A Perfect Strategy

His short laugh sounded a tad strained. “Stop that or this will be over before it’s started.”

“O-kay.” She shrugged but removed her hand.

He ran his finger over her bottom lip, then leaned forward and nipped it. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

“Bold words, Captain Matthews.”

“Ex-captain. Still, you know you can always trust promises made by the captain.”

She bit back a moan as he mimicked her action and trailed a finger over her chin, down her neck and into the valley between her breasts. His mouth followed, then circled the swell of her right breast. His hands, meanwhile, skimmed over her sides to her hips, then settled on her bottom.

“This isn’t one of those ‘win guarantees,’ like Messier in ’94, is it?”

“Much as I hate to be compared to the Rangers’ former captain, he delivered. So will I.”

The matter-of-fact statement, uttered in that smooth, deep voice, heightened the anticipation. “Feel free to continue.”

Her airy words ended with a gasp as he took her nipple into his mouth.

The seriousness and single-minded focus that had both drawn her to him and intimidated her were a major plus when he used them to turn her on. As he continued to stroke and taste every inch of her, she swore she could hear the “Hallelujah Chorus” building to a crescendo.

Before her legs could give out, he swept her into his arms and deposited her on the bed. He removed her shoes, then began to trace a path up her legs, starting with her toes. He quickly found and then lingered over her more sensitive spots—the back of her knees, the inside of her thighs and the lower curve of her backside. Then he reached the most sensitive place of all.

He’d barely begun to give that delicate bud attention when her first orgasm rippled through her. He paused until the tremors had subsided, then continued to play with her until he’d made her come apart a second time. Then he propped himself up on one elbow and gently caressed her as she recovered.

Totally spent, she looked up at him. “You were right. It was worth the wait.”

His smile spoke volumes. “We’re not done yet.”

That cocky grin reenergized her. “We certainly aren’t.” She rose and pushed him onto his back. “And you have too many clothes on.”

Sapphie made quick work of removing his pants and his boxer shorts. Then she gave him a taste of his own medicine, using her fingers and mouth to explore every inch of his amazing body. Whenever he tried to intervene, she batted his hand away and carried on with her sensual journey to its tantalizing destination: his straining erection.

Knowing she had him on the brink, she straddled him and sank slowly onto his hard shaft until he was buried deep inside her. She savored the way he fit her perfectly. Filled her completely.

His guttural moan resonated within her, rekindling the burning need she’d thought he’d sated. Suddenly, the time for playing was past.

Urgency overtook them. They moved together in perfect harmony, their bodies as attuned to each other as they’d been on the dance floor. Slowly at first, then with gathering speed, they raced toward completion. Harder, faster. Until, as one, they reached the crest and flew over the edge.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_bcc30070-33db-5181-a056-f90570301fb6)

SCOTT AWOKE TO bright sunshine, the smell of coffee and the clacking of computer keys. He ran his hand over the sheet beside him.

Cold.

The bed had been empty for a while. He squinted at the clock and almost did a double take. He never slept this late. Then again, given how little actual sleeping he’d done over the past thirty-six hours, it wasn’t really surprising.

What an incredible weekend. He and Sapphie had barely left the bed, except to sit on the balcony in the moonlight, sipping champagne and nibbling on snacks. And each other. They’d ordered room service whenever they’d needed sustenance, creating impromptu picnics, which had invariably ended with them burning off the calories they’d just eaten.

Scott grinned and rolled onto his back, propped himself on a pillow that still smelled of Sapphie and laced his fingers behind his head.

Their lovemaking had been out of this world. He’d never responded to a woman as he had to her. For the first time in a long while he felt alive and invigorated. Optimistic. Ready to take on the world.

For a moment, he was a little embarrassed. He was in his forties, with grown kids, not fourteen and sweaty palmed because the prettiest girl in the class had said hello to him.

He’d spent a lot of time since Sapphie approached him at the reception aware of his age and relative inexperience, conscious that he was finally getting around to doing things most people did when they were kids. Was he a cliché—lusting over a woman ten years younger than him?

Nah. He’d already had the fast car and he wasn’t into ear piercing or low-slung jeans that showed his underwear. If this was his midlife crisis, so what? His life had been turned completely upside down since he’d retired. Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself? More to the point, why shouldn’t he enjoy himself with Sapphie? They were both adults who were free and single.

Scott smiled indulgently when he saw her on the balcony, seated at the little round table, tapping away intently at her laptop. One foot was tucked under her. She seemed to be speaking with someone via her Bluetooth earpiece.

Her long blond hair was wet. He wished she’d woken him up so they could have shared the shower, like they had yesterday. Man, was he glad he’d retained his strength and stamina.

Sapphie wore a white short-sleeved blouse and tailored navy shorts, instead of the hotel’s robes that they’d lived in since entering her room.

A tiny chill whispered down the back of his neck.

He propped himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. The chill spread to his chest. The remnants of their late-night snacks had been cleared away. The candles they’d ordered from housekeeping tossed in the trash. The closet was empty and the surfaces clear. Her suitcase was packed. The dress was in a dry cleaner’s bag and draped over the case.

Other than the fact that he was lying in a rumpled bed, there was no sign of how they’d spent the weekend.

A memory of Celine, greeting him after his first commentating gig, her packed bags by the door, flashed through his mind.

He was about to toss the sheet aside and go to her, strangely needing the reassurance of touching her, when the door to the balcony slid open and Sapphie walked in, carrying her mug.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” She put her mug next to the coffeemaker, then approached and leaned over to kiss him. She tasted of coffee, with a hint of mint.

When she would have straightened, he caught her around the waist and tumbled her to the bed. “How about a proper good morning?”

Sapphie laughed and twined her arms around his neck. “Good morning.”

All too soon, she pulled out of his embrace and walked to the coffeemaker. “Would you like one?” She held up a mug.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“I held off ordering breakfast until you were awake. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” He scraped his hand over his stubbled jaw. “I guess I should get cleaned up and put some clothes on.”

“I’ll call room service and breakfast should be here when you’re done.”

Scott hid a frown. Their previously easy conversation had suddenly grown stilted. Awkward.

“Great.” He threw back the covers and grabbed a robe. He padded to the bathroom, mug in hand. Before he was halfway there, Sapphie’s phone rang. With an apologetic smile, she answered the call and headed back out to her laptop.

The bathroom looked bare without her toiletries. Nothing personal remained. Talk about a reality check.

He understood she was an independent woman, with a successful business that was incredibly demanding. Efficiency and organization would be critical. He got that she needed to get her head in the game after a break; he’d always been the same. And he appreciated the lack of fuss. He’d seen enough of clinging women from being around his single teammates.