The Player and the Pixie
Page 72

I choked, my eyes bulging. “Diamonds?”
“Yes. Diamonds.”
I glanced at the pendant, seeing it anew. Diamonds. What I’d assumed was a beautiful silver and crystal necklace was in fact something altogether different.
Staring at it, I realized its value changed its meaning. It felt heavier around my neck and in my fingers. Yet I didn’t love it more because it was expensive. I loved it just the same.
I let it drop to my chest over my clothes, gripping the bed again. “You shouldn’t have bought it for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too expensive.”
He shrugged, picking a piece of lint from his pants. “I actually enjoy buying things for the women in my life, taking an interest in their attire and purchases. Just ask my cousin Eilish, she’ll attest to it.”
Now I frowned. “You take your cousin shopping for clothes?”
“Not like that. Eilish is just nineteen. She’s like a younger sister to me.”
“Oh.”
“You might actually get to meet her tomorrow. I’m bringing her as my date to the wedding.”
This piece of information surprised me. In fact, it warmed my heart to think of Sean taking a little sister-type as his date.
It also relieved me. I wasn’t sure I could stand him showing up with some vajazzled, fame-obsessed parasite that cared nothing about Sean other than his celebrity status.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I said, my voice a little unsure.
“I can be incredibly sweet.”
I looked at the plush carpeted floor. “Can you?”
“You know I can, when I want to be.” A moment passed and Sean sighed. “What did you want to discuss, Lucy?”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop saying my name in that voice.”
“It’s the only voice I have.”
“You know what I mean. The sexy voice. Stop it.”
“I can’t help it if you find my voice sexy, or my arse, my mouth, teeth, tongue . . .”
I stood abruptly from the bed, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to count to ten to calm my racing pulse. Being this close to him and seeing all the vulnerability and longing and sex in his eyes was making me break out in a cold sweat.
Rubbing at my temples, I pleaded, “Don’t do this, Sean.”
My eyes were still closed when I felt a familiar heat close in around me. Sean had folded me into his arms, my face resting at his sternum. God, he was tall. And built. And warm. The unexpected relief of being this close to him was overwhelming. My throat grew tight and dry, while butterflies flitted around inside my stomach with wild abandon.
His hand massaged my shoulder before cascading down my back to the base of my spine. There he applied a slight pressure and I let out the tiniest moan. His arm that was still around me pulled tighter, and I felt a hardness start to grow at his mid-section. I trembled.
“I think of you all the time,” he said, mouth muffled where it rested against my hair. “You’re my first thought when I wake. During training, when I’m having dinner, driving home at the end of the day, every single time I get off.”
“Sean . . .”
“You, occupying all my thoughts, that’s not normal, Lucy. You said I’d forget. I haven’t. I can’t. And I don’t want to.”
I shivered again as he wielded my name like a nuclear weapon. “It’s the distance. You think about me all the time because you know you can’t have me.”
“There were so many weekends when I was just one click away from booking a flight to New York to see you. Just to see you. To talk, as we’ve been doing now. I want to be with you all the time.”
I couldn’t catch my breath, acute pain and longing piercing my heart.
“What would you have done?” he continued. “Would you have turned me away?”
His words made me melt and his hand at the base my spine lowered, cupping my arse and causing a breath to whoosh out of me. His fingers curled between my legs, brushing tantalizingly close to a spot that ached for him. I whimpered and he answered it with a rumbling growl.
“I love watching you come, the way you look. It’s branded into my mind. Please, let me make you come now.” His growl turned to a whisper.
“No,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard.
He groaned. “Why not?”
“Because we still need to talk.”
“We have been talking.”
This was crazy. Because it wasn’t the promise of sex. It wasn’t even really his words. It was how he said them. The adoration. The unmistakable vulnerability. Pining. Pleading. Promise.
Inhaling a deep breath for courage, I pushed away from him with shaking hands and went to sit on the bed again. When I looked at him his gaze was on fire, and I knew sitting here had been a bad choice. He was undressing me, stripping me with his eyes, and the intensity was jarring. Standing again, I walked over to the armchair he’d previously occupied and crossed my legs.
“I just don’t want to jeopardize anything about this wedding,” I began, hands fiddling with the hem of my top. “I’m . . .” I thought about confessing to my shoplifting crime spree but decided against it. “I’m on edge.”
“If you’re on edge, I know something that will relax you,” he said seductively. I felt his words penetrate deep in my bones as my libido screamed, yes, yes, let him help you relax!