Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1) (16 page)

She had barely come down when he sheathed himself in a condom and drove into her in one long stroke. She cried out at the sensation, the sensitive tissues stretched and filled. He sank hard and deep, then slow, twisting lightly before plunging inside again.

“I can’t go slow, Stacia. I can’t.” His voice sounded strangled and hoarse.

She wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. “Then don’t.”

As if her words had unleashed the beast, he drove harder, deeper and with a few short strokes, he was coming, and she was coming around him, letting herself fall into the well of sensations, pulsing deep within her. He collapsed to the side, pulling her with him. His hands drifted down her back, fingers caressing her spine, more of a reflex, calming motion than for anything she needed. She was boneless, draped across him, no desire to move, fully sated for the first time in forever. Her eyes tugged closed and she drifted away.

*

Stacia stood in
front of the hotel room’s full length mirror and manipulated her hair into a French twist. Jason lay on the bed, partially covered by the sheets, his gaze scorching her, luring her back to bed. She stifled a smile at his little boy pout while she put the finishing touches on her makeup and hair. “Forget about it, Jason. I have things to do, namely your reputation.”

“How about you just do me and to hell with my reputation?” She gave him an admonishing look. He grunted. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”

She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, just out of reach. “You’re willing to work with me on this?”

“Within reason.” His voice was raspy and sexy, and scraped along her nerve endings.

A thrill of excitement coursed through her. Finally, success. Now to break the news of her plans to him. “Per your dictates and your contract, we want to stay low-key. So, instead of a lot of photo ops and charity events, which, to be honest, you don’t even have time for, let’s focus on your play on the field.”

“You’re kidding right?” He barked a laugh. “You’re going to tell me how to play baseball?”

“You went four for four last night with a homerun didn’t you?” She smiled, satisfied that she’d made her point. “No, I don’t plan on telling you how to play. But, despite your hitting, you got slammed by the press and the commentators on your game.” She held up her tablet. “Look at this. ‘Friar proved he could still hit, but he dogged it around first. That single should have been a double, which could have led to a run.’”

She handed him the tablet and he scanned the article. “One of your bad raps is that you’re not a team player. You said no one cared about your off-field activities when you were producing. Well, if we ignore your off-field activities, you still have room for improvement on the field, namely starting with this article. We need to manage that kind of reporting, don’t give them an excuse to write such things about you.”

He tossed the tablet on the bed and stood, carelessly letting the sheet fall away. Stacia glanced away before he could see the hunger surely reflected in her gaze, belying her words just a few minutes ago about not having time.

Ignorant of his nudity, he stalked to the desk, then back again. “I just returned. My legs aren’t there yet. I didn’t think I could make it to second.”

“You didn’t even try,” she quietly pointed out.

He whirled around and glared at her. “Now you’re my coach? I know what I can and can’t do. I would never dog it and hurt the team.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re protecting yourself and your career. Is this job a throwaway one for you, a way to worm your way into the sport again?” She stood and walked over to him, running her hand up his tense and twitching arm. “You’re probably right.”

“Probably?” He yanked out of her grasp.

She ignored his interruption and continued. “It looks like it. And yes, I am aware that reality and perception are two different things, but I am here to help you manage those perceptions.”

“What do you care? As long as I keep my nose clean off the field, management is happy.”

“But that’s not
your
goal, is it? You want another contract, somewhere, after this. You and I both know that unless you show something remarkable on the field, no one will take you no matter how squeaky clean you are off the field.”

He ran his fingers through his chocolate brown hair and glared impotently at her.

“You know I’m right.”

“Damn it. I’m taking a shower.” He stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“Think about it,” she called through the door.

Damn. She usually handled sensitive discussions with more finesse, but she botched this one. How could she read slimy politicians so easily and have this man be a complete mystery to her? Was it the sex? She had slept with men before and had never had any of them be such a puzzle. Nor had she ever cared about a client and his future. He was right—his future was not her concern. She was hired to get him through this season, not a contract for next season.

Maybe she should remember her goal because if she screwed this up, she would lose all chance of a serious job after this. She and Jason were in exactly the same boat. They both needed this job to work to get back on top, back in the game. It bothered her that she needed to rely on someone else for her success. That had not worked out so well for her with the senate race and Representative Glazier. And now she had to trust Jason, that he would keep his end of the bargain.

Hopefully, she could trust him. Her future was in his hands. And that scared the crap out of her.

J
ason closed the
condo door and flicked the hall light switch on to avoid tripping over boxes still piled from his moving day over a week ago. He dumped his suitcase in the hall, at the base of the stairs then stumbled into the living room and onto the soft easy chair in the corner. Thank God it was a semi-furnished condo. He had left his furniture in storage in New Jersey.

He’d forgotten how long and difficult road trips were. Getting in at three in the morning. Trying to catch a few hours’ sleep before heading back to the stadium for the game. Struggling to adjust to time zone changes. Trying to forget the fiasco that was his first road trip in a year. And it was only a six-game stint for him.

He let his head fall back against the cushion of the chair, absently rubbing his aching shoulder and groaned. Was he fooling himself? Would his shoulder ever let him play again? Would the fans ever stop booing? Would his teammates ever accept him? Icing after every game was a panacea at best, not a long-term solution. And he wasn’t hitting, thanks to the old injury.

The questions swirled in his head, chasing elusive sleep farther and farther away. Exhaustion settled in his muscles and bones, sinking his body into the chair until he almost became a part of the furniture. It molded to his body, enveloping him in a welcoming warmth.

At least one thing didn’t hate him.

A knock at his door startled him out of the fog of sleep. What the hell? It was three in the morning. Who would be on his doorstep? As soon as the question entered his mind, the answer also presented itself.

He flung open the door to see Stacia on the stoop, her suitcase in hand. She swept into the foyer, dragging her designer bag behind her. She glanced around the dimly lit room at the boxes stacked haphazardly around. She turned and arched an eyebrow.

“I see you’ve settled in nicely.”

“I’ve been busy.” He brushed past her, ignoring the tightening in his lower belly, the rising arousal that was harder to resist in the middle of the night when she stood there looking tousled and sleepy after their flight home with the team. Or after a night of satisfying sex. He shoved that thought from his brain and willed his body to obey for once. “What do you want, Stacia? Checking up on me? It’s not like I had time to pick up a hooker or anything between the stadium and here.”

She followed him into the kitchen, the scent of her perfume teasing his senses, taunting his body with memories.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a water from the shelf, stalling for time. “There’s no one here. Feel free to check around.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You were barely ten minutes ahead of me. Of course no one is here.” She perched on a barstool. “That’s not why
I’m
here. I’m supposed to be stuck to you like glue, don’t you remember?”

Irritation skated along his raw nerve endings. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“It appears that you do. Did you think this was just for the road?”

He stalked to the sink, and stared out the small window. She stroked her hand on his back between his shoulder blades, stroking downward gently, almost imperceptibly. He shuddered, fighting the urge to press her against the wall, kiss her breath away and slam into her, bringing them both to a screaming completion. She curved her hand around his shoulder and tugged him gently.

“Ignoring me won’t make me go away. I’m here for the long haul.”

He whirled around. “I’ve heard those words before. You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe them.” He pushed past her again, struggling for control. “It’s not wise to be here tonight, Stacia. Not tonight. Go home. We’ll deal with this in the light of day.”

She stepped closer, head tilted up to gaze into his eyes. Again, she brushed his arm and he flinched. She frowned at his reaction, confusion in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

The tension snapped and he grabbed her, a hand curving down her spine to her backside to press her fully against him, his other hand tangling in her hair to tilt her head back for his bruising kiss. He shifted her more comfortably against his hardening cock and his lips gentled on hers, teasing, coaxing her response. His tongue stroked her lips, dipping inside for a fleeting touch then back out. She struggled to pull her arms free, but he trapped them with his and held her in place, helpless against his sensual assault.

She moaned into his mouth, and softened against him. He released her, steadying her before stepping away. She looked up at him dazed and aroused. Before she could come to her sense, he guided her down the hall to the front door. The cool night air caressed his heated skin.

“Go home, Stacia.” He closed the door firmly, only to meet the resistance of her foot.

“I don’t think so.”

*

Decisions made at
three in the morning rarely stood up to the cold harsh light of day, yet here she was standing outside Jason’s door, pushing her way into his condo, his life, his bed. Pushing against a man who professed to not want her but kissed her like he was a dying man and she was the key to life. It was intoxicating and sucked her in against her will, but she was powerless to resist. She was drawn to him but she couldn’t understand what he had that ensnared her so thoroughly, getting her to change her business policies, and get more involved than ever before.

Stacia quivered in the cool early morning chill, sizzling hot from the inside with sexual heat and anger. How dare he close the door in her face? She had barely wedged her foot in the door, almost destroying her nine hundred dollar shoes in the process, another bill she’d lay at Jason Friar’s door when this was over. She wedged her shoulders through the opening and forced her way into the small foyer of the condominium. Scowling, Jason closed the door behind her and leaned against it, arms crossed.

“I don’t have time for this, Stacia. I have to be at the stadium early in the afternoon and I barely got any sleep the last few nights.”

“I didn’t hear any complaining.” She swept into the living room and tossed her bag on the couch. “I’ll sleep here since I doubt your spare room has any sheets.”

“I have a spare room?” He glanced up the stairs.

She sighed. “You really need to be more observant. If I run out to the car for my bag, will you lock the door behind me?”

He snagged her keys from her hand and stalked out the door. She slowly sank onto the couch, surprised her knees had held her that long. She had not expected such resistance from Jason, thinking their time in Kansas City had forged a truce between them. Apparently, she had a lot to learn about him. And he would find her not so easy-going and susceptible to his charm as he thought.