand into the base of my spine and urged me into the bedroom. I stopped by the bed and looked at the pile of pillows. There were two ties laid out on them. England ties, blue with the three-lion crest dotted all over them. The sort the team wore for official photographs.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to see what I’m doing to you. You’re only requirement is to hand yourself over to sensation.” He pressed his mouth to my ear and a delectable shiver crept down my neck. “Let me be in charge of your pleasure, Nicky. I promise it will blow your mind.”

Blow my mind. I like the sound of that.

“What are you going to do?” I pulled back slightly.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” He held up a mask. The type they give you on planes. “Close your eyes,” he said again. “Please.”

This time I did as he asked. He tightened the fastening and pressed the mask against my nose, so the thin wire inside the material conformed to the shape of my face. His breaths breezed over my damp skin and goose bumps rose on my flesh.

“Can you see?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

I moved my head around. I couldn’t see anything. My world was velvet-black. “I’m sure.”

“Good.”

There was a sequence of thuds. I sensed the air shifting. I guessed he was throwing the excess cushions from the bed.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice low and firm.

After dropping my towel to the floor, I stretched my naked body on the feather-soft duvet covering the bed and let my head sink into the plump pillows.

The mattress shifted next to me and I was aware of him moving about.

“Like this,” he said, capturing my wrist and elevating it.

There was a tightening around my forearm, strong silken material. I turned to watch what he was doing but could see nothing. Though as my limb was bound and secured, I realized what the England ties on the bed had been for. They were my binds, my bondage restraints.

Who would have thought this would happen in my life? Lewis Tate had me naked, blindfolded and was strapping me to a four-poster bed. When I’d last seen him he’d looked like the cat who’d got the cream. No wonder my pussy was wet, not just from the bath water but also at the prospect of what was in store for me. Could it get anymore exciting? I must have been a very good girl in a former life to be getting such a treat, or perhaps very bad and this was just me reverting to a former state.

When both my arms were spread high and wide and harnessed by the ties, he left the bed. I tried to hear what he was doing. Heard the rustle of a packet.