Leveling the Field (Gamers) Page 3

This would be her soon, he was sure. Grant would ask her to marry him. There’d be family events and a wedding, but Ethan knew the whole time, there would be a huge, gaping hole where Samantha should have been. His parents would give him the cold shoulder, because they didn’t talk to him anymore, not since Samantha passed.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as he thought of his sister and took deep breaths so he didn’t lose his shit at the wedding. It’d been close to ten years, but he still felt nauseous when he thought of her. The last image he had of her flashed through his brain—her laughing face right before he took a corner too tight in his flashy car, wanting to show off. And then her wide eyes, her open mouth, as soon as she realized he’d lost control of the car.

  After the crash, when he finally gained consciousness, she wasn’t alive, and his skin refused to let him forget it.

  Forget that he’d driven the car that caused the death of the beautiful, charming, full-of-light Samantha Talley.

  Fuck, he was getting somber again. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to stare into the warm brown ones of Lissa Kingsman.

  She stood alongside the chairs, wearing a long black dress, her camera clutched in her hand with a zoom lens.

  Her gaze on him was like a shot of whiskey, a searing heat that spread out to all his limbs, warming him to the core. Her lips parted slightly, and her full lashes fluttered. Then she dipped her chin once in acknowledgement, quirking her lips in a half smile, and then turned away, raising her camera up to her eye to take pictures of the ceremony.

  Ethan focused on his breathing—namely, making sure he was breathing—and trying not to read too much into that small smile.

  It wasn’t even a full one. Get a fucking grip.

  He hated that she stirred these…feelings in him. That she made him give a shit that she smiled rather than sneered after the way he’d treated her.

  That she made him a little hard.

  He spent the rest of the ceremony watching her as discretely as he could, admiring the fluidity of her movements, the way her tongue snuck out the corner of her mouth when she concentrated, and the way her large hoop earrings caught the light of the sun setting behind them.

  When the ceremony was over, he was one of the first out of his seats, striding toward the parking lot where he could spend some time alone in his car before having to face everyone at the reception.

  Except he heard his name being called. By the very woman he never said no to. So he checked his expression to make sure he didn’t look stressed or panicked and turned around to face his sister.

  Chloe was jogging toward him, her heels sinking a little in the grass. He held out a hand. “Slow down. You’re going to trip.”

  She laughed as she wobbled. “The ground’s soft.”

  “It just rained. Now walk, please, before I carry you.”

  She rolled her eyes and came to a stop in front of him. Running a hand down his tie, she gazed up. “You look so nice.”

  “And you look beautiful, Chloe.” She wore a slim-fitting dark blue dress that came down to just below her knee.

  With a smirk, she jutted a hip out. “You think.”

  “I know.”

  She smiled and slipped her arm in his. “I need a ride to the reception. Grant’s going in the limo. They said I could come, but I told them I wanted to go with you.”

  He bristled. That was just like Chloe to think her poor, scarred brother needed a companion. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t say you did. I want to ride with you.”

  Well, now he felt stupid. “Oh.”

  When they reached his car, he opened the door for her and she stepped inside. He shut it behind her, and as he walked around the front of his car, jingling his keys, he spotted Lissa standing near a tree, studying the back of her camera. Her head was bent down, hair framing her face.

  There was a knocking sound, and he turned around to see Chloe looking at him with her hands out to the sides. Shit, he’d stopped walking and stared at Lissa like a weirdo. Chloe probably thought he was crazy. He ducked his head and resumed his way around his car. When he settled himself in the driver’s seat, Chloe was craning her neck to peer through the windshield. “What were you looking at?”

  “Uh, just a squirrel.”

  She turned her head slowly. “A squirrel.”

  “Ah, yup.”

  “You were not looking at a squirrel. You were frozen in place, captivated by something, and it sure as hell wasn’t a squirrel. You hate squirrels!”

  That was true. He did hate squirrels. They threw acorns. “Okay, fine, I was looking at the photographer.”

  He was pulling out of the parking lot now, but that didn’t stop Chloe from twisting in her seat to stare out the back window. “The photographer? Why? Did you know him?”

  Him? There must have been two photographers. Well, that sure helped him. “Uh, I thought he looked familiar is all.”

  “Oh,” Chloe said, clearly disappointed there wasn’t something juicy to the whole thing.

  He snorted. “Sorry it wasn’t more exciting.”

  “I’m living with Grant. I have enough excitement in my life.”

  Ethan chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Save a dance for me at the reception, okay?”

  He patted her knee. “’Course.”

  Three hours later, Ethan took a swallow of bourbon and tried not to scowl at all the happy couples at the wedding reception.

  Marley and Austin were at the newlywed table, feeding each other cake. Grant was singing off-key to a giggling Chloe on the dance floor, and Chad was eating his boyfriend’s face in their seats about five feet away.

  Ethan was alone, which was on purpose. He was happy that way. Until today, of course. Surrounded by love and family.

  Earlier, he’d seen Lissa with another photographer, though that man had long since left. She was finished taking photos, her camera bag under guard by Owen as she pulled a laughing Chad onto the dance floor.

  Her body moved like water, every movement fluid and purposeful and controlled. Her hips rolled against Chad’s, her long arms wrapped around his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her neck and she laughed.

  Grant had told Ethan earlier that Chad and Lissa were friends, and even though Chad was committed to Owen, Ethan couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that left a sour taste in his mouth.

  As the song changed to something slower and more sultry, Ethan willed himself to stay in his seat, told himself to stay put, but his body wasn’t listening—and neither was his cock, for that matter. He strode onto the dance floor, his dress shoes clicking on the tile floor. Chad was whispering something in Lissa’s ear as Ethan approached.

  “Excuse me,” he all but growled.

  Chad’s head lifted and Lissa turned to stare at him in surprise. Ethan lifted her hand from Chad’s shoulder and tugged her to him, where she smashed against his chest with an oomph. Ethan gazed into those deep brown eyes. “I believe you owe me a dance.”

  She blinked at him, those impossibly thick lashes fluttering. “Uh, I’m pretty sure we never talked about a dance. You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

  He held firm as she tugged to get out of his grip. “I’d like to dance with you. Please.”

  So he was a little rusty. A lot rusty. Chad looked at him like he was an alien before turning to Lissa. “You all right?”

  She hesitated then nodded. “Sure. Watch my camera?”

  “Of course.” With one last look over his shoulder, Chad left the dance floor.

  Lissa peered up at him. “Are you asking me to dance with you?”

  “Will you say yes?”

  She smiled at that. “Ask me and find out.”

  He licked his lips, wishing he could bend down and nibble on her plump ones. “Will you dance with me?”

  She cocked her head, long gold earrings brushing her neck. “Yes.”

  He wrapped both arms around her, resting his
hands on her lower back. He didn’t go lower, no matter how much he wanted to grab a handful of her ass.

  Tone it down, man, you’re acting crazy.

  But her touch was only fueling this unusual surge of desperate want inside him. She rested one hand on his hip, the other clasped around his neck, long fingernails digging into his nape. He was hard, again, and there was no way she didn’t feel it. Her body was smooth and pliant under his hands. The low-cut neckline of her dress showed him the tops of her round, full breasts. He wanted to bury his face in her cleavage as he drove into her.

  Oh fuck, he was getting harder.

  He would have been embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way Lissa was responding.

  Her hands tightened where she held him, and her lips were parted as their groins pressed together. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed a deep red. She was affected, too—she had to be. He was surprised as hell this woman seemed to want his grumpy, deformed self, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to think of anything else until he had her.

  He’d been good at this once. Cocky and self-assured and confident, he’d been able to talk a woman into his bed and then keep her there with his skills. He used to be quite excellent with his mouth. In all things.

  He leaned down and took a chance, figuring if she smacked him, he wouldn’t have lost anything. His hand drifted lower until his fingers skimmed the top of her ass. He squeezed, and her breath caught as she pressed closer. He welcomed the pain of her nails digging into his neck.

  He leaned down until his lips were at her ear. “I want you.” She made a small sound in her throat, but she didn’t move away. That was encouraging. “I have since I saw you in my office. Do you want me, Lissa?”

  She nodded so slightly he thought maybe he imagined it.

  “I need you to say it out loud.”

  She leaned back so she met his gaze and licked her lips. “Yes.”

  He bent his head so all he saw were her eyes. “This isn’t a date,” he said firmly, knowing he was coming across harsh, but he was too old and too damaged to deal with bullshit. “I don’t want to chitchat and meet your parents. I want inside you.”

  She wasn’t shocked by his words. The only indication she had heard him was a slight dilation of her pupils and her heart pounding against his.

  And then he waited, unsure if she’d leave him aching and hard or if she’d follow through with what they both clearly wanted to do.

  Chapter Four

  Lissa was about two seconds away from shoving Ethan onto his back on the dance floor and riding him like a fucking bull.

  She’d dated a lot of men who weren’t up front, who acted like they wanted a girlfriend when they really just wanted a fuck.

  She wasn’t opposed to just a fuck. But she didn’t like being lied to. Ethan was a little cold and a lot vulgar, but he was honest.

  Her mind told her to walk away. To tell him that she didn’t want him, that she didn’t want this. Sleeping with Ethan would put a serious crimp in her plans to invite him to participate in her project. She didn’t want him thinking that she’d only slept with him to get him to agree. This wasn’t the time to spring it on him, though. And right now, her brain was clouded with lust; her body’s only objective was to get this man alone. His hard cock was pressed against her, and his words were ringing in her ear.

  It’d been a long time since she’d had a man between her legs; she’d been so busy with work and with her project. Would it really hurt to use him just like he wanted to use her? It was only one time, and he’d pursued her. It couldn’t hurt, right?

  She swallowed. “So it’s just sex?”

  He nodded. “Just sex.”

  Oh fuck, she wanted that. She wanted this big man’s dick in her hand, in her body. She was wet already just from the words he’d whispered in her ear. Her favorite type of foreplay was to get hot and bothered in public and then rush off somewhere private to get naked.

  She pressed closer to Ethan, trapping his hard cock between them. His jaw clenched, and she shot him what she hoped was a sexy smile. “You want to fuck me, Ethan?” He sucked in a breath and his hand drifted lower until he was kneading one cheek of her ass. Her nipples tightened as a ripple of arousal coursed through her body. “You’re so hard. I’d bet you’d fuck me so good, wouldn’t you? Bend me over a table and pull my dress up. Rip off these tiny panties I have on and punish me for making you want this much.”

  She was poking the beast. Ethan’s other hand was on her neck now, his thumb stroking over the tendon. “If you don’t stop with that mouth, I’ll fuck you right here in front of God and everyone.”

  She was a raging mass of hormones with no brain. “I dare you.”

  With a soft growl, Ethan gripped her hand and all but dragged her from the dance floor. She trotted after him, thankful the lights were dim and everyone else was too drunk to notice. She didn’t know where they were going, but Ethan powered out the doors of the reception hall and strode toward the front lobby. He stopped in front of the bathrooms and said, “Stay right here,” and she was too turned on to protest that he’d just given her a command like she was a disobedient puppy.

  He disappeared into the men’s room and in ten seconds, he was back out again, clutching a condom packet. Her breath sped up and her heart pounded so loudly she heard it in her ears.

  He glanced at the front doors before muttering “fuck it” under his breath and pushing through a door in front of them marked Coat Closet.

  With only a dim light shining overhead, he pressed her along the back wall, among coats and fake furs and trenches. She gripped a suit jacket, needing something to ground her as his body pressed along hers.

  His mouth descended and then he was kissing her. All tongue and teeth and want. She moaned into his mouth and clutched his shoulders as he hiked her leg over his hip. His other hand scrabbled to get under her dress and then he pulled away from her mouth with a growl and looked down their bodies. “What’s with this fucking dress? I want to touch you, dammit.”

  She reached down, pulled up her dress to expose the small black thong she was wearing, and bared her teeth at him. “Then touch me.”

  As if he wanted to punish her for the fabric she’d draped over her body, he lunged at her, biting her bare shoulder. She couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped, which morphed into a moan as he wasted no time tugging aside her thong and plunging two fingers inside of her.

  He bit harder, and her eyes fell closed as his hand stilled. The only sound was the panting of her breath, the harsh gasps where he sought to breathe around her skin. He unlocked his jaw and when he lifted his head, the dim light of the ceiling cast a shadow under his eyes. His lips curled, almost into a sneer, as he slowly drew his fingers out and then pushed them back in. The force drew her up onto the ball of her foot, as her other leg was still hiked over his hip, his hand trapped between them as his fingers began a steady rhythm.

  With his other hand, he massaged her thigh, keeping her spread open against the wall.

  For a split second, she thought she should stop this. Tell him to take her home. They were in a coat closet, where anyone could come in.

  But then his hand twisted and his thumb pressed against her clit and she had to shove her hand in her mouth to keep from screaming.

  He shook his head as he continued to torture her. “I want to hear you.”

  “I’m loud.”

  “Good. Scream for me.”

  He pulled down the neck of her dress so one of her breasts popped out, and while his fingers drove her mad, he sucked a nipple into the wet heat of his mouth.

  She cried out as he bit down, rolling the hard bud between his teeth. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she chanted, the sensation on her breasts echoing in the constant pressure of his thumb against her clit.

  He nuzzled in, lapping at her breast, and taking one small nip before he leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face. “You look debauched.” His voice was a low rumble. “Breast out, legs spread open, my finge
rs inside of you.”

  She was close now, and while one hand clutched his shoulder, she needed something else, something that wasn’t him to remind her what this was about. Her fingers clutched a wool jacket and the scratchy fiber tickled her palm.

  “Say my name when you come, Lissa.”

  She nodded mutely. She understood, but she wasn’t sure if she was going to be able, because she couldn’t find words right now.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his gaze cast down where his hand was between her legs. “I love the way you move when you’re so close to coming.”

  And that did it, with a cry and a gasp that she hoped sounded something like his name, she came. The orgasm rippled through her, out to her limbs and into the tips of her fingers. Her inner walls clenched around his thick fingers, and he didn’t take his eyes off her the whole time.

  Before the aftershocks of the orgasm ended, Ethan spun her around. She found herself braced against the wall, bent over. She curled her fingers into the wall and pressed her cheek between them.

  Cool air touched her ass and then fingertips skimmed along the edge of her thong. A palm smoothed over one cheek, then the other.

  She knew she had a great ass. She got it from her momma, and she smiled as she heard him murmur in appreciation. A hand came down and cracked against her skin. She moaned and wiggled her ass, loving the sting. “You punishing me for making you hard, baby?” she asked. A smack to her other cheek, and she smiled. “Show me what you do to bad girls who make your cock ache.”

  The condom wrapper crinkled, and then the empty packet fluttered to the ground at their feet. After a minute, a hand reached around to squeeze her exposed breast, and then her dress was pulled lower so both breasts swung free.

  He held them both in his palms, thumbing the nipples. The blunt head of his cock nudged her entrance. She wanted to see it, hold it in her palm, but this wasn’t about that. This was an impersonal fuck. And she wanted it so goddamn bad.

  “Well?” she challenged. “You said—”

  His hands still on her breasts, he slammed into her so hard, the air left her body. She wished she could have seen that, the power and skill in his hips to enter her without a hand guiding his cock.