Читать книгу Time Out & Body Check - Эль Кеннеди, Jill Shalvis - Страница 14

THE SECOND MARK leaned into her, his hard body coming into contact with her own, Rainey knew she was in trouble. Her nipples immediately tightened into two beads against her soft top. But that was before his leg slid between hers, spreading her wide, his thigh rubbing against her core.

She wanted him.

She’d always wanted him.

Not yours, she told herself even as she clung to him. He’s not yours and doesn’t want to be. He’s unattainable, unavailable… But he was clearly as aroused as she was, and that felt good. She turned him on, and being with him like this was the closest she’d get to what she might really want from him.

He shifted his thigh, rubbed it against her, and she let out a shockingly needy whimper. His lips grazed her earlobe, his breath hot along her skin, and a rush of heat shot through her. “Mark,” she choked out as his fingers slid beneath her skirt to palm her bottom. It was all she could do not to wrap her legs around his waist and beg him to get inside her now, now, now, and she mindlessly thrust her hips against his. “Please,” she gasped.

“Anything.” He held her against the door, his mouth sliding down her throat and over her collarbone, tugging her shirt aside to make room for himself. “Whatever you want, Rainey. Just tell me, it’s yours.” His hand slid beneath her top and cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple until she quivered. “Do you want me to touch you like this? Do you want my mouth on you? What?”

“Yes.” To all of it.

He tugged her shirt and her bra aside and drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking until she cried out. Lifting his head, he blew a soft breath over her wet flesh and she shivered in anticipation.

“What else, Rainey. What else do you want?”

“Everything,” she gasped. “I want everything.”

“Here? Now?”

“Here. Now. Right now.”

He yanked her skirt up to her waist and her panties down to her knees. In complete contrast, his hand slid slowly up her inner thigh, taking its sweet time so that she was mindlessly rocking her hips, anticipating the touch long before his finger traced her folds. “Mmm, wet,” he murmured, his mouth moving along her shoulder back to her collarbone, which he grazed with his teeth.

“Mark.” She fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth to hers, her entire world anchored on his finger. When it slid inside her, she thunked her head back against the door and panted. Then his thumb brushed her in a slow circle.

She cried out against his lips, arching into him, yanking his hair. She couldn’t help it. She was going up in flames. He merely pressed her hard to the door, locking her in place. Continuing the torture, he added another finger. She came hard and fast, the power of it sweeping over her like a tidal wave. And because he kept stroking, the aftershocks didn’t fade away, but had her shuddering over and over….

“Christ, Rainey.” He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, tangled his tongue with hers. “You are so gorgeous when you come.”

All she could think about was him filling her, stretching her, making her come again. Her eyes flickered open and their gazes met. “In me,” she demanded. “Now, God, now.”

His eyes dilated black, filled with a staggering hunger…for her. She nearly stopped breathing. Instead she moved her hips against his, reveling in the feel of his muscles rippling beneath her touch. He’d pulled a condom from somewhere.

Thank God one of them could think.

After that, it was a blur of frenzied movements. She ripped his shirt off, he unzipped, and together they freed the essentials.

And oh God, the essentials…

It wasn’t enough for him. “Everything off,” he said, then lent his hands to the cause until she stood naked against the door. His gaze swept over her, hot and approving, as he lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me—There. God, yeah, like that—” His voice was a low command, caressing her as much as his hands. “Hold on to me.” Then his mouth crushed her own as he pushed her back against the door.

She threaded her hands into his hair as he thrust deep inside of her. He made a rough sound of sheer male pleasure, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as she rocked into him. Again he thrust, slowly at first, teasing until she was begging. It was glorious torment, hot and demanding, just like the man kissing her.

They moved together, her breasts brushing his chest, tightening her nipples. She could feel his muscles bunching and flexing with each thrust, sending shock waves of pleasure straight to her core. When she came again, it was with his name on her lips as she pulsed hard around him, over and over again, taking him with her.

Still holding her, still buried deep inside, Mark sank to his knees. He looked as stunned as she felt and something deep inside her constricted. She pulled free. He grimaced but let her go without a word.

She pulled on her panties and his shirt, then leaned back against the door, knees still weak.

Mark got to his feet and handled the necessities of condom disposal and readjustment of clothing.

She had a hard time looking away from him. His pants were riding low on his hips, and he looked dangerous and primed for another round. No, she told herself firmly. You may not have him again. Not without a discussion about what this was, and what this wasn’t, so that she didn’t get hurt. Her terms, or no terms.

“I think we need some ground rules, Mark.”

* * *

NO SHIT, MARK THOUGHT, still dazed.

“Rule number one. This—” She waggled her finger back and forth between them. “Happens only when and if I instigate it. If you do it, I might mistake it for something deeper and more emotional than it is. It’ll mess with my head, Mark.”

His gut hurt again. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her.

“Look,” she said, more softly. “I get that we’re stuck working together for the next month. We’re grown-ups, we’ll handle it. Right?”

He’d never in his life done less than handle anything that came his way. And he’d also never lost his ability to speak either, but he was having trouble now, so he nodded.

“Good,” she said, looking relieved that he’d agreed to her terms. Damn, Rainey, don’t give me yourself on a silver platter and ask for nothing in return....

“You should go now,” she said.

She was making things easy, giving him the exit strategy. He should be ecstatic. Instead, he stepped toward her to… Hell, he didn’t know. Hold her? Yeah, he wanted to hold her until the world stopped spinning.

But she gave a sharp jerk of her head and backed away.

Right. The rules. She was in charge of physical contact. Pretending that his legs weren’t still wobbling, he did as she wanted and walked out.

He’d walked away plenty of times before. It should have been a no-brainer. Hell, he should have been running, far and fast, with relief filling his veins. Except it wasn’t easy, and he felt no relief at all.

Plus, it was damn cold outside and she was still wearing his shirt.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY at lunch, Rainey and Lena sat in the small café across the street from the rec center, each inhaling a triple scoop ice cream sundae. Officially, it was a meeting about the upcoming charity auction. Unofficially, it was a discussion on their favorite topic. Men.

Specifically Mark.

“I’m surprised you didn’t make me share a sundae with you,” Lena said around a huge bite. “Usually you only allow yourself a single scoop.”

“It’s an entire sundae sort of day.” Rainey ate one of the two cherries from the top. “It’s got cherries on it so it’s practically a fruit salad.”

Lena grinned. “You know what I don’t get? Why you aren’t singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ I mean, you got lucky last night. Damn lucky by the looks of you.”

Yeah, she had. It’d been everything she thought it would be, too.

And more. “I can’t believe I slept with him. He chased off my date and I still got naked with him.”

“Look, you can’t blame yourself. The guy’s got serious charisma. He’s a walking fantasy. And you were past due.” Lena paused. “Rick says you two have been past due for fourteen years.”

“Rick? You talked to Rick about us?”

“Everyone’s talking about you two.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Rainey, maybe because yesterday afternoon after the staff meeting you pulled Mark into the storage closet in the main hallway. And then today you come into work with that glow.”

Rainey ate the other cherry and slumped in her seat.

Lena grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

“No. Not fun. He’s not my type.”

“Right. Because he’s not a fixer-upper,” Lena said. “You like the fixer-uppers so you can eventually let go of them for not being The One.”

“Are you saying that Mark is perfect as is?”

“Mark is oh-boy-howdy perfect,” Lena said.

“No, he’s not. He’s bossy and domineering, and way too alpha.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Lena said dreamily. “I bet he likes to be in charge. Especially in bed, right?”

Rainey felt her cheeks go hot. They hadn’t made it to a bed.... “You’re as impossible as he is.”

Lena laughed and scooped up a big bite of ice cream, moaning in pleasure. “Some things just need to be appreciated for what they are, even the imperfect things. Like men. Hell, Rain. You accept the kids at the center every single day, just as is. Why not a man?”

Rainey stopped in the act of stuffing her face with a huge spoonful of ice cream and stared at Lena. Most of the time Lena’s comments were sarcastic, but once in a while she said something so perfect it was shocking. “How did you get so wise?”

“Practice,” Lena said. “And lots of kissing frogs before I found my prince. And you know what else? I think you found yours.”

“I’m not going for Mark, Lena.” It was a terrible idea.

Terribly appealing…

She’d once read an article about him that said his talent in coaching came from the fact that he didn’t so much inspire awe as he discouraged comfort.

She knew that to be true. Her comfort level was definitely at risk when he was around.

* * *

THAT AFTERNOON AFTER working on the construction site, Mark gathered his team on the bleachers and looked them over. Twelve teenage girls, with more attitude than his million-dollar players combined.

Casey and James had their team on the far field. Boys. Boys who could really play, by the looks of them. How the hell his in-the-doghouse players had ended up with the easier task was beyond him.

Okay, he knew what had happened.

Rainey had happened.

And he knew no matter what the girls dished out, last night had been worth every minute.

His team wore a variety of outfits from short shorts that were better suited to pole dancing to basketball shorts so big they couldn’t possibly stay up while the girls were running bases. Shirts ranged from oversized T-shirts that hung past the shorts to teeny tiny tank tops or snug tees. “First up,” he said. “Everyone back to the locker room to change into appropriate gear.”

No one moved.

“Ladies, I just gave you a direct order. Not obeying a direct order will get you personally acquainted with push-ups.”

“We’re already dressed out,” one of them said, and when he gave her a long look, she added, “Coach, sir.”

“Just Coach,” he said, and went to the large duffle bag he’d brought with him. It was the warm-up T-shirts, shorts, and practice jerseys he’d had over-nighted. He had new equipment as well; bats, batting helmets, gloves… He handed the clothing out, then waited for them to run back to the building. Instead, they all stripped and dressed right there. “Jesus,” he muttered, slamming his eyes shut. “Some warning!”

“Hey, we’re covered,” Sharee called out. “We’re all in sports bras and spandex.”

“From now on,” he grated out, “you change inside. Always.”

“Prude,” someone muttered, probably Sharee.

Prude his ass, but swallowing the irony, he risked a peek and found them all suitably dressed. “Ground rules,” he said. Now he sounded as anal as Rainey. “No ripping or cutting the sleeves off, no tying the shirts up high, no bras showing, and all shirts need to be neatly tucked in. And no sagging. There will be no asses on my field.”

“We’re not allowed to say asses.” The timid voice belonged to the same girl who called him sir. “We’re not supposed to swear.”

Mark slid her a look. “Pepper, right?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

“Well, Pepper. No swearing is a good rule. Tuck your shirts in.”

More grumbling, but there was a flurry of movement as they obeyed. So far so good. “I want to see how you hit,” Mark said. “Later, I’ll get someone out here to videotape you so we can analyze your swing. We’ll get stats both on you and also on the teams we’re going to be playing so we can strategize, not just for your season but for the big fundraising game between us and Santa Barbara.”

They were all just staring at him, mouths agape. Pepper raised her hand.

“Yes, Pepper.”

“We don’t have a video camera. Or stats.”

“You have them now,” Mark said.

“We’re going to play Santa Barbara?” someone asked.

“We’re going to beat Santa Barbara,” he said. “The boys’ teams too.” He pulled a clipboard from his duffle bag. “Come on, move your asses—” Shit. “Butts. Move your butts in close so you can see.”

“You need a swear jar,” one of the girls said to him. “By the end of the season, you could probably take us all out to dinner.”

There were some giggles at this, and he looked at the amused faces. “How about this,” he said. “I’ll put a buck into a swear jar every time I swear, and you ladies have to put in a quarter every time you don’t give me your all. Deal?”

“Deal,” they said.

Mark spent the next twenty minutes outlining what he wanted to see, and then lined them up for drills. He started with them quick-catching the pop flies he sent out. Or theoretically quick-catching, because he didn’t have much “quick” on his team. Three of the twelve could catch. Well, four if you counted Pepper, who tended to catch the balls with her shins, which made him doubly glad he’d brought shin guards. He had five or six who could hit, and a bunch more who tended to keep their eyes closed.

And then there was Sharee, who’d already dropped and given him push-ups for being rude and obnoxious to her teammates.

Twice.

He put them out in the field for field practice next. “Wait for your pitch,” he told the first girl up. “Take two, then hit to the right.”

“Huh?”

“Sharee’s pitching, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. So?”

“So she gives it her best from the beginning, but she’s only got two good ones in her.”

“Hey,” Sharee said from the mound. “I can hear you.”

“Good. Learn from it.” Mark turned back to the batter. “Take the third pitch and hit to the right.”

“Why the right?”

He gestured to their first baseman and right fielder, both engaged in a discussion on what their plans were for the night. “They’re not even looking at you. If you get any ball at all, you’ll get all the way to second.”

Which was exactly what happened.

Sharee threw down her glove in disgust.

“There’s no temper tantrums in the big leagues,” Mark told her. Which was a lie. There were plenty of tantrums in the big leagues, all of them, and you only had to watch ESPN to see them. “Here’s a strategy for you, too. Watch the signs from your catcher instead of winging it. She’ll be getting a signal from me on which pitch to throw. If you listen,” he added as she opened her mouth to object, “you’ll be a great pitcher. I can promise you that.”

“And if I don’t listen?”

“Then I’ll bench you and put in Pepper.”

Pepper squeaked, and he smiled at her. “You have an arm and you know it. You start practicing more, and you’ll be ready to pitch at the game this weekend.”

“I’m pitching at the game,” Sharee said.

“Maybe. If you listen.”

“Hmph.”

At the end of practice, Mark gathered the girls in and looked them over. Bedraggled and hot and sweaty. “Decent effort,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They all made their way toward the building. He turned to gather his gear and found Rainey sitting on the bleachers, watching him.