Winner Takes All (A Full Length Erotic Romance Novel) (11 page)

“You know,” Damien murmured in a tone of confidentiality. “A lobster
has a sense of smell about a thousand times keener than a human.”

Sasha giggled, wrinkling her nose at her own plate that had a cracked
open lobster claw and a tiny smear of butter. “How do you even know that?”

Damien was quiet for a moment. In the light Sasha could detect the
faintest blush on his cheek. “Biology is a hobby of mine.”

“Really? How cool!” She looked at her lover in surprise, a pleased
smile on her face.

Ever since they had agreed to see each other publicly, she had been
finding out more and more things about Damien. Intimate things that made her
like him even more. She loved that he never watched TV but loved reading
science fiction novels. That he couldn’t stand ice cream but loved cherry pie.

Sasha leaned toward him, poking the lobster tail on his plate with her
finger. “I wonder if that makes lobster sex better, them being able to smell
their lover so strongly.” She grinned.

Damien raised an eyebrow in question.

“When I smell you, I want you even more. My mouth waters and I get so
wet, I can barely stand it.”

Across the table, his eyes grew darker. Hotter. “Oh really?”

She pursed her lips. “Oh, yes.”

“Can I get these dishes out of your way?” A waiter appeared at Sasha’s
elbow. She pressed her lips together in amusement at Damien’s annoyed glance in
the poor man’s direction.

“Yes, please,” she said.

The slender young man easily picked up the two large plates, their
silverware and empty butter dishes.

“And would either of you care for dessert?”

Sasha looked at Damien, smiling. Earlier, they had looked over the menu
and saw that the dessert of the week was homemade cherry pie. Damien’s face had
lit up. A flicker of movement outside the window drew her eyes away from her
lover’s face. For a moment, she wondered what she had seen; then a vague beige
shape coalesced into a thin, short man.
James.

She caught her breath. Her heart began a loud thudding in her ears as
she watched a smile spread across her brother’s face. He tipped an invisible
hat to her. Quickly, Sasha looked away, wishing she hadn’t seen him. A feeling
of dread began to turn over in her stomach. She swallowed against sudden
nausea.

“Would you share a slice with me, Sasha?”

She forced her attention back to Damien and their date, hoping that her
brother’s appearance outside the restaurant window was a coincidence and meant
nothing.

“Of course, I’ll share it with you.” She smiled widely at her lover,
already shrugging off the unease her brother’s appearance had stirred. “But
wouldn’t it be better for us to get two slices?”

Damien chuckled. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Sasha loosened her hold on the reins and allowed the
gray gelding, Iron Fist, to find his way into the four-horse starting gate on
his own. He was the only one attempting the starting gate while another half
dozen horses galloped or jogged around the dirt track, jockey’s bouncing on
their backs. It was a quiet day, hushed even. No breeze. Just the sound of
hooves, occasional nickering of the horses, the muted conversation of other
jockeys.
The one mile track was bordered on both sides by vast
green space, manicured laws that the staff at Taylor Stables took care to
maintain. As always, Sasha felt a sense of peace as her gaze ran the length of
white fence, the vast blue of the sky. She breathed in the smell of heated
horseflesh, the sharp green of the freshly cut grass.
She resisted looking beyond the stables and to the
massive house where Damien was at that very moment. Was he thinking about her?
Was he remembering last night when he had come over to her apartment with wine
and fruit? When he had dragged her down to the floor and fed her strawberries,
getting her drunk on wine and his kisses, then fucked her until she barely
remembered her own name?
Iron Fist stomped into the dirt, bringing her
attention back to where it belonged. His sides moved regularly and evenly with
his breath as he walked into the white cage. She sat back in the saddle as Linc
made encouraging noises to the horse as he got used to his first time in a starting
gate. From the open front of the gate, the trainer scratched between the
gelding’s ears and fed him a carrot.
“Very good,” he said in his deep, soothing voice.
“This one is a natural,” he said to Sasha.
She nodded, pleased with the progress of the once
temperamental gelding. Iron Fist snorted with pleasure as she patted his neck.
“You deserve at least two carrots for this, my handsome boy!” He danced a bit
under her, his big body moving easily in the confined space.
Nearby, a pair of jockeys walked their mounts to the
starting gates, talking softly to each other. The day was bright, late
afternoon sunshine pouring down from the cloudless sky. Sweat dripped under
Sasha’s shirt and down her neck, her butt was sore from being in the saddle so
long, and her arms ached. But it was a good pain. Satisfying pain. Like the
pain her lover sometimes fed her like cooled and peeled grapes. A jolt of
arousal shot between Sasha’s legs. She enjoyed that she was doing, as always,
but she was eager to shower the day from her body and see Damien later.
Things with her lover were even more incredible than
before. Since they had started seeing each other more publicly, he’d shared so
much of himself with her, becoming even more compelling to her in the last few
days. Now, he was more than her boss. Definitely more than just a lover. Every
time he took Sasha into his arms, her body and spirit responded to him like
none other before. She was half-convinced that she was in love with him.
“It’s good to see that smile back on your face,
Sasha.”
Linc patted Iron Fist one more time and jotted some
notes on his clipboard. After a brief look at Sasha, he led the horse out of
the starting gates. Iron Fist trotted obediently where Linc led him, out of the
gates and toward the fence out of the way of the other riders. Sasha
dismounted, fully aware of the reason she was smiling.
“Things are finally looking up,” she said.
She took off her gloves and stuffed them in her back
pocket, leaned back against the fence and enjoyed the warmth of the wood
through her shirt. She bent to unhook her backpack from the fence, pulled out a
bottle of water and drank from it. The room temperature water rushed into her
mouth and down her throat in a refreshing wave.
“Good. No one should be as sad as you’ve been
lately.” He took Iron Fist’s reigns and walked the horse a few paces, stopped,
examined him. Linc’s pen moved again across the yellow notepad.
“I was getting tired of it too.” Sasha flinched as
she thought of her brother and his demands, of her dwindling funds and the
half-life she now lived.
Being with Damien made her happy despite that filth
from her brother lingering around her. He washed her clean with his passion and
surprising humor. Gave her hope when she had had none before.
Something made her look up and away from Linc. She
glanced up in time to see Damien’s elegant figure—muscular and perfect in
jeans, riding boots, and a pale blue polo shirt open at the shirt—step out onto
the track. He approached another one of the jockeys only a few feet from Sasha.
He sent a smile her way and she felt warmth in her chest.
How come I got so lucky?
Linc glanced in Damien’s direction, nodded at his
boss, then turned back to the horse he was training. His eyes skimmed over
Sasha. She felt as if her face was flaming under that brief but knowing look.
Not looking at her, Linc said. “You’ve been hanging
out a lot with Damien lately. Is that the reason for your change of
perspective?” His voice was low and curious, not at all judgmental.
But Sasha couldn’t bring herself to say the words
that would confirm that she and their boss were dating each other. It seemed
too soon and their connection too fragile, to reveal it to anyone.
“He’s been a good friend,” she said, although she
suspected her cheeks were bright red from the lie. “The Derby win brought me to
his attention and he’s helping me get used to all the hype that goes with
that.”
Linc nodded, still not looking at her. He slipped his
notebook under his arm, took the Iron Fist’s reigns and led the gelding toward
the stables. After hours in the sun and on the track, they were done for the
day. Sasha and Linc walked together on either side of the horse.
“He’s a good man, too. Honorable,” Linc said after a
silent few moments. He seemed to be considering something, his dark eyebrows
furrowed over an intense gaze. When he looked up at Sasha, his brow was
suddenly smooth again. “You could do worse than get yourself involved with
him.”
Sasha almost nodded but stopped herself just in time.
“Any woman would be lucky to have him.” She blushed again and bit her lip. The
confession of their affair almost tumbled from her lips.
“Excuse me.”
A dark haired jockey pushed from behind Sasha and
Linc, rudely bumping into Sasha as he came from behind them at a too-fast pace.
He was sensible enough not to jostle the horse. As he passed, his gray eyes
moved over Sasha. It was an insolent, sexually suggestive visual mauling.
Vincent Frazier. One of the few men at the stables
who’d dared to ask her out when she first started working there. Sasha had
politely refused his attentions but Vincent had seemed to have it in for her
since then. How long had he been standing behind them and listening to their
conversation?
What an ass.
Sasha glanced at the jockey dismissively, turned back
to Linc’s gaze. He was still smiling at her, his look knowing and kind.
She looked away again, unable to say anything else.
          

Chapter
Fourteen

Sasha smoothed her hand down the
front of her dress, watching her reflection do the same in the mirror. The
dress was white, ended modestly at the tops of her knees and had a neckline
that only showed off the sharp blades of her collar-bones. But it was sleeveless
and fit snugly to her curves. A gift from Damien a few days before along with a
pair of black spike heels she’d had to practice walking in. The shoes were five
inches high, a soft black leather, and had straps that buckled around her
ankles. He hadn’t seen her in them yet, only told her to wear the dress and
shoes to the staff party that he had planned for everyone at Taylor Stables for
the feature article that they had landed in Equestrian this month.
In the mirror, she looked almost innocent with her
black hair loose and wavy around her shoulders, her tan deep and flattering
against the paleness of the dress. Her legs looked miles long in the black
stilettos. But then she’d added one accessory of her own. She hoped Damien
liked it. Sasha took a deep breath and grabbed her purse, barely paying
attention to her small, shabby apartment.
It was just a place for her to store her things now.
Not a home. Not a sanctuary. This was even after Damien had come to find her
there and scrub any awful feelings she had about the place from her mind. At
the end of the day, it was still the place James had forced her to turn to. It
was still a reminder, one of the several daily reminders, of what she had been
forced down to since her brother came back into her life.
She had unpacked the boxes of her few remaining
belongings, cleaned up as much as the apartment could be cleaned, changed the
dead light bulbs and got the office to fix the outlets that didn’t work. Now,
it was almost a decent place to live. Watermarked ceiling, cracked walls, and
all.
Keys in hand, she left the apartment, negotiated the
pock-marked walkway to the parking lot and her car. She started the little
Honda and drove out into the muggy summer evening. Sasha felt the oppressive
weight of her situation begin to float away the farther she got from her
apartment. And the closer she got to Damien.
At the country club where Damien hosted the party,
Sasha surrendered her little car to the valet and walked in through the wide
doors held open by the smiling doorman. The marble floors were loud under her
high heels as she walked toward the ballroom where the party was being held. On
a Friday night, the place was aflood with life. Women in expensive dresses, men
in their tailored suits. Low, aristocratic voices threaded with the occasional
laughter of someone not used to the repressed quiet of a place like this.
Sasha walked in the direction of the laughter,
convinced it belonged to one of her co-workers at the stables. She was right.
Elise, one of the secretaries, stood at the entrance to a ballroom chatting
with one of the jockeys. Even in her low-heeled sandals and her height of
barely five and a half feet, Elise was taller than the man who was trying to
pick her up.
“Hey, Frankie. Hey, Elise.” She greeted her
co-workers with a guarded smile, not sure how she would be received.
Elise, pretty and brown in a bright blue dress,
glanced at Sasha with a smile of her own. Her face was open and guileless.
“It’s good to see you.” She moved her drink to her other hand to lean in and
give Sasha a hug. “Seem like we haven’t seen you around in forever.” Elise
smelled like peach schnapps and maraschino cherries.
Frankie gave her a more restrained greeting, a mere
nod of his head, but he took a long and thorough look at her body. “Damn girl,
you clean up good,” he said. A smile flickered across his face. “Is that why
you’ve been AWOL after work, you’ve been out getting under the knife to get
that killer body?”
Sasha winced but knew he didn’t mean anything by it.
Thanks to her lack of funds, she hadn’t been able to do the community things
she’d regularly indulged in before her brother had shown up with his demands.
This meant no more impromptu lunches with the other jockeys. No more bowling
nights with Linc and a few of the guys who worked the track. No more
socializing at all where she had to spend money.
“I’ve just been hiding from you, Frankie. I hear
you’ve been a real bitch to everyone lately.” He was the sweetest of all the
jockeys. And even with his very vocal appreciation of the women who worked with
him, he was happily married to his high school sweetheart and wouldn’t even
think of doing more than talking to another woman.
Frankie laughed. “Good to see you back.”
She returned his smile and stepped past him and Elise
to go into the ballroom. Just as she’d expected when Damien told her he was
having the staff party at the country club, the room was massive. High
ceilings. Gold leaf trim around the two fireplaces. The walls were a lush and
sensual red. Taylor Stables staff already crowded the room, looking their best
while laughing and enjoying the party that their boss threw for them every
year. Jockeys, trainers, the admin folks, along with their dates, family
members and friends.
At the back wall of the room, Sasha could see a long
table filled with food for the taking. A bar was set up nearby, serving beer,
wine, and as many cocktails as the staff could handle. Waiters strolled through
the crowd offering up trays of champagne and canapés. All for free.
The first year she had worked for the stables, Sasha
had been stunned by the generosity of her new boss, unable to believe he would
have a party with unlimited food and drinks for the people who worked under him
for no particular reason. Even without knowing Damien then, she had thought he
was kind and generous, someone she was proud to work for.
“Sasha!” Michelle, the vet who took care of all the
stable’s animals, greeted her with a smile and a warm hug. “What, you don’t go
bowling anymore?”
Sasha clung to Michelle for as long as was polite,
swallowing a lump in her throat as she realized just how much she had missed
the older woman’s companionship. Michelle was the very opposite of Sasha -
tall, blond, and voluptuous, the body of a sex goddess shielding a cool and
logical heart. She was the smartest woman Sasha had ever met.
“You know I love bowling,” Sasha said. “I’ve just
been busy with some unexpected things.” Heat moved under her cheeks at the
reality that she couldn’t even afford to pay for a night of bowling. She
swallowed the anger and humiliation. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I—” She
swallowed again. “I miss you guys.”
Michelle met her eyes from her superior height, a
frown between her pale brows. She tenderly held Sasha’s elbows in her palms, pulling
her close. “If there’s anything wrong, you know you can tell me.”
But why would I? I’ve been alone and I’ll always
be alone.
“I know,” Sasha said, fighting
to keep the shaky smile on her face.
“Good.” Michelle didn’t seem convinced but she
lessened the intensity of her gaze. “Come say hi to Gracie. You know my wife
misses having you to talk horseflesh with.”
Then the vet drew her along to talk with her wife,
another tall beauty who Sasha felt privileged to know. As she talked with
Michelle and Gracie, she suddenly became aware that Damien had entered the
room. She wasn’t sure how she knew it but abruptly, the very air felt
different, more charged. She raised her head, only half listening to the
conversation between Michelle and her wife while her eyes searched for Damien
in the crowd. It wasn’t long before she found him.
Her breath left her in a rush. He looked powerful and
heart-stoppingly gorgeous in a tailored black suit and a pale blue tie that
perfectly matched his eyes. His neatly cut blond hair shimmered under the
lights as he bent his head to talk with a woman Sasha didn’t recognize. She
curled her fingers, overcome with the sudden need to touch him.
“Are you even listening, Sasha?”
She jerked her attention back to the conversion and
immediately felt Michelle’s amused gaze on her. Gracie shook her head, turning
to look and see what had captured Sasha’s attention so completely.
“Oh, him.” Gracie grinned wickedly. “I think every
straight woman in here has fantasized about him at one time or another.”
“And some not so straight,” Michelle teased, causing
her wife to blush prettily.
As Michelle and Gracie teased each other, Sasha
looked around and realized that what Gracie had said was true. There were more
than a few women who were looking at Damien like he was the last piece of fried
chicken at the country buffet. She’d always known he was an attractive man. And
she’d had her own share of fantasies about him before they started sleeping
together. Now as she watched the subtle and not-so-subtle yearning of many
women around him, their hot gazes blasted his way, she felt the unfamiliar
mantle of jealousy settle over her. She stirred, uncomfortable with the
feeling.
“Are you okay?” Michelle looked at her with concern.
She tore her eyes away from her lover. “I’m fine,
just...”
“Are you one of those in lust with him, too?” Gracie
asked, her smile teasing.
The veterinarian’s wife glanced over at Damien who
suddenly looked up and caught Sasha’s eyes. She blushed, the heat moving
swiftly up her neck and into her cheeks. She swore that his eyes dipped to her
mouth, then lower. They widened slightly. Anyone else wouldn’t have been able
to tell but she saw him go completely still as he looked at her neck, gaze
settling at her throat before rising slowly to her eyes. He said something to
the woman he was talking with then began making his way toward Sasha.
She looked away from him, feeling the lashing heat of
his regard all over her body, but especially on her neck. She didn’t have to
look at him approach to know that he was being stopped at nearly every turn,
one person then two impeding his progress to thank him, to question him, to
adore him.
Gracie and Michelle exchanged a look. Then Michelle
opened her mouth. “The better question would be, is he in lust with you?” She
glanced over Sasha’s shoulder with a look  of speculation on her face.
Sasha blushed again. “That question is—”
“Good evening, Sasha.” Damien’s voice came from just
behind her, deep and resonant.
She trembled, kept her eyes open with a force of will
as she felt his heat close behind her. She wanted to sink back into him. Feel
his hands on her throat. Submit to him. Kiss him.
Instead, Sasha turned. “Damien.” She smiled,
deliberately casual. But did not touch him.
Her boss greeted Michelle and Gracie with one of his
most charming smiles while the women watched the byplay between him and Sasha
like they were at the theater and sitting in their box seats. She felt Damien’s
eyes on her throat again. Sasha surreptitiously licked her lips.
“Sasha, you look lovely as usual,” Damien said.
He seemed to use talking to her as an excuse to lick
her with his eyes. The heat of his gaze went straight between her legs. Then,
as if unable to help himself, he lightly touched her elbow. His lashes flickered
briefly at the jolt of heat that passed between them. Then he was all casual
posture and smiles, asking Michelle and Gracie about their puppy and their
newborn son.
Michelle, who had shown pictures of the baby around
the stables a few days before, clutched her wife’s arm and began a soliloquy on
the unparalleled beauty of their new baby. Sasha exchanged a smile with Gracie,
who had actually carried the child, a product of Michelle’s egg and the
offering of a sperm donor.
Damien’s warmth at Sasha’s side was damn near
paralyzing. She felt as if she was staring at him like an infatuated fool, her
skin aware of every breath he took, ever flicker of his lashes. She cleared her
throat and excused herself from the conversation before she could make an even bigger
fool of herself. He looked briefly at her with a wolfish smile, then turned
back to the two women.
Sasha slipped through the crowd, stopping to talk
with many of the other jockeys she hadn’t had the chance to connect with
outside of work in the days since her brother made an appearance. They weren’t
cold to her as expected, most greeting her with slaps on the back or
appreciative glances at her outfit. Their welcome sparked tears in her eyes,
made her heart fist tightly in her chest. The only person who didn’t seem at
all happy to see her was Vincent Frazier. His pale gray eyes tore across her
body like an angry chainsaw.
Not long after she’d rejected his offer to go out on
a date, she’d walked in on him telling two other men what a bitch she was, how
she was a talentless jockey who whored out her body to stay on at Taylor
Stables. Sasha had been furious. Too angry to guard her tongue, she stormed
into the paddock and gave him her iciest stare. Told the other men that Vincent
was just angry because he wasn’t man enough to be allowed the privilege of
getting into her pants. And that he was barely jockey enough to hold onto his
job at the stables. If he wanted to compare talents all they had to do was look
at his record of success compared to hers. She had more wins. She was more
consistent. With the most disdain she could put into her voice, she had stared
at him as if he was nothing.
“Maybe you’re the one whoring yourself out to stay on
at Taylor Stables,” Sasha had said. Then she walked away, leaving Vincent
sputtering curses while his two companions laughed.
Sasha had a feeling he’d never forgiven her for that
day. She mentally shrugged. There was nothing she could do about it now. He
hated her from the moment she refused him. She wasn’t about to apologize since
he was the one who made it more than something between the two of them,
rallying the other jockeys to question her abilities and professionalism when
she had more to offer Taylor Stables by way of talent and sheer hard work than
he did.
Asshole.