Table for Two-epub Page 10

  By eight o’clock, Liv was crawling the walls, desperate to think about anything but James. She even tried to focus on her problems at work—with no luck.

  Tossing her hands in the air, she gave up. Fighting the instincts that had plagued her the whole day left her exhausted. Liv gave in to her impulses—and made her way upstairs.

  She almost wept in relief as James swung the door open, took one look at her—and tossed her over his shoulder. A minute later, she lay naked on his bed. Three minutes after that, she cried out as an orgasm took her breath away. Twenty minutes later, she and James lay gasping and sweaty on the floor, and another ten minutes after that, Liv let herself back into her apartment with a self-satisfied smile.

  Ava simply laughed at her.

  At midnight she was awake when the phone rang. This time, instead of James leaving a message, he spent a long time telling Liv—in detail—what he was going to do her the next time she knocked on his door.

  And the next time she knocked on his door, less than twenty-four hours later, James did every one of those things to her.

  Chapter Seven

  James blinked the water from his eyes, straining to keep his gaze on the ball through the unexpected downpour. Mud splashed at his feet, but his studs kept a firm grip on the grass as he ran down the field, the ball in the air just ahead. He snaked his way around an opposition player, shoved another out of his way and jumped, snatching the ball from the waiting, open hands of a third.

  Had Ava been at the game, she’d have been crazy with excitement, yelling from the sidelines. But this was an away match, and none of his mates came to the away games.

  Adrenaline raced through his veins as he landed and sprinted to the try line. Lucky for the adrenaline. It made up for the serious lack of sleep this week. Liv had taken to visiting him every evening after dinner, and he’d taken to phoning her at midnight every night.

  Over the last week, they’d spent hours making love, and even longer talking on the phone. He relished their late-night calls, and he fucking loved her nightly visits. While his first choice would have been to have Liv spend the whole night and share his bed until morning, Liv refused to stay over. Frustratingly, she left almost as soon they’d done the deed. But if he couldn’t whisper in her ear as she lay beside him, talking to her on the phone in a dark room while wrapped up in the warmth of his doona was a good second choice.

  And even though it meant he was seriously lacking sleep, he’d rather cut off his left testicle than give up their midnight chats.

  The try line wasn’t far. Five meters, tops. All he had to do was slam the ball on the ground on the other side, and victory was guaranteed for Randwick. With less than a minute to go, it would be the deciding try.

  Eye on the goalpost—or try line in this case—he added a burst of speed. His lungs burned and his muscles stretched and retracted with the increased exertion.

  Four meters away… Three…

  Rain pelted down and wind whistled through his ears. He felt neither the cold nor the wet.

  Less than two meters now. So close, so damn close. He gulped in vital oxygen to take him the distance—and rocketed through the air headfirst as a pair of arms grabbed his shins, tackling him from behind.

  James tried to combat the fall, twisting midair and kicking one leg free. He went down anyway, his entire body—from his toes to his skull—slamming into the ground, his free leg landing at an awkward angle.

  A muffled crack reverberated through his head, though James wasn’t sure whether he’d heard it or felt it.

  Pain exploded in his shin.

  A player landed on top of him with a thud, followed by another. The breath was knocked from his chest as hands scrambled for the ball, yanking it from his grasp. He would have held tight, should have held tight, but sharp bursts of fire shot through his leg, making movement of any kind impossible.

  James was capable only of lying facedown in the dirt and breathing—and even that seemed to not come naturally. He couldn’t get enough air in to combat the fierce agony in his shin. Nausea tore through his stomach, and the lunch he’d eaten a few hours ago threatened to reappear.

  Sound blurred into white noise around him. Sweat coated his already-wet skin. Seconds passed, minutes, maybe even hours of undiluted torture before a whistle pierced the air.

  Game over?

  Then he heard the shout. “Player down.”

  This time when men descended on him, it wasn’t to throw their bodies fiercely on his. This time, concerned hands rolled him over.

  After ten years of club rugby, James was no stranger to injury. He’d had more sports-related problems than Sydney had beaches. Hell, his knee hadn’t fully healed from that meniscus tear five years ago.

  He’d taken each injury stoically, gritting his teeth and bearing it.

  This time, no amount of teeth-gritting helped. The instant he was rolled from his front to his back, shifting his leg in the process, his vision went black and a harsh yell tore from his throat.

  “Jimmy?” Olivia smiled as she answered her mobile. His call was completely unexpected—midnight was hours away—but that didn’t stop the rush of pleasure that came from knowing he was on the other end of the line. Talking to James before falling asleep had fast become the second-favorite part of Liv’s day.

  “Liv.”

  “Hi.” Oh, God. She sounded like a schoolgirl, all breathless and excited.

  “How are you?” His voice had that smoky, tired quality to it. The one she heard every night, just before hanging up and going to sleep.

  Lord, she loved the sound of it. “Good, you?”

  “Mm.”

  “Mm?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Liv narrowed her eyes. “You’re not sure?”

  James was quiet.

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

  “Uh, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know how you are?”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course I know.”

  O-kay then. “So, how are you?”

  “Fine. And not so fine. Really good, you know. Or maybe not so good.”

  Um... “Well, there’s a straight answer if ever I’ve heard one.”

  “Straight. Crooked. It’s all the same when you think about it.”

  What the fuck? “Jimmy, are you okay? What’s going on?”

  “What’s going on where?”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “There’s something going on with me?”

  Dear God. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Yes. Of course,” he said disdainfully. “I drink every day.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Oh, that’s a good question. A really great question. And that’s what life’s all about, isn’t it? The question. Not the answer. That’s never important. It’s knowing which question to ask.”

  Olivia pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, perplexed.

  “Hello? Anyone there?” James’s muted voice rang out.

  She placed the phone back to her ear. “I’m here.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Olivia.” Who did he think?

  “Liv? Hey. How are you?”

  Jesus, seriously? How many post-game beers had the man consumed? “Tell you what, Jimmy. How about you hang up now and call me tomorrow.” When you’re a little more sober.

  “Why would I call you tomorrow when your name’s Liv?” He sounded as baffled as she felt.

  She huffed in exasperation. “Very funny.”

  “What is?”

  “You are.” Not really.

  “I am what?”

  “I’m going now, James.”

  “Going where?”

  “I’m hanging up.”

  “You’re on the phone?” a female voice cut across the line.

  “I am?” James asked, sounding surprised.

  “Yes, Mr. Elliot. You are.”

  Mr. Elliot?

  “Ah,” James said, “t
hat explains why it’s talking back at me.” Now he just sounded surprised.

  “Why don’t you give it to me, and I’ll see who’s there,” the female voice said.

  “Give what to you?”

  “The phone.”

  “I have a phone?”

  “Yes, Mr. Elliot. It’s in your hand.”

  “A phone,” James said. “Fancy that.”

  Seriously?

  “Hello?” The voice that had echoed through the line now spoke directly in her ear.

  “Hello?” Liv responded instantly.

  “Ah. There is someone there. I wasn’t sure.”

  She’d thought James was talking to himself? “I’m here. Uh, who is this?”

  “Sister Harris. I’m a nurse at St Vincent’s Hospital.”

  Liv’s heart skipped a beat. “James is in hospital?”

  “He is.”

  “Oh, God!” Her legs gave way, and she slid to the floor

  “I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation, but the patient wasn’t making much sense.”

  “None at all,” Liv agreed, shocked all the way down to her toes. “What happened? Is he okay?”

  “He’ll be fine. We’ve given him something for the pain, which might explain his disjointed conversation.”

  Stoned on painkillers? Yep, that would explain it. It didn’t explain anything else though. “W-what happened?” she asked again.

  “I’m afraid I can’t give you details without his consent.”

  “Whose consent?” James asked in the background.

  “Yours.”

  “Consent for what?”

  “To give details of your injury to the person on the phone.”

  “There’s someone on the phone?”

  “Tell him you’re talking to Olivia,” she said to the nurse. “Please, ask him if you can tell me what happened.” She might go crazy if she didn’t find out.

  “Olivia’s on the phone, Mr. Elliot.”

  “Liv?” Did James sigh as he said her name? “Gorgeous, sexy Liv. Man, I am so in love with that woman.”

  Her jaw dropped. She hadn’t heard him correctly, had she? Maybe he was too stoned to know what he was saying. Her heart pounded and her hands shook, though to be fair, that could have been in reaction either to his proclamation or to the idea of him being in St Vincent’s.

  “May I tell her why you’re in hospital, Mr. Elliot?”

  “I’m in hospital?”

  Shocked though Liv was, she found herself smiling at his confused ramblings.

  “You are. Can I tell your friend why?”

  “My friend?”

  “Olivia.”

  “You can tell Liv anything.”

  Thank God!

  “Tell her she’s hot. And has great tits. Oh, and tell her there are orange men with tiny, spotted…crocodiles crawling up the wall.”

  Sister Harris told her none of that. “Mr. Elliot broke his leg in a rugby match.”

  “Not crocs,” James proclaimed. “Wombats. Spotted ones.”

  “His leg?” Liv asked.

  “Yes. He shattered his tibia and fibula. A bad break. We’ve put a cast on and treated him with morphine for the pain.”

  “S-so, it’s not life threatening?”

  “Not at all. It’s a bad break though, and will need surgery.”

  Thank God!

  Poor Jimmy.

  “I think there are hippos there too,” James said in the background. “Striped ones.”

  “Can he have visitors?” she asked the nurse.

  “Yes. He’s in a ward by himself in the private hospital, so you can come anytime.”

  Liv scrambled to her feet and grabbed her bag and keys. By the time the nurse had given her the necessary details, like floor and ward number, Liv was already halfway out the door, dragging a bewildered Ava along with her.

  They called Greg on the way. As a radiologist—who coincidentally worked at a practice at St Vincent’s—he’d be able to tell them exactly how serious the break was. It had to be really bad if James needed surgery and morphine.

  “Greg’s there. He was working today,” Ava told her when she hung up. “You realize you’re going way over the speed limit?”

  Liv forced herself to ease her foot off the accelerator, reassured to hear that Greg was at the hospital. Hopefully he was with James already. “I’m anxious to get there. Make sure he’s okay.”

  “I can see that. He’ll be fine, Liv. He broke his leg, that’s all.”

  She nodded. Logically, Liv knew that was all, but it didn’t stop her heart from pounding or the worry from creeping into her head. She kept her eyes on the road but felt Ava’s gaze on her face nevertheless.

  “You ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and Jimmy?”

  Olivia’s lips twitched with the need to assure Ava nothing was going on. But lying to her flatmate would be pointless. Ava had been there almost every time Olivia either made her way to, or returned from, James’s flat.

  Up until now she’d done nothing more than give Liv amused looks or raised eyebrows, but apparently the reprieve was over.

  “Are you also going to dodge the question?” Ava asked.

  “Also?”

  “James very neatly sidestepped the issue when I asked him about it. Looks like you’re planning on doing the same.”

  “You asked James about…us?”

  “Yep.”

  Her heart sped up. “What did he say?”

  “About as much as you’ve said. Which is nothing. Now, answer me.”

  Liv sighed. “Honestly? I have no idea what’s going on between us.”

  “So there is something going on?”

  If by something Ava referred to Liv’s desperate need to touch James as often as humanly possible and her unquenchable thirst for his body and his lovemaking, then yes, something was going on. “I guess.”

  “You’re sleeping with him.” It wasn’t a question.

  More like fucking his brains out. “I am.”

  Ava’s excited shriek echoed through the car. “That is so awesome. You and Jimmy are perfect for each other. I said so all along.”

  “What? Wait. No, you didn’t!”

  “Yeah, I did.” Ava nodded vigorously. “I’ve been saying it since uni.”

  “Not to me, you haven’t.”

  “Duh. Of course not to you. Or Jimmy. Sheesh, I’m not stupid. You’d have lectured me so loud and so long, my ears would still be ringing today. But I’ve been telling all the others. You and James were made for each other. You always have been. We all think so.”

  Liv shook her head, stunned to discover her friends had even thought it—never mind discussed it.

  “Think about it,” Ava said. “You’re both focused, determined and goal oriented, but while you’re serious about everything you set your mind to, Jimmy’s laid back and relaxed. He’s the Yin to your Yang. The left to your right. You’re two sides of the same coin, Liv. We’ve all been waiting years for the penny to drop and for the two of you to realize it.”

  “That’s crazy talk.” Liv wasn’t even sure how she felt about James now—after they’d been fucking like bunnies for the last two weeks. How could their friends have foreseen them getting together years ago?

  She’d been taking their relationship day by day, reading nothing more into it than her obsessive need to touch him. Okay, yes, she’d enjoyed every minute spent with him over the last few weeks, and she loved their nightly phone calls. But made for each other? That was something she’d never considered.

  It wasn’t something she was ready to consider now, either. Her life was in shambles, her career in ruin. Until she’d sorted it all out, she simply didn’t have the time or energy to expend on a full-time relationship.

  “Not crazy at all. In fact, Greg and I have a little bet going. He put money on Jimmy making the first move, but I said for sure it’d be you.”

  Liv was so busy gaping at Ava she almost went through a red traffic light.
She slammed on the brakes just in time. “You bet on me and James?”

  “Don’t panic. It was a safe bet. Either way, you and Jimmy were always going to win. Now what I need to know is, who was right? Me or Greg?”

  “Oh, my God, Ava. James is in hospital, and you’re asking who made the first move?”

  “He’s in hospital for a broken leg. He’ll be fine. But I won’t. Not until you tell me. I need answers.”

  Liv shook her head in amazement. “No, you don’t.”

  “Of course I do. I need all the details. Like what’s Jimmy like in bed? A stud? Is he good? Does he have talented fingers? And mouth?”

  Fantastic. Yes. Better than good, and his fingers and mouth are…magical. “I’m not telling you any of that.”

  “C’mon, Liv. Don’t leave me in the dark. Straight or curved?” A key question for Ava, who believed unequivocally that a curved penis delivered far more pleasure than a straight one.

  Straight—and solid proof that Ava’s theory was wrong, but Liv wasn’t about to tell her as much.

  “What about size? Is he big…everywhere?” Another of Ava’s theories. Size mattered.

  Liv disagreed. Size wasn’t as important as technique, but James lacked in neither area. Which might explain why he was, hands down, the most satisfying lover she’d ever been with.

  “You’re smiling,” Ava told her. “Grinning stupidly. Based on that, I’m going to assume our friend isn’t just big, he’s huge.”

  Liv shrugged but didn’t try to hide the smile.

  “You’re not going to answer me, are you?”

  “Nope, sorry.”

  “Not any of my questions?”

  “Not one.”

  “Wow. I’m not sure what to say.”

  “That makes for a pleasant change,” Liv teased her.

  “You always tell me about your men.”

  “James isn’t mine.”

  “You’re in love with him.”

  What the…?

  Liv tried to respond but couldn’t. Words refused to form. That was the second time in less than an hour the word had come up.

  “Don’t even attempt to deny it. You’re completely gone over him.”

  Liv shook her head, though in disbelief or in denial she wasn’t sure. Was she in love? Did James really love her?