He loved watching her let go, loved seeing her so turned on and near the edge that she told him exactly what she needed. Her eyes were glazed over, deep in passion, and he knew all she was thinking about was climaxing. That’s exactly where he wanted her—poised on the edge and ready to fly.
He circled the bud with his tongue, then put his lips over her clit, put two fingers inside her pu**y, and started to pump fast, watching her face as she came.
She was beautiful when she was in orgasm, an almost-pained expression on her face as she rocked her pu**y against him and shuddered all over, her br**sts rising and falling as she panted and reached down, grabbing his hair and holding him in place as the waves rolled over her.
When she finally settled, he rose and took her mouth, reaching into his pocket for a condom and sheathing himself, then entering her. She cried out as he drove inside her, felt her tighten around him as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply.
He grabbed her hair and held her while he pumped hard and fast. She was still spasming from her orgasm, the convulsions squeezing his c**k in a stranglehold of sensation. Her tongue wrapped around his, and he sucked on it, needing to come inside her, wanting her to go off again. When he heard her whimper, he knew she was ready again, and he powered up inside her and held, then rocked against her until she splintered.
He went with her this time, losing himself inside her heat, kissing her as he came until they were both shaking, breathless and wet with sweat from their efforts.
“It’s hot out here,” he said when he pulled away. “How about a swim?”
She laughed, pulling her pants up. “Sounds good to me.”
They threw on their swimsuits and ran into the ocean, which felt damn good after the heated fires they’d just been through. And even more, she surprised him. She didn’t mind getting her hair wet, couldn’t care less that her makeup ran in rivers down her face. In fact when he mentioned it, she didn’t turn around to swipe at the mess under her eyes. Instead, she laughed it off and splashed water at him.
He hadn’t expected that of her. She was always well dressed, her hair flawless—everything about her perfect. In the ocean her hair fell over her eyes, and she kind of resembled a drowned rat.
And she didn’t seem to care at all.
There was a lot about Elizabeth that was totally unpredictable.
And she’d given him one hell of a blow job to keep him from finding out more about her.
He wondered what she was hiding.
Time to up the stakes in this game he was playing and see if he could get a little truth from her.
FIVE
THEY WERE GOING DANCING TONIGHT. GAVIN HADN’T been joking when he’d told her he wanted her to have dresses so he could take her dancing.
How utterly bizarre. She knew his mother had been a dance teacher at one time, but she just didn’t see Gavin as a dancer. He was rough around the edges, a shot of whiskey and hang out at the bar kind of man. A man’s man. Not a woman’s kind of man.
But hey, if he wanted to get dressed up and go to a club, who was she to say no? She had plenty of guy friends she went clubbing with, though they were all g*y and she usually went with the guys and their boyfriends. And had a wonderful time doing it. Nothing romantic about it, of course, at least not for her, but she had a blast clubbing with her friends.
Guy friends. She had a lot of guy friends. Girlfriends? No, not too many of those. Okay, none of those. She wasn’t the type of woman who made female friends. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she was in a man’s business. All her clients were men. She didn’t get friendly with their wives and girlfriends, at least not on a social level. Friendly enough that the women knew she wasn’t after their men—just their men’s careers. But friend friendly? No. Never.
She knew her way around men, was comfortable around them. Women were strange and bitchy, and she didn’t know how to relate to them at all. Even in college she’d gravitated toward the guys, had always had more male friends than women friends.
What did that say about her? She had no idea. Maybe she was missing something by not having girlfriends to confide in all these years.
Then again, she didn’t reveal her secrets anyway, so she wasn’t missing a damn thing other than all-night chat sessions that were boring and tedious, and lots of drama she didn’t want or have time for. Men didn’t do drama, which was probably why she’d always liked them better.
She’d spent the day catching up on work since Gavin had a game and after-game interviews. They were going out late tonight.
She finished dressing and came out of the bedroom. Gavin wore black slacks, a white shirt, jacket, and tie.
“You clean up nice,” she said.
He turned, scanned her from head to toe appreciatively, and smiled. “The dress looks incredible on you.”
She lifted her head a little higher and turned around for his inspection. She had to admit he had a decent eye for clothes, which surprised the hell out of her. She’d never have chosen this dress for herself. Then again, she mostly wore black. This champagne-colored dress did bring out the color of her skin and made the red in her hair stand out.
She hated when someone else was right.
They drove to an incredibly ritzy restaurant in Palm Beach, where Elizabeth was surprised to see they were meeting two other couples, guys that Gavin played with on the Rivers and their wives.
“Figured you wouldn’t mind if we met up with a couple of my friends and their wives, and shared dinner with them.”
She managed a tight smile. “Not at all.”
She did mind, mainly that he hadn’t told her. And okay, she’d thought they were having a night alone.
She shook hands with Dedrick Coleman and his wife, Shawnelle, and Tommy Maloney and his wife, Haley.
Shawnelle was gorgeous, just like her husband. She had beautiful dark skin, the most unusual whiskey-colored eyes Elizabeth had ever seen, a sexy modern Afro, and a curvy body with br**sts that would no doubt make Gavin’s eyes bug out of his head all night long. Then again, Dedrick was six foot three of delicious eye candy himself. So maybe if Gavin was going to ogle, Liz would, too.
Haley was a petite little blue-eyed blonde who looked about sixteen. Elizabeth could only hope she was of legal age. Tommy was one of the Rivers youngest players, so that explained why Haley looked like jailbait. She probably was that young.
Delightful.
This meant the guys would talk baseball all night, and she’d be expected to make—ugh—girl talk with the women.