Chapter Two
Once outside, Kyle turned them toward the glitz and glamour of Manly proper. They didn’t talk very much on the ten-minute walk to his apartment. The crowds of people out and about, enjoying the many restaurants and bars in the trendy waterside suburb of Sydney, took the pressure off conversation. But he was aware of her closeness, of the cool night air, of the drumming of his heart keeping step with each footfall.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Kyle didn’t often pick up women in bars—although the opportunities to do so were frequent—and he certainly hadn’t planned on hooking up tonight. He’d just been after a quiet place to celebrate surviving his first couple of days training because he’d ached too much last night to be bothered. But he’d felt invigorated today, and getting out of his apartment for a quick couple of beers before hitting the sack early had appealed. Somewhere quiet and secluded. Somewhere he might not be recognised.
Which hadn’t worked out particularly well for him.
But being recognised by a sexy redhead wasn’t any hardship, and even before she’d rattled off his stats she’d had him by the balls. There’d been something about Val—maybe it had been her solitude—that had wrapped fingers around his gut. Those fingers squeezed even harder now as each step bought them closer to his place.
To his bed.
It may have been a nippy August night, but his body was hot with anticipation. The air in his lungs was scorching and a fucking furnace roared in his groin. They passed a darkened alley and he suppressed the urge to push her into it and kiss her senseless. Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so instantly.
Worse than that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d liked a woman so instantly.
He felt…bewitched. Val had disarmed him with her curious mix of frankness and vulnerability, and it had surprised the hell out of him when she’d suggested they go back to his place. He hadn’t felt like he was getting anywhere until that moment.
Still, it didn’t feel like a sleazy bar pickup, and he didn’t want it to. It felt like…the beginning of something, which was ludicrous and fanciful—as if he had time for a relationship now his rugby career goals were paying dividends—but it was there nonetheless. He reached for her hand. It was cold, and he enfolded her fingers in his and gave them a squeeze. She smiled at him and suddenly it felt more like a date.
“This is me,” Kyle said as they approached a building with a buzzing sidewalk café.
They rode the lift to his apartment in silence, side by side, hands still joined. Kyle’s pulse was loud in his ears as the anticipation cranked up another notch and he wondered if she could feel it, too. The lift dinged, and his heart rate accelerated as he tugged gently on her hand and she followed him without hesitation. By the time they stopped in front of his apartment, his entire body throbbed with awareness of her, of what was about to happen.
Kyle dropped her hand as he unlocked the door, smiling at her as he pushed it open. “Ladies first.”
She brushed past him into the darkened interior, and his groin tightened. A glimpse of city lights through a partially open glass sliding door cast an ambient glow into the open-plan room, but Kyle wanted to see her when he kissed her, when he undressed her. He wanted to see all of her. He reached past her to flip on the light switch.
She slid her hand onto his forearm. “Can we leave them off?”
Kyle frowned at the husky request, dropping his hand immediately and moving in behind her, his front almost touching her back. The smell of her shampoo filled his nostrils with the intoxicating force of a drug. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
But she sounded hesitant, and he slid his hands onto her shoulders. Her muscles tightened under his hands as he gently turned her to face him. Slipping a finger under her chin, he tipped it up, his gaze probing hers.
“We don’t have to do this, Val.” His other hand curled around her bicep, his thumb gently caressing the underside. “We really can just look at my view.” He wanted this woman—bad. But only if she wanted it just as bad. And at the moment she didn’t seem so sure. “I can fix us something to eat, and we can talk and watch the harbour lights. They’re really pretty.”
Her lips curved up at his suggestion, and Kyle smiled back. He supposed pretty lights wasn’t a very masculine thing to say, but he wasn’t all about balls and rucking. He could be refined, damn it.
“Or we could watch a DVD. Or pick out something on Netflix.”
She regarded him for a moment or two, her lips losing their curve. “You don’t want to…”
She let the suggestion trail off, but Kyle jumped right on it. “Oh I want to.” He wanted to so fucking bad his hands trembled with need. “I wanted to since the second I saw you sitting on that barstool, but you seem kinda tense and nervous and I think a little…sad.”
Yes, sad. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it in the bar, but it was suddenly clear—she’d been struggling with something tonight.
“Whatever it is, I’m not entirely sure you’re in the right frame of mind to be sleeping with someone you only just met, so—”
She placed her finger against his lips, and Kyle’s words died in his throat. Her finger was scorching against his mouth, and he wanted to suck it inside, but he just stood there, his gaze searching hers, waiting for her next move.
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“No, ma’am.” Hell to the no. His lips brushed the pad of her finger, and he almost groaned at the sensation. “I just want you to be sure.”
He needed her to be sure.
She smiled then, and the sadness lurking in her eyes cleared. “I am.” She stepped in really close, her body fitting snug against his. Kyle’s hands settled on her hips as she pushed herself up onto her toes, evening out their heights. She slid her arms around his neck. “It’s my birthday today.”
He raised his eyebrows. Was that why she was sad? He knew some women were funny about their birthdays, about aging generally. Or was it that she just had no one to celebrate it with?
Well…she did now. And birthday sex was his favourite kind.
“I guess…” He splayed his fingers wide on her hips. “This makes me your present?”
She gave a husky laugh. “I guess it does.”
“In that case…” His hands slid onto her ass, pulling her closer, the hardness of his erection snug against the short fly of her skinny jeans. “I am at your disposal. Anything in particular you’d like? The birthday girl should get to choose.”
“Anything in particular you’d recommend?”
She shifted against him, and Kyle sucked in a breath. This woman could have whatever the hell she wanted. “You name it, I can provide it.” He didn’t believe in being modest when it came to his talents—on the field or in the bedroom. “I am exceptionally gifted with my tongue, however. I can put that anywhere you’d like it.”
“Good to know.” She grinned. “I think maybe I should unwrap you first, though?”
Kyle wasn’t about to object to that. “Do I get to unwrap you, too?”
“Maybe.” She leaned in, her lips close to his ear. “If you’re good,” she whispered.
“Oh I’m good,” he muttered. “Very good.”
…
Val’s breath hitched at the raspy promise in his voice. She had no doubt. Kyle had already proven his goodness in the most basic way possible. He’d hadn’t just seen a woman sitting alone at a bar ripe for the pickup. He’d shown insight. He’d seen beyond. To the things she was feeling, the things she hadn’t said. He’d even given her an out. And that was why she was here with him, about to do the wild thing.
A man who was sensitive to a woman’s needs out of bed and willing to service her in any way in bed was a rare beast. The fact he was just a little bit forbidden added to the allure.
Val smiled as she took a step away from him, running her eyes over his chest and abs, down his quads and calves, then back up again, lingering on the bulge in his jeans. She stepped closer again, but left some air between them this time, their gazes locking as she reached for the top button of his shirt, easing it undone.
Keeping eye contact, she undid the next and the next and the next until his shirt was flapping open. She hummed her approval at the shadowy outline of muscles. “Nice.”
Her husky voice was loud in the silence, as was the swish of fabric as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down. Breaking their gaze, she walked around behind him and yanked the shirt all the way off, dropping it to the floor. His back was a broad, bare landscape—the ridges and dips of his ribs, the furrow of his spine, the hard outline of muscle. And acres of warm skin.
Val traced a finger from where his nape met the straight edge of his hairline to the small of his back. His ragged exhalation stroked between her legs, as hot and urgent as a finger. She leaned in and pressed her nose between his shoulder blades, inhaling. God. He even smelled forbidden.
Like voodoo. Joss sticks and dripping candles and sandalwood.
It was intoxicating.
Pulling away, she sidled around to his front again. His eyes were hooded as he gazed at her, but she could still see their tawny gleam. “Having fun back there, were you?”
Val just smiled and reached for his jeans. “Shoes.”
The man didn’t hesitate, toeing his rugged-looking boots off as she slid his belt out of the loops and made short work of his fly. He didn’t hesitate when she pushed his jeans off his hips, either. In a flash, he’d kicked out of them and toed them aside until he stood before her in nothing but a pair of black, low-riding boxer briefs.
Boxer briefs that barely contained an impressive erection. An erection she hoped would soon be inside her.
A sudden thought pierced the sexual haze fogging her brain. Condoms. She hoped he had condoms. She never carried them, because she didn’t usually do this type of thing and she was on the pill. But that didn’t cover for diseases, did it?
Christ. Don’t be an idiot, Val.
He was a sporting celebrity. He probably hooked up all the time. He probably had a revolving door of women who came over to see his view. Of course he’d have condoms. For his revolving-door women. Those big Trojan fuckers, judging by the size of that bulge. He probably had sponsors stuffing them in his pockets along with hundred-dollar notes.
She leaned back, admiring the view, her gaze lingering on the thick bulk of his cock, a trill of anticipation worming through her belly. “Happy birthday to me,” she murmured, her gaze travelling up a smooth, perfectly-sculpted chest to his face.
He gave a low chuckle, its raspiness deliciously abrasive against her nipples. “So this is how it’s going to be, huh? You get to be fully dressed, and I get to be…not.”
Val didn’t think he looked particularly perturbed to be not in front of her. “I was just unwrapping my present,” she said, trying to be reasonable as she dropped her gaze to his boxer briefs again. “Haven’t finished yet, either.”
“Let me guess, you were one of those carefully-remove-the-tape-to-keep-the-pretty-paper-intact kids, weren’t you?”
Val laughed and nodded. “And you were the tear-right-in type?”
He grinned. “You know it.”
It was a surprising admission for someone who was so disciplined on the field. Disciplined, as many would say, to the detriment of his teammates. But he obviously wasn’t remotely bothered by admitting such a lack of control in other areas.
And the thought that he was going to unleash all that gluttony on her body rippled through her abs and tightened her nipples.
“How about throwing me a bit of a bone before going any further?” He tipped his chin at her shirt, her bare nipples rubbing against the fabric, obviously high-beaming him even in the semi dark.
She laughed. “I think you’ve got more than enough bone there for two men.”
He seemed totally unabashed at her observation. Kyle was obviously a man at ease with his body and its…functions. He was certainly comfortable with being all but naked in front of her, and his confidence was a huge freaking turn-on.
The way he was staring at her even more so.
In a snap decision, she grasped the hem of her top and pulled it off over her head, tossing it on the floor near the steadily mounting pile of clothes.
His eyes bugged at the sight of her naked breasts. “Good Christ…”
Ordinarily, Val would have been self-conscious about her size. Particularly in the presence of his size. But hell if she didn’t care tonight. She’d gone to the bar without her usual crutches—makeup and a push-up bra—because picking up hadn’t been on her mind. But she had, and this was her. Freckles and an A cup. No one could accuse her of false advertising.
And Kyle didn’t seem to care. His dick certainly didn’t.
He dragged his eyes off her chest, his breathing uneven. “Don’t stop now.”
His low request, his intense stare, emboldened her. She unsnapped her jeans and yanked down the very short zip before wriggling out of the denim while she kicked off her flats. By the time she straightened, the only thing between her and naked was her favourite thong, purple with a lacy trim.
“I think that makes us even.”
She got an up-close look at the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Purple thong is my favourite colour.”
Val smiled. “Purple thong is not a colour.”
“It should be.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “So you’d prefer it to, say…commando?”
“Oh hell no.” He frowned at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Naked beats all the colours.”
“Yeah.” She eyed his almost-naked body. “I’d have to agree.
He grinned. “What next, birthday girl?”
Touch. She had to touch him. A distant siren wailed in through the open glass doorway. A wise person might have taken it as some kind of portent, but Val was too far gone to pay any heed.
She took the one step required to bring her body up against his and swore she heard the sizzle as her nipples came into contact with the smooth hardness of his chest. She certainly heard the quick, rough intake of his breath. Rising to her toes, she slid her hands around his neck, their mouths so very, very close.
But there were parts of them that were closer. Val was excruciatingly aware that only two scraps of fabric were keeping them decent, and the hard ridge of his erection was pressing against the screamingly sensitive flesh between her legs.
It took all her willpower not to grind against him. As if he knew it, his hands came to rest in the small of her back, his fingers splaying again, pressing her closer.
“I think it’s time—” She stopped to draw in a ragged breath. There wasn’t enough air in her lungs when she was this close to him. “For my birthday kiss.”
His mouth was so close it almost brushed against hers as his lips broke into a smile. “I think it’s past time.”
“Okay. Don’t move,” she whispered. “Let me.”
He didn’t move. He stayed perfectly still as she fitted her mouth to his. So still she could feel the tension of his neck muscles and the rigidity of his abs and quads, the steel band of his hands in her lower back. But he let her lead, standing passively in the circle of her arms as she nibbled and tasted his mouth, her tongue licking along the seam of his lips. They parted under her probe, and she moaned triumphantly as she tasted beer.
Val’s senses swam with it, and she pulled back, temporarily overloaded. By him, by who he was, by what she was doing. She shut her eyes as she ran her tongue over her lips, savouring his taste, humming her approval. Her eyes fluttered open to find him watching her intensely.
“That was…sweet.”
“Sweet?” He made a low, growly noise at the back of his throat. “Fuck that.”
He kissed her then. Really kissed her. A proper birthday kiss. Nothing sweet about it. Not one little bit.
It was hard and fast and dirty, the power of it crowding her backward. Back, back, back until her ass and shoulder blades hit the wall. Val barely noticed as his tongue—his clever, clever tongue every bit as good as he’d promised—took full possession. A hand slid under her hair, clamping at her nape while his mouth roved over hers, twisting and turning and demanding that she answer him back with the same fervour.
And she did. God help her, she did. Every desperate breath she sucked in around the demands of his mouth was full of him.
Full of beer and voodoo. Heady. Intoxicating her beyond all reason.
It was the kind of kiss that belonged in a movie. That was hot and effortless and arousing. That made the audience tingle and sigh and yearn. Made them pull over the car on the way home for a quickie.
As abruptly as it’d started, it stopped, and Val was thankful for the solid presence of the wall behind her as her knees almost went from under her.
“Better?”
She could hardly hear him above the hammer of her heart, let alone form coherent words. She made some kind of nonsensical noise instead, which he clearly took for agreement.
“Good.” He slid his hands to the backs of her thighs and lifted her. “Plenty more where that came from.”
Val gripped his hips hard between her thighs as he strode off to god knew where, all she knew was his mouth was back on hers, and she was moaning and hanging on, utterly lost in the havoc of his kiss. Time ceased to exist until she was suddenly falling, falling, falling, a soft mattress breaking her fall, her loose hair landing all over her face.
She brushed it away, sweeping it out from underneath her head and shoulders, her slightly out-of-focus gaze landing on Kyle. He didn’t bother with a light, but her eyes had adjusted to the dark so that she could see him clearly enough, and he was looking down at her like all his birthdays had come at once, the heat from his gaze scorching her from the tips of her nipples to the purple scrap of material between her legs.
His chest heaved in and out, and she could just hear the ragged jag of his breathing above hers. “How do you want this, birthday girl? Fast and dirty or slow and gentle?” He spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. “Your wish is my command.”
Val’s belly turned cartwheels. God. He was her own private birthday genie. She was pretty sure all it required for her to erupt into a spontaneous orgasm would be for him to say that a few more times.
Hell, she’d probably come the second he stripped off his underwear.
“Fast. And dirty.” This was a hookup, damn it.
He grinned at her like he knew she was going to choose that option all along. It was conceited and arrogant and so damn male.
Sexy. As. Fuck. And her whole body throbbed with wanting him.
She yelped in surprise when he reached down and yanked at the straps of her thong, stripping it off her legs in three seconds flat, tossing it over his shoulder as he pushed at his own underwear.
Even in the dark, his cock stood out like a freaking beacon, thick and heavy, springing proud and free from a thatch of black hair. So goddamn…ready.
If she’d been an artist, she would have sketched it. If she’d been a sculptor, she’d have cast it in bronze. If she’d been a poet, she would have written a bloody sonnet about it.
But all she was right now was a woman, and all she really wanted was to fuck it.
With the minimum amount of movement, he located a condom in a bedside drawer and rolled it on, all without taking his eyes off the soft titian down at the juncture of her thighs.
“Spread your legs.”
Val’s pulse spiked at the rough command, but she spread them. And then, his gaze boring into hers, his knee was on the bed, and then his body was on hers, and then his mouth was on hers. On her lips and her throat and her nipples, and his tongue was lashing the hard tips, and she was gasping and arching off the bed, one hand sunk into his hair, the other clutching one firm ass cheek as his cock slid through the slick heat between her legs, prodding, thick and hard at her entrance.
She spread wider for him as his hips flexed, and he was inside her, thrusting deep. She cried out at the intrusion stretching her so damn good, and he abandoned her nipples for her mouth.
“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered against her lips, “I got you.”
And he did. He had her, completely and utterly. He had her quick and dirty, just like he promised, his hand moving between them to rub her clit. It took three strokes to catapult her orgasm from a promise to stark reality, and she shattered beneath him so hard and so fast it sucked her breath away.
It didn’t take him long to follow, thrusting with deadly precision until he tore his mouth from hers and groaned his release into the side of her neck. His breath was hot as he took them all the way to the finish line, drowning them both in pleasure and a wild voodoo aroma.
Val cried out, high on their joining. High on the rock and the pound and the shudder. High on the thrust and the quiver. High on the forbidden fruit that was Kyle Leighton.