Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(75)

“They think he fell asleep and ran into a tree. It’s just been me and Mama, Giselle, and Aunt Clara. My nana passed two years ago. It’s why I moved back home. For some reason, I haven’t left.” I pause. “And how did you know my dad was gone?”

He winces. “Lawrence looked you up after I asked him to. That’s how I knew your address, remember?” He exhales. “I was determined to see you again.”

“NDA.” My eyes narrow.

“Let’s not discuss the NDA. It wasn’t just that. It was you.”

“You wanted to teach me all your wicked ways.”

He laughs. “My wicked ways? You blew my mind. Glittery panties with unicorns. Please. How am I supposed to just let that slip away?” His hand strokes my leg, turning me so that we’re facing each other. He glances down at me. “How are your knees?”

“Hmm, my doctor was excellent. Very good bedside manner.”

His eyes hold mine. “How good?”

I ease on top of him. “Best I ever had.”

“Knew it.”

“Stop smiling like that.”

“Like what?” He shifts until his hard length is at my apex.

My breath stills. “All cocky.”

“You want this cock?” He picks my hips up and maneuvers so he glides inside me, slick and hard as he pushes deep. I moan as he slides back out and then in again.

“Hmm, I think you do . . .”

“The dirty talking is all I’m here for,” I murmur. “Maybe another orgasm. Maybe pie.”

“No pie until you come again.” He moves fast, flipping me over, hovering over me as he settles between my legs, hitching one over his arm.

“Promises, promises,” I pant as he holds my hands above my head and thrusts inside me. We move like it’s a perfectly choreographed dance, his strokes soft and unhurried, his mouth on mine, kissing me slow, savoring me.

“You’re all mine.”

His thumb arrives and drives me insane, circling as he takes his time. I lose myself again in the feel of him, the way he looks at me, the emotion that carries me away when I come apart and call his name.

He goes over with me, eyes honed in on mine, something . . . something there in the way he looks at me as we ride it out together.

I close my eyes, holding him. Does he feel this too? How good we are?

You’re mine, he said.

But . . .

For how long?





Chapter 26

ELENA

I take down the last drape from the front windows in the dining room and fold them carefully. Velvet and a deep brown, they’ve been up for nearly twenty years, but they’re classic and hang beautifully—although they’re a bit dusty. After a good cleaning and pressing, they’ll be perfect for everyone by the time the engagement party arrives in a few weeks. We’ve picked a date after the play, and I am going to do it right. Lots of food, a bar for drinks, snapshots of Giselle and Preston around the house . . .

“Elena! Your phone keeps beeping with texts, and now it’s ringing,” Giselle calls from the kitchen, where I left her earlier, polishing silver. “It’s Weatherman Wannabe? Is that the football player? Want me to bring it to you?”

“Crap!” I stop folding and dash to the kitchen, skidding in my fuzzy cat socks. I need to put shoes on.

“She’s practically falling down to talk to him,” Aunt Clara says slyly as I grab my phone and answer it, ignoring her grin as I clear my voice.

“Hey.”

“You left before I woke up.” His voice is low and husky, and I picture him still in that big bed when I left around five o’clock this morning. It’s nine now. Did he sleep this long?

“I did,” I say, heading out to the screened-in back porch, mentally taking notes of the leaves I’ll need to clean up that have swept in from Romeo going in and out.

“I had to get back before anyone noticed my car wasn’t home. Plus, I planned a cleanup day for Giselle and Preston’s party.”

“You left your purple underwear.”

“Lavender. And it’s a present. I know what a weirdo you are about panties.”

“Just yours. They’re in my pocket now.”

I guess he’s not in bed.

Background noise of him rustling around hits my ears. “What are you doing?”

“Just left the gym, where I ran. Getting in my car. Did you really think you were just going to run away?”

“No, I mean, I didn’t know if you’d want to, you know . . .” I stop, biting my lip as anxiousness hits, part of me excited that he’s called, the other side of me disappointed that I really should get back to work.

“Want to do a late lunch? You can come over, and we can call Milano’s?” he asks.

Back to his penthouse.

“We’re cleaning. It’s one of the only days I’ll have to get everything done. Between the play and work, I need to trim the shrubs, get the carpets cleaned, polish the hardwood, power wash the sidewalk. Everyone’s here now. Maybe Preston later. There’s a lot to do.”

His car starts, and there’s a long pause. “This party . . . isn’t it going to bother you?”

Giselle waltzes out to the porch and grabs one of the extra brooms. I glance down at her ring, waiting for the wince that usually comes when I see it, but it doesn’t hit my heart like it did in the library. She gives me a wave, and she mimics throwing a football and waggles her eyebrows. She arrived bright and early at eight o’clock, an unsure look on her face as she came in and took in the house. I can’t remember her actually being here since the Fourth of July, when she met Preston. She must feel really guilty.