Catching Zia (Spring Training Book 1)

by Becca Jameson

  As soon as they were out and jangling at her side, Brett released her head and took the keys from her.

  In an impressive display of intensity, he managed to unlock her door and turn the knob without ever breaking the stare. He even had the wherewithal to reach behind her back and hold her steady as the door opened. If not, she would have fallen on her ass.

  Backing her into the apartment, he shut and locked the door.

  She heard the clank of her keys as he dropped them on the floor. And then she lowered her purse to join the keys.

  Brett continued to back her up. He never stopped, inching them around the couch and down the short hall and into her bedroom. He never turned on a single light, having seen the layout of her apartment earlier.

  Sexy. So fucking hot she was about to catch fire.

  When the backs of her knees hit her bed, he shoved his hands back into her hair and held her steady. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure we do.” She chuckled slightly. “There might be some instances in life when it’s beyond necessary for survival.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I’m glad you agree, but I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  “Do you feel pressured?”

  This time, he was the one to laugh. “Woman, you have been driving me crazy all night.”

  “How’s that?” Maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. Tell me,” she taunted. Few men had ever stood before her and exalted her best features. She deserved it.

  He leaned back a few inches and let his gaze roam up and down her body. “Okay, let’s start with this dress.” His fingers trailed gradually from her hair to the front of her bodice, tracing the edges of the tight material between her breasts.

  She held her breath.

  “Your breasts are fucking amazing. Tight and firm and high and more than a handful. It was all I could do to keep from staring at them all evening, wondering what color your nipples are and how big they are. Most of the night they’ve been stiff peaks that made my cock so hard I had to fight to keep from squirming in my seat.”

  Yes. She officially couldn’t breathe. And he was clearly just beginning.

  He ran his fingertips over her nipples lightly, making her gasp. Then he trailed them lower, across her waist and over her hips until he met the bottom edge of her skirt. “And the length. Jesus, woman. Was your bare ass on the bench? Or does this material extend low enough to cover your smooth skin?” He held up one hand quickly. “Don’t answer that. I might die.”

  She bit her lip, fighting a grin. Knowing she had this effect on a man was heady as hell. She’d come to grips with the fact that she wasn’t the ugly duckling her mother insisted she was all her life. She had enough self-esteem for the average woman her age, but it still sounded like music to hear it from this gorgeous man.

  “I spent half the night wondering if your bare thighs were on the leather seat and the other half wondering if you were wearing panties, and if so, how much skin they covered.” To punctuate his words, he slowly gathered her skirt into his fist until the material lifted above her butt cheek. Then he eased his other palm down to cup her bare ass.

  She moaned at the contact and arched toward him, swaying more than anything.

  Brett’s eyes fluttered, and he inhaled slowly as his hand smoothed over her lower cheek and squeezed gently. His palm landed on the lace edge of her thong, making him smile broadly. “That answers that question.”

  She gasped softly as he released her, dropping her skirt and smoothing his hands up her body to gently cup both breasts briefly and then higher to spread across her shoulders, neck, and the underside of her chin.

  He held her steady, forcing her to keep his gaze. “And then there’s your precious face. You have so many expressions. I love every single one. The way you sometimes chew your bottom lip without knowing it drives my cock to throb. Your lashes are amazingly long and full, and I can tell you hardly wear any makeup. You don’t need it. Your natural beauty is mesmerizing.”

  For some reason, she felt the need to clarify something. “I look like my mother—if she were to leave off the caked-on makeup and bleached hair, that is. I admit I didn’t realize that until a few years ago, but it’s true. I see it every time I look in the mirror.”

  He cringed. “That must be unpleasant.”

  “Actually, I’ve come to terms with it. It’s the one thing I can thank her for. My skin and my looks. The rest is all me. She gets no credit.”

  “She also deserves no credit. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m in awe of your accomplishments.”

  No way in hell was she going to argue that point. If he wanted to compliment her, let him.

  “And then there’s your personality,” he continued, steering the conversation back to something more pleasant. “You’re animated and intellectual and interesting. I find myself hanging on every word.

  “But let’s not leave out your legs.” He glanced down. “They go on forever, and they’re sexy as hell. I couldn’t keep from picturing them wrapped around my waist all evening.”

  He wasn’t simply spouting shit. She knew he meant every word. And she also knew her legs were one of her finest features. She was five-seven, and a lot of that was well-toned legs. She deserved no credit for them from a workout perspective. Pure genetics. Luck.

  She’d often wondered what the hell her biological father had contributed to her DNA since she only saw her mother when she looked in a mirror.

  “You aren’t exactly an ogre yourself,” she managed to murmur. “I mean, I don’t have any trouble keeping my eyes open,” she teased.

  He chuckled again. “So witty. Always the comedian.”

  She shrugged. “Just keeping things light.”

  He sobered. “Things are about to get not remotely light. Unless you tell me to stop and get the hell out of your apartment.”

  “I can do not light also.”

  “Also known as heavy…” His gaze drifted again to her chest, unabashedly now. And his fingers followed, tracing the edges of her bodice along the upper swell of her breasts.

  Moments later, his hands trailed around to her back. One hand steadied her, with spread fingers that seemed to reach from her shoulder bone to her hips. The other hand grabbed the zipper and slowly lowered it all the way to the small of her back.

  As the front of the dress fell away from her heavy chest, she shuddered slightly. Cool air hit her skin the second before he got a full frontal view.

  The dress slid to the floor, leaving her in what now seemed like an irrationally skimpy white bra and thong set.

  He smiled and shook his head. “White. Of course.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing bad.” He held her biceps, steadying her right where he wanted her while he perused her. “Suits you. Sweet. Not innocent, but…pure. Refreshing. Real. Genuine. I’m betting all your bras and panties are pale colors. Pinks and yellows and baby blues. Lavender…” His voice trailed off.

  He wasn’t wrong. How did he know that?

  She gripped his forearms with her fingers, needing something to hold on to. And then she realized the field wasn’t even, and she slid her hands around to the front of his shirt to work the buttons through the holes.

  He let her, but she could tell it took effort. As if he was used to being in charge.

  Interesting.

  So far he’d controlled nearly every move, and she’d grown hornier with each manipulation on his part.

  Her heart beat faster as she revealed his pecs. She’d seen them before, that first day in the park, but this was different. This time she could really stare, admire, drool, touch. Anything she desired.

  When the last button slipped free, she eased her flat palms up his rock-hard chest and slid his shirt down his arms until it pooled on the floor with her dress. “Do you do anything besides work out?”

  “Sometimes.” Hi
s hands resumed their exploration, cupping her breasts again. His thumbs quickly flicked over her lace-covered nipples, making her rise onto her tiptoes and grip his shoulders, digging her fingers into his skin.

  Every move he made drove her higher. If she didn’t get control of herself, she was going to come before he touched her. And that was saying something. Especially because no man had ever made her come. All her orgasms to date belonged to her own hand or toy. Alone. Private.

  She suspected that was about to change. Apparently, she’d never been with the right man.

  She bit her lower lip so hard it hurt. But it grounded her at the same time.

  Brett frowned, one hand leaving her breast to wander up to her chin. He plucked her lip from her teeth. “Stop that. You’re going to draw blood. And it’s so freaking hot I can’t stand it.”

  She shuddered. “I feel the need to pinch myself. This can’t possibly be real.”

  He smiled again. “It’s real. And I’ll do the pinching, if you like that sort of thing.” To punctuate those words, he gripped her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and drew the tight bud away from her breast. Just enough to send a quick, sharp pain through her body. A pain that led to intense pleasure.

  She stopped breathing, her eyes widening. If I like that sort of thing?

  He held her gaze longer—his, intense and serious.

  She still didn’t breathe, as if they were in a standoff and he’d just laid his cards on the table for her to see. All of them. Not one or two or merely the diamonds or hearts. No. He’d spread the entire deck out, and now he waited for her reaction.

  “Zia, you’re killing me.”

  Wetness ran out of her, escaping her already saturated panties to trail down her thighs. She squirmed.

  His forehead lowered to meet with hers, and he closed his eyes and inhaled long and slow. “Fuck. You’re the entire package.”

  Her heart rate sped up. Was she?

  And what was this package? She didn’t know this woman at all. Never met her. She was scared out of her mind, but also intrigued and curious and hornier than ever.

  She knew unequivocally that Brett would not hurt her. He was offering her a taste of something different. And there was no way in hell she was going to turn him down.

  Brett’s hands wandered to her back where he expertly and swiftly unhooked her bra.

  As it fell down her arms, she shivered.

  He peeled her hands off his shoulders to remove the scrap of lace.

  Then he lifted her onto the bed, settling her halfway across the mattress and climbing up onto his hands and knees to crawl over her. Before she could think, he also hauled her thong over her hips and down her legs.

  Naked before him, she forced herself to let her knees fall open. There was no reason to hide from him. They were about to have sex, for fuck’s sake, and besides, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would take kindly to her gripping her legs together.

  Brett set his hands on her knees and stared at her sex. “This is hard for you, isn’t it? Opening yourself up like this, I mean.”

  “Yes,” she breathed out. No sense lying about it. She was shaking.

  He spread his palms on her thighs, eased them higher and wider, and continued to stare at her core.

  “So sexy…” His hands smoothed down her thighs toward her center until his thumbs stroked the skin on either side of her sex.

  She moaned. Her legs trembled with need. Her head lolled to one side, and she let her eyes drift closed.

  “Did you do this for me?”

  For a moment, she didn’t know what he was talking about, but then his fingers trailed to the patch of hair she’d shaved and trimmed to a narrow triangle just hours ago. She’d never once in her life taken the time to put much care into her grooming, but tonight hadn’t been like any other date. She’d known that from the moment he’d asked her.

  She didn’t answer. How humiliating. Instead, she fisted her hands in the sheets at her sides.

  “Zia… Babe… Did you shave yourself for me?”

  God. He was going to insist on an answer? “Ye-yes.”

  “I like that. I like knowing you were thinking about having sex with me before we left the apartment. I like the effort you put into selecting every stitch of clothing you wore and the way you left your hair down. It makes my cock twice as hard, knowing you wanted to end up right here before we got started.”

  Okay, not just embarrassing. Mortifying.

  “Don’t freak out. I wanted you before you knew I existed. At least a few weeks before.”

  Wow. Just wow. She relaxed marginally into the bed, still not meeting his gaze.

  Suddenly, he pulled the hood of her clit back and flicked a finger from his other hand over the sensitive, swollen tip.

  She dug her heels into the mattress, lifted her hips, and moaned loudly.

  “Shit, you’re responsive. Are you always like this? Or is it just tonight. Is it me?”

  Why did he have to give a play-by-play of every thought in her head? “It’s you.” Did that feed his ego somehow? She shook the idea from her head immediately. This was not a man with a huge ego. This was simply a man who wanted information. He was learning her body and its responses.

  She let her eyes open, stared at the top of his head, and continued, “If you must know, I’m about to come. If you touch my clit even briefly again, I’ll shatter. And…” she had no idea where this burst of honesty was coming from, “…you’re about to be the first person to ever see me come.”

  He jerked his gaze to hers.

  Good. She’d finally shocked him. It gave her the upper hand for about two seconds.

  His brow was furrowed. “You’ve never had an orgasm?”

  “Didn’t say that. I’ve had plenty. I have a healthy sex drive. I just haven’t had one while anyone else was in the room.” That ought to ensure his heart skipped a beat.

  “Jesus. Please tell me you aren’t a virgin.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Just haven’t ever been with anyone who lit a flame under me.”

  “But you’re so… So…” Tongue-tied? Brett? Finally. “Lord, woman, you’re the most responsive person I’ve ever seen.”

  “I guess it’s all about who you’re with, then.”

  He blew out a long breath again and lowered his gaze to the V between her legs where he still had both hands poised to stroke her skin. “Well then, let’s put that wrong to right immediately.”

  Without warning, he wormed his way down the bed, flattened onto his chest between her legs, held them open wider with both hands, and sucked her clit between his lips.

  Holy. Mother. Of. God.

  Zia sucked in a sharp breath and held it. Her heels dug in hard, but she couldn’t lift her hips. He held her down. She fisted and released the sheets and then lifted her hands to burrow into his blond hair.

  Not only was she going to come, but she was going to do so with embarrassing speed.

  Brett was relentless. He sucked and flicked and sucked and flicked so rapidly and with no particular rhythm that she couldn’t predict his next move.

  He hadn’t touched her channel, but she didn’t need him to. That’s not where she got off anyway. It was all about her clit.

  And he was the master of everything at that moment.

  He was the master, period. The word alone, floating into her consciousness, made her clit throb harder.

  In seconds, she was on the edge, and in less time, she went over. Hard. Fast. Sharp. The pulses were nearly painful in their intensity.

  All the while, Brett continued to suckle her. As she came down, she tried to relax her muscles and speak, but he didn’t stop.

  Her fingers dug into his scalp, trying to pry him off her.

  He was undeterred. Before she knew what was happening, her arousal rose once again. Higher. Faster. A deep penetrating need that hovered worse than the previous orgasm.

  Brett didn’t release her clit from between his lips, but he did lowe
r one hand toward her opening, and again without warning, he thrust two fingers into her core.

  Fuck. Oh God.

  Her channel involuntarily gripped at him as her vision blurred. He somehow curled those fingers around until they hit a spot inside her she hadn’t known existed.

  Was that her G-spot? How the hell had Brett managed to find it and torture her with the knowledge so fast, when no other man had ever come close?

  Suddenly, he changed tactics again. His tongue flicked rapidly over her clit while his fingers pumped in and out of her, thrusting as deep as possible and then pressing against that elusive spot every single time.

  She lost control. Over everything. Her mind focused on nothing but how fucking good it felt to raise to this new level. She was going to come again. Again. The idea was foreign. She’d tried to come twice occasionally over the years and never succeeded.

  Brett shattered every misconception she’d had about her body in less than two minutes. She truly believed he was man enough to actually get her to come during sex next.

  But first this…this all-consuming orgasm. This build. The pressure. The need. The pull.

  Her mouth fell open. She couldn’t close her lips because that would require her brain to be able to send a message to her mouth. Instead, she let herself fall under the spell and just feel.

  Every stroke of his tongue and his fingers. So much sensation. She was lost. Gone. Ruined for other men.

  Brett lifted his mouth a few inches, but her clit was only exposed for a brief moment before he pinched it between his fingers. “Come for me, Zia. I want to watch your face this time. Come for me.”

  That was all it took. His simple command. She fell apart. The orgasm came from someplace inside this time. Deep. Her G-spot? Her entire body jerked with every pulse of release.

  She released her grip on his head, realizing she had to be hurting him and wondering in the back of her mind why he didn’t complain. Her knees fell open wider, uninhibited, shaking, as wave after wave of the most intense orgasm of her life consumed her body.

  When it was over and there was nothing left except the occasional involuntary flinch of her muscles, she gradually became aware of what happened.