by Tara Wyatt
Javi let out a low whistle. “Someone’s been doing her homework.”
She smirked. “I always do.”
“Did you do all this checking up on me before or after we had sex?”
Blood rushed to her cheeks and she didn’t answer the question. He nodded slowly and took a sip of his drink, savoring the velvet of the whiskey on his tongue. “That’s why it’s so easy to dismiss me, dismiss what happened between us. You think you know me.”
At that, her eyes flashed to his. “Don’t I?”
“Just because you read and memorized my Wikipedia page doesn’t mean you know shit, Aerin.” A silence fell between them, and he turned his gaze out to the waves, rippling in the breeze. He didn’t move to take back his comment, or to shift the subject to something else. He wanted her to sit with it, even if it was just for a minute.
She shifted in her seat, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “When I was a kid, I watched a lot of Simpsons. A lot of TV in general.” She stared at an invisible spot on the table, her fingers twisting her napkin as she spoke. “I was the second of five—all boys, except for me. And we had it made. Upper West Side, wealthy family. From the outside, it probably looked perfect. But it wasn’t. TV kept us company because we were on our own, pretty much all the time.” She let the napkin go and lifted her gaze to meet his. “I know it’s not the same, but I know what it feels like when everyone thinks they know you based on a few facts and observations. I…” She shook her head and then reached for the wine list in the center of the table, pulling it toward herself and flipping it open. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”
“So what did you mean to do?”
Aerin caught the waitress’s eye and ordered a glass of chardonnay. “Push you away.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “It’s what I do, if you hadn’t noticed.”
A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth. “I might’ve picked up on something when you were barking at me to get out of your room.”
“It wasn’t a bark. It was more of a…firm request.” A wry grin twisted her lips.
“Agree to disagree.”
The waitress returned with Aerin’s drink, and Aerin stood, moving into the chair next to Javi. He studied her with a raised eyebrow. “What? I couldn’t see the sunset facing the other way.”
“Sure.” He tried to force some sarcasm into his voice, but it died at having her practically elbow to elbow with him. His skin warmed, a tingling glow working its way through him.
“Do you regret sleeping with me?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the sun, almost gone now, swallowed whole by the water.
She took a long sip of her wine and then eased back in her chair. “No. It was freaking fantastic, and what we both needed, I think.”
“But you still think it shouldn’t have happened?” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this line of questioning. Maybe he needed to know where they stood. Maybe he wanted some insight into what had felt a hell of a lot like a rejection. Maybe he wanted to know if the door was open for more.
There were a lot of maybes.
“I didn’t say that,” she said carefully. “I just…I don’t know what you’re looking for here, Javi, but I can’t give it to you.” She pursed her lips together in a rueful smile, clearly letting him down easy. Even though she’d made it clear she wasn’t looking for anything more the night of the wedding. He needed to stop chasing unavailable women. Hell, maybe he needed to make an appointment with the team shrink to figure out why he kept putting himself in this situation.
Maybe he did it because he knew anything he pursued would inevitably crash and burn, just like his marriage, and so he picked women where he knew the possibility of a future was remote, at best.
Another maybe, and one he didn’t want to examine too closely.
Aerin shifted, her foot sliding against his in an accidental caress that had his blood heating. “The Red Sox are going to be so pissed,” she said, letting out a little chuckle, which grew into a full on laugh. God, the sound of that laugh. It felt like sunshine on diamonds, gleaming and warm and brilliant.
He laughed with her, tossing back the rest of his whiskey. His muddled feelings about Aerin aside, tonight was a win, and he was going to savor it. “The Red Sox can go fuck themselves as far as I’m concerned.”
“I’ll be sure to relay the sentiment.”
“Please do. I’m sure it’s scarier coming from you.”
She laughed again, staring out at the growing twilight around them. “So tell me,” she said, sipping her wine. “What was missing from that Wikipedia page?”
“Pretty much everything important.” He wasn’t willing to share it all with her, so he decided to meet her on the neutral ground she’d established. “I watched a lot of TV as a kid, too. My parents worked a lot. My dad worked two jobs to afford to send me and my brother to baseball camp every summer—he was a waiter at a restaurant and he spent every summer working construction, too. My mom worked at the hospital gift shop and took extra shifts cleaning when they offered them to her. We didn’t have much growing up; they sacrificed a lot for me and Tony.”
“Are you close with your brother?”
“Yeah. He lives in California now. He’s a paramedic.”
“Baseball didn’t pan out for him?”
Javi shook his head. “He liked it, but it was never his passion like it was mine. I never wanted anything else.”
She shifted in her seat, her bare arm brushing against his. Heat surged through him, but he fought back the urge to move closer to her. And yet, images from their night together kept flashing through his mind. Aerin on her knees in front of him, her lips stretched around him. The taste of her—her mouth, her skin, her pussy—on his tongue. The sheer ecstasy on her face every single time she’d come. The breathless way she’d moaned his name, over and over again.
Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes huge and bright in the dim lighting, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was thinking about it too.
“This can’t happen,” she whispered, holding his eyes. “You and me. Me and anyone. It can’t happen.” He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. Either way, her words and her body were telling two very different stories. He moved a little closer, then reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of her jaw. She inhaled a shaky breath and then pressed into his touch, just a little.
“No, it can’t happen. You and me, it would be a disaster,” he said, his voice husky. “Me and anyone.” And it was true. Disaster was probably underselling it. And yet…he wanted it anyway. Fuck, Aerin made him feel like a storm chaser, driving head on into the center of a tornado.
She swallowed thickly, her throat working. “Right. Disaster.” A tremor worked its way through her and then she quickly stood, nearly knocking over her chair. “I should go. Busy day tomorrow. Thank you for dinner.”
She turned and made a quick retreat for the exit. With a sigh, Javi pulled the Longhorns corporate credit card out of his wallet and signaled to the waitress for the bill.
Disaster, he told himself as he tossed and turned in bed that night. Total disaster.
Eight
Aerin sat in the stands, watching the Longhorns play the Phillies. Her eyes glued to the dugout, she squinted and adjusted her sunglasses, needing something to do with the restless energy building inside her. For the second day in a row, she was sitting in the crowd, surrounded by the smell of beer and popcorn, watching her newest client—the client she’d promised a starting position to—sit on the bench and make small talk with the other players. Frankly, she was surprised she hadn’t heard from Alvarez yet, given how adamant he’d been about starting. He couldn’t be thrilled about having given up millions of dollars just to sit on a bench.
Out on the field, Hunter Blake—another one of her clients—swung at a wildly arcing curveball and somehow made contact, sending it into the back right outfield, bouncing off of the fence
. He sprinted for second, legs and arms pumping and slid in just in time. Aerin clapped, cheering for Hunter, trying to focus on the game and not the frustration bubbling inside her.
But it was no use. Her eyes flicked back to the dugout, finding Alvarez seated beside Dylan McCormick. Goddammit. This was a problem—her problem. And she’d have to do something about it. No way was she letting the Alvarez deal go sour before the ink had even dried on the contract.
For the briefest moment, she let her gaze linger on Javi as he moved through the dugout, his baseball pants clinging to his ass. Really, her eyes were doing more than lingering. It was more like ogling. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him. Even as her irritation mounted, she was riveted, watching him as he talked with players and consulted with the coaches. The way he moved was a combination of athletic grace and masculine confidence, and damn, was it appealing.
Okay, fine. The man was hot. It wasn’t illegal to look. And telling herself that, she let herself look her fill over the next few innings until the game was over, the Longhorns winning 8-6. As soon as the final ball had been caught, she was on her feet, gathering her tote bag and heading for the entrance of the clubhouse.
With her head held high and her shoulders back, she strode down the concrete hallway, her heels echoing off of the cinderblock walls. The cool air was welcome after spending the past couple of hours in the Florida sun, but it did nothing to temper her heated anger. Without a second glance at the security guards, she walked up to the clubhouse doors and pushed them open, stepping inside. She hadn’t been in this clubhouse before, but it only took her a second to orient herself and figure out where the manager’s office would be.
As she walked, she glanced around, but no one was paying attention to her. A few players chatted with reporters, others were goofing off, and a few sat on a beat up couch playing a video game on the clubhouse’s PlayStation. Bracing herself, she pushed open the door to the manager’s office without knocking, but it was empty.
It was fine. She could wait. She sat down behind the desk and propped her feet up, crossing her legs at the ankles. Only a few minutes later, Javi walked in, doing an almost comical double take at the sight of her.
“Last time I checked, that was my seat,” he said, eyeing her warily. He’d undone the top couple buttons of his baseball jersey, revealing a patch of gleaming tan skin that she knew was both smooth and warm. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, but she squashed them down. This was a business meeting, not Flirty Banter Time.
Aerin swiveled a little in the chair, twisting side to side. “It’s not very comfortable.”
He shot her a wry grin, pulling off his ball cap and running a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me.” He tossed his hat on the desk, his eyes traveling up and down her body. He took a step closer and then leaned down, bracing his hands on the desk. “I thought you’d be back in Texas by now, seeing as the deal’s signed.”
“I figured I’d stick around to make sure my client was happy with his decision. And it’s a good thing I did. You want to explain to me why he’s spent the past two games on the bench?”
Something flickered across Javi’s face, intrigue mixed with sheer exasperation. He stood, shoving a hand through his hair. “Nope. You don’t get to come in here and tell me how to run my team. That’s not how this works. In fact, how did you even get in here?” He turned and glanced toward the door as though he expected to see an unconscious security guard.
“I walked in. Your security’s pretty lax,” she added, deliberately trying to push his buttons.
“Well, now you’re gonna walk out.” He opened the door and gestured toward it expectantly. Aerin smiled and stayed exactly where she was.
“Why has Santiago Alvarez spent the past two games on the bench?”
Javi let the door fall closed again. “Why are you so concerned with how or when he plays?”
“Because when I signed him, I promised him a starting position with whatever team he chose.”
Javi let out a low whistle. “You really shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep and about things over which you have no control.”
“I’m an agent, making promises is part of the job.” She picked up a pen off of the desk and twirled it between her fingers. “So, why isn’t Alvarez playing?”
“Christ, you’re not going to let this go, are you?” he ground out, tension visibly radiating down his neck. She smiled sweetly and shook her head, causing his jaw to tense. God, this was fun, winding him up like this. After a second, he held his hands out to the side. “It’s spring training, Aerin. Everyone gets a shot, even catchers who might not make the team. The fact that you promised Alvarez something you can’t control isn’t my problem.”
“He chose you. You fought for him. It was practically a seduction, Javi. And now you’re sidelining him? Do you have any idea how foolish that is?”
At that, his nostrils flared and he jabbed a finger in her direction. “No. You do not get to stride in here and tell me how to run my team. This is crossing a line, even for you. You have ten seconds to get out of my office, or I’m calling security.”
She slowly stood from his chair. “I think we disagree about where the line is. All I’m doing is advocating for my client.”
“All you’re doing is being a gigantic pain in my ass.”
Unable to help herself, she smirked at him. “I think you like when I’m a pain in your ass.”
At that, he strode toward her, backing her into the desk and then caging her in, his palms landing on the faux-wood surface on either side of her hips. Heat flared in his eyes, leaving her skin feeling raw and tingly.
“Don’t push me, Stone.” A muscle in his jaw jumped, and a thrill charged through her.
She leaned in a bit closer, his scent hitting her and sending an explosion of butterflies cascading through her stomach. How did he do this to her? Make her feel so damn alive just by being near her? “Or what?” she whispered, her lips almost grazing the outer shell of his ear.
With a gruff, masculine growl, he gripped her hips and lifted her onto the desk. “Or else we do something we know we shouldn’t.” His eyes were dark, ravenous, his chest rising and falling with his harsh breaths.
She leaned back, bracing her palms on the desk behind her. She arched an eyebrow, a surge of lust and power singing through her blood, making her feel as though she were melting from the inside. “I really think you ought to play Alvarez.”
“Stop talking, Aerin.” He leaned forward, looming over her, his broad shoulders taking up her entire field of vision. God, she wanted him. Despite all the reasons she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help how she felt. How he made her feel. He was frustrating and sexy and it was fun as hell to wind him up and then watch him lose control. And so, she bit her lip and smiled up at him.
“Make me.”
“Goddammit,” he ground out just before crashing his mouth into hers. Heat seared through her as his tongue swept into her mouth, his lips hungry against hers. His hands slid up her ribs and around her back, pulling her against him. She spread her legs, sending her pencil skirt inching up her thighs, and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself against his already hard cock. Christ, she’d almost forgotten just how deliciously thick and long he was. Almost but not quite, because she’d touched herself to the memory of Javi inside her more times than she’d like to admit.
He shifted his hips against her and they both moaned, their voices tangling together with their tongues. She bit at his bottom lip, hard enough to make him hiss and rear back. He twisted a hand in her hair and jerked her head to the side, exposing her neck. Arousal surged through her at having his hands, his mouth on her again. She hadn’t even known how much she’d missed this until now. How much she’d been craving it. Needing it.
No other man had ever made her feel the way Javier Flores did. It was a simple truth and a growing problem—one she didn’t know how to fix. But then Javi bit her, right
where her neck met her shoulder, hard enough to mark her. She cried out and he swept his tongue over the bite, soothing it. The drag of his tongue over her skin only made her want more. With trembling hands, she yanked his jersey out of his pants, scraping her nails over his hard stomach, wanting to mark him the way he’d marked her.
“God, I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he said, his voice raw. “I want to bury myself inside you, right here.” He kissed her again, hot and deep, and she moaned into his mouth. She broke the kiss and trailed biting kisses down his jaw, his throat, rocking against him as she worked his belt open.
“Hell, yes.” She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a gruff moan from somewhere deep in his chest. Thank God the door to his windowless office was shut. It wasn’t locked, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but Javi.
“Yeah?” He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes searching hers.
“Condoms in my purse,” she said, nodding. He kissed her again, slow, hot, sweeps of his tongue against hers that promised so much more. She slid his belt free and then shoved a hand into his pants, needing to touch him, to fill her palm with him. He was hot and smooth against her, thrusting into her hand as she stroked him roughly.
“Need to taste you first.” He dropped to his knees, hooking her legs over his shoulders. Without hesitation, he tugged her panties to the side and swept his tongue over her wet, aching pussy. She moaned and let her head fall back, surprised she was able to hold herself up with the searing pleasure throbbing through her, making it hard to think, to breathe, to do anything but give herself over to the need spreading between them like wildfire. “Fuck,” he ground out, his lips moving against her. “I’ve thought about how fucking good you taste every single day. I can’t get enough of your pussy.”
The knowledge that he’d thought about her as much as she’d thought about him put a match to her insides, leaving her feeling dangerously singed. Needing to anchor herself, she wove a hand into his thick hair, tugging slightly as he scraped his teeth over her swollen clit. He pulled back, trailing kisses across her inner thighs. She tugged on his hair again, trying to guide him back to where she wanted him, whimpering helplessly. But the bastard just grinned up at her, a cocky tilt of his wet lips.
