Game For Anything

The key to any good business deal was to offer the other party exactly what he or she wanted. She and Tracker wanted each other, and so she would offer him a no-strings affair. What could be more simple or basic than that?

She began to pace. She’d have to take the first step. In spite of that kiss, he hadn’t made any move to touch her once they’d entered her apartment.

When she was making a sale in her shop, timing was everything. And surprise. If she could catch him off guard, she would have the advantage.

She was lifting Mac’s bag of toys off the bed when the sound of the shower stopped. An image filled her mind of Tracker stepping out of the tub, water dripping from him. A river of heat pooled in her center. She could picture him so clearly—lean muscles, long bones and taut, slick skin. Even as the bag slipped through her fingers, she was moving toward the bathroom door. Timing. Surprise.

Gripping the handle, she turned it and found it locked. No. No. She pounded on the door. “Tracker!”

The lock clicked, the door flew open and she saw him. His scent—it assaulted her with its potency. His heat—she felt it reaching out to her, touching her. All thoughts of perfect timing and surprise drained from her mind as her body went into sensory overload. She was so aware of him, all at once, that she felt paralyzed. His skin was slick and damp—and only part of it was covered by the towel. Lust—a quick, sharp slap of it—filled her, along with greed. She wanted—no, she needed—to touch him, to run her hands over every inch of him.

And she would, just as soon as she could move her arms.

FOR A MOMENT, Tracker stood absolutely still, paralyzed by a swift onslaught of emotions. When she’d called his name, fear had hit him hard, like a sucker punch to his gut. In the three short seconds that it had taken him to open the door to her bedroom, he’d realized that he hadn’t checked it out. Last night, he hadn’t trusted himself to even set foot in the room. Someone could have gotten in through a fire escape or through a back entrance to the apartment.

Though his eyes never left Sophie, he instantly catalogued the room, taking in a tall dresser, a full-length oval mirror, a bed. The closet door, standing ajar.

She was alone in the room. Safe.

He had about one second to process relief before he was sucker-punched by pure lust.

The oval-shaped mirror stood at an angle behind her, so that he could see her back and front. Her robe was a thin bit of silk and lace that draped over her breasts and hips so closely that it made a man wonder if she wore anything beneath. The thought of touching her and finding out had his blood running hotly, greedily.

It took every bit of strength he had not to tumble her onto the bed. He could have her just that quickly, and put an end to the desire that was clawing at his insides.

“Are you all right?” His voice sounded strained, raw.

“I thought you’d gone.”

He should go. He should step back into the bathroom and relock the door. She was fine. He’d over-reacted to a false alarm. And if he didn’t get control of the situation, he wouldn’t be prepared when a real alarm sounded. He ordered himself to back out of the room right now. But he didn’t move. And he wasn’t going to. His feet had stopped taking orders from his brain.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” She moistened her lips, and Tracker had to swallow a moan. “I don’t want you to go. I wanted to talk.”

Talk? The woman was killing him.

TALK? What was she saying? Sophie wanted to jump him. But she couldn’t seem to make her body take orders. She couldn’t even remember the little speech she’d been rehearsing before she’d decided to storm the bathroom. The ripe, hot desire she saw in his eyes was melting her brain. She wasn’t even sure she could talk.

Taking a deep breath, she gave it a try. “I want to make love to you.” She might have turned around to see who’d spoken if she could have taken her eyes off Tracker. The good news was that his gaze was still hot enough to burn her skin. The bad news was he wasn’t moving.

You can do this, Sophie. You’re Mac’s role model. “Right now would be good for me. Are you game?”

There was a beat of silence, his eyes never leaving hers. She saw his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth. “It’s not that I don’t want you.”

But. He hadn’t said it, but the word threatened to slam down between them like a brick wall. Panic bubbled up at the same moment that her fingers closed around the coin in her pocket. Thank heavens her fingers were working. Testing, she took a step toward him. She could move. She could do this. “The way I see it, we could have a debate about the pros and cons, but why don’t we cut right to the chase and settle it with a coin toss?”

Taking the quarter out of her pocket, she tossed it into the air. “Heads, we make love. Tails, we…”

TRACKER WATCHED THE COIN sail into the air. It didn’t matter which way it came down, they were going to make love. He’d lost whatever battle he’d been waging with himself the moment she’d said, “I want to make love to you.”

He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t built up any defense against the possibility.

How could he have possibly known that it was the one thing he’d wanted to hear her say? From the moment he’d heard those words, he’d wanted her on that bed beneath him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could wait.

“Heads,” she said as she glanced down at the coin and then held it out for him to see. “Okay, that’s settled.”

Fear gripped him then. In a second he was going to touch her, and he had to make sure that he maintained control. He’d pay a price for making love to her, but he had to make sure that she didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt her, and the urge to take her swiftly was so huge. “Unless you’d rather…talk? Set up some ground rules?” She fumbled a little, slipping the coin into her pocket, and he noticed for the first time that her hands were trembling.

Nerves. He’d always thought of her as the Princess, so confident, so brave. That she was nervous because of him thrilled him and softened something inside of him. Tracker wasn’t even aware that he’d closed the remaining distance between them until he touched her shoulders and absorbed the quick shiver that moved through her.

“Easy.” He ran his hands slowly up and down her arms the way he might gentle one of his horses. Then, lifting her hand, he pressed his lips to her palm, and watched the pulse at her throat quicken. “We’ll talk later. Right now, I want to make love to you.”

She moved her hands to the belt of her robe.

“No.” He covered her hand. “Let me.” He’d done this in his fantasies, but he hadn’t imagined the quick tremors that moved along her skin, nor the quick hitch of her breath as he eased the robe off her shoulders. Nor had his imagination quite captured the silky smoothness of her skin. He let out a deep breath. “You’re wearing nothing. I wondered.” He reined in the urge he had to touch and possess every inch of her.

When his hands moved to the towel at his waist, she closed hers over them. “No. Let me.”

This time the tremors moved through him as his towel slid to the floor and she ran her fingers along the length of his erection.

“I want you.”

Sophie wasn’t sure who’d said the words. The only reality that she could grasp fully was that he was finally kissing her again. Almost. His lips were nibbling at hers, tasting, as if she were something he wanted to sample slowly. His tongue traced her bottom lip, then brushed at the corner of her mouth. In some part of her mind she questioned how a kiss this soft could set her blood pounding. She wanted it to go on forever.

Moving her hands to his shoulders, she ran her palms along the hard muscles until she could fasten her fingers at the back of his neck. Then she rose to the tips of her toes and tried to get closer. “More.”

And then he was kissing her for real, his tongue sliding along hers. The man tasted like a dark, forbidden treat—the wild honey she’d once found in a hive. She hadn’t been able to get enough of it. The sweet, addictive flavor had almost been worth the stings she’d suffered later.

She felt his hands move from her shoulders down to her waist. But instead of drawing her closer, they set her away.

“Slow and easy, Princess.”

Lifting her gaze to his, she tried to read the expression in his eyes. The blue-green had darkened to the color of an angry sea. It wasn’t slow and easy he wanted, and she didn’t, either. But the kiss had weakened her again and she couldn’t seem to… Then his fingers gripped her waist, turning her so that she could see both of them in the oval mirror next to her bed. The woman she saw reflected there was completely framed by the man. He was dark, dangerous looking. In front of him, she looked pale, almost fragile. The contrast sent a thrill skipping up her spine. Would she ever be able to look in this mirror again without seeing this image?

“I’m going to touch you.” His voice was rough and it moved along her skin like sandpaper, igniting little fires as he flattened one large hand against her stomach, drawing her back until her bottom was nestled into his thighs. She could feel his arousal pressing hard against her. Pleasure pierced her as her own body responded, her inner muscles tightening, a dampness gathering between her legs.

“Watch and feel.”

She could barely hear his words, her heart was pounding so hard. And her legs…could they really be melting?

His other hand moved to cup her breast. She moaned and her head fell back against his chest. If he weren’t holding her, one hand at her breast and the other at her stomach, she would have slipped to the floor.

A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. Narrowing her eyes, she studied the reflection in the mirror. “I’m not dreaming. Tell me I’m not.”

His eyes darkened. “You’re not dreaming. Neither am I. Tell me what you want, Princess. This?”

He moved his hand lower over her abdomen, and she began to tremble.