Read Online Playing For Keeps by Dani Weston - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dani Weston
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in pristine, antiseptic, black and white. The room was defined by the floor to ceiling windows along an entire wall. I went up to the glass and looked out. Below, a rocky valley fell away, while ocean waves crashed against cliff rocks in the distance.
“I love this view,” I said.
He stood beside me and looked out, too, as though seeing it for the first time.
“Something just moved. Right there. See it?”
He pointed to a fat, gray object below. We watched for a few silent moments, until the object moved again, slipping into the water. A second blob followed.
“Sea lions.” I grinned. “Playing. They’re up and down the coast.”
“I didn’t even know they were out there.” Kevin moved back and indicated one of the couches. “Sit down and get comfortable. You like red wine?”
“Yeah.”
Kevin disappeared and I sunk into one of his overstuffed sofas. All alone, the room felt huge and impersonal. I stood again, searching the walls and little side tables for evidence of Kevin: his life, his family, anything. But there was nothing that felt intimate. Real. Knick-knacks and frames that hadn’t had the default photo swapped out of them, yet. I felt like too much of a voyeuristic creep to keep searching, so I sat again. But there was too much silence, too much space, and my thoughts ran away to places they shouldn’t have.
The face of his ex-girlfriend, Julia Wood, Bea had told me, flashed in my mind. She was gorgeous. A flawless face. Legs for miles. An incredible actress. Did she know the secrets of Kevin’s house? Had he been, maybe, more at home at her place? What did I have to offer Kevin that someone as perfect as Julia couldn’t?
I felt in over my head.
I dashed the feeling away. It didn’t matter. I was here, now. He wanted me here. I longed for him to kiss me bigger than he had our first time together. To put his hands over all the parts of my body screaming for his attention. I wanted to remind myself what those shoulders would feel like under my fingers, naked, hot to the touch.
I couldn’t sit still any longer. How much time did it take to pour a glass of wine? I rose, walking in the direction Kevin had gone, ignoring the array of closed doors. The house was big enough for a dozen people. Strange that only one lived here, and not very often, at that.
Finally, a drawer was slammed and I followed the sound, coming upon a massive kitchen. I paused in the entrance, watching Kevin rifle through a cupboard.
“Hey.”
He looked up, sheepishly. “I can’t find the bottle opener.”
There went my heart, again. Thump, thump, ache. “I’ll help.”
We searched the kitchen. When Kevin reached for the same handle as me, I grabbed a spatula from the last drawer I’d searched and playfully swatted his wrist. He laughed. Grabbed a whisk. Held it up with a twinkle in his eye.
“On garde.”
I stepped forward with some fancy footwork and he burst out laughing. “That’s not giving me any faith in your dancing skills.”
“Ah!” I gasped. Then bonked him on the head. “Take it back!”
He smoothly twisted away from me and rattled the whisk over his head. “You’re going to have to prove me wrong.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to make me want to dance, then.”
He dropped the whisk. Grabbed my waist in one, swift movement and hauled me onto the counter. The smile slid from his face.
“I plan to make you dance. And squirm.”
My chest rose and fell, slowly. He kissed me, and all our playing and teasing morphed into something else. A hunger.
“May I undress you?” he asked.
“Here?”
“Here.”
I hesitated. But it wasn’t as though I didn’t want to peel off these layers of fabric for him. It wasn’t as though the entire car ride here, with the warm air and the way we looked at one another, hadn’t been a delicious, lingering kind of foreplay where breaths were like fingers over face and neck and bodice. Even his simple question was heady with desire.
I
“I love this view,” I said.
He stood beside me and looked out, too, as though seeing it for the first time.
“Something just moved. Right there. See it?”
He pointed to a fat, gray object below. We watched for a few silent moments, until the object moved again, slipping into the water. A second blob followed.
“Sea lions.” I grinned. “Playing. They’re up and down the coast.”
“I didn’t even know they were out there.” Kevin moved back and indicated one of the couches. “Sit down and get comfortable. You like red wine?”
“Yeah.”
Kevin disappeared and I sunk into one of his overstuffed sofas. All alone, the room felt huge and impersonal. I stood again, searching the walls and little side tables for evidence of Kevin: his life, his family, anything. But there was nothing that felt intimate. Real. Knick-knacks and frames that hadn’t had the default photo swapped out of them, yet. I felt like too much of a voyeuristic creep to keep searching, so I sat again. But there was too much silence, too much space, and my thoughts ran away to places they shouldn’t have.
The face of his ex-girlfriend, Julia Wood, Bea had told me, flashed in my mind. She was gorgeous. A flawless face. Legs for miles. An incredible actress. Did she know the secrets of Kevin’s house? Had he been, maybe, more at home at her place? What did I have to offer Kevin that someone as perfect as Julia couldn’t?
I felt in over my head.
I dashed the feeling away. It didn’t matter. I was here, now. He wanted me here. I longed for him to kiss me bigger than he had our first time together. To put his hands over all the parts of my body screaming for his attention. I wanted to remind myself what those shoulders would feel like under my fingers, naked, hot to the touch.
I couldn’t sit still any longer. How much time did it take to pour a glass of wine? I rose, walking in the direction Kevin had gone, ignoring the array of closed doors. The house was big enough for a dozen people. Strange that only one lived here, and not very often, at that.
Finally, a drawer was slammed and I followed the sound, coming upon a massive kitchen. I paused in the entrance, watching Kevin rifle through a cupboard.
“Hey.”
He looked up, sheepishly. “I can’t find the bottle opener.”
There went my heart, again. Thump, thump, ache. “I’ll help.”
We searched the kitchen. When Kevin reached for the same handle as me, I grabbed a spatula from the last drawer I’d searched and playfully swatted his wrist. He laughed. Grabbed a whisk. Held it up with a twinkle in his eye.
“On garde.”
I stepped forward with some fancy footwork and he burst out laughing. “That’s not giving me any faith in your dancing skills.”
“Ah!” I gasped. Then bonked him on the head. “Take it back!”
He smoothly twisted away from me and rattled the whisk over his head. “You’re going to have to prove me wrong.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to make me want to dance, then.”
He dropped the whisk. Grabbed my waist in one, swift movement and hauled me onto the counter. The smile slid from his face.
“I plan to make you dance. And squirm.”
My chest rose and fell, slowly. He kissed me, and all our playing and teasing morphed into something else. A hunger.
“May I undress you?” he asked.
“Here?”
“Here.”
I hesitated. But it wasn’t as though I didn’t want to peel off these layers of fabric for him. It wasn’t as though the entire car ride here, with the warm air and the way we looked at one another, hadn’t been a delicious, lingering kind of foreplay where breaths were like fingers over face and neck and bodice. Even his simple question was heady with desire.
I
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