Throwing Heat: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (7 page)

Peter took a step toward her, closing the gap by a good foot until only an arm’s reach separated them. He leaned forward and caged her in placing a hand on each armrest of her chair. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit, but she held her ground. “I wish many, many things.”

“Really?” she questioned and shifted slightly away from him in her chair. “Such as what?”

Peter couldn’t help noticing that her breathing had gone shallow. How about that? “I wish to win the World Series this season.” It would be a hell of a way to go out.

Her gaze landed on his mouth and flicked away. “Boring.”

Humor sparked inside him at that and he chuckled. “You want exciting?”

She shrugged. “Why not? Amuse me.”

That worked for him. Hell yeah. If she didn’t watch herself he was going to excite the pants right off of her.

Just excitement, arousal, and sexual demands. That’s what he was looking for this time around. And it was going to be fun leading her up to it.

But if he wanted her there then he had to start.

Pushing until he’d tipped her chair back and only the balls of her feet were on the desk, her painted toes curling for grip, Peter lowered his head and until his mouth was against her ear. She smelled like coconut again, and his gut went tight.

“I wish I had you bent over this desk right here with your hot bare ass in the air.”

She made a small sound in her throat and replied, “Less boring.”

Peter grinned. Christ, the woman was tough. “Do you remember what I did to you that night in Miami? The thing that made you come hard twice—one on top of the other?” He sure as hell did. It had involved his tongue, fingers, and Leslie on all fours with her face buried in a pillow, moaning his name like she was begging for deliverance.

She tried to cover it, but he heard her quick intake of breath. “It wasn’t that memorable.”

Bullshit.

He slid a hand from the armrest and squeezed the top of her right thigh, his thumb rubbing lazily back and forth on the skin of her inner thigh. Her leg tensed, but she didn’t pull away.

“Need a reminder?” His tongue slipped out and traced the delicate curve of her ear.

“I might,” she whispered, and he could feel her breathing go shallow.

Lust pooled low in his belly. Reminding Leslie what it had felt like was exactly what he wanted to do. “I thought you weren’t going to sleep with me. Are you going to fold that easily?” Not that he was complaining, but he’d thought she’d be a tougher nut to crack than that. He’d anticipated it even.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to spread her thighs in invitation. But that’s exactly what she did, and the lust in his belly shot straight to his groin, making him instantly hard and achy. Pulling back to look in her eyes, Peter was surprised by the wicked gleam he saw there. What was she up to?

“Isn’t this what you want? Me, willing and pliant?” She put a hand on top of his and guided it closer to her crotch. He could feel the heat coming off her and it nearly made him whimper. “Here, how’s this?” She moved his hand until he was cupping her and could feel her moist heat through the fabric of her pants. “Is this what you want?”

Jesus.

His hand jerked and curled into her, making her gasp. It had been far too long since he’d had his hands anywhere on her body. “It’s a start.” His cock throbbed and strained against the fly of his jeans.

No problems there.

Enjoying himself immensely, Peter cupped her and began rubbing the seam of her pants with his middle finger, taking his sweet, sweet time stroking up, then back down. And he felt her go from hot to steaming.

Her head fell back against the chair and she closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan. It nearly buckled his knees, made his chest squeeze. “You always were good with your hands,” she gasped, arousal making her voice throaty.

He was good with his mouth too. Capturing her lips with his, Peter kissed her soft and slow, his tongue stroking hers in an erotic dance meant to melt any resistance. Sinking further and further into her until all he knew was the feel of her hot little pussy under his palm and the way she tasted.

God, he’d missed her.

The thought entered his head and shocked him, pulled him back from the drugging effect of her kiss. His heart began to jackhammer in his chest, but before he could pull back further Leslie grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged him back down.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth. “You feel so good.”

Her hips had started to move in time with his hand, her body searching, yearning for more. Whatever her game was, she was clearly enjoying it. This was either going to be the easiest bet he’d ever won or the woman was playing him like a fiddle.

Either way he was totally on board.

Hunger bit into him with jagged teeth and he pushed his finger against her, making her cry out. It wasn’t his mouth on her like he wanted, but it was enough for now. It was enough to make her come.

And making Leslie Cutter orgasm had just become his singular mission.

Peter took her mouth again, impatience nipping at him, causing him to become rougher, more demanding. Taking the heel of his palm he pushed it into her mound and began rubbing it in a circle, knowing that the friction on her clit would drive her crazy.

“More,” she groaned and arched upward, her hands dropping to his shoulders, her nails digging into him there.

It turned him on and he gave her more, kissing her hard and passionately. Whatever she wanted, he wanted to give her. Everything. Anything. Just as long as she rewarded him with a gorgeous, delicious orgasm.

Nothing in the world quite compared to the sight of her in the throes of an intense climax. The memory of the last time had plagued him for years, crept into his dreams, and overrode his fantasies until they starred only Leslie.

It was time to get her out of his head.

And it was definitely time to get her back into his bed. He needed to have her, to purge himself of her. Then he wouldn’t be in danger of her taking over his heart anymore. Because she already had a toehold, damn her.

Shoving the chair back on its spring as far is it would go, Peter kissed her passionately. The heel of his palm continued its gentle assault, not letting up even when she drew her legs up until only her toes were on the desk and her knees were bent.

“Tell me how much you want this,” he panted after he broke the kiss.

“I want this,” she whispered, her head back and eyes closed.

Not good enough. After all the trouble she’d caused him, he wanted her begging for it. “How bad do you want it?” He nipped her bottom lip hard enough to sting and she cried out softly. “How bad do you want to come for me, Leslie?” he demanded, blood pounding in his ears and his cock hard as granite. If it was anywhere close to how badly he wanted to make her come then it was going to be one intense orgasm.

Dropping his head further, he saw her nipples puckered beneath her black top and covered one with a mouth. He wasn’t gentle. And she liked it.

Nails dug hard into his shoulders and she bucked against him, crying out, “So bad! Now, Peter. Make me come, now.” She ended her demand with a moan and a “please.” Then she dropped her hands until they covered his, urging him on.

Feeling the urgency in her, he sucked a nipple through the thin black fabric of her shirt and grinned when her legs began to quiver. Knowing she was on the brink of going over, Peter flicked his tongue over her hard little peak and bit it between his teeth.

She broke.

Her orgasm tore through her and she cried out, “Oh God!”

It was the sexiest fucking sound in the entire world.

Releasing her nipple, Peter drew back until he could see her clearly. Her eyes were still closed and her cheeks were flushed. She was panting and boneless and sated and it made him feel like a goddamn superhero.

And there wasn’t a tear in sight.

Not this time.

Peter released the chair and let it drop back down, the abrupt movement jarring her eyes open. When he saw them his stomach tightened. They had gone dark as a pine forest and were completely dazed and unfocused. Damn, but it did his ego good to see her like that. All soft and satisfied and floaty.

Turning his back on her, Peter strode to his jacket on the couch and picked it up, put it on. Then, staring at her slick, kiss-swollen lips, he asked, “How many times did you come that night, Leslie?”

She stared back at him, her eyes a little glassy. “Three or four, I think. Why?”

Because he was keeping count.

Moving to the door, he pulled it open and glanced back over his shoulder at his fantasy woman with the pinup curves and smart mouth, who looked decidedly sex-rumpled and replete.

Damn right.

He had a score to settle. “That’s number one.”

Chapter Six

A
FEW DAYS
later Leslie was in her car and on her way to Pole Fitness for her strip dancing class. Outside, the October air was fresh, the sky was blue, and the leaves were parading about in their autumn glory.

Inside, the radio was cranked and The Dirty Heads were in her
CD
player, making her body sway with their song “Lay Me Down.” Her left hand kept time to the beat as she tapped her thumb on the steering wheel and downshifted when the light up ahead turned red.

Reggae music was her weakness.

It made her soul light up. Considering how many things there were in life that could get a person down, she considered island music a godsend. Losing herself in the rhythms of the Caribbean had gotten her through some pretty tough times when all she’d wanted to do was cry.

Pulling to a stop as The Dirty Heads told her to wipe the dirt off or take her shirt off, she put the Mini in first gear just as a text came through on her cell phone. Knowing she shouldn’t because texting while driving was illegal in Colorado, Leslie quickly pulled down her Ray-Bans and scanned the message anyway.

It was from Peter, and it was the first she’d heard from him since he’d left for St. Louis.

Home. Had grass, want beer, need ass. Where you at?

Laughter bubbled in her chest and she let it loose. God, that man was funny when he wanted to be, referencing their bet like that.
Sorry pal
, she thought.
My
ass is winning this thing.
Hotbox was hers.

After their rendezvous in her office he’d headed out of town, providing them both with an opportunity to assess the current situation and decide how to move forward. Not that she really had anything to think about. There was simply no way she was going to have sex with Kowalskin and lose this bet.

That didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to drive him bat-shit crazy at every opportunity though.

And
have a little fun herself. Besides it being just so much fun to torment Peter all on its own, there was the added benefit of the man’s oral abilities and incredibly nimble fingers. It was the rest that had left her unsatisfied, since the night had been cut short. But for now she didn’t have any qualms about putting the former to use for her enjoyment.

Leslie knew he didn’t mind either.

If ever there was a guy who could corner the market on commitment-phobia it was him. Not in all the years she’d known him had he ever had a girlfriend. Or at least not a steady one.

Certainly there were women. There had to be. It was Peter Kowalskin, for goodness’ sake. He didn’t just sit around all night playing canasta. Maybe he simply got laid on the road.

The light turned green and Leslie let out the clutch and cruised through the intersection. She was heading west and could see the Rockies in the distance already snowcapped and looking beautiful. It looked like they were going to be in for a brutal winter, if the early snows were any indication. Then again, the high country always got pummeled way more than the Front Range—at least that’s what Lorelei told her.

She was deep in thought about which ski pass to buy this winter when her phone went off. She grabbed it out of the front pocket of her purse and answered without checking the caller ID.

“Leslie Cutter.”

“You didn’t answer my text.”

She rolled her eyes. Men. “I’m driving, Kowalskin. You wouldn’t want me to wreck my pretty little car by texting and driving now would you?”

“Fine, you’re off the hook this time. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere you’re not. What’s it to you?” Listening to him on the phone started her blood humming in her veins. Aside from the accent that he played up sometimes only to annoy her, he had a sexy voice. It was a little youthful and a lot rough-and-tumble with a hard edge. Just like the rest of him.

“I’ve got plans for us, princess, and I don’t have much time. So you need to get your butt back here. I have a surprise.”

She didn’t trust his surprises. Not as far as she could throw them. “I’m not missing my pole class.”

“C’mon, Leslie. If you don’t come here then I’ll come to you.” He made it sound like a threat.

The studio came into view and she whipped into the parking lot. “You can try, but there are a lot of pole fitness studios in this city. Good luck trying to find mine.”

He snorted. “Girl, please. Do you honestly believe that I couldn’t just make a few calls and find out where you shake your ass?”

Since he put it like that . . . “Whatever. Hey, I have to go.” She was about to disconnect and then remembered. “Wait! Have you heard anything about my apartment? Has Jerry called you with an update? I was hoping to move back in this weekend.”

There was a shuffling and what sounded like a garage door opening. “Not that I know of. I’ll double-check my phone when I get a chance, but don’t hold your breath. I’ve been preoccupied.”

Leslie did have to give him that. Playing ball for a living kept the guy busy, especially in the postseason. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She reached for her gym bag and retrieved it from the back seat. “I don’t want to impose for longer than absolutely necessary.” The line went quiet. “Are you still there?” she asked as she climbed out of her car.

Peter sighed softly and finally relented, saying quietly, “You’re not an imposition, Leslie.”