Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball) (6 page)

Her head spun,
remembering what Jessica said she had done to earn the charm.
Oh, Lord
.

She swallowed
hard, imagining herself at the center of all that masculine attention. She only
vaguely understood how it could even be possible, but her body hungered for the
experience.

Antonio’s voice
cut through her lust-fogged brain. “Keep your hands off her.”

The masseur’s face
was purple, but he gasped out his agreement while he clutched at Antonio’s
wrist. “I won’t touch her. I swear!”

“Antonio!” Clare
yelled. “Let him go!” She swung her feet off the table and wrapped the sheet
around her body, toga-style.

Raul’s feet hit
the floor. He shot an apologetic look at Clare and ran out of the room as if
the hounds of hell were after him. Antonio turned. From the look on his face,
Raul had been wise to escape while he could. Her partner was seriously pissed.
His oiled chest rose and fell with each short, rapid breath. Anger made his
olive complexion even darker, and something wild dwelled in the depth of his
eyes.

His gaze landed on
her—swept her from head to toe in carnal assessment. Her nipples tightened and
heat gathered in her abdomen. It was mating time at the OK Corral, and she was
the hobbled mare. Her knees rattled. She opened her mouth to warn him off, but
a squeak from her right drew his attention away. He shot a look at Serena who
appeared ready to faint. Huddled between the two massage tables, she clutched a
towel to her throat as if that would protect her in some way.

“Leave us alone,”
he growled.

Serena glanced her
way.

Clare nodded at
the frightened masseuse. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”
I hope.

She’d never
witnessed a violent act up close and personal before, but behind the violence
in Antonio’s actions lurked something even more frightening. Lust. No one had
ever looked at her with the same intensity she’d seen in his eyes when she’d
ordered him to let Raul go.

The woman wasted
no time worrying about Clare’s well being. She scooted sideways past Antonio
and fled the scene.

“What was that all
about?” Clare asked as soon as the door clicked shut.

“Are you kidding
me?” Antonio raked his hair back from his face with the same hand he’d used to
control Raul. “He was
touching
you.”

His chest heaved
with exertion. Despite the sheet he still held over his groin, his nakedness
made it hard for her to think straight.

“Yes, he was. He
had been for the last forty minutes or so. It may have been my first massage,
but I know touching is part of the process.”

Antonio blinked.
“Yeah, well, he had no business telling you to…to…. It wasn’t
that
kind
of massage.”

“He was massaging
my legs.” Which she suddenly realized were about to collapse. She reached for
her robe and turned her back to him. “My legs were too close together.”
That’s
what happens when you have fat thighs
. She slipped the borrowed garment on
then allowed the sheet to drop to the floor. She tied the belt at her waist and
made it to the loveseat against the far wall just as her knees gave way.

Antonio chose that
moment to drop the sheet covering his crotch and reached for his robe. She
allowed herself to check out the rest of him as he shrugged the terrycloth over
his shoulders, pulled the front closed, and belted it in the most
unselfconscious manner she’d ever seen. He was clearly comfortable in his body,
and why wouldn’t he be? He was beautiful—all hard, sculpted muscle from his
broad shoulders to his slim hips and long legs. An athlete’s body. Toned and
honed to play the demanding outfielder’s job.

Her gaze swept
over the defined ridges of his abs and locked on his erect penis. Her mouth
went dry.

“No one touches
what’s mine.” His voice snapped her back to reality.

“Yours?”
Me?

Antonio refilled
their champagne glasses. She automatically took the one he thrust in her
direction, being careful to avoid touching him.

He drained his
glass and refilled it. “Mine, Clare.”

It was easy to see
the Italian blood he’d inherited from his mother when he was agitated. He stood
like a Roman god, his feet braced apart, his spine straight. His eyes were
fiery shards of obsidian. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I want you,
Clare. Now. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. No more massages. I fuckin’ can’t stand
the thought of another man’s hands on you.”

So much for the
Bases Loaded fantasy.

“And it’s okay if
another woman touches you?” she asked in an effort to mask her disappointment.

“That’s
different,” he reasoned.

“I don’t see how.
You were doing an awful lot of moaning and groaning over there. What exactly
was Serena massaging?”

He stared at her.
She’d gone too far. A man like Antonio wouldn’t tolerate a woman being jealous
where he was concerned.

“You’re jealous.”
It wasn’t a question.

“Maybe.”

His sensual lips
curved into a broad smile. “You are.” He nodded and sipped his champagne. “I
like it.”

“What?” she
gasped.

“I like it. No
one’s ever been jealous on my behalf before.”

Clare set her
glass down before she spilled it. “I wasn’t jealous. I was pointing out that
you seemed to be having a lot of fun over there.”

A frown replaced
his smile. “I was trying to distract you, so you could relax and enjoy the
massage. Then you did, and it was all I could do to keep from leaping from my
table to yours. Those sounds you make when it feels good…you were killing me,
Clare. Raul had no business saying those words to you. I don’t care what you
think he was trying to accomplish. The man was hitting on you. That was the
last straw.”

“He wasn’t—”

“He was hitting on
you. Believe me, I know.” His tone allowed no argument. He paced away then back
again. “Look, I understand you don’t think men find you attractive, but you
couldn’t be more wrong. Men lust after women like you.”

“Oh yeah, that’s
why I have more dates than I can handle. I have so many I have to turn most of
them away, or I’d never get to stay at home and wash my hair.”

“You equate being
attractive with having dates. That’s where you’re wrong. They don’t ask you out
because they know it would be the end of the road for them. No more sowing wild
oats and all that shit. They’d be goners, and they know it. That’s why they
don’t ask you out. But, you see, that’s where I’m different. I told you I was
scared shitless, but not because I think you’re my forever, but because I’m
afraid someone else might get to you before me.”

She grabbed the
champagne she’d abandoned and drained the glass.

“I want to spend
time with you. I want to get to know you, and I want you to get to know me,
too. And, fuck yeah, I’m going to be jealous and possessive. And as soon as
you’ll let me, I’m going to claim what’s mine.”

A knock sounded on
the door. Antonio arched an eyebrow at her. She clutched the lapels of her robe
tighter and nodded.

“Come in,” he
called out.

Chapter
Seven

A man wearing a business suit complete with an
understated tie cautiously opened the door. Stepping inside, he shut the door
behind him.

“Sir, Miss.” He
nodded at them. “I’m Nathan James. This is my establishment. I’m so very sorry for
what happened here.” He shook his head and made a face as if he’d tasted
something vile. “Raul has never done anything like that before. We’ve never had
a complaint against him, and he’s been in my employ for several years.
Nevertheless, once is all it takes. He no longer works here. Please, accept my
profound apologies.”

“That was quick,”
Antonio said.

“Serena told me
what Raul said to your….”

“Wife,” Antonio
supplied.

He shot her a look
that said no argument would be tolerated. She decided to let it slide. Under
the circumstances she’d rather they believe she was Antonio’s wife than
his…whatever.

“What he said to
your wife,” Mr. James continued. “Unacceptable. He clearly found your wife’s
charms irresistible, but that is no excuse. He didn’t conduct himself in a
professional manner, and anything less will not be tolerated in my place of
business.”

“I appreciate your
position and your swift action regarding the matter. If you’ll give us a few
minutes to shower and dress,” Antonio said, dismissing the business owner.

“Take your time.
The suite is yours as long as you require it.” Then he was gone, and she was
alone with a smug looking Antonio.

“I told you he was
hitting on you.”

“That’s absurd.”

“You think so?” He
parted his robe, allowing his cock to spring free. He wrapped his fist around
it and stroked. “This is what you do to me, Clare. I want you every minute of
every day. I think of you when I close my eyes at night and I wake up dreaming
of sinking into you.”

“Really?”

He sounded so
sincere, and with the evidence plainly in front of her, she could almost
believe it was true.

He tucked his
erection under the flap of his robe in the same unselfconscious way he had
earlier, as if his arousal was something he’d learned to live with. He reached
for her hand. “Come here.” One firm tug and she was on her feet following him
across the room. “Let me show you what I see when I look at you.”

He pushed the
changing room door wide, so they were face-to-face with the full-length mirror
on the back. There were two things she hated in this world—cameras and mirrors.
They could be counted on to shatter any illusions one held about themselves,
and the last thing she wanted to do was confront her ample shortcomings with
The Sexiest Man Alive. Eyes lied. Reflections did not.

His strong arms
bracketed her waist, anchoring her back to his front. The thick ridge of his
arousal pressed against the small of her back. She tugged at his forearms in a
futile effort to dislodge herself. He held her tighter and moved his lips
against her ear.

“Look in the
mirror, Clare.”

Reluctantly, she
raised her gaze. Her heart fluttered at the picture they made together. She
looked almost small cradled against his much larger frame. Her ivory skin
appeared pale in contrast to his darker bronze tones.

“You’re
breathtaking.” His hand came up to trace the lines of her face. “You have the
features of an angel.” His thumb swept over her mouth, leaving a trail of fire.
“Your lips would tempt a saint to sin. And your eyes…they’re windows to your
soul.” His gaze met hers in the mirror. “Everything you feel shows in them.
Right now, you’re wary but excited. Aroused, perhaps.”

“I’m not.” Even
she didn’t believe her breathless lie.

“Ah, but you are.”
His fingers closed around her jaw then slid down to span her neck. “Your pulse
is racing, and your eyes are dilated. You want me to touch you. Don’t even try
to tell me otherwise.”

She wouldn’t,
couldn’t.

“However, I will
stop if you want me to. Say the word, Clare, and I’ll let you go.” He held her
still for the space of a moment. “No protest?”

She shook her head
because she was positive no sound would come out if she tried to speak.

“Good, then I’m
going to touch you, look at you. I’m going to show you why I, and every other
man on the planet, would want to be with you.”

His hand at her
throat slipped lower, past her clavicle, dipping into the V of her robe, coming
to a stop just above the swell of her breasts. Sensations rippled across her
skin, and her nipples tightened in anticipation of his touch. She grew lightheaded.
Her body recognized the problem, and her lungs involuntarily filled. Her heart
raced in response, sending oxygen rich blood to her brain.

A scrap of sanity
wedged into her consciousness. Then he took her left breast in his hand, and
she couldn’t think of anything other than the sexiest man on the planet was
touching
her
. It had to be a dream.

His fingers
massaged the soft mound. He pinched her nipple, and a bolt of lightning shot
straight to her womb.

No dream. Shocking
reality.

“Let me see you.”
His warm breath caressed her ear.

She reached for
the tie at her waist, but before she could loosen the simple knot, his fingers
closed over hers, guiding her hands to her sides.

“No. Keep your
hands right here until I tell you to move.”

Clare watched in
the mirror as he grasped the collar of her robe and gently peeled the garment
over her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his heated gaze. Her nipples
pebbled, and her breasts grew heavy.

He stood behind
her, his hands on the bunched fabric at her elbows. “My God, Clare. You are….”
He shook his head. “Beautiful.
Magnifica.
Glorioso
.”

The blended
romantic languages that were his heritage strummed at her heartstrings.

“The words aren’t
enough, bella.”

She glanced at the
reflection of her breasts then up to his face. His lips were parted, his eyes
dilated and fixed on her chest. A fire burned in the dark orbs, tempting her to
believe.

“They’re just
breasts,” she asserted.
Maybe a little above average in size, but nothing
special.

“No.” He shook his head then reached around her to
cup each one in the palm of his hands. Heat seared through the delicate skin.
He held her breasts as if they were precious possessions. “They’re femininity.
They’re a symbol of womanhood. They’re a wonder of nature—a God-given gift meant
to entice and nurture.”

She had never felt
as cherished as she did in that moment. This gorgeous specimen of a man thought
she
was beautiful.

“Put your hands
where mine are,” he instructed, guiding them into place. “One day soon, I hope
you’ll offer your breasts to me, but for now, just hold them. I like to see
them in your hands.”

Holding her
breasts felt awkward until she caught a glimpse of Antonio’s rapt expression in
the mirror. She’d hold them all day, every day, if he would continue to look at
her with desire in his eyes. His hands fell to the tie at her waist, and his
fingers slowly and expertly worked the knot loose. Her robe fell open,
revealing her worst features. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the
look of disgust on his face when he saw her round belly and plump thighs.

He splayed his
hands across her abdomen then moved lower, trailing fire everywhere he touched.

“Open your eyes,
Clare.”

She shook her head
and bit her lower lip. His thumbs brushed her mound, and his fingers rested on
her upper thighs.

“Okay then. Let me
tell you what I see.”

She wanted to run,
to tear herself out of his arms, and yank her robe closed. She wanted
desperately to hide from Antonio, from the world, from herself. For a moment,
she had believed she was beautiful, but he was asking too much of her. Hot
tears formed behind her eyelids. The way he held her, his arms trapping her
elbows where she had no choice but to cradle her own breasts, made it
impossible to wipe the tears away. They slid from the corners of her eyes, and
she added shame to her growing list of humiliations. Knowing he was a member of
Bases Loaded seemed trivial now. No way would he and his friends want a cow
like her.

“Please, let me
go,” she begged.

“Not until you
open your eyes and hear me out.”

“I can’t,” she
whimpered.

His hands stroked
her belly. “You can, and you will.”

He continued to
caress her. His roughened hands abraded her soft skin and made her weak with
wanting him. His heat surrounded her like a warm blanket, enticing her to give
in to his demands.

“I’ve never seen
such beauty,” he crooned, his voice stroking, arousing, as surely as his hands.
“You’re everything a woman is meant to be.”

His hands skimmed
her hips, down to her thighs, and up over her mound. “I’m just a mortal man,
and your body calls to mine. You’re Eve. A woman built for a man. Built to
pleasure a man, to bear his children.”

His fingers
slipped between her feminine folds and stole the last shreds of her
self-respect.

“Please,” she
begged, but for what, she didn’t know. For more? Or for him to let her go?

“You have the body
of a Madonna, and there isn’t a man in the world who doesn’t want to have that
in his bed.” His fingers played with her clit. He pressed his lips to her bare
shoulder and plunged his middle finger inside her.

Her eyes popped
open. The scene in the mirror made her knees buckle.

Antonio supported
her effortlessly. He rocked his hips against her buttocks making the hard ridge
of his erection impossible to ignore. “Feel what you do to me, and to every
red-blooded male who sees you. You’re a desirable woman, Clare, and I want you
more than I’ve ever wanted any woman.”

She believed him,
if only for that moment in time, because it suited her to. He nudged her feet
farther apart and inserted a second finger into her slick channel.

“Let me give you
pleasure,” he pleaded unnecessarily.

She was past
rational thought, past the ability to refuse him anything no matter what the
cost later on. What he was doing to her went beyond every fantasy she had ever
had about being with him, and there was no way she would end it now. She spread
her legs and rocked against his palm.

“That’s it, babe.
Take what you want. Let it happen.”

A third finger
stretched her. She groaned and let her head fall against his shoulder in surrender.
He pressed his lips to her neck, scraped his teeth across the vein pulsing
there, and she shattered. Unintelligible sounds escaped her throat. Antonio
murmured incomprehensible things in her ear while her body convulsed and poured
liquid love over his hand. And through it all, he held her in the shelter of
his arm wrapped around her waist, cloaking her with his heat and strength.

She slowly became
aware of her surroundings and that his hand cupped her now, gently massaging
the tender flesh between her legs. Embarrassment washed over her like a blazing
sunset. She grabbed at his arms, trying to dislodge them only to have him
tighten his grip.

“No. Let me hold
you a minute longer, Clare.”

She didn’t dare
look in the mirror, choosing to keep her eyes tightly shut, acquiescing to his
demand because she had no choice. Her weak struggles were nothing compared to
his strength.

“I’m truly
humbled, bella. Thank you for letting me see you this way.”

They stood there,
silent but for their labored breathing, until her knees ceased to tremble and
her skin became chilled. He eased the robe onto her shoulders and deftly retied
the sash at her waist before letting his hands come to rest on her hips.

Braver now that
she was covered, she raised her gaze once again to the mirror. He peered over
her shoulder.

“I don’t want you
to doubt your beauty ever again,” he said. “I wanted you the first moment I
laid eyes on you, and I’m going to have you.”

“Antonio….”

“Shh. No more
protests. We’ll take it slow. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He
turned her to face him. “Say you’ll spend time with me. Say you’ll give us a
chance.”

He tugged her
closer, and she shuffled her feet to stand between his. When his arms closed
around her, she pressed her cheek to his chest. His heartbeat thumped out a
steady, reassuring rhythm. Her hands came up to embrace him as naturally as if
they did it every day. She took her first deep breath since Antonio appeared at
her car window earlier in the day. Beneath his understated woodsy cologne, he
smelled of what she supposed was pure testosterone. Saying no to him wasn’t an
option.

“Okay.”