No Contest

by Harper St. George

  “Jack. Jake. Shit.” She shook her head, trying to get her mind back on whatever the hell she was supposed to be doing here. “I’m sorry.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No need to apologize. If I’d known you two were together, I’d have told you to bring him along.”

  She realized he meant it as he glanced down and cut into a scallop. He was nice, way too nice given what had just happened, and that was part of the problem. For some reason she didn’t understand, she didn’t like nice guys. She liked guys who didn’t skirt around what they wanted. Guys who set goals and did their best to make them happen. Assertive, confident, in-control guys. Guys like Leandro.

  “We’re not together,” she said, but it sounded weak even to her own ears.

  Jake glanced up at her. “It kinda looked like you were.”

  She sighed. There was no use fighting it anymore. Something was going on with them. “It’s complicated. We work together, so I can’t let anything happen. Leandro doesn’t agree.”

  “Ah, that makes sense,” he said, taking a bite of the scallop.

  She nodded. At least it made sense to someone. She had no idea what she was doing. “If you don’t mind, could we forget that that happened?”

  He smiled again and nodded. They spent the rest of the evening talking about him and his work. By the time they said good-bye in the elevator, she was bored out of her mind. She kept thinking about Leandro’s hands and his mouth and how damn good he smelled. It took all the willpower she had to walk past his door.

  She stopped and stared at it for a long time, even going so far as to press her hand against it. All she had to do was knock. He’d open it, pull her inside, and make good on all the promises he’d made with his mouth and fingers. But ultimately, she made herself go inside her room.

  The trip would only be three more days. Surely she could last that long.

  11

  THERE WAS A party going on around her, but Ashlynn couldn’t have cared less and was ready to call it a night. It was nearing eleven p.m., and she was sitting on the sidelines while Leandro and his crew worked the crowd of MMA fans at the LIV nightclub in the Fontainebleau Hotel. A glass of seltzer water sat sweating on the bar in front of her to discourage any potential offers to buy her a drink. Technically she was working and not here to socialize, though babysitting was the more appropriate term.

  They’d arrived in Miami earlier this morning and Leandro had spent the day doing interviews. The evening had been reserved for a local WFC event, which featured an important fight in the light heavyweight division. Leandro and the fight’s winner were cohosting the after party.

  Glancing up from a text to her mom, she found Leandro in the middle of the dance floor. Groups of people danced around him, most of them women, but he hadn’t singled any one of them out for attention. Ashlynn had spent all night afraid of what she’d do if he found one he wanted and took her up to his room. She’d have been crushed, which left her confused and annoyed. Part of her wondered if she should just give in already. Maybe a night of sex would work out this tension between them. The other part of her remembered all the reasons doing that would be detrimental to her future. It was that last part of her that was growing quieter as the night wore on and she watched him dancing and flirting.

  Thankfully, he seemed content to behave himself. In fact, she hadn’t even seen him have a drink, though Thiago had already tossed back a few shots of tequila. She couldn’t leave yet, because if she did and Leandro got himself into trouble on her watch again, she’d never hear the end of it from Craig. So she stayed at the bar, looking at what she so desperately wanted but couldn’t have.

  Her gaze lingered on his hips as he moved to the beat of the fast-paced Latin music. He danced with an innate sensuality that couldn’t be learned. His fluid movements came naturally, a skill she knew would translate well to sex. She could still remember the way he’d touched her and how his fingers had felt inside her. It made her wonder what it would feel like to have more than his fingers inside her. She squirmed on the barstool.

  He hadn’t mentioned the limo ride or the kiss the night before. On the plane he’d sat up front with his friends, not coming to talk to her once. While she was relieved that they didn’t have to relive the awkwardness that conversation would bring, a part of her felt rejected. She’d become used to him chasing her. Maybe she’d even started craving his attention. Her phone buzzed in her hand with a message from Kayla.

  I just got home. Guess what was on your doorstep?

  What?

  A dozen roses!!!

  Ashlynn froze. No one ever sent her roses. Could they be from Jake? It didn’t seem likely, especially since he knew she wouldn’t be home yet to get them.

  Who sent them?

  There was a pause during which she assumed Kayla was opening the card. Ashlynn stared at the little dots on the screen as Kayla typed.

  Jason. He said he’s sorry and wants to try again.

  She immediately thought of that night in the WFC parking lot. She remembered the determined look in his eyes when he’d told her it wasn’t over between them. Did he really not get that she didn’t want anything to do with him? A cold chill raised goose bumps on her arms. It was only flowers, but the gift made her worry that something was off with him. Anyone else—anyone normal—would’ve given up a long time ago.

  Throw them away.

  But they’re beautiful!!

  Fine. You keep them.

  Kayla tried to pry information about Jason out of her, but Ashlynn was content to leave him firmly in the past. She didn’t want to think about him much less talk about him. And she didn’t want to worry Kayla, who’d tell their mom and it’d become a big thing. Ashlynn just wanted him to go away.

  Strong, well-formed male fingers pushed a flute of champagne across the slick glass surface of the bar. Bubbles shimmered and popped in the amber liquid, nearly matching the excitement that bubbled up inside her. That hand belonged to Leandro. Her subconscious had long since memorized his body and his scent. Their connection was so primal she could find him in a dark room with a thousand other people trying to distract her. Maybe that connection scared her as much as getting fired did. She’d never felt it before, and the fact that she was experiencing it with Leandro—the same Leandro who had orgies, who slept with strippers, who flirted shamelessly—was downright dangerous.

  It was warm in the club, so he’d rolled his sleeves up to reveal his muscular forearms and had unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his dark blue shirt. She wanted to follow the trail of bronze skin but managed to keep her gaze moving upward. One corner of his mouth rose in a grin. “You look bored. Have a drink. This is a party, you know.”

  She opened her mouth to say that she shouldn’t because she was working, but—as always seemed to happen with him—she did the exact opposite of what she should’ve. “Thank you.” She raised her voice to be heard over the music and brought the flute to her lips.

  Maybe he’d read the hesitation on her face, because he leaned against the bar and said, “I think our work is finished for the night.”

  She followed his gaze out over the crowd and realized that he was probably right. Everyone was dancing, and the DJ had taken over MC duties for Leandro. The whole room pulsed with the energy that came from loud music and strong cocktails. “Looks like everyone’s having a good time. Craig will be happy to hear it went well.”

  Looking back down at her, he asked, “And what about you?”

  She raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re always so concerned with Craig and everyone else. Do you think it went well?”

  She smiled. “I do. I’m happy that you behaved yourself. Less work for me.”

  He laughed. “It’s still early.” Something about his tone and the heat in his eyes made her stomach flip. They could get into so much trouble together.

  “Then I guess I’m not off duty until you go to bed,” she said.

  Even in the dim light
ing she could see his pupils dilate as his gaze swept down her body. She was wearing a formfitting maroon dress that went down to her knees. The halter-style top was cut low, and his gaze settled on her exposed cleavage. She bit her lip as her nipples tightened. The dress had a built-in bra, but the cups were thin. She should’ve been worried that he could tell she was turned on, but she didn’t care if he knew. God. She wanted him to know.

  The realization made her toss back a big gulp of the champagne. This was beyond ridiculous. She’d never had so little control over her body as she did when she was with him. She needed to get a handle . . . Her thought ended abruptly when he grabbed her free hand.

  “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question and he didn’t give her time to answer as he pulled her to her feet and led the way to the dance floor.

  Butterflies swirled in her belly as she followed him. His muscles rippled under his shirt as he moved, drawing her attention to his body and the way his pants clung to his ass. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t toned and muscled. With the lights flashing off of his dark hair and olive skin, she couldn’t help but think that he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Leandro pulled her deep into the crowd. His fingertips brushed her palm as he pulled her closer, causing electricity to zing up her arm. She started moving to the beat of the music. He did too, but his attention was solely on her body as she moved, not on the music or the crowd. She smiled, loving the way he watched her, and put her hands up in the air as she turned. She could feel his gaze on her ass and swung her hips before turning back around to face him.

  The humor was gone from his face, replaced by an almost predatory intensity that sent heat flooding her core. She had no way to know for sure, but she imagined that was how he looked during sex. Primal and sexy, totally focused on the woman he was with. A pulse beat between her thighs as she imagined it was her.

  Shaking her head, she tried to make herself stop thinking about it. They couldn’t happen, but she could enjoy dancing with him. So that’s what she did. For the next couple of songs she didn’t think, just let the fast-paced music move through her and relieve the stress of the past week. It felt good to let loose and forget that he was the reason she was so tense. By the end of the second song, his smile had come back, though his eyes hadn’t left her once. His hands had come to rest on her hips a couple of times, and she’d moved closer, silently encouraging him, her body and her mind at odds once again.

  He leaned in just as “Swalla” by Jason Derulo was starting. “I like the way you move, minha linda.” His breath was warm as it brushed past her ear.

  She shivered and clamped down on her bottom lip, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “I love the way you move.”

  His laugh ruffled her hair. “If you only knew.” When he drew back, the look on his face made it clear that he wasn’t talking about dancing.

  Her face flamed, but she refused to look away. She did know. From the way he danced to the way he walked, everything about Leandro screamed great in bed. “I can imagine,” she said, turning away and letting her gaze rove over the crowd as she shook her body to the beat. She was surprised when he came up right behind her. He was so close she could feel his body heat.

  “Have you imagined?” he whispered against her ear.

  Swallowing, she closed her eyes and nodded. “You know I have.”

  He groaned into her hair, the sound vibrating through her along with the music as his hands came to rest on her hips. “I imagine it. Every hour of every day. I think of how wet you are, how tight you are, how goddamn good it would feel to bury myself inside you.”

  Heat rushed over her skin, his words doing more to break down the barriers she’d put up against him than his fingers had the day before. Or maybe it was the combined attack. She felt intoxicated, even though the half glass of champagne she’d consumed wasn’t nearly enough to get her drunk. She felt like the two of them created their own little world, free from consequence, where she could say and do whatever she wanted. She pressed back against him, and his hands tightened on her hips, slowing her movements and pulling her closer. She whimpered when she felt him hard against her lower back. “Leandro.”

  He didn’t let up. His voice was hoarse when he said, “I fucking love the way you taste.”

  Her stomach flipped and her body clenched at his words. They’d kissed, but they’d never done what he implied. She was so far gone, grasping at some compromise between her body and mind, that she wondered if maybe they could. If maybe doing that much would be okay as long as they stopped there. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  They’d given up all pretense of dancing now. He pushed against her ass in an echo of a thrust. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should care if people saw them. She even made an attempt to look around but couldn’t see past the people dancing near them. They were in their own cocoon on the dance floor. “I sucked your taste off my fingers, minha linda.” His lips brushed against her ear. “And I want more.”

  She gasped and the room almost seemed to tilt for a second. She felt dizzy with lust, with need. No other man had ever been so blatantly honest with her as he was. “Jesus.” He really wasn’t giving her a chance here. She was breathing as if she’d just finished a run, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs. She didn’t know if she’d ever been this turned on before. Not even in the limo.

  “Do you feel what you do to me?” His cock pressed against her ass, hard and long and impossibly thick.

  She moved against him, bending her knees and pushing upward to stroke him with her ass. “You’re so big.” His hand came up, holding her just below her breast, making her nipple ache to have him touch her. “I don’t know if I could take you.”

  He groaned again and buried his face against her neck. “I want to find out, Ashlynn. I want to taste you. I want to make you moan and beg and scream my name as you come. I want to fuck you so deep that you’ll feel me for days.”

  She moaned. Arousal buzzed through her veins, making her heart race and her knees weak. He made her want to give in to the voice in her head that said one night would relieve the tension between them. It was the only way to move forward. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “Every night I imagine you inside me.”

  “Shit,” he whispered, nipping her neck and pushing against her ass.

  “You’re so big I have to work myself down on you.” She turned her head, needing to see his face. “You teach me how to take you all the way.”

  He cursed in Portuguese, his lips only inches from her. “We don’t have to imagine anymore, Ashlynn. Say yes,” he growled, sending a shiver down her back.

  Before she could stop herself, she turned in his arms. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked almost black. They burned into her, scorching her, and she knew that she’d be scarred by him. But it didn’t matter. In that moment she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything before. No one had to know. This could just be for them.

  “Let’s go,” she said, taking him by the hand. His eyes flared in surprise, but he wrapped his strong fingers around hers. She turned, pushing through the crowd to lead him from the dance floor.

  Excitement buzzed in the air around them as she led the way to the elevators. Words and music faded to the background. She was too far gone to focus on anything but him. They were the only people who existed tonight. Not even tomorrow mattered. She tried to push the call button, but he tugged her hand, taking her around the corner to another elevator. This one only had keycard access. “Let’s go to my room.”

  He had a suite on the penthouse level. Somehow she’d managed to forget how filthy rich he was. She knew her room wasn’t cheap, so she couldn’t even imagine how much a penthouse suite would cost. Fishing the key out of his pocket, he tapped it against the electronic pad to call the elevator. She was dimly aware of a group of people laughing and talking in the elevator lobby, but here they were in their own world. Standing behind her, he held her waist and his mouth went to her neck. Sh
e tilted her head to give him better access and grabbed one of his hands, bringing it up to her breast.

  “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, squeezing her breast.

  The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. As soon as they closed, his mouth covered hers and he pressed her back against the wall. She groaned and opened beneath him, stroking her tongue against his as it dipped into her mouth. His hand slid down her thigh, catching her under her knee and dragging it up to hook around his waist. Keeping one hand on the wall to steady them, his other hand ran up under her dress.

  “Fuck, Ashlynn,” he whispered when he realized she was wearing a thong. He filled his palm with the bare skin of her ass and squeezed. She rocked against him, needing more contact. Letting her go, he brought his hand forward so that his finger could trace along her slit. She was so wet she could hear it when he touched her. “I knew you were wet for me. So fucking wet.”

  Her pussy throbbed for more, but the elevator dinged as it came to a stop. He backed away and took her hand again, leading her the few steps it took to reach the door at the end of the hall. She caught a glimpse of light gray walls and floor-to-ceiling glass doors that looked out onto the balcony and the darkened beach beyond. But as soon as the door closed, he pushed her up against the wall to kiss her again. Kissing wasn’t nearly enough. She grabbed at the buttons on his shirt and tugged each one free, and he let her go long enough to shrug out of it. God, he was hot. She’d seen him shirtless in training sessions and during his fight, but it didn’t compare to this. This was for her. Her palms traced down his chest and over his rippled abs and the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his pants. She reached for his belt and unbuckled it, bringing her attention to his cock straining against his pants. Her mouth watered as she stared at it.

  “Later,” he said, leaving his belt undone and pulling her against him as he walked her backward, covering her mouth with his. She would’ve tripped over her heels, but he steadied her and she kicked them off. Instead of letting her walk the rest of the way, he picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Pushing the door open with his foot, he took her to a massive four-poster bed draped in white linens. The wall of glass doors mirrored the other room, but they were open here, their curtains wafting in the ocean breeze. He dropped her on the bed and stared down at her.