Playing with Trouble - Amy Andrews Page 0,78

wanted him inside her.

“Hauser decides to make a break for the try line.” His fingers left her nipples, heading south, bumping over the dips of her ribcage. “It’s clear midfield.” His fingers trekked to her belly button, slowly circling. “Looks like he has a straight run.”

Jane’s pulse fluttered madly as Cole’s fingers moved lower and lower, brushing the band of her bikini bottoms. The scene on the shoreline went a little hazy as his fingers breached the band.

“He’s stepped over the line. He’s well in the deep now.” She gasped as his fingers furrowed between her legs, where she was hot and slick and needy. “Oh yesss, baby.” He breathed it into her ear, his voice slipping to Cole the man as he found the hard knot of nerves he’d been seeking.

“Touchdown,” he muttered, slipping back into his professional commentator voice. Jane cried out; she couldn’t stop it, and he grunted a little as if he, too, was having difficulty keeping it together before saying, “And the crowd goes wild.”

If Jane hadn’t been so damn close to coming, she’d have probably laughed, but his fingers were working her so damn good, and all she could do was press her arms hard into the boards of the pier to stop herself from sinking down into the lake on a wave of boneless pleasure.

“The ground’s really soaked now,” Cole continued as he rubbed her clitoris, and Jane thought she might just pass out. “Everything’s slick and slippery, but Hauser has the safest hands in the business and does his best work in the wet.”

He rubbed harder, and even though she was pretty far gone, with every muscle in her pelvis and thighs and ass pulling tight, Jane could tell Cole was also losing his professional focus.

“There’s nothing he likes more than a good maul.” His voice was hella husky, and he was going to need to work on his breathing if he was serious about television. “Unless it’s a good ruck.”

Jane didn’t understand what any of that meant, but she was barely focusing on the terminology, and, as two of his fingers slipped inside her, she came so hard it was completely secondary. Cutting the cry off somewhere at the back of her throat, Jane bucked against him silently, her teeth gritted and her jaw tight as air sucked noisily in and out of her nose, and he whispered, “Yes, baby, yes,” over and over in her ear, his fingers relentless between her legs.

Clamping down on her response to her orgasm was like trying to contain a mushroom cloud, forcing it sideways instead, intensifying it, pushing it to every nook and cranny and increasing the dissipation time so that it seemed to go on forever. Everything went hazy and blurry, the scene before her eyes twisting and bending like time itself was being warped, like she was actually leaving her body.

And when it did finally dissolve like smoke into thin air, she was left limp and weak and gasping like a newly landed fish. His fingers left her body at that point, his arm slipping around her waist as if he was worried about her ability to hold on. “I got you,” he whispered.

But it still took several more minutes for the world to right itself, for it to come back into focus, for her to come back to herself. “So…what do you think? Think I can cut it?” he asked, his lips nuzzling her temple.

Jane laughed shakily. “I’m not one for Monday-morning quarterbacking, but I think you’ll do.”

His low chuckle shivered across her skin as he removed his arm from the pier and the one around her waist. His body was still solid behind her as he tread water, his fingers reaching for the loose strings of her bikini top and retying them at her nape. Pressing a kiss there when he was done, he said, “Go get Finn.”

Jane looked over her shoulder at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

He groaned and said, “No,” and Jane belatedly realized her Freudian slip as the hardness behind her registered. “You go on. I’m going to need some extra time in this cold lake to calm down before I get out.”

Then he dropped another kiss on her nape before pushing away, striking out in a brisk freestyle. Jane smiled, already thinking about the ways she could run the play on him tonight.

Chapter Twelve

The next afternoon, Cole was out in the backyard with Finn, pushing him on the swing. “Higher, Cole, higher!”

Cole smiled and pushed the kid

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