by V. K. Sykes
Colton seemed to approve of her thoroughly insincere genuflection to his wealth and power since another little shit-eating grin crept onto his face. “Well, maybe we could work something out. Leave it with me for now. But it would take a hell of a lot of rearranging, Martha.”
“I’m sure. But if anybody can do it, Colton, you can,” she cooed.
“Well, if I wind up agreeing, I just hope you’re ready to do your part,” he said, getting huffy again.
And what part would that be? Despite his disappointment, Colton had clearly not given up entirely on his lustful plans. The venue would change, but she suspected his intent would not.
“More wine?” Colton asked, picking up the bottle. It was nearly empty, and Martha had barely drunk any.
She held up her hand. “Ta, as they say over here, but no. And there’s one more thing we have to talk about now if I’m going to take this job.”
He put down the bottle and spread his hands wide, as if surrendering.
“Colton, we talked a few minutes ago about how you were prepared to open up to me, and I sure do appreciate that. But let me be blunt again. If there are any subjects you want to declare off limits, please do it now. I sure don’t want to hear about anything like that halfway through the interviews.”
He gave her both a snort and a shrug, then held up his left hand, fingers spread wide. “Here’s what I assume you’re talking about, and I’m okay with all of them.” He started counting on his fingers. “Booze, check. Recreational drugs, check. Parties, check. Hookers, check. Gambling, check.” He sat back, chuckling. “Not quite the seven deadly sins, but close enough, I suppose.”
Pig.
“We’ll talk about all the above,” Martha said. “But one of the things everyone has been most interested in is how your…infidelity was responsible for destroying what seemed to be such a solid marriage.”
“Yeah, I guess, but all that’s old news,” he said, sounding cautious. “I’ve been clear about how hard I tried to patch things up with Ginny. But sometimes it’s impossible to go back to the way things were, no matter how much you might want to.”
To Martha’s practiced eye, he looked about as sincere as the smooth-talking carneys she used to see as a kid at the local country fair.
“Fair enough,” she said, “but I’m going to want to delve into that subject a little more.” Actually, a whole lot more.
She gave him the type of firm gaze that conveyed determined intent. Martha didn’t intend to try to fool him. “So, if you’ve got a problem with talking about your marriage and divorce, you need to say so right now.”
Colton shot her a look that seemed both amused and puzzled. He shrugged yet again. “I need to cleanse my thoughts forever of all the negativity of my past life, and being honest with my fans is one of the ways I’ve chosen to help accomplish that.” He bobbed his head slowly a few times over intertwined fingers, as if he’d come to some deep conclusion. “So, no, I don’t have a problem with talking to you about that stuff.”
She gave him a polite smile, finally taking a sip of her wine. It felt good to be back in the hunt.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Martha had a devil of a time getting rid of Colton. He insisted on driving her back to her “friend’s house”, a problem she tried to dodged by claiming she was meeting some other friends for a late drink first. When he remained adamant about giving her a lift, she reluctantly agreed to have him drop her off at the Langham Hotel in Portland Place.
True to form, Colton had come on to her during the seemingly interminable drive from Chelsea up to the Langham. She managed to keep him at bay, but his new-age sensitivity bullshit obviously hadn’t affected his notorious libido. She had to wonder if he might try to seduce her by holding out promises of ever-more tempting secrets as the interviews unfolded. So far, he seemed altogether too willing to cooperate, and Martha believed to the depths of her soul that he must have the proverbial hidden agenda. Whether it had to do with bedding her or, more likely, that it was all about manipulation of the feature article itself, remained to be seen.
Her paranoia about Colton and his intentions ran deep enough that she decided to stick around the hotel long enough to order a wildly expensive cocktail in the bar. Alone at a table near a set of high windows, she half-expected the creep to come slithering in with some lame excuse as to why he needed to see her again. After thirty minutes, she finally felt safe enough to send a text to Tony, telling him she’d arrive shortly.
When she got out of the cab five minutes later, Tony already had his front door open and greeted her with a tight embrace. “I missed you like hell,” he murmured, trailing little kisses down the length of her neck.
“I can see that,” Martha said with a sigh of pleasure. The erection nudging her lower belly told her everything she needed to know. Clearly, their incendiary lovemaking in the terrace room had stoked, not dampened, his desire for her.
And Martha felt exactly the same way, her panties already damp with wanting him. She smoothed her hands up and down the back of his shirt, loving the power and strength of his magnificent body.
“I’d hoped the meeting wouldn’t take this long,” she said, arching her neck to give him better access. “I had a bit of a hard time getting away from Colton.”
Tony eased her away, holding her at arm’s length. “What happened?” Then he shook his head. “No, hold that thought. Let me get you a drink first.”
“Tea would be good,” she said, following Tony toward the rear of the house. “I’m already a little foggy from the wine at dinner, and then a rather spectacular cocktail at the Langham.”
Tony wheeled around, catching her up short. “You two went to a bloody hotel after dinner?” he said, his eyes flashing.
Though it shouldn’t have, his caveman response flattered her. “Relax, we didn’t get a room, hon. In fact, Colton didn’t even come inside. I only made a little pit stop there to shake him off. He kept insisting on driving me home, but I said I was meeting friends at the Langham for a drink.”
He gave a half-satisfied grunt and turned away. She followed him to the kitchen where he got the tea going.
“So, are you going to take the job or not?” he said. His disgruntled expression confirmed what she already knew. He was not pleased at the prospect.
Martha slid her arm around his waist and snuggled against his broad back as he scooped loose tea from a tin and dropped it into a big blue and red Blackhampton Lions’ teapot. She inhaled both the faint, fragrant perfume of Earl Grey tea and Tony’s clean scent, which included a trace of the body wash they’d used when they showered together a few hours ago.
“I think so,” she mused. “The man is completely full of crap, but he’s going to agree to pretty much everything I asked for. I suspect he’s even going to come around to doing the interviews in Jacksonville, since I told him my responsibilities to the team demanded that I be there. I made it clear that anything else on that score would be a deal breaker.”
She sure as hell wasn’t going to breathe a word about Colton’s Fantasyland proposal for a European shag-fest. As loopy and downright ridiculous as she’d found the idea, Tony would not be amused.
He turned around, forcing her to let go. “I presume he had something else on his mind?” he asked sarcastically.
Crap. She should have kept her mouth shut because now she’d have to skate a bit. “Oh, he claimed he had some sponsor commitments on this side of the pond. And he said he had to work with his swing coach, too. But I wasn’t going to turn myself inside out to accommodate him. I told him he’d just have to work around the sponsor stuff, and he could fly his coach over to Florida to work with him there. Even after losing some endorsements, the guy still has money coming out his ears, so he can afford it.”
Tony gave a satisfied nod. “Good for you. He’ll respect you more because you stood up to him. Any more insight on why he insisted that Martha Winston had to be the one to prepare the world for his little coming-out party?”
<
br /> She leaned a hip against the granite kitchen counter and crossed her arms. “Other than my sterling reputation for journalistic excellence, you mean?”
“Of course,” he answered in a serious voice, even though his lips twitched.
“Well, he knows me a little, and I guess he thinks I’ll give him a more sympathetic hearing than he’d get from anybody else. Which is kind of weird since I’ve always been very direct with him. Other than that, I can’t explain it,” she replied in a bland voice.
She hoped he’d drop the subject now. Telling him what she really thought about Colton’s intentions was never going to happen. If she blurted that out, Tony just might decide to challenge the jerk on it and maybe end up scuttling the whole deal.
Hours ago, she wasn’t even sure she wanted the job and wouldn’t have cared whether Colton walked away or not. But now she was becoming invested, almost like she had a mission to tell the world the sordid truth about the guy. In the end, though, everything was going to ride on Ginny Cross’s willingness to open up, either in a pre-publication interview or in a follow-up piece. And Ginny coming through might very well depend on the man standing beside Martha, making a cup of tea.
After pouring boiling water into the teapot, Tony folded Martha into his arms. She melted as he eased aside one shoulder of her dress and ran kisses along her collarbone.
“You appear to have something other than a quiet cup of tea on your mind, sir,” she said a mite breathlessly.
“We’ll drink it in bed.” His voice was a lust-filled rumble. “After.”
He kept kissing her neck and shoulder as one of his hands dipped below her low neckline and covered an already aching nipple.
“In bed,” she managed in a shaky voice. “What a novel idea. That would be a rare treat for us, since we’ve mostly been doing it on various other pieces of furniture. But a real bed does sound rather divine at the moment.”
Tony easily scooped her up into his arms, over six feet of her in her heels. As corny as it was, his powerful move thrilled her, since—with the exception of Nate Carter—none of her boyfriends would likely have had the strength for it. When it came right down to it, she could probably wrestle most of her former beaus to the ground without breaking a sweat.
Not Tony, though, and she found his power and masculinity truly…stimulating.
Martha draped her arms around his neck, snuggling right in as he carried her up the stairs. He kept right on going even when he knocked a lamp off the table at the top of the landing, and she couldn’t hold back a giggle.
Angling them through the door to his room, Tony set her down in the middle of his very large bed. She hiked herself up on the mountain of pillows and glanced around the dimly-lit space with interest, since she hadn’t seen it yet. But before she could really take it in, he climbed onto her and claimed her mouth with a hot, wet kiss that made her forget everything but the cascade of deliriously wonderful sensations he set off in her body.
The kiss seemed to last forever, a glorious eternity of lips and tongues that drenched her in helpless passion. When he finally finished plundering her mouth, easing up to study her with hot interest, Martha could barely remember her own name.
She stared up at him, riveted by the possessive hunger in his dark eyes. Something else lurked there, too, a brooding intensity that lifted the hairs on the nape of her neck. Tony didn’t strike her as the jealous type, but she suspected her evening with Colton had pushed more than a few of his alpha male buttons.
“I hated every minute you were with that bastard,” he said, his voice holding a rough note. “Just the idea that he might try to touch you was driving me out of my mind.”
She had to bite back a smile at his disgruntled confirmation of her suspicions. He should know by now that she could take care of herself, but she couldn’t repress the little rush of delight that he would worry about her. It confirmed her instinct that Tony was the type of guy who would do anything and everything to protect the people he cared for.
“I know, big guy,” she said, brushing the back of her hand over his angled jaw. “But I have no problem handling the likes of Colton Butler. If he ever tried to get fresh with me, he’d find himself in for a monumental surprise.”
A reluctant smile curving his sexy mouth, Tony settled comfortably on top of her. His erection nudged into her belly, thick and beautifully hard.
“Getting fresh? That’s a term I haven’t heard in a long while. Good God, woman, who in sodding hell talks like that anymore?”
She scowled up into his laughing eyes. “Don’t you make fun of me, Tony Branch. My mama brought me up right, I’ll have you know. There’s no need to have a potty mouth to get your point across.”
He leaned down and nibbled the shivery part of her neck, just under her jaw. “The only point I want to make right now is that I’d love to have that mouth of yours on my cock.”
Martha let out a gasp, part of her genuinely startled by his blunt salvo. The other part, of course, was ridiculously turned on.
“You behave yourself,” she exclaimed, trying to sound shocked.
He let out a low, husky laugh that sent shivers of pleasure rippling along her nerves. “Now, Ms. Winston, what would be the fun in that?” He sat up and back on his knees, pulling her with him. Reaching around her, his deft fingers found her zipper and eased open the back of her dress.
“Have I told you yet how good you looked in this little number?” he said as he smoothed the dress over her shoulders. “One hundred per cent fuckable.”
Lord help her, she couldn’t stifle a giggle. “I believe you said something to that effect before I left for dinner.”
That dark, edgy look flashed over his features again. “Forget about dinner,” he growled. “Forget about everything but this moment and us, together.”
Her mouth went dry at the intensity of his gaze. No matter how hard she tried, Martha couldn’t pretend that whatever happened between them didn’t mean anything. And, scarily enough, that was just fine with her.
“Agreed,” she whispered. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear her own voice.
Tony gave a brusque nod then let his gaze drift over her, matching it to the slow slide of her dress as it pooled about her waist. His eyes flared with hot approval as he took in her lacy black push-up bra, the one that half exposed her nipples.
“Christ, babe,” he rasped out. “You have truly gorgeous tits.”
He reached out with both hands and pushed aside the lace trim, taking her nipples between his fingers. He tugged gently, pulling them into stiff points, thumbing them until they ached with a delicious fire. Martha gasped and gripped the fluffy duvet cushioning her bottom, loving the carnal expression on his tight features as much as she loved the rush of heat gathering low in her body.
As he played with her, brushing his calloused palms across her flesh, she reached behind and opened her bra, letting her breasts spill into his hands. With his fingers closed tightly around them, kneading with a firm, knowing pressure, she let her eyes drift shut as she moaned with pleasure.
Suddenly, his hands fell away from her body. Whimpering out a protest, she opened her eyes. But her objections died since Tony was ripping off his shirt, exposing his brawny, tanned chest.
“Excellent idea,” she said in a breathless voice. “Let’s get naked.”
“That’s the plan.”
He rolled to the side of the bed and kicked off his shoes. His trousers came off a moment later, and then he was back on the bed, helping her wriggle her slim-cut dress over her hips. Eagerness made her clumsy, and Tony finally pushed her hands away so he could slide the dress down her legs.
He paused, kneeling over her, taking in her black lace bikini panties. “Also gorgeous,” he murmured as he rubbed a long finger right over her cleft.
Sensation rocketed through her and she instinctively drew her legs up and wide, opening herself to him. As he drew his fingers over her, teasing her through the damp fabric, she sighe
d and stretched out her arms, pressing her fingertips against the heavy wood of the headboard.
Tony growled in response to her deliberately provocative pose. Martha eyed his cock, straining huge and hard over the top of his white briefs, and she wanted to touch him, to play with that temptingly masculine length the same way he was playing with her.
Fighting against the sensual inertia weighing down her limbs, she pushed herself up and wriggled closer to him. His mouth quirked in a puzzled little smile—until she reached out and pulled down his briefs, wrapping both hands around his thick erection. It pulsed in her hands, hot and smooth, and Tony let out a harsh groan.
“Fuck, Martha,” he growled as she wrapped her fingers around him. When she slowly pumped him, letting one hand drop down to cup his balls, his fingers tightened on her hips. “If you keep that up much longer, this is going to be over before we even get started,” he bit out from between clenched teeth.
But the gleam in his eyes told her how much he relished her attentions. “Why, Mr. Branch, I didn’t know you had so little self-control,” she teased.
He let out a guttural laugh. “I’ll show you self-control.”
His hand returned to her thighs, sliding inside her panties to slip between her slick folds. Martha squeaked, her eyes going wide as he pushed two fingers deep inside her. “Oh, God, Tony, that feels so damn good.”
Clumsily, she tried to scoot closer, desperate to increase the contact between them.
“Hang on a sec, babe,” he whispered. Easing from her body, he shifted his hands to her waist and lifted her onto her knees. Now they faced each other. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” he murmured, his lips sliding into a cocky smile.
His hands delved back into her panties, pushing them down to the top of her thighs. They slid across her clit, flirting with her soft inner lips. Letting her eyes go to half-mast, drowning in pleasure, Martha grasped Tony’s cock in both hands.
