Player's Challenge Read online

  “Oww! Why’d you hit me?”

  Gemma jabbed her index finger into the tattoo. “For this.”

  “I’d thought you’d be pleased by my commitment.”

  He winked at her, but Gemma wasn’t placated. ‘I would have, if I’d known,” she said in a huff.

  “I tried reaching out to you.”

  “Well, you didn’t try hard enough.” Gemma had no idea why she was getting so angry but she had a very good inkling, most of it was self-directed. To think, she’d spent almost a decade feeling rejected and wronged when she had no reason to be.

  Sitting up, Devin cupped her face. Gaze intent, he looked into her eyes for the longest moment, and then he said, “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “You’re doing it again. You’re trying to shut me out.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. “And this time, I’m not going to let you.”

  Gemma blinked up at him. His tone hinted at something more permanent. Fearing she was reading more into it, she asked, “What do you want from me, Devin?”

  “I want everything.”

  Gemma snorted. “Unrealistic.”

  His hand curled around the nape of her neck and an arm banded around the small of her back. He pulled her onto his lap, so she straddled him. “Only if you let it.” He eased her up onto her knees so her cleft hovered over his cock, which was beginning to become hard again.

  “Your contract makes it impossible.”

  “I’ll simply back out of it.”

  “Not a smart business move.” Gemma tapped his nose. “For one, no other agent is going to touch you and your drama with a ten foot pole. And two, if you do find another agent, you’ll still have to pay Yvonne ten percent of your earnings.”

  “So, I’m your dirty little secret?”

  “Well, that depends.” Gemma slid her hands between their bodies and palmed his cock. She shifted her hips, so the head slid inside her a fractional degree. “Can you keep a secret and be dirty at the same time?”

  “I think the best way is to prove it to you.”

  Eye-to-eye, cocooned in an intimate bubble, for Devin and Gemma the rest of the world faded into the background.

  “Take me in you,” he lazily said, his voice acerbic in its authority despite its honeyed tone.

  Thrilled by the softly worded order, Gemma buckled her knees and slowly lowered herself onto him. As usual a rush blazed through her veins. His size was intoxicating. His readiness tantalizing. She settled onto his lap, and gasped. Despite their copious couplings, it took some effort to take him in.

  “You’d think I’d be used to this…” She softly sighed, her hips rotating, drawing him deeper.

  “We’re happy you haven’t given up on us,” he said with a sexy quirk of his lips, and her vagina responded with a throbbing tremor.

  “We felt that.” His hands spanned her waist, glided upward to cup her breasts. “And we want you to do it again.”

  Gemma dangled on a tremulous thread of anticipation. In no time, he’d re-discovered her weak spot and how he could make her come from just sucking on them. As if the news had been instantly delivered from her feverish brain, her nipples swelled. He brought her right breast, the more erogenous of the pair, to his lips. The moment his mouth closed around her a mind-bending jolt ripped through her, from the tips of toes, to her roots and deep inside where Devin filled her.

  He nursed on her, and Gemma could feel herself open more, his cock sinking deeper as if he possessed some ancient Chinese secret. He was a Svengali at manipulating her body, wrangling her emotions and bringing her to climax. He knew when she wanted tenderness and not, taking her with a savageness that boggled the mind.

  “Now the other one.”

  Gemma squirmed. It was the one that always brought her to orgasm.

  “Be still,” he chastised. “Or I’ll think you want to come.”

  “I am,” she whispered in earnestness, nearly orgasmic, all her senses centered on her quivering core.

  His tongue flicked the nipple, teased it. And when he closed his mouth and sucked, a shuddering spasm hit her. And moments later, when he bit down, she exploded.

  Shaken, her climax so riveting and acutely intense, she clung to him. Eyes closed, sparks still detonating along her nerve endings, she struggled with her growing addiction to him. It was like they’d never been apart. All the emotions she’d experienced as a lovesick schoolgirl came bubbling to the surface.

  Should she tell him how she felt or keep her emotions close to heart? Were her feelings really true blue or were they simply the lingering effects of great sex? Were they strong enough to surmount the apparent obstacles and possible consequences?

  Gemma squeezed her eyes shut on an anguished moan. Suddenly overwhelmed, the afterglow quickly dissipated, and dragged her back to reality and other pressing.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  Devin flipped his wrist. “It’s three o’clock.”

  “Crap! I have a three o’clock meeting with Stuart Wirth.” She rolled off Devin’s lap, snatched up his t-shirt off the floor, then hustled over to the dining room table where she’d left her phone. She quickly dialed Stu.

  “Hey, darlin’,” Stuart Wirth’s thick Irish accent rumbled through the speaker phone. “Ya lef me hangin’.”

  Devin’s eyes narrowed at her. “Darlin’?”

  Gemma placed her finger over her lips, shushing him. “I’m so sorry, Stu,” she said affecting a smile in her voice. “I’ve been so swamped, I’m running a tad behind. Do you want to reschedule?”

  Stuart chuckled. “I’ll wait fer you, babe. I’ll be in London ova night, so I hav’ ah ton o’ time to kill.”

  Gemma sent up a silent thank you. As one of the highest paid and only rugby player on Top Flight’s roster in the Top 14, Stuart was a top priority. Gemma glanced at the screen on her cell phone and quickly calculated the time it would take to jump in the shower, get dressed and then drive to Central London.

  “I can meet you within the hour.”

  “Take yah time. Bring yah swimsuit. The weather’s lovely and the pool is callin’ my name.”

  “Sure thing, Stu. See you in a bit.”

  As soon as she hung up the phone, Devin pounced. “Was that Stuart Wirth of the Bristol Peregrines?” Dogging her heels, he followed her down the hallway.

  “Bingo! I meet with all my clients once a month. And every third Monday, I meet with Stu.”

  “Stu? Are you two on those kinds of terms? And what’s up with the swimming pool. Are you discussing business or working on your tan?”

  “I was already born with a beautiful tan,” Gemma said as she threw open the closet door. Taking the warmer weather in consideration, she decided on a khaki summer dress paired with comfortable ballet flats. After all the sex they’d had, she didn’t think she had the strength to teeter around London in a pair of heels.

  “Showing enough skin?” Devin asked as she laid the dress out on the bed. Still gloriously nude, he stood in the doorway to the guest bedroom.

  Gemma rolled her eyes. “It’s summer, Devin. Would you rather I wear a turtle neck?”

  “Yeah, I would. There’s just something I don’t trust about Wirth. That nasty divorce and all.”

  Gemma was sure Devin was worrying about more than some nasty divorce rumors. Possessed of a compact muscular body, which served him well on the rugby pitch, Stuart Wirth was in his prime. He was also panty-dropping gorgeous and unmarried.

  “Stu is a great guy, a true gentleman and he’s one of my favorite clients.” Thinking the conversation over, Gemma walked into the guest bathroom. She opened the shower stall door and pulled on the spigot, causing warm water to shoot over her hand. When she glanced over her shoulder, she caught Devin’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. Glowering, he looked none too happy about her meeting.

  Something had to give.

  Not quite sure how to broach the subject, without stepping on Devin’s toes or hurting his feelings, Ge
mma decided to tread lightly, “So…um…while I’m gone are you going to work out?”

  Visibly bristling, Devin crossed his arms. “Are you trying to get rid of me or see to it I’m properly occupied while you’re off schmoozing your client?”

  This wasn’t going in the direction she’d hoped. “Just making sure you won’t serendipitously pop up or text me a million times.”

  “Are you calling me a stalker?”

  Gemma slipped a plastic shower cap over her hair. “I’m not calling you anything, Devin. I want to make sure you understand Stuart Wirth is a client and nothing more. My involvement with him is purely professional. So there’s no need for you to be jealous.”

  “I guess I deserved that.” Chuckling, he raked his hands through his hair. “Thanks for talking me off the cliff.”

  “Anytime,” Gemma quipped. “Since we’ve shared a nice Clinton Card moment, I better get moving. I promised to meet Stu within the hour and I need to wash my twat. It’s been well-used by a certain someone.” When she started to close the door to the bathroom, Devin’s hand shot out.

  Gemma’s heart fluttered. No longer contrite, Devin wore the smile she’d grown to recognize whenever he was about to pounce. Even though she was still sore from his nonstop lovemaking, her clit tingled.

  “I have to meet Stu in sixty minutes,” she reminded him again.

  He ignored her as he pushed his way into the bathroom. “You’ll be there with time to spare,” he guaranteed as he shoved his hands beneath the hem of the t-shirt.

  Gemma opened her mouth to protest. His hands cupped her breasts, and all thoughts turned south to the fluttering ache between her legs.

  “There’s just no—”

  He encircled her waist and pulled her into him. A shiver skipped down her spine. Their bodies fit together as if made for each other. Still, she had a client waiting.

  “Please, Devin, I can—”

  Upping the ante, he buried his nose into the crook of her neck as he palmed her bare bum. After her breasts, it was one of the most sensitive areas on her body.

  “Can we make it quickie?”

  Devin pulled back. His green eyes glittered with devilment. “I’ll make you come in five minutes. You’ll be out the door in thirty.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Is someone joining us?”

  Gemma blinked at Stuart as if seeing him for the first time.

  “Hmmm…what…oh.”

  Unperturbed by her lack of attention, Stu smiled. Two dimples formed in his lean cheeks, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Handsome and charming, the Irish RFL player commanded a top salary from his club and pulled in millions in sports endorsements.

  “You keep lookin’ at the entrance.” He reached up and scratched the center of his chest. “I’m beginning to feel rathah insecure.”

  “I’m sorry, Stu.” Gemma plopped her chin in her hand. “You must think I’m a scatterbrain and unprofessional.”

  “No’ in tha least.” Stuart affected a serious expression, which she didn’t buy one bit. “You’re actin’ queer, but I still think you’re beautiful. Don’ you know I’m in luv with you.”

  Not buying his bullshit, Gemma eyes narrowed. “The only thing you love about me is I can squeeze every euro I can out of Bristol’s management.”

  “Tha, too.” Stuart grinned. “So…what’s the mun’s name?”

  Gemma stiffened. “W-why do you think my being absentminded has something to do with a man?”

  “It’s always a man wid a cailín like you.”

  “A cailin like me?” Bristling, Gemma sat forward. He was digging himself a hole.

  “You’re tha independent professional type, usually it’s all business with you.” He paused to take a long draught of his dark ale. “If the problem had something to do wit yer job, you’d quickly find a solution and move on. A mun you can’t control. So you’re stumped. I’m all ears if you want someone to talk to. You were there for me during my divorce, I’m here for you.”

  Over the past year, she and Stuart had bonded. Gemma was closer to him than any of her other clients. She’d even allowed him to bunk in her guest bedroom for almost two months after his estranged wife kicked him out of their flat.

  “I started seeing an ex-boyfriend. We haven’t been together since we we’re kids. A few weeks ago, we were reunited and then boom, things got all hot and heavy.”

  “This is gettin’ juicy.” Stuart sat forward, arms crossed, biceps stretching the short sleeves of his black t-shirt.

  “We’re so different, Stu. He’s a filthy rich playboy with women running after him. And I’m a nobody.”

  Stuart’s eyes widened. “He’s a fookin’ client.”

  How in the heck did he nail that one? Disconcerted, her hand rattled as she struggled to set the tea cup back down in its saucer. “W-why do you say that?”

  “‘Cause you’re about to break tha’ tea cup and you’re stuttering worse than bonny King George.” Chuckling, Stuart sat back and threaded his fingers behind his head. “Why didncha give me the time of day?”

  “Because you’re a client.”

  “And so is he.” Looking exasperated, Stuart ran a hand over his haircut. Barely an inch long, the military-style cut drew attention to his chiseled good looks.

  “Unlike you, I’ve known him since secondary school. He was my schoolgirl crush. My first. We haven’t spoken in years and then he just recently signed with us.”

  “You’re shagging Devin Spencer?”

  Crap! She’d put her foot in it for sure. Thinking he might terminate her as his agent, Gemma rushed to confirm her commitment. “This has no bearing on my performance, Stu. Nothing’s changed. Devin won’t receive any kind of preferential treatment over anyone else on my roster.”

  Stuart’s ink-black eyebrows furrowed, and all humor vanished from his expression. “Gem, e’s a right bad bastard,” he said, his already heavy Irish accent turning as thick as molasses. He reached across the table and took her hand. “I don’t believe everything the media says, but there’s always some truth in there somewhere. I ought to know. Trust me, I’m more concerned for you than my pockets.”

  Stuart wasn’t the only one with reservations. She was putting her career on the line for an unsure bet.

  “I’m a big girl and I think I can handle myself and this situation with Devin,” she said with more aplomb than she actually felt, “he and I have been down this road before and I survived.”

  “Oh, yeah? Answer me this…how long did it take you to get over him?”

  I never got over him. “Give or take a year.”

  “Yer mighty stronger than me. A year afta Shannon lef’ me for tha’ dunder head, Rooney, an’ my heart’s still achin’.”

  “Pure bullocks! Your heart’s not aching. It’s your bleedin’ pride.”

  “How could she leave me for my own teammate?”

  Gemma had no earthly idea. In her opinion, his estranged wife had downgraded. Oliver Rooney had a great body, which was a given with professional athletes, but his nose had been broken so many times, it sat at an odd angle. His eyes were always set in a perpetual squint. He started balding before the ripe old age of twenty-five, and several missing teeth had been filled in by a front partial that looked far from natural.

  “The heart wants what it wants, and there’s nothing we can do about it,” she said, offering up a lame excuse she’d once read on a coffee mug. Or was it a key chain?

  “Aye, I can’ disagree with tha’. ” Stu let her hand go and sat back.

  “You’ll be fine, Stu. It just takes time.” Okay, now she was pouring it on pretty thick for someone who could barely see the forest for the trees!

  “So what’s yer game plan this time ‘round?”

  “My game plan?”

  “If yer bumpin’ uglies with this wanker, yuv got to have a prettah decent game plan.”

  “One he’s not a wanker and two, why do I need a game plan?”

  Stu took a heavy pu
ll of his ale before answering. “Takin’ a page from yer book of quotes, ‘fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me’.”

  “I’ve gone into this with my eyes wide open, so you needn’t worry.”

  “I hope so. Back then you had a lot less to lose.”

  “Are we done with dragging my love life through the wringer?” Needing to change the subject, since her reality would probably turn into a cluster fuck of epic proportions, Gemma reached for the proposal from Right Tough. The ole’ granddaddy of plastic rubbish bags had recently contacted them to hire Stu as the product ambassador for a new line of eco-friendly bags.

  Stu tipped his head back. In one easy gulp, he downed the rest of his drink. “Aye, I am,” he drawled, setting the empty pilsner glass aside, “let’s talk about my favorite subject…monay.”

  For the rest of their meeting, Gemma coasted on autopilot. To a fault, her thoughts were centered on her love affair…this thing…this potential clusterfuck with Devin. The star rugby player was much smarter than he appeared because he’d nailed her present predicament on the head. Despite all her reassurances, she hadn’t thought this thing through. And she definitely didn’t have a game plan, a strategy for preventing another broken heart. Instead, she’d tumbled in feet first with her skirt over her head.

  Equally disconcerting, the end of the relationship still caused her a measure of angst. So, how could she handle their present when their past hadn’t been fully resolved?

  ***

  Devin tore into his flat. He hustled down the entryway hopping out of his steel-toed Timberlands along the way. He flounced in his favorite club chair and kicked back, resting his feet on the matching ottoman. Still preoccupied with the afternoon’s reconnaissance, it took him a moment to realize he was staring at a blank TV screen.

  Where the heck was the remote? Frantic, he scanned the area around him for the state-of-the-art tablet that controlled the TV, surround sound system, and the lights. He looked over the side and a sharp pain shot up his hip. He lifted up slightly and grinned. If the tablet had been a poisonous snake, he’d be dead. Thinking he was out of the woods, he powered on the television just as Gemma walked through the front door.