by Virna DePaul
But now I’m pinned between the wall and Hunter’s naked body, and I’m the one sniffing his unbelievably hot, freshly showered skin…and trying to remember I’m a strong woman who stands on her own two feet, not one of his peanut-butter-legged conquests.
Hunter
I make college football players into stars without having to bribe them, and I’m pissed Dani Cross thinks otherwise. But anger isn’t all she makes me feel. The pink-haired, pierced tattoo artist is so hot she makes me want to forget my own rule: one night per woman, no exceptions.
Only she doesn’t trust me as far as she can throw me. (And trust me, that woman has an arm.) She’s been hurt, and it’ll take more than smooth talking to make her forget the pain. But for the first time in my life, I’m ready to lay it all on the table—even if closing the deal means offering my heart.
Chapter 1
Hunter
“Hunter, baby, you up? Breakfast is almost ready.”
Shit, I think as my eyes flash open.
I stare up at the ceiling and listen to the sounds coming from my kitchen. Female humming. Cabinets opening and closing. Dishes rattling. To my left, sunlight peeks through the shades. I fumble for my phone, check the time, then mentally curse again. Viciously. Not only because I overslept, but because I’m pissed as hell at myself.
“Hunter?”
“Yeah,” I finally call out. “Coming.”
I throw back the covers, get out of bed, pull on a pair of sweats, then splash cold water on my face. Arms braced on the counter, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and curl my lip in disgust.
“You stupid bastard,” I mutter.
Exhausted from a string of eighty-hour work weeks and too much to drink, I’d apparently done something I haven’t done in ten years—fallen asleep immediately after having sex with a woman.
The same woman who was now frying bacon by the smell of things.
The same woman whose name I can’t seem to remember.
I’d met her at Gatsby’s last night and taken her home with me, another rarity. Usually I prefer going to a woman’s place so I can make an easy escape, but she’d been visiting from out of town and had been curious about where I lived. Getting a hotel room had seemed like too much trouble and before I knew it, here we were. She’d been good with her hands at the club, even better in bed. Wild and crazy in the sheets.
But I still can’t remember her name.
When I walk into the kitchen, the pretty blonde looks up and offers me a warm, beautiful smile. If I was anyone else, if I wasn’t Hunter fucking Kiss, the smile would probably melt my heart.
But I am Hunter Kiss and I don’t have time for this shit.
I notice she’s wearing my grey cashmere robe, the one that normally hangs on the back of my bathroom door. That annoys me. When I see my laptop where I left it on the kitchen counter, however—with the screensaver activated, telling me she’d tried to access my files—any notion I had of politely eating breakfast with her before nudging her out the door vanishes.
“Good morning,” she purrs. “You hungry? I thought we could eat and then spend the day together.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
She frowns. “Sorry?”
“My screensaver is still on.” I raise my brows, but I don’t lay into her as much as I should. Yeah, she was nosey, but it wasn’t her fault I’d fallen asleep even after I’d made it clear last night I wasn’t looking for anything more than mutual gratification. Talk about giving a lady mixed signals. Still, I want her gone. “Listen, last night was great, but I’ve got to get to work. The café next door has amazing pancakes.”
Her mouth open and closes. Her face turns red. Finally, her eyes narrow. “You’re a dick.”
I contemplate her words and shrug. I’m not trying to be even more of an ass; she just happens to be right. “Which is why you really wouldn’t want to spend more time with me than you have to,” I say softly.
“Fuck you,” she scoffs as she rounds the counter and passes by me to stalk into the bedroom.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I force myself to remain silent. Ten minutes later, she blows out of my apartment. For a few seconds, I feel guilty. She was a nice woman, for the most part, and great at giving head. But mostly I feel relief. And determined not to make the mistake of actually falling asleep with another woman again.
I make coffee and pick up my phone to call Trisha, my personal assistant. She informs me she already rescheduled my morning meetings.
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”
“Yes, you’ve told me a million times, Hunter. I love you too, and before the sound of those words makes you shriek in horror and run away, you know I mean that in a brotherly way.”
“Right,” I chuckle. “How’s Gwendolyn?”
“Let’s say it’s complicated and leave it at that.”
“Women are so damn difficult.” I take a sip of coffee, immediately regretting the decision as it’s still too hot to drink and singes my lips. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just switch teams. I happen to know a handsome guy who would be just your type.”
“Is he a little over six feet tall with an athletic build? Brown hair and hazel eyes?”
“Yeah, I think we’re talking about the same guy.”
“Yeah, I know that guy, and he’s only my type because he’s even more afraid of commitment than I am. Plus, he’s like my brother, too, and assuming I was ever strictly dickly, I’m not into anything taboo.”
“Everyone’s into something crazy behind closed doors.” I grin widely then ask, “Have you confirmed tomorrow’s meeting with Cross?”
“Actually no. When I called him, he hemmed and hawed a bit. Literally.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a good old Southern boy. But he’s also the best upcoming quarterback in the country, and what do you mean he hemmed and hawed? He was damn excited about the prospect of signing with me and going pro last we talked.”
“Apparently that was before his sister got to him. He let slip she has concerns.”
“Is this the same sister who left twenty-five messages the past week?”
“That’s the one. She’s not your biggest fan.”
I snort. “I’m not afraid of his sister.”
“Seeing as I’m the only one who’s actually spoken to her, I can say in all seriousness: You should be.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Signing Cross is basically a done deal.”
“Yeah, well done deal or not, he mentioned he might want to include the sister in the meeting.”
I blow out a breath. “Fuck. But fine. By the time I’m done with him and his sister, they’re going to be drooling with dollar signs in their eyes.”
“I hope you’re right. Anyway, will you be gracing us with your presence soon?”
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
I end the call then jump in the shower. When I’m done, I hear someone pounding on my door. Is it the blonde? If she “forgot” something, better to give it to her now rather than risk her coming back. She knocks again, this time more aggressively. My robe is on the floor where she left it and I figure, what the hell, she’s already seen all there is to see of me. So I grab a towel, sling it loosely around my hips, and throw open the door.
Only to find myself staring not at the blonde, but a short curvy woman with hair dark as midnight stalking away from me toward the elevator. When I open the door, she twirls around, and my brows pop up. She’s busty, with large tits that jiggle when she turns, tattoos, hot pink highlights in her hair, and the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. Her mouth is pouty. Her skin is a light tan with hints of freckles. And she’d be gorgeous but for the scowl on her face.
“Hunter Kiss?” she calls, still some distance away, her voice so deep and throaty my dick twitches.
I brace my hands above my head on the door jamb and lean forward with a grin.
Her eyes widen as she seems to suddenly noti
ce I’m only wearing a towel that can slip at any moment. I can practically feel the trail of heat her gaze leaves as it wanders over me. I subtly flex my pecs, grinning when she zones in on the movement. “That’s right. And you are?”
She blinks then shakes her head as if to clear it. “I’m Chad Cross’s sister. And you can take this phone and shove it up your ass,” she says just before tossing something at me that hits me in the face—hard.
Chapter 2
Hunter
“What the fuck!” I roar, automatically raising a hand to my left eye, which stings like a motherfucker, while automatically lowering a hand to hold on to my towel. Or maybe it’s a subconscious move to protect my nuts from a different type of sneak attack.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
The apology comes immediately, but I barely hear it. Whatever hit me in the face—I’m assuming it’s the phone she so rudely suggested I have intimate acquaintance with—stunned me more than hurt me, but for a few seconds I’m practically frozen in shock. Sure enough, I catch sight of a smart phone at my feet. When I lift my gaze again, Cross’s sister is right in front of me and she looks every bit as shocked as I feel, maybe even more so. Her face is pale, one hand covers her mouth, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Insanely, I feel the urge to comfort her, which I viciously shove away even as I let go of my towel, grab her wrist, kick the phone out of the way, and drag her into my apartment, ignoring the little squeak she lets out when I shove the door closed, spin her around, then pin her against it. Vaguely I’m aware that my towel has dropped, but I don’t care. I’m pissed and want answers.
Yet I still manage to register how soft and luscious she feels pressed against me.
With wide eyes, she swallows hard then says, “Let me go!”
“How about you explain what the fuck that was about and maybe I’ll let you go,” I say between gritted teeth, distracted by the way the pulse in her throat is fluttering. In contrast to the colorful art on her arms, her throat and chest are unmarked, and I have another insane urge—this time to lean down and lick her. To my surprise, when I glance up, I see a flash of desire in her eyes. Dark eyes swimming with fire complimented by her dark hair, pink highlights, and arm tattoos.
I like it. Too much.
“You’re naked,” she chokes out.
“Yeah, well forgive me for dropping my towel when a strange woman assaults me.”
“I—I didn’t mean to assault you. I just came to return your phone.”
“Not my phone.”
“Fine. The phone you gave my brother.”
“Didn’t give your brother a phone.”
She struggles against me. I lean in, giving her more of my body weight, and she gasps.
“You’re lying!”
“No, I’m not. And fair warning—you keep rubbing against me like that, and you’re going to get a whole hell-of-a lot more than you bargained for. Or is that what you were hoping for?”
She turns bright red but manages to stare unflinching into my eyes. “You wish.”
I shift my knee slightly, pressing the weight of my leg against her thigh. “Gotta say, you picked an unusual way to proposition me but big points for getting my attention.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” she sneers. “Word on the street is that you are an absolute monster in the sheets, and silly me, I couldn’t resist.”
“The word on the street is seldom right, but I think just this once, the street might be onto something.” I cock my head and pass a quick look over her. I strengthen my grip around her wrist and dig my knee deeper against her. “So what are you into? Domination? Submission? Humiliation?”
She blinks and swallows a nervous lump in her throat. There’s something different in her eyes now, something that tugs on my heartstrings.
Fear.
“Seriously?” I shake my head in disbelief and let out a groan before staring up at the ceiling then abruptly releasing her. I plant my hands on my hips, noticing the way her gaze drops to my naked dick.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve being scared of me considering what just went down. Then again, you’re obviously a crazy person. The question is whether I should call the police or get you medical attention.”
But she doesn’t appear to be listening to me.
Her cheeks blush fire-engine red. Her mouth opens and closes like she’s a fish sucking in air. Her eyes are wide as saucers, her gaze no longer edged with fear but filled with a mixture of awe and hunger. I swear she looks ready to bow down and worship me. Or rather, worship my dick. Seeing it gets me horny as hell, making me swell right in front of her eyes.
She blushes even harder, which for some reason I find completely adorable.
And hot.
Finally, she takes a shaky breath then lets it out slowly, as if she’s really struggling to collect herself. “This hasn’t exactly gone according to plan,” she finally says even as she rubs at her wrist, which is slightly red. I’m hit with a frisson of guilt that turns into a mix of amusement and grim satisfaction when she stares at a point just above my right shoulder, obviously unable to make herself look at my monster cock again. Too bad because it’s desperately craving her attention.
She licks her lips nervously, and asks, “Can you put on your towel? Please?”
I want to tell her to go to hell. My eye hurts like a motherfucker and chances are I’m going to have a shiner. But remembering that look of fear, the fact this is Cross’s sister and she might be able to help alleviate the concerns Trish talked about, I finally grab the towel, and wrap it around me. “I’m covered.”
She looks at me hesitantly, as if she’s not sure I was lying about having covered up, but when she sees I was telling the truth she looks equally relieved and disappointed, which makes me stifle a laugh.
“Look, I really am sorry...about your eye. I meant to toss you the phone with a little attitude, not ream you with it. Honest. I’m not usually the violent type. You have to believe me.”
“Lady, I don’t know you.”
“I’m Dani Cross. I’m Chad’s—”
“Yeah, I know. You’re Chad Cross’s sister. The one who’s called and spoken to my personal assistant on several occasions.”
She scowls. “So you admit you’ve ignored my messages asking you to call me back?”
I lower my hand to my towel, for a brief second seriously tempted to drop it again just to check her attitude, but instead I ask, “Is that why you threw the phone at me?”
“No. Well, sort of. But not the only reason,” she says, her mouth sulky.
Jesus. Now I want to bite her plump lips. “Look, Ms. Cross—”
“Dani,” she interrupted.
“Ms. Cross, number one, I don’t know you. Number two, you don’t know me. And number three, just because you’re pissed at someone doesn’t give you the right to assault them.”
She raises her chin. “I didn’t mean to assault you. Not like that, anyway. I just meant to aggressively toss a phone at you.”
“Besides me not calling you back, what else can you possibly be mad about that would justify you aggressively tossing a phone at me?”
“Hey, I’m not proud of what I did. But I know the rules prohibiting agents from bribing potential clients, which is what you were clearly trying to do when you gave Chad that fancy phone.”
I spot the phone where I kicked it. “Pfft. It’s not that expensive. But again, not my phone. I don’t know who gave Chad that phone but it wasn’t me.”
She frowns. “He said it was an anonymous gift and I assumed... Oh!” She bites her lip as her eyes light with realization. “Maybe it’s another agent and you’ve got some competition.”
“Some unethical competition. Because as you just noted, agents are prohibited from giving gifts to potential clients. Another reason why Chad should sign with me and not someone else, don’t you think?”
Her mouth flattens into a thin line. “No I don’t think. I don’t think Chad should sign with any agent. He should s
tay in college, not risk his health and his future by going pro, at least not before he earns a degree.”
Ah. So that’s what all her phone calls and Chad’s sudden concerns were all about. I study her for a moment, then I run a hand through my hair. She might be a whacko but she is also the sister of one of my potential clients, so I need to get this crazy situation under control. “Look, I have breakfast. It’s cold, but why don’t we sit down, have something to eat, and talk about what’s going on.”
Her expression suddenly turns to one of outrage. “I’m not eating the breakfast that Amy prepared.”
“Amy—?” Realization dawns. Amy. The name rings a bell now. The name of the blonde who’d so recently warmed my bed.
“I know I’m going to regret even asking this question, but how the hell do you know Amy? And what does she have to do with your brother and the fact I’m going to make him a star?”
“She’s just further proof why I don’t trust you. And I told you, Chad can be a star after he finishes college.”
“With his talent, he doesn’t need a degree.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“The hell it isn’t. Your brother was born with a gift, and I was born with the gift of giving credence to his gift.”
“I know how this works,” she scoffs and tosses a flustered hand through the streak of pink highlights in her hair. “You promise him the world, but nothing is ever guaranteed. He could get hurt during training and never actually play.”
“It’s an obvious risk, yes, but it’s a risk he has to take. Your brother is going to be the greatest quarterback in the League. There is a small window of time open for him. The longer he waits to play, the less successful he’s going to be. Talk about no guarantees in life. He could get hurt walking down the street, lose his scholarship and never have a shot at anything. Right now he has a chance to fulfill his dreams and make a ton of money in the process. Not many people get that chance. He can always finish college later. Don’t you want what’s best for your brother?”
