Caroline? You could really grab a good handful of her, or two, while she wrapped her legs around you and you drove into her deep.
“Stripes,” she announced, turning to me with a grin. I hadn’t noticed, but it seemed as if she’d sunk a ball into a pocket. I’d been too busy looking at the back pockets on her jeans.
She lined up to take another shot. I was a big-hearted sort of man. I could see that she needed help with her angle or she didn’t stand a chance of getting that ball in the hole. And I was a firm believer of always making your shot.
“Here, try more like this.” I stood behind her, leaning against her slightly, my arms on either side of her body. One hand wrapped lightly along her waist, I drew her back toward me while I guided her hand on the cue stick. In close by her ear, I whispered, “See how good that feels?” I stroked her thumb with mine. “Like that.”
She bit her lip and gave me a curt nod, but I could feel her body’s response, her instinct to lean into me, accept my guidance. The things I could teach her.
Following my instruction, she got that ball right into the pocket. She stood and turned to me with delight.
“Look, it went in!”
“Yes,” I smiled at her, guessing she didn’t have much success generally with pool.
“Let’s see…” She surveyed the table, then chose exactly the wrong ball and aimed it at exactly the wrong pocket.
“Let me—” I started to step in.
“I got it.” Talk to the hand. She held it up to me, telling me to back off. OK, then. I’d let her learn the hard way. She missed her shot. I made the next three of mine.
“Of course you’re good at pool.” She shook her head.
“Would you rather I were bad at it?”
“It would make you seem more human.”
“I’m bad at some things.”
“Like what?”
I thought for a moment. “Losing.”
She burst out laughing. Apparently my arrogance tickled her. “Why, what are you bad at?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? All kinds of things.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not going to tell you. You’re the enemy.”
I nodded, respecting her attempt at caginess. Not that she stood a chance against me. I didn’t want the game to end too quickly, so I used my next shot to line one up for her.
“If I’m really the enemy, would I be helping you with your next shot like this?” I took her hand in mine and led her down to the corner where a striped ball sat just waiting for her cue stick. “Or like this?” I guided her, helping her lean over, my hand firm on her lower back, wrapping our fingers along the cue stick. Running my fingers along hers, trailing my palm slowly along her hip, brushing my cheek against hers as I leaned next to her to talk strategy.
“You see that purple ball down there?” I raised my arm to point, standing behind her, my leg strong in between hers. I could feel her breathing, her rapid intake, her pulse pounding. “You want to spread your legs apart a little more,” I whispered into her ear, coaxing her feet apart with my large foot. “There,” I stroked her arm teasingly as she opened her legs. “That’s good.”
“I think I…” She cleared her throat, struggling. “I’ve got it from here, thanks.” I took a couple of steps back. I preferred her pressed up against my groin, but there were benefits to standing where I could watch her ass with a good view.
So she had a Fifty Shades thing, did she? I didn’t need her friend to tell me that. I could feel it in her response to me, how much she liked my guidance. Her whole body sang to my touch, yearned for it. She’d like stripping down for me, assuming a position that allowed me full reign to stroke her pleasure. I’d treat her right.
My phone rang, one of the few numbers allowed to buzz through. My plane was ready. I told him I needed another hour.
The meeting I had in Palo Alto was an important one. Millions hung in the balance. Like all of my meetings.
But Caroline looked up, a shy smile playing on her soft, plump lips, her large breasts straining against her fitted T-shirt, and I knew one thing for damn sure. I wasn’t getting on any plane tonight without first having felt her wrapped in my arms.
CHAPTER 4
Caroline
I couldn’t believe it. What the hell was Colton Kavanaugh doing at Roy’s bar? I mean, he was the sexiest thing I’d ever laid eyes on, at Roy’s or anywhere else. He gave new meaning to the word smoldering. But walking in and seeing him was a little like finding a real diamond washed up on the shore of a beach. Not that he was like a diamond or anything. That analogy shouldn’t have occurred to me.
My plan had been to slink into a corner, have a beer or two, then excuse myself early and leave the hardcore partying to Hannah as usual. She never had a problem finding a ride home, whether it was to her place or someone else’s.
But Hannah ruined my plans within a matter of minutes, not only approaching him but busting me big time. How could she tell him I had a thing for Christian Grey! I mean, not that I was alone in that. Hello, bestselling blockbuster. But I could tell this guy had a big enough ego already. He didn’t need to add me to his long roster of conquests.
Even if a growing part of me really, really wanted exactly that.
The way he touched me as we played pool. So sure and commanding, guiding my hand, my waist, my hips. When he told me to spread my legs? I swear, my panties just about melted. Which was a bad thing for many, many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that I had to face off against him at a meeting the next morning, telling him exactly why he could not and would not be building a resort on our coastline. I was going to have a difficult enough time pronouncing all my new vocabulary words as it was. I didn’t need to fan the flames of this overwhelming attraction and make things worse.
After missing my shot, I stood and faced him. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?” He was the head of some kind of mega industrial billion-dollar complex. What was he doing hanging out in a dive bar playing pool with me?
“Trying to get rid of me?” With an arched eyebrow, he gave me a lopsided smile that did nothing at all to strengthen my resolve.
“Didn’t you say you’re flying somewhere?” I tried again. “What time does your plane leave?”
“It leaves when I tell it to.”
“Oh, of course, you have a private plane.” I nodded, trying to make his rich guy arrogance turn me off instead of make my panties wet. Good luck with that. “Do you do that with the sun, too? Like, if you’re hungover, tell it to rise a little later?”
“You think I’m so powerful,” he teased, leaning over to make a masterful shot. Perfect execution, a strong thrust and he made that ball go right into the pocket. Deep. Why did everything feel so sexual around him? Walking over to his drink sitting on a shelf, he brushed his hand along my lower back. I reached out to steady myself on the pool table.
“So what do you do when you’re not chained to fences?” he asked. “Although that is how I like to picture you.” His gaze swept down my curves.
“I do very important things,” I assured him, turning to take a sip of my beer. I needed to cool down.
“I’m sure you do.”
“I’m a CEO, too, you know.” I turned to face him again. Mistake. That strong jaw, those ice-blue eyes, the confidence in his stature. It was easier talking to him when I looked away.
“Of?”
“I run a bakery,” I told the pool table.
“Is that right?”
Why did he sound impressed? Cool mockery would have helped me dismiss him more easily. But instead he sounded like he thought it was interesting.
“What do you bake?”
“Oh, all kinds of things. Breads, muffins, scones, I love changing up the menu.” I always got animated talking about my passion, and I lost my self-consciousness as I warmed to my favorite topic. “I’m adding in more pastries, but it’s so tricky to get that light, flakey texture just right. Sometimes I’ll make a batch and
they turn out too heavy and I have to throw them out. But when you get it right they’re so warm and buttery they just…”
“Melt in your mouth?” He’d stepped in closer and now he gazed directly at my lips as he spoke.
I swallowed, my stream of words suddenly stopped.
“I’d love to try something sweet of yours. I bet it would taste delicious.”
Oh no, there my stomach went again with a flip and a lurch and I kind of needed to fan myself but that wouldn’t be too subtle. I looked down, to the side, away but I could still feel his closeness, the heat radiating off of him. His lips were so freaking sexy, full yet masculine at the same time. I’d enjoy sharing a sweet treat with him. Even if we just stuck to baked goods, there was still all kinds of potential. Pastries done right were a little bit messy, with stray flakes and crumbs. If I gave him a croissant, I might have to help him out, lick him right at the corner of his mouth.
He reached his hand down to my waist, stroking me there, the heat of his palm searing through my thin shirt. I drew in my breath. And tried to talk some sense into the situation.
“But I won’t have a bakery any more if you tear it down. It’s in the area where you want to build a parking lot. The store where my friend, Hannah, works is there, too.”