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Time Out Page 19
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ear. Taking the lobe lightly in his teeth, he tugged.
She clutched at him, the bones in her knees vanishing. “Mark.”
“I have something I want to show you.”
“I know,” she said, feeling his erection press into her belly.
He snorted. “Not that. Come on, let’s go.”
Easier said than done. The parking lot was mobbed by everyone trying to leave the auction.
“Excuse me, Mark Diego!”
They both turned and faced two guys in their early twenties, carrying cameras that flashed brightly in their faces.
Rainey grimaced and covered her eyes.
Mark didn’t so much as flinch, but grabbed Rainey’s hand and kept them moving.
“Sorry about the Stanley Cup, man,” one of them said, keeping pace. “Is this your girlfriend? What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Rainey opened her mouth but Mark spoke up. “No comment,” he said, and walked her toward his truck so fast she could barely keep up, damn her four-inch heels. Mark opened the passenger side door for her, then stood practically on top of her as she attempted to get in. But his truck was high and her little black dress was short. And snug. “Back up,” she said. “I need some room for this.”
“Babe, I’m the only thing blocking the money shot.”
Rainey realized he was right. Without his protection, the photographers could get a picture of her crotch.
“It’s either me or them,” he said. “And somehow I think you’d rather it be me than the entire free world.”
“Fine. But don’t look.”
“I won’t,” he said as she slid in, and he totally looked.
“Hey!”
She caught his quick, bad boy grin before he shut the truck door, locking her inside.
MARK DROVE RAINEY up the highway a few miles, into the burned-out area of the county, nerves eating at his gut. He was more nervous now than he’d been at the finals. When he turned off the paved road and onto what was little more than a field of dirt, he stopped the truck and got out, walking around for Rainey.
She eyed the large trailer in front of them. “What’s this?”
Saying nothing, he unlocked the trailer and led her inside and hit the light switch.
Rainey looked around at the office equipment and architectural plans spread across one of the desks. “Mark?”
“Look out there.” Heart pounding, he pointed to the window as he flicked another switch and the land on the other side of the trailer lit up. “That’s where it’ll go.”
She moved to the window and stood highlighted there in her little black dress and heels, the elegance of her outfit clashing with her hair, which was trailing out of the twist she’d had it in, brushing her shoulders and neck. “Where what will go?” she asked, pressing her nose to the glass.
“The new parks and rec center.”
She turned and looked at him, eyes shocked. “What?”
“Yeah, I bought and donated this land to the rec center. By this same time next year you’ll be in your new office.”
She stared at him for a long beat. “Did you do this so I’d sleep with you again?”
“Is that even a possibility?”
She just stared at him some more, taking a page out of his own play book with a damn good game face.
“No,” she said, her eyes on his mouth. “I’m not going to sleep with you again.”
He went icy cold and couldn’t breathe. “No?”
“No. Sleeping with you is what went wrong. Sleeping with you makes me want more than you can give.”
He let out a breath and nodded. He understood but it felt like he’d just taken a full body hit.
“But,” she said, taking a step closer to him, “the not sleeping part—that works for me.” She was breathing a little hard and her nipples were pebbled against that mouthwatering black dress.
He wanted to strip her out of it and leave her in just the hot heels, but she was throwing more than a little ’tude, and the shoes might be detrimental to his health. Nope, it all had to go, everything, leaving her gloriously naked. Then his gaze locked on the pulse frantically beating at the base of her neck and he knew he wasn’t alone. Reaching out, he cupped her throat, his thumb brushing over the spot. She was flushed, and the low cut of her dress was affording him a view that made his mouth water.
“Does it work for you?” she asked.
“Hell, yes.”
14
THE WORDS WEREN’T out of Mark’s mouth before Rainey pretty much flung herself at him. She couldn’t help it, there wasn’t a woman in all the land who could have helped it.
He caught her. Of course he caught her. He always caught whatever was thrown at him, but he was also protective and warm and caring, and had the biggest heart of anyone she’d ever known. She backed him to the waist-high window she’d just been staring out and kissed him, long and deep, and when his hands came up to hold her, a rough groan vibrating from his chest, she tore her mouth free to kiss his throat while she pushed his jacket off his broad shoulders. He tossed it aside while she worked open the buttons on his shirt. Clearly relishing her touch, he held himself still, his hands tight on her arms, as if it was costing him to give her the reins.
But when she licked his nipple, he appeared to lose his tenuous grip. He whipped her around so that she was against the window now, the wood sill pressing into the small of her back. His eyes were dark, scorching, and as his hands skimmed up her thighs, bringing the material of her dress with them, she shivered, a flash of excitement going through her.
“Hold this,” he commanded, peeling her hands from his shoulders, forcing her to hold her dress bunched at her waist.
“I’m in the window!”
“No one’s here. You’re so beautiful, Rainey.”
Her stomach quivered, and she was glad she’d worn her sexiest black silky thong. “It’s the dress.”
“Mmmm.” His eyes ran up the shimmery material she was holding at her waist, at her panties, and darkened. “Love the dress.”
“And the heels. It’s the heels, too.”
He ran a hand over the delicate ankle strap and hummed another agreement. “Definitely love the heels.”
“And—”
“Rainey.”
“Yeah?”
He smiled that wicked smile again and kissed her, then cupped her face and said against her mouth, “It’s you. It’s all you. I’m going to take you here.”
“Here?”
“Here.” That said, he dropped to his knees and put a big hand on each of her thighs, pushing her legs apart.
“Um, the window—”
He kissed her hipbone.
“I—” God, she couldn’t remember what she’d wanted to say.
He skimmed his fingers up her legs, playing with the tiny strings on her hips.
“Oh,” she breathed, when his mouth brushed from one hip to the other, low on her belly, just above the material of her thong.
“So pretty.” He stroked over the wet silk.
“But this was supposed to be your pleasure—ohmigod,” she gasped when he nipped her skin, catching the silk in his teeth and very slowly tugging. “Mark—”
“Hmm?”
She started to drop the hem of her dress but he covered her hands with his, indicating he wanted her to keep it out of his way.
Then he let his fingers take over the task of pulling the thong down to midthigh, groaning at the sight he’d unveiled for himself. “Trust me, Rainey. This is my pleasure.”
Acutely aware of the glass at her back, she tried to squeeze her legs together but he was on his knees between them. “Someone could come.”
“Yes, and that someone’s going to be you.”
Oh, God. He sent her a wicked smile. His hands, still on her hips, spread wide, allowing his thumbs to meet, glancing over her center.
Her head hit the glass. She was already panting. “But…”
Another slow, purposeful stroke of his