Hard and Fast

by Kathy Lyons

  So I smiled. “I’m okay, Connor. It’s just work shit. I’ll figure it out.”

  Connor stiffened. “Did a reporter hurt you? Did someone touch you?” His jaw was tightening as he spoke, and I could feel his anger vibrate in the air. “Tell me who did it. I can fix it.” Lord, he sounded like he was ready to beat up anyone who gave me a cross word.

  And again, I felt a rush of warmth for him. Only a few people in my life had ever protected me, even after I was adopted. My cousins would happily tell me when I stepped out of line, but I doubted they’d beat up anyone who made me cry.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said, rushing to tell him before he could storm the press corps. “Someone took credit for my work to Joe. I tried to clear it up, but…” I shrugged. “I don’t know that Joe heard me. It’s just frustrating, but I can handle it.”

  “Someone here did that? That’s ridiculous! You’ve been working your ass off—”

  Well, it was nice that he noticed. “It was credit for the ideas themselves. Half of publicity is figuring out what to do. It’s—”

  “Who did it, Gia?”

  I bit my lip and shook my head. “I can handle it, Connor. You don’t need to be my white knight.” Though, God, I wanted him to be. I desperately wanted someone like him in my corner.

  He came forward and touched my cheek, lifting my chin up until we were close enough to kiss, but he didn’t do it. He just looked at my smeared mascara and faded lipstick.

  “Let me do this for you, Gia. Let me do something.”

  “Because we had a glorious night and now you’ve dumped me?” I swallowed, wondering what had possessed me to broach on this topic. But once embarked, I couldn’t turn back. “Those were the rules when we started. Look, I’ll admit it—I want more from you. But it’s okay if you don’t agree. Still, I’m not going to have you rushing to my rescue out of guilt because you don’t feel the same for me. That’s not how I roll.”

  I watched a muscle in his jaw twitch. He was thinking hard about something, but God only knew what it was. And since he wasn’t going to talk, I took a deep breath and stepped back from him. “Things are good. You’re letting me do the publicity. Our working relationship is going great. I’m not going to mess that up because I’ve gone all girly over you.” I squared my shoulders. “I’m not.”

  “And what if I’ve gone all guy-like over you?”

  I couldn’t stop the jolt of hope that crashed through me. Did he feel a fraction of what I felt for him? “Don’t toy with me, Connor. It’s cr—” I meant to say cruel, but I never got the word out. His mouth was on mine before the word finished.

  I melted right into him. No thought, just a complete dissolution of any willpower. He was touching me, his hands on my hips pulling me hard against his hot groin. And his mouth was on mine, his tongue thrusting inside while my blood started singing, yes, yes, yes! I didn’t want to want him this much, but since I did, I wasn’t going to stop him when he backed me up against my desk. Papers scattered as I planted my bottom on the hard surface and wrapped my legs around him.

  I tugged at his uniform shirt, untucking it so that I could run my hands up his chest. Oh God, he felt better than I remembered—hot flesh, bulging muscles, and the coarse rub of hair against my palms. I was in a skirt without panty hose, which made it incredibly easy to squeeze his hips between my thighs and pull myself up on him.

  It was insane. I was crawling all over him, but he wasn’t running away. In fact, he was helping as he pulled up my skirt and palmed my bottom. Then I felt my thong give way, ripped off my body. I was thrilled.

  He left my mouth to kiss down my neck. I fell back enough that when he started nuzzling into the V of my blouse, I quickly stripped it away. Thank God for tiny buttons. Then his hands went to my back, unhooking my bra with ease. My hands were at his waistband, trying to unbutton his pants, sliding my hands down his hips to push them down until his glorious penis sprang free.

  He groaned as I fondled him, but no more than me when his hands began shaping my breasts for his mouth. He sucked hard on my nipples, one after the other, while I stroked the wet tip of his erection.

  Some part of me screamed that this was crazy. We were in my office before a game. We couldn’t do this. But the bulk of my thoughts were on getting a condom from my purse so that we absolutely could.

  I pushed back from him and reached over my desk, trying to pull my purse out of a drawer. I had no idea if he knew what I was doing, but it didn’t matter. As I stretched backward, he spread my legs and dove straight down between them.

  His tongue swept over me in strokes that had my whole body singing with hunger. His hands were strong where they gripped my thighs, and his shoulders were broad as he pushed between them.

  There was no elegance in what he did, certainly not compared to the night we’d had a week ago, but I didn’t care. This wild assault kept my thoughts at bay and buried me in sensation. I bucked in his hands, then pressed my fist into my mouth to keep from screaming. And I exploded on his tongue in a wild eruption of pleasure.

  Then I heard him rip open a foil packet. I managed to open my eyes in time to see him putting on a condom. But how? I hadn’t given him one. Which meant he’d had to have been carrying it himself.

  A flush of pleasure spiked through me. He’d been carrying a condom when he came to see me. He’d been thinking about this, too.

  Then there were no more thoughts as he positioned himself against me. Our eyes met for a split second. There seemed to be a question in his, and I almost laughed. Did he think I was going to refuse him?

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes!” And then because he still didn’t thrust, I pushed up on my elbows and spoke plainly. “Fuck me hard, Connor. Right. Now.”

  He slammed inside me. The sudden invasion shot lightning through every nerve ending. I fell back again on the desk while he pounded inside me.

  I imagined myself at that moment, what I looked like, sprawled open with him jack-hammering between my legs. I pictured the clench of his buttocks, I saw his pectorals bunch and his arms thicken as he gripped my hips. He was pounding inside me, and I wanted it harder, deeper, longer.

  “Touch yourself,” he grunted.

  I hardly needed the extra stimulation, but his eyes were on me, burning hot on my breasts.

  I plumped them for him to see. I wrapped my legs around his back while I pinched my nipples and shivered at the sensation.

  His tempo was impossibly fast, and his jaw was clenched tight. And then it hit.

  Orgasm. It ricocheted wildly inside me as I arched and bucked on the desk.

  He rode me still, holding me with his large hands while he pounded.

  Over and over. Again and again.

  Then he came.

  I felt the rigid eruption inside me. His body tightened, his eyes slammed shut, and his head dropped back in bliss while he seemed to screw himself deeper inside me.

  I had no control over my own body, which was still pulsing. Pulling. Milking him.

  He gripped me tight, while inside, his orgasm continued.

  Finally, it eased, and I could draw breath.

  Slowly, he pulled back. His eyes were dark when he opened them, and his gaze landed on my glistening sex where I was still spread open for him.

  “One last time,” he whispered.

  What?

  Then he dropped down and kissed my clit. I whimpered because it was all I had the strength for. Then I felt a swipe of his tongue, a nip from his teeth. Fingers pushed deep inside me, stroking me from the inside.

  And another wave overcame me.

  Bliss.

  Chapter Eleven

  Connor

  Nothing smelled as good as Gia did. Sure, I loved her taste, and as for her looks—she was gorgeous. But her scent was what slayed me every time. Ever since she’d started working for the Bobcats, I often wandered the halls, hoping to catch a hint of her ginger spice scent. But that was mostly perfume. This, right here between her thighs, was pure, una
dulterated Gia. I could have happily stayed here forever.

  Though, that wasn’t exactly the best idea, given that the game was going to start soon. I should be in the locker room listening to the coaches or studying my notes on the other team’s players. But no, I was here with the scent of Gia on my skin and tongue. I didn’t know how I’d even think about baseball with her ambrosia on my uniform.

  She was still sprawled in the most erotic way on her desk. It couldn’t be comfortable for her, but I was already hard again, looking at her. Those gorgeous dark curls of hers tumbled wildly about her face, and her eyes were still dazed. I might have worried that I’d gone too far, but the curve to her lips told me she was happy. And she was still open and wet in the most enticing way.

  Until footsteps sounded down the hallway. We both tensed immediately, and I helped her sit up. Then I quietly put my foot on the door so no one could come in.

  Fortunately, no one knocked. The steps receded down toward the locker room, and we each blew out a relieved breath. She was already cleaning up, knotting her hair into a sloppy bun that still looked amazing. Her clothes came next, and I hurried to adjust myself, too, annoyed that my fingers trembled as I put everything back in its place. It was bad enough to feel shaky from great sex, and worse to have weak hands during a game. But that’s what Gia did to me. She made me weak. She made me want. And it was going to screw with my career, big time.

  “So, um,” she said, her voice tentative. “That happened.”

  I looked at her flushed cheeks. “Do you regret it?”

  “God, no! But I get the feeling you do.”

  My chin jerked up so I could study her expression. She was calm and composed, her eyes steady, but there was a challenge there that I couldn’t deny. She was damned perceptive, and I had no idea how to explain.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” she said softly. “Did you stumble on me standing by the stadium door or did you come looking for me?”

  I was always looking for her, whether or not I went to her side. But when I saw her body rigid like that—even from behind—I knew something was really wrong. And I had an ugly guess as to what it was.

  “I was walking and saw you.” I shrugged. “And maybe I wanted to see you, you know, for luck. Before the game.” She didn’t know she was part of my pre-game ritual. I always caught a glimpse of her before we played. In the stadium, the press area, or just watching the warm-ups—I had to see her, and so I had come looking for her.

  “For luck?” The doubt was clear in her voice.

  My shoulders tensed, and my voice took on a defensive note. “Yes, for luck. You…bring me luck.”

  She glanced back at the disaster that was her desk. Half of what had been there was on the floor. If there had been any organization, there wasn’t any now.

  “Well, I suppose that’s one word for it. I hope you hit a dozen home runs.”

  That would be a miracle. Still, hope sprung eternal. But rather than discuss my batting average or my pre-game Gia ritual, I pushed the conversation back to her. “Tell me what upset you.”

  She shook her head, her mouth tightly shut.

  “Was it my sister? Was she the one who took credit for your work?”

  She grimaced, but at my hard look, she relented. “It’s no big deal—”

  “The hell it’s not. You were crying!” God, I wanted to throttle Sophia for even coming to the ballpark today, but I always felt that way. Right now, I was extra angry because she was screwing with Gia.

  Meanwhile, the woman in question was watching me closely, no doubt reading way too much in my face. “So…” she said slowly. “Sounds like you already know what she’s like.”

  “She’s my sister. Of course, I know what she’s like.”

  “Yeah, but…” She tilted her head as she studied me. Her eyes narrowed, and her hair slipped across her shoulder. I wanted to pull that sloppy bun apart and run my hands through her hair while we picked up where we’d left off. But she kept talking about my sister, which effectively killed my boner. “You understand that she’s a liar…professionally speaking.”

  “She’s a predator. You need to stay away from her.”

  She folded her arms, plumping her breasts and distracting me. “You’re not warning me away from her.”

  “Yeah, I am! She’s dangerous—”

  She waved her hand at me. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. You tell me to stay away from Cassie because you’re worried about her. But with Sophia—”

  “She’ll fuck you up if she can.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I’d just said. And once spoken, I had to think about them and see the truth.

  Sophia liked attention, and she’d done a number on Cassie for sure, but that had been just sibling rivalry. Or at least, that’s what I’d told myself. But I knew she’d hated Gia from the get-go, thinking I’d mess up my career with an office romance. That I’d take my eye off the baseball prize.

  Except now I began to question that, too. I thought Sophia had been against Gia because she’d seen us kiss on New Year’s Eve. But what if she wasn’t so much against Gia…as against any woman who might get between me and her.

  It was ridiculous. Sophia had lost me the moment I’d realized what she’d done to Cassie. She’d been the voice whispering in Cassie’s ear, telling her she was worthless and would never amount to anything. The idea that she was afraid of anyone coming between her and me was almost sad. Because I didn’t feel anything for Sophia. I just wanted her to stay away from Cassie.

  But what if Sophia didn’t realize that? What if she confused working as my publicist as a real relationship? Then she’d do whatever it took to cut Gia out of my life.

  Was she that messed up? I didn’t want to think so. She was aggressive and greedy, but we’d had hard years when Mom got sick. It made sense that she needed financial security. And aggression wasn’t necessarily bad, assuming it didn’t run rampant.

  But was it running rampant in Sophia?

  I was still fighting with that thought when Gia leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “So why is she your publicist if you know she can be vicious?”

  I ground my teeth, trying to think of a way out of this conversation. I could leave. I really ought to be in the locker room anyway, so that was an easy excuse. But the truth was that I didn’t want to run away. I wanted to work out the truth with Gia, even if it was ugly.

  “Sophia is my older sister. When my mom got sick, my dad was in no shape to deal with us. Sophia took care of us, saw that we studied, had clothes and food, and didn’t get into trouble.”

  Gia frowned. “What about the rest of your family? Ellie’s your cousin, and her parents are great.”

  “They were in Chicago, and Dad was in denial for a really long time. He kept saying that we were okay and got really angry when we suggested anything else. We learned early on just to pretend that everything would be fine.”

  She nodded, her expression sad. “How old were you?”

  “Eleven. Cassie was eight, Sophia was fourteen, which is way too young to become a mom of two kids.” I swallowed. “I owe her a lot.”

  “Except I don’t hear gratitude in your voice. And you look like you want to punch something. So I’m guessing she wasn’t a good parent.”

  “She was better than nothing.” At least, I tried to believe that. But one look at Gia told me she wasn’t buying that.

  “I didn’t have parents, remember? That sucked, but there are worse things.” She touched my arm, her fingertips like coals of heat when my entire body felt icy. “What did she do to you?”

  I shook my head. “Not me.”

  “Cassie.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded as if it was.

  “Sophia played mind games on her all the time. You’re beautiful, you’re ugly. You’re smart, you’re useless. Mixed signals, outright lies, I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention at the time.”

  “You were a little boy.”

  “One who played baseball real
ly well and was kind of adopted by my coach.” If half of what Cassie said was true—and I believed her 100 percent—then I owed my sanity to my little league coach.

  I watched understanding fill Gia’s expression. “That was why Cassie broke down. Why she started college so late.”

  “She hit a crisis and tried to kill herself.” I still thanked God that I had been the one to find her that day. That I’d had the money to get her into therapy. And that I had seen enough of my older sister’s dark side to realize that Cassie wasn’t lying about any of it.

  “You got her through?”

  “She got herself through. I helped as much as I could.”

  “And Sophia?”

  “She went crazy and started to say things about Cassie—that she was a drug addict, that her boyfriends had raped her, or that Cassie had been part of a pornography ring. She offered enough details to even make Cassie’s therapist believe her, at least for a little bit.”

  She nodded slowly. “But you didn’t buy it. You’d seen the mess Cassie was in.”

  “I didn’t want to believe either side. It was too twisted. Did I accept that Cassie could be a troubled drug addict? Or that my substitute mother, Sophia, was responsible for making Cassie want to take her own life? Why? What could she gain from it?”

  “Attention. Sympathy. Power.”

  I looked at Gia and saw the darkness in her eyes. She usually hid it beneath her perky exterior, but I could see that she had no problem believing the evil inside my older sister. But it hadn’t been that simple. So I told her the one thing that kept me from walking away from Sophia outright.

  “Back then, we wouldn’t have gotten through without Sophia. You don’t understand what it was like when my mom got sick. My dad spent every moment he could at the hospital. It was like he wasn’t even here. And after Mom’s death, he didn’t get out of bed. We had no one—no one but Sophia.”

  Gia squeezed my fingers. When had I taken her hand? It didn’t matter. I gripped it tightly. “She could have done a good thing back then and still be poisonous now.”