Playing for Keeps (Heartbreaker Bay #7)(46)

“I have one,” she said. “I have several, but you can’t laugh.”

“Babe, I’m about as far away from laughing as a man can get. In fact, if you’re teasing me, I might just cry.”

“Top drawer of my nightstand,” she said.

Holding her gaze, which was a sexy mix of desire and hunger, along with a pinch of embarrassment he didn’t understand, he pushed up on his hands and reached for the drawer.

Her gasp stopped him cold and he twisted back. “What?”

She covered her mouth, no longer looking dazed with lust, but like she was going to smile. “Your shirt hem rose up when you stretched. You’ve got a tramp stamp!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dropping her hand, she laughed outright and pointed to just above his right ass cheek. “Then explain that.”

“If you’re referring to the very regal, perfectly rendered—”

“—Turtle,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “You have Rafael the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle tramp-stamped on your ass!”

“Hey,” he said. “Rafael and Nintendo got me through some really difficult times when I was sixteen, okay?”

“Someone tatted you when you were sixteen?” Her smile faded. “That’s against the law.”

“I lied about my age and I had a fake ID,” he said.

“And some regrets?” she guessed.

He shrugged. “The incident might be the reason why I’m no longer friends with vodka. Are we done discussing my early digressions and stupid mistakes yet?”

“Not by a long shot,” she said, reaching into his opened trousers and wrapping her hands around the part of him that was currently harder than any of his other parts. “But we can certainly agree to table them for the moment.” She stroked him.

His eyes nearly rolled up in his head. “Oh, this is going to take more than a moment.”

“I certainly hope so . . .”

He opened her nightstand drawer. There was a phone charger cord. A lip balm. A box of cookies. Correction, half a box and a few scattered crumbs. A People magazine. And . . .

A string of neon-colored condoms.

“From a friend’s bachelorette party,” Sadie said. “I won a gift basket. Seemed like a waste to just throw them away.”

“Waste not, want not,” he said with a smile.

Her mouth curved. “Exactly.”

He tore off a condom, an eye-popping pink. Not exactly what he’d imagined for his first time with her, but he was the master of invention and making the best of any situation, so he rolled it on, incredibly aware of the way Sadie watched his every move, her breath catching in the back of her throat. At the sight of his erection encased in glow-in-the-dark pink, she laughed, low and knowing and eager, and he felt something inside him click.

Just as he knew Lollipop had been meant for him, so was this woman.

She lifted her smiling eyes to his and pulled him down to her. “Now, please,” she said, the words so sweet and so utterly contrasting with her tone, which was an absolute order.

With a low laugh of his own, he slid in deep, making her gasp in gratification. He did the same, staring down at her, into those deep blue eyes, filled with the same mix of shock and pleasure.

Like coming home, he thought, and almost lost it right then. He had to force himself to go slow. Long, slow, deep thrusts that had her fingers digging into his ass as she rocked up to meet him stroke for stroke. Reaching back for her hands, he slid them above her head, fingers entwined, so that his entire body caressed hers with their every movement. He felt her start to tremble, heard her panting his name just before she shattered.

Watching it happen, taking in the sweet shudders that shook her body, how her head flew back, her eyes drifting shut, his name on her lips . . . he let himself go.

After, not wanting to lose the connection, he rolled to his back, taking her with him. Limp and sated, she went willingly, in a way she never did when she was fully aware and in charge of her faculties. But for now, he took advantage of that, loving the way she curled into him, her heart beating in time to his as their breathing slowly returned to normal.



Sadie had no idea how long they lay there after, Caleb stroking his fingers over her cooling body, before he spoke.

“I’m curious,” he said softly, his touch making her stretch and purr like a cat. “You’ve got the small tats on your left upper thigh, and one on the back of your shoulder and around your ankle, but that’s it.”

She understood the question. Most tattoo artists sported much more ink than she did. But she was as naked as she planned on being tonight. A further reveal wasn’t going to happen. Knowing he’d most likely expect more than she could give, and then leave when she wouldn’t give it, took down the warm afterglow quite a bit, replacing it with a wave of sadness. Rolling away, she pulled the covers up over her shoulder.

He was quiet a moment but not still. He rolled too, so his heated, sinewy body hugged up against her, his chest to her back, his legs interweaving with hers, an arm coming around her waist. “Where did you just go?” he murmured.

“I’m right here.”

“And yet you’re a million miles away. You don’t want to talk about your tattoos, just say so.”