by Romi Hart
“If you need anything, you can ask Ted,” he told her, introducing her to the media coordinator. “Ted, this is Reesa, the special guest I told you about.”
Ted was probably in his early fifties, with dark hair graying at the temples in a neat, short style and a grin that deepened the lines around his eyes. He was thin and fit with a strong handshake, and Reesa took an instant liking to him. “Welcome, Reesa. We’re glad to have you. I’m going to call down and have a bottle of wine brought up with some fruit and cheese and crackers. Would that work for you?”
Reesa had never attended a live sports event and was so giddy she didn’t know if she could eat, but she smiled graciously and nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Marc’s hand on her arm drew her attention, and she turned to raise an eyebrow at him. His gaze was heated as he stepped closer, speaking in a low tone meant only for her ears. “Don’t get too friendly with Ted. He’s a flirt, and I might get jealous.” He punctuated his words with a quick kiss at the corner of her mouth, and then he hurried off to get ready to play.
While she knew he didn’t speak with any sort of malice, something about Marc’s words rang an alarm in Reesa’s head, and she hugged herself against a sudden chill. She didn’t like the idea of a man being overly possessive, and it bothered her. Then again, maybe it was just her past haunting her. Reesa shook it off. It wasn’t like she intended to get involved with Marc, and she wanted to have a good time.
Once the tray of goodies and wine arrived, and the game was underway, her concern was forgotten, and she lost herself in the joy of the afternoon. The Sounders won the game, 4-1, and Ted had an intern named Paul escort her down to the locker room, where she waited in the small lobby outside, refusing to enter the sacred room of male bonding. She didn’t need her senses assaulted by the mingling sweat of three dozen men and the view of most of them barely clad, if at all.
Mostly, she knew she might make a fool of herself if she happened to catch sight of Marc fresh out of the shower.
When the door opened, she looked up expectantly, but it was Jordan Dennison who walked through the door rather than Marc. He smiled, his long blond locks still tousled from toweling them and his skin ruddy from the exertion on the field and likely very hot water. He walked over and took a seat next to her. “You know, Marc’s never brought anyone – family, friend, or woman – to a game before. You must have gotten under his skin.”
When she met him briefly earlier, Reesa hadn’t caught Jordan’s Australian accent, but it was thick, and it took her a moment to shift her focus to his words instead. She scowled. “I doubt he’s never brought anyone. I mean, have the two of you been on the same team for every game of his career?”
Jordan chuckled. “Actually, yes. I predate him by a year and might retire after next season. I may not have made a big name like he has, but I’ve been an asset here long enough that they’ve let me stick around.” He grew serious. “You haven’t known my mate very long.”
Reesa didn’t know where this conversation would lead, but she felt a sense of dread as she nodded. “Only a few days. We sort of met by accident, and we spent a couple of hours together.”
“Do I need to worry about you hurting him?” Jordan asked, every inch of his body tense, as if ready to spring at her if she gave him any reason to doubt.
Gazing at him with wide eyes, she told him, “It’s not like that. This is casual, for both of us.” How else could she describe it? She wasn’t invested in the idea of a relationship, and as Jordan had pointed out, she and Marc had only just met. Marc hadn’t had time to think that far ahead. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t hurt people, and I certainly don’t want to hurt Marc.”
He stared at her intensely, and she fought not to squirm under his scrutiny. Then, he laughed, his entire countenance changing in an instant. “Of course not. You’re a good woman, I can tell.” He stood, and despite his broad grin, his blue eyes held a warning. “But I know my mate, and he’s not the sort of person to be casual about anything.”
With that, he left the room, and Reesa again felt that chill creep down her back. She should keep her guard up when it came to Marc. She’d been fooled once and suffered the consequences. She wouldn’t let herself end up in that position again.
Marc came into the lobby then, just on the heels of Jordan’s departure, and despite all her misgivings, she couldn’t feel suspicious in his presence. She also couldn’t help but swallow hard at the image he presented, his skin and hair still damp, his shirt thrown over his arm so his chest was still bare for her to appreciate. His jeans hung low on his hips, giving her a glimpse of the deep lines that led in a V to more intimate parts of him.
Did his eyes twinkle and his chest puff out a little? Could he sense her reaction as her nipples puckered and hardened inside her bra? Or maybe he could smell her arousal as she grew a bit damp between her thighs. He stepped directly in front of her and reached down, taking her hand and drawing her to her feet so barely an inch remained between them. She held her breath, knowing that inhaling too deeply would cause her to brush against the hard expanse of his chest, and she balled her hands into fists at her side to keep from reaching up to toy with the thin smattering of hair.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, searching her face.
“Very much,” she answered honestly, smiling in relief. Questions she could handle. “You played well.”
“I do my best, whether the game counts toward the season or not. That’s how our team does things.” He nodded toward the door. “I saw Jordan leaving. He wasn’t rude, was he? He can be a bit intense and standoffish.”
Intense was an understatement, but he certainly had no problem addressing her. “No, he stopped to talk for a minute before he left,” Reesa told him, trying to sound lighthearted about it.
“Good.” He backed up and pulled on his shirt, much to her relief, though an image of his muscles and the deep lines that accented them were already burned into her brain. “So, have you made your mind up about dinner?”
Ten minutes ago, she’d thought about a nice evening on the town. Five minutes ago, she’d been ready to run and hide from him. Now…everything kept changing, and suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to end their time together just yet, especially convinced that she had to cut it off after today. That made her less than willing to share his attention with the world, wanting to pretend all this was real and that she was normal, could have a normal date.
Determined to get the most out of this one last adventure, she asked, “How would you feel about coming over to my place? We can pick up some pretty great Chinese food downstairs and bring it up.”
Marc’s pupils dilated, and his gaze strolled up and down her body. “Reesa, it’s not nice to test a man’s control. I promised to be a gentleman—“
“And if you break that promise, I know how to throw you out,” she told him firmly. “You said I could have anything I wanted, right? I want to invite you over into the comfort of my home, where we can relax and talk and maybe watch a movie.”
“I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my evening,” he said, taking her hand firmly and guiding her out of the room. If she was making a mistake, it was too late to back out now. Reesa was a strong woman, and she could handle any situation like an adult. Whatever happened for the rest of the evening, she could deal with the consequences. Even if saying goodbye later left her wishing things could be different.
Chapter 4
Reesa’s sides hurt, and her face ached with the laughter they’d shared all evening. “And how old were you?” she asked as Marc finished telling a hilarious story about his first fight.
“I was eleven. And I never knew what hit me. I had to get the details from my friend Bobby later. Needless to say, I learned at an early age that I’m no fighter, and I haven’t had a brawl since.” His eyes sparkled with delight, and she admired that he could share something most men would consider a weakness, despite his rather large ego.
> They sat on opposite sides of her oversized loveseat, turned to face each other, the empty cartons of food long discarded on the heavy mahogany coffee table. The camaraderie came easily between them, almost easier than her friendship with Kylie at times. Her best friend’s energy could get a little neurotic and overwhelming. Marc remained calm and aloof, even when his expression constantly belied his intense passion for life.
“At least you know your limitations,” she commented.
“It’s a constant learning curve,” he chuckled. “What about you? Have you ever gotten into a fight? Clawed some girl’s face and pulled her hair over a boy or anything?”
Reesa froze, her chest paralyzed in mid-breath. This didn't feel right, and she answered quietly, "No, I've never had a girl fight." Lightening her statement before he could question her, she smiled and added, "I didn't exactly care too much about romance and all that in school. And I didn't have much time for it later."
Marc reached out and stroked her cheek, a soft but teasing smile on his lips. “I can’t imagine how any of the guys let you get away with that. You’re beautiful, Reesa, and you’re too much fun to be around. And if you don’t believe me, didn’t you see the way everyone ate you up today?”
She knew she was blushing fiercely, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from his touch, barely able to keep from leaning into it. Never had anyone caressed her face so tenderly, looked at her with such adoration. Even if it wasn’t real and it was all about breaking down her shields, it felt good for a change.
Not even Ethan had given her that.
The name rolled through her mind and brought her back to reality. Slowly, she backed away from Marc and got to her feet, starting to clean up the mess on the table. “What’s wrong, Reesa?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just getting late, and I have to work tomorrow. I don’t want to wake up and have to clean first thing in the morning.”
“Reesa, stop. I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I’m sorry.” Reesa kept moving, not addressing his comment. She couldn’t, or she would explode with emotion. “Reesa, please.” He stood and touched her arm, but she shook him off.
When he touched her again, she whirled on him, fire in her eyes. “I’ve enjoyed our evening up to this point, Marc, but it’s time to call it a night.”
“You don’t want that.” His voice was low, could be construed as menacing if she didn’t know better. Marc’s eyes pleaded with her, begged her not to turn him away, though his face set into a demanding expression. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Just don’t push me away right now.”
The words were barely a whisper, and Jordan’s concern that she would hurt Marc slammed into her chest. What was she doing here? And why, even though they barely knew each other, did she hear the first vestiges of pain in his voice at her rejection? “You didn’t do anything wrong, Marc,” she told him with resignation.
He scoffed. “Let me guess. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’” He shook his head. “I’m not falling for it, Reesa. Everything changed in a heartbeat. The air in the room went from warm to frigid. I did that, and I wish you’d tell me how so I could avoid it in the future.”
He stood too close, and she couldn’t gather her thoughts. Taking a half step back, she threw her arms up in exasperation. “I have a celebrity in my apartment, who seems genuine about liking me but can’t be trusted because he’s spent too much time convincing people he’s something else entirely. And no matter how I try to remind myself of that, my body keeps telling me it doesn’t matter, that I’m far too attracted to you to care if you’re going to call me again or not.”
Marc inhaled sharply at the last, and she watched his inner struggle pass over his face, his hands fist at his side as his eyes heated, turning a deep green. When he spoke, his voice was ragged, sounded almost tortured. “Tell me what to do to reassure you that I’m not here to use you.”
Reesa shook her head, not trusting her voice. She had no strength to brace against his gravitational pull, and she found herself leaning toward him. Just as she thought she would fall, he caught her in his arms and brought her to him, closing the gap as she let go of her inhibitions. The kiss was almost frantic, filled with a need she’d never possessed before, and he returned the gesture with the same fervor. He tasted of salt and soy sauce and, beneath that, the intimate flavor she already recognized as his from their previous night together.
Like an addiction, it fueled her, and she draped her arms around his neck, threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. Her resistance melted, and she pressed her body wantonly against his. To hell with romance and expectations, she thought. For once, she would take Kylie’s advice and live in the moment.
As the decision was made, her body came to life, every nerve ending sparking with sensation. Marc's lips and tongue plied her mouth, but it touched every inch of her, electrifying her reactions and bringing out a long-buried desire that threatened to spiral out of control and take over. Even now, as she let her tongue dance with his, Reesa knew she was already lost to the passion that flared like a wildfire through her veins, devouring all the oxygen in her blood until she thought she might pass out.
Marc caught her against him, becoming the aggressor as she lost her footing. Somehow, he held her up as his hands explored her body, cupping her breasts and teasing at the swollen nubs at their peaks. She panted into his mouth as she rubbed against the erection pressed to her belly, making him groan as his cock twitched in response.
Leaving her mouth, Marc’s lips traced her jaw back to her ear and then down the sensitive skin of her throat to the hollow beneath. She let her head fall back, reveling in the joy of his kisses and the warmth of his hands as he drew her sweater up and touched the bare skin of her sides beneath. Her own fingers trembled, splaying across his chest and then she shoved them under the thin material of his shirt to do what she’d wanted to earlier in the locker room. She teased at the sparse curls on his chest, traced the lines of his muscles.
Working off instinct like some animal without reasoning ability, she tugged at his shirt impatiently until he let go of her and yanked the material over his head. Reesa reached for him, but rather than continuing the assault with his mouth, he grabbed the hem of her sweater, drawing it over her head, and then he reached around her back and unclasped her bra so her breasts spilled out, heavy and greedy for his touch.
Marc made a strangled sound and descended on her once again, his kiss more demanding this time, and Reesa didn't resist. In fact, she delighted in the sensation of his teeth nibbling at her lip, his fingers tweaking her pebbled nipples, his hard-on thrusting hard against his jeans.
Her stomach clenched, and her pussy dripped with need, the hot moisture shocking against the cool material of her panties and leggings. “Marc!” she muttered against his lips. She didn’t know what she begged for, whether it was a moment to catch her breath or a need for him to smother her completely. But in response, he moaned into her mouth, and his hands slid down to cup her rear and push her tighter against his cock.
Reesa threw her head back and cried out wordlessly, her arousal so intense it was agonizing. Pushing at his shoulders and clawing him forward at the same time, she breathed, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
Marc gazed down at her, his eyes hooded and cloudy with desire, and then he searched the room until his gaze landed on her closed bedroom door. She could feel his rapid heartbeat against her chest as he lifted her, forcing her to wrap her legs around him, and started toward their destination. Her position had him firmly settled against her, and she couldn’t help but rub herself along his hard shaft. He grunted and smacked her ass before opening the door.
“Patience, Reesa. I don’t want this to end too fast,” he growled at her, his mouth to her ear and his breath tickling down the back of her neck under her hair.
But she had no patience, wanted to feel his throbbing length inside her, sooner than later, and she boldly shifted to stroke him with her bo
dy again. Marc all but tossed her on the bed, looming over her as he fell on top of her. His skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and she licked her lips, wondering what he tasted like.
Before she could make a move, Marc buried his face in her breasts, laving at them and nipping at her buds until she arched her back, desperate for him to continue. Instead, he moved down to her flat stomach, lingering over her navel as he traced a circle around it with his tongue. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and then the waist of her leggings was in his mouth as he drew them down, along with her panties. His teeth scraped over her legs in his efforts, and she whimpered at the blissful chills they caused as they heated her core, causing blood to rush to the folds between her thighs.
He slid back up her body, stopping as he found that juncture, and he pushed at the flesh on her inner thighs, forcing her to spread her legs. When his tongue flicked out along her moist lips, she shouted and writhed, a boiling pressure building and aching in her pussy, but he didn’t stop. He did it again, and then he sucked her clit into his mouth, causing an eruption inside and behind her eyelids as she squeezed them shut. The orgasm overtook her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and balance, and she didn’t know anything but the incredible pleasure as he teased and tormented.
Finally, he had mercy on her, raising his head to meet her eyes over the flat plane of her stomach, between the swell of her breasts. His mouth glistened, and his eyes shone with triumph and need. She reached for him, wanting him inside her more than ever as her body quaked, begging for more. He shed his jeans quickly, and she gulped at the sight of his cock, thick and standing tall against his lower abdomen. He was perfect, large and ready, and she bent her knees, spreading wide in invitation for him to settle himself between her thighs.
