Tiebreaker (It Takes Two 2)

I enter her from behind. She’s all wet, welcoming softness––my woman. “Anything you want, baby, it’s yours. I’ll give it to you,” I whisper in her ear. A low moan slips from her lips. She whimpers, mumbles incoherently. I run a hand up and down her back as I hold steady, buried inside of her to the root.

“Hold on tight,” I warn as I start thrusting, gripping her hips with an overwhelming sense of possession I’ve never, not even in the past, felt before.

I move slow and steady at first, meant to tease, drive her wild. Doesn’t take long for instinct takes over. The thrusts get harder and harder, less controlled. She starts panting, begging, and I know she’s close. One more hard pump and she screams. Two more and I join her there.

Sometime later, after we catch our breath, I pick her up off the bull, turn her around, and look into her eyes. It feels like she’s keeping something from me, something that’s upsetting her. “What is it?” I ask, because I hate feeling helpless.

Quietly, she pulls up her underwear and jeans. I do the same. Then she leans into my chest again, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“I just need you. Isn’t that enough?”

I don’t have to think about my answer. As long as she needs me, I’m here for her. “Yeah, it is––more than enough.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The mayor went all out for the unveiling ceremony, cloaking the statue in a black satin sheet for maximum dramatic effect. There’s also a small podium with a microphone and rows and rows of white chairs with red, white, and blue ribbons attached. Rowdy was loved and he will be missed dearly. The whole town is expected.

Gazing over the crowd, I find Noah leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and a deeply thoughtful look on his face. The space in my chest that was occupied by a vacuum for the last nine years is overflowing with love. I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt the moment Katya asked me, or better yet, ordered me back to London.

He’s my one and only. Always has been. Nothing will ever change that. Not even Rowdy’s letter could get me upset enough to shake my confidence in us. I’m still torn about that. As much as I want to be mad about it, how can I when everything he did, he did for me.

I tell my parents and Bebe to go on ahead without me, that I’ll catch up with them in a few minutes.

“I need to speak to you,” I whisper, walking up behind the man belonging to the ass I’m presently ogling.

Turning, his eyes spark as he does a slow examination of the light blue dress I’m wearing. He cups a hand around my neck and pulls me flush against his body, which goes off like I hit the jackpot at the slots whenever he’s near. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. But I need to speak to you and we need privacy.” His brows crawl up his forehead and his lips tip up in a boyish smile. “No, no––that’s not code. I mean talk, talk. As in a discussion, an exchange of words. Jeez, aren’t you chaffed yet?”

“Baby––all he’s known is the feel of my hand for seven long as fuck years. I don’t give a shit if it falls off from overuse.” He checks me out again. “And you could tempt a man out’a his grave in that dress.”

“Come on,” I say, taking his hand. I’m almost giddy with excitement over my plan and I can’t wait a minute longer to share it with him.

“Where are we going?”

“Your office.”

We enter through the side entrance. In the main room, two employees sweeping the scuffed wooden floors wave at Noah and shout, “Boss.”

We climb the stairs with his hands stroking my butt and sliding under my skirt to grab my hips. I swat him away and push open the door to his office while he flips the lights on.

There’s a flutter in my chest. I’m nervous. Of course I’m nervous. Big changes are coming. The rest of my life hinges on the next few words so I persevere, put a choke collar on those nerves and make them my bitch.

“I spoke to my manager,” I start, turning to face him once I get well inside the room.

Noah’s smile disappears. Anticipating this, I forge ahead. I was down two sets in the Australian Open and ended up winning that match. I’m built to go the distance.

I’m jittery. To burn nervous energy, I walk in circles around his desk. Stopping, I grip the back of his chair. “She wants me to go back to London.”

His shoulders drop and his head tips back. He exhales, dragging a palm down his face and suddenly he looks exhausted. “When?”