Keeping SCORE
By REGINA HART
Dafina Books
Copyright © 2012
Patricia Sargeant-Matthews
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-5883-0
Chapter One
"Enough's enough, Mary. When are you coming
home?" Warrick Evans settled his hips against the
kitchen counter. He gripped its smoke and white marble
top behind him. It was late Sunday afternoon. From
across the room, he pinned his wife of almost two years
with a steady stare.
Dr. Marilyn Devry-Evans angled her softly rounded
stubborn chin. Her chocolate eyes met his challenge.
"I've told you I need time, Rick."
Warrick's palms were sweating. He swallowed the
brick of fear in his throat. "It's been a month."
A blush kissed the honey brown skin of her high
cheekbones, but her gaze never wavered. "I have a lot to
consider. I didn't realize what I was getting into when I
married you."
"I told you when we met that I was a basketball
player."
Marilyn hugged her arms around her slender torso.
"But the Brooklyn Monarchs weren't any good when we
met. Now that you're in the play-offs, you're a celebrity."
"I'm still Rick." His grip tightened on the counter
until his knuckles hurt.
"You're Rick amplified." Marilyn shook her head.
The straight strands of her dark brown ponytail swung
around her shoulders. "You're in the newspaper every
day. People are gossiping about you, about me, about
us. I never planned to live my life in the spotlight."
Knowing she had a point didn't make hearing it any
easier. "Neither did I. But that's part of the price I have
to pay for a championship ring." The other costs were
his swollen knees and the spasms in his back.
"As your wife, the loss of privacy is a price I have to
pay, too."
"I know. And I'm sorry. When I fell in love with you,
I didn't consider how my career would affect you." Warrick
took a breath, then another. "Is the price too high?"
"I don't know." Marilyn's words sliced his heart right
down the middle.
What was behind her indecision? Marilyn was an
obstetrician/gynecologist. She made sound decisions
quickly all the time. Why couldn't she make a decision
about their marriage? What—or who—was coming between
them? He had his pick of options, starting with
her parents.
Warrick rubbed his forehead. His fingers burned as
the circulation returned. Terrell and Celeste Devry had
warned their daughter against marrying a man who
"played games" for a living. Nothing Warrick said or
did would change their minds, and he'd done everything
short of sending them his college transcripts. Luckily,
his in-laws hadn't been able to change Marilyn's mind.
Not even their scowls during the ceremony could derail
the wedding.
He dropped his hand. Warrick ached as his gaze
lifted to Marilyn's profile. Her gleaming mass of
dark hair was swept back and restrained at the nape of
her neck with her usual clip thing. Warrick wanted to
release the device and draw his fingers through her hair.
He wanted to pull her into his arms. It had been too long
since he'd held her.
He released his grip on the kitchen counter and stepped
forward. "I miss you, Mary."
Her wide eyes were filled with sadness and confusion—and
it was all so pointless.
"I miss you, too." Her voice was husky.
Relief rushed him, rocking him back on his heels.
Warrick closed his eyes briefly. She still cared. He had
reason to hope. "Then come home."
Marilyn shook her head, her expression miserable.
"It's not that easy, Rick."
He moved closer. Her body's warmth pulled him like
a magnet. He wanted to bury his head against her neck
and inhale her fragrance—jasmine and talcum. He
missed breathing her scent as he fell asleep at night and
woke in the morning.
Warrick studied her features one by one—high forehead,
short nose, sharp cheekbones, sexy lips, stubborn
chin.
"Do you love me?" His voice was a whisper.
Marilyn dropped her arms. "Of course I do."
His heart healed. "And I love you. It isn't any more
complicated than that."
Her rich dark eyes searched his. "But it is. I don't like
opening the newspaper or logging on to the Internet and
finding stories speculating about our marriage and
whether I'm good enough for you. I don't like people attacking
you and questioning your character."
"It doesn't matter what other people think. All that
matters is what we know, and I know that I need you in
my life."
He reached for her, lowering his head until his mouth
met hers. Her lips were soft and welcoming beneath his.
It had been more than four weeks—twenty-nine days—since
he'd last touched her. Tasted her. He was starved
for her loving. Warrick held her tighter against him. He
traced the shape of her mouth with his and she opened
for him.
Warrick's body relaxed with her acceptance. He
slipped his tongue between her lips. His senses were
overwhelmed by the sweet, hot taste of her. When she
wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer,
his knees went weak. He traced the curves of her slender
shape. The touch stirred the memory of the way her
body looked above him. The way she felt beneath him.
His blood sang in his veins.
Warrick walked them toward the kitchen table. He
loosened his hold on her to pull her soft cream blouse
from the waistband of her brown pants. He raised his
arms so Marilyn could help him pull his jersey over his
head. Her fingers singed a trail across his abdomen as
she nudged the material higher. She played with the hair
on his torso. Warrick's muscles quivered. His breath
quickened at her touch. Could she feel his heart racing?
Could she tell how much he needed her?
They shed her blouse and pants with the urgency of
their very first time. But it was too fast. He had to slow
it down. He wanted Marilyn to remember how good
they were together. He needed her to want to come
home. Warrick drew in a slow, deep breath. Her scent
made him throb with desire. He stepped back, fighting
for control. He battled back the desire raging inside
him. His body wanted to make this fast and hot. His
heart wanted them to last forever.
Marilyn slipped off her black camisole. Warrick's
body tightened at the sight of her slender curves in
barely there, wine red underwear. Her firm breasts rose
above a demi-cup bra. Her slim hips teased him with a
strip of matching cloth.
Warrick wanted to stay in these feelings forever. He
wanted to charge forward, past the static between them,
and save his marriage. He wanted to go back in time
and tell the gangly, nerdish adolescent he'd been that
one day he'd marry a woman with brains and the body
of a goddess.
He closed the distance between them again. Marilyn's
chocolate eyes darkened as her gaze moved over
his chest, down to the khaki pants riding low on his
hips. Warrick reached behind her neck and released
the clip binding her hair.
He drew his fingers through the thick, loose mass. It
was as soft as a sigh against his skin. Her fragrance
wafted up to him. Warrick's muscles tightened. "I love
you so much."
"I love you, too." Marilyn balanced her hands on his
shoulders. She rose on her toes and touched her lips
to his.
Heat shot through him, making him catch his breath.
He struggled to find control but need was a fire consuming
him from the inside out. Only for this woman.
Always for this woman. He clasped Marilyn against
him, pressing her breasts to his chest, holding her hips
hard to his. Marilyn gasped and Warrick swept his
tongue inside her mouth.
Their tongues danced, sliding over and across each
other, wrapping around one another in a simulation of
the way their bodies would move. Marilyn moaned in
her throat. The low, sexy sound made Warrick lightheaded.
Her body moved with his, telling him what she
wanted, what she needed, what she liked.
On the edge of his consciousness, Warrick felt her
fingers at the waistband of his pants, working his belt.
He stepped back and stripped off his khakis and underwear.
Marilyn reached out and molded her palms
against his pectorals. His heart beat painfully under her
hands. She ran her short, neat fingernails down his
chest, over his abdomen, and into the hairs at his groin.
Warrick's muscles quivered with anticipation.
He pulled her into his arms and held her to him. Her
skin was warm and soft. Warrick buried his face in her
neck. Marilyn trembled in his arms. His hips rocked
her. Warrick hooked a hand behind her knee and drew
her thigh high against his side. Marilyn moaned and
pressed tighter against him. She covered his chest with
nips and kisses, licking his nipples and grazing his pecs.
She lifted her head and claimed his lips. Her touch made
him feel wanted, cherished. Warrick opened his mouth
and let her in. His head spun as she pulled his tongue
deep into her mouth. She suckled him, caressed him,
stroked him. Each intimate caress stoked his desire.
Her hands moved up his back and Warrick trembled.
Her fingertips kneaded his muscles and he sighed. And
when her nails scratched his bare skin, he stiffened.
Her delicate physician's hands grasped his glutes and
worked him against her. Warrick felt her dampen.
He turned with her in his arms, settling her hips on
the kitchen table. Warrick reached behind Marilyn and
unhooked her bra. He stripped the garment from her and
tossed it aside. Warrick dipped his head and kissed Marilyn's
nipples, first the left, then the right. He drew her
right breast into his mouth. Her taste was full and sweet.
He palmed her left breast, its weight familiar in his
hand. Her skin was delicate to his touch.
Warrick lifted his head and looked at her. Her hot
chocolate gaze scorched him. Her features were tight
with a shared hunger.
He kissed her quick and hard. "You are so beautiful."
A slow smile curved her lips. "So are you."
Warrick chuckled and kissed her again. He loved the
way she tasted on his mouth, the way she felt in his
arms. Marilyn wrapped her legs around his hips and
shimmied closer to him. Warrick cupped his hands
under her and lifted her from the table. With Marilyn's
arms and legs around him, Warrick sank to the floor.
Marilyn released him, allowing Warrick to shift back
between her long limbs. His gaze touched on her firm
breasts and tight waist before returning to her face.
Her eyes glowed with desire. "I need you now."
Warrick reached out and stroked her cheek. "I need
you forever."
He closed the distance between them. He kissed her
neck, then nibbled his way down her chest to cover her
right breast with his mouth.
Heat shot through her breast and settled between her
legs. Her head pressed back and her lips parted in a
gasp. Warrick's mouth worked her breast. Marilyn ached
with desire. She held her breath as his teeth grazed her
nipple. His tongue licked and laved it, twirling its tip.
His mouth suckled her harder. Her hips pumped against
him, matching the rhythm of his mouth.
Warrick released her. Marilyn bit her lower lip,
rolling her head back and forth. He'd lit a fire with his
mouth that coursed a path between her breasts and her
thighs. He paused at her navel, stroking his tongue in
and around the dip. He kissed and licked her before
moving on to her hips.
His mouth teased and tormented her as it drew closer
and closer to her femininity by centimeters before
moving away. Again and again she felt his breath nearing
her core before Warrick shifted course. He kissed
her hip bone. He nipped her thigh. His tongue grazed
her belly—but always at a distance.
"Rick, please." Marilyn's fingernails scraped against
the smoke and white marble tile flooring.
"What is it, honey?" His breathing stirred between
Marilyn's legs.
She gasped. Her heart tried to punch its way free of
her chest. "Stop torturing me." Her voice was tight.
Warrick's laughter was low. "All right." He drew her
knees up over his shoulders and kissed her deep.
Marilyn screamed her surprise at the intense sensations
igniting her body. She arched her back, lifting her
hips higher. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over
her, liquefying her bones. Her muscles strained. Her
nipples tightened. Blood rushed through her veins. The
muscles inside her pulled to the breaking point.
Then Warrick stopped.
Marilyn gasped. Her eyes shot wide. Her muscles
shrieked in frustration. Warrick surged over her. He captured
her mouth with his own. His hands clasped her
hips and he dove into her. Marilyn screamed as pleasure
burst inside her. She trembled in Warrick's embrace. His
lips gentled on hers until she finally caught her breath.
Warrick's hips moved with hers, longer and deeper.
Slower. Harder. He pressed into her. He rocked inside
her. Their sweat mingled. Pressure built again. His scent
was soap and sandalwood, above her. Warrick released
her mouth. His breath came in short, sharp pants like
music to her ears. Intense and exciting. She'd missed
him. She'd missed this—and so much more.
Tension stretched tight as Warrick continued to move
in her. Blood pounded in her ears. Marilyn's muscles
strained. Warrick lifted his head and caught her left
nipple with his lips. A jolt shot through Marilyn to her
deepest muscles and shook again. Warrick's back
arched. His hips crushed into hers—hard. He buried his
face into her neck. Marilyn wrapped her arms around
his shoulders as he shivered above her. She kissed his
throat. In this moment, nothing and no one else existed.
It was just the two of them. If only they could stay like
this always.
Warrick didn't want to move. He didn't think he
could. His body was firmly planted to the ground, warm
and relaxed. Beside him, Marilyn stirred, pulling a
smile from him. "I'm too old for this."
A wicked grin parted her full lips. "Oh, I don't know.
I think you're in your prime."
Warrick chuckled, happier than he'd been in weeks.
"I mean too old to be making love on the kitchen floor.
I need a bed." He rolled to his feet and stood. He
stretched his arms above his head. A movement in his
peripheral vision drew his attention to the kitchen
window. "What the hell?"
Marilyn sprang into a sitting position. "What's
wrong?"
Warrick pulled on his pants. "I saw someone at the
window."
"What?" Marilyn snatched her blouse and pressed it
against her chest. "Someone was watching us?" She
leaned over as though trying to make herself smaller
while straining her neck forward to see through the
window five feet away.
"Stay inside." Warrick circled Marilyn on his way to
the back door.
She wiggled around on the floor, trying to put on her
clothes and still remain out of sight. "Wait. I'll come
with you."
"No, you won't." Warrick pulled open the door and
stepped outside, wearing only his hastily zipped khakis.
He crossed the cedar deck in two long strides, then
jumped its four steps and landed lightly on the lush
green lawn. He rounded the house toward the left side
yard past their vegetable garden. Marilyn had planted
lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, green beans, and other vegetables
days after they'd moved into the house two years
ago. He must have the best diet in the NBA.
The side yard was empty. Warrick glanced at the
kitchen window. The blinds were turned up to allow light
in while still protecting their privacy. But, if you stepped
closer to the window, you could see the kitchen table. A
chill rolled down his spine. Warrick continued to the
front of the house. The gate was closed and no one was
nearby. The movement outside their window must have
been his imagination. He was chasing shadows.
Warrick turned back to his yard—and almost walked
into Marilyn.
"Did you see anyone?" She leaned to the left, trying
to see around him.
Her thick brown hair was tousled. The straight tresses
swung around her shoulders with her every move. Her
cream blouse hung loose over her baggy brown slacks
and revealed much of her cleavage. Her narrow feet
were bare. Her neat toenails, polished silver with multicolored
sparkles, peeked from beneath the pant legs.
Marilyn's buttoned-up physician's identity had
slipped, exposing his wife's sensuality. He wanted her
again.
Warrick swallowed to ease his dry throat. "I asked
you to wait inside."
Marilyn stilled, frowning into his eyes. "If there was
an intruder, I could help you."
She was fit and toned from regular and strenuous
workouts. Still the mental image of her confronting an
intruder would keep Warrick awake for weeks. "Help
me by calling nine-one-one."
With his hands on her shoulders, he turned Marilyn
toward the backyard. Warrick wrapped his right hand
around her slender waist and escorted her back to the
house.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Keeping SCORE
by REGINA HART
Copyright © 2012 by Patricia Sargeant-Matthews.
Excerpted by permission of Dafina Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.