Page 9

Chapter

Nine

J ason shut the door behind him, tossing his sport coat onto the bed as he grabbed the remote. His muscles were still buzzing, too keyed up to relax. The night had been better than expected—if dealing with reporters ever counted as good—but he wasn’t done. Not yet.

A sharp knock cut through his thoughts.

He opened the door, and there she was. Stacia. Still in that ice-blue suit that hugged every curve, looking like temptation in heels. In one hand, she held up a six-pack.

“I thought you might like to celebrate.”

His pulse jumped.

He didn’t think—just reacted. In one swift motion, he pulled her into the room, kicked the door shut, and pinned her against it. Then his mouth crashed onto hers.

Now this was a celebration.

For a moment, she tensed—just long enough to make him wonder if he’d miscalculated—but then she melted into him. Her lips parted, her tongue tangling with his, the taste of her as intoxicating as any beer.

Then—bam. A sharp pain smacked against his back. The six-pack.

He pulled away, breath ragged. She held the beer between them like a shield, eyes dark with heat but mouth quirking in amusement.

Mood-killer.

Grabbing the six-pack, he stalked into the room.

Stacia adjusted her suit, smoothing her hands over the fabric like armor before following him inside. She perched on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed just so.

“This room looks different.”

He popped open a beer and took a long swig, watching her over the rim. “Every room is different and yet the same. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She shifted, something like hesitation flickering in her expression. “Well, here’s the thing. They’re out of rooms for the night.”

He leaned against the wall, still holding the beer, keeping distance between them. He didn’t trust himself too close to her. Not with the way his body was still humming from the game, the fight, the damn kiss. “You didn’t have the travel secretary make arrangements?”

She waved a hand. “I worked with Maggie to get a flight. I didn’t expect the hotel to be booked. Turns out there’s some type of software convention, and all the rooms are taken.”

A bad feeling coiled in his gut. “So, where are you staying?”

Her gaze flicked to the bed—one bed. A king-sized bed.

His mind filled with memories of the last time they’d shared one. How damn good she felt under him, around him, begging for?—

He forced himself to focus.

“Isn’t this how we got into trouble before?” he asked, voice rough. “I thought you didn’t want to make that mistake again.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way.” She tilted her head, lips curving just enough to make his blood heat. “You said you wanted to keep me around. Now, I’m closer than ever. And I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. Didn’t you say I was better than kryptonite?”

His cock twitched at the idea of her within reach, at his disposal. Endless possibilities. His body was already responding, hardening at the memory of their one night together—and the promise of what could be.

She caught his heated gaze and flushed. “What?”

Damn. She looked good enough to eat.

“There’s only one bed,” he said, voice dropping.

“And you are my girlfriend.”

Her lips parted, her fingers tightening on the hem of her jacket. A tell.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked.

He took a step closer, deliberately slow. “I’m thinking you have too many clothes on.”

Her breath hitched. But then, like a switch flipping, she straightened her jacket like armor, her expression turning businesslike. “We need to talk about the other night.”

His jaw clenched. Talk.

He ran a hand through his hair and flopped onto the bed next to her, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume, resisting the urge to drag her beneath him and erase the need for words.

“I already explained it to you,” he muttered. “I thought that’s why you brought the beer. To make sure I was all tucked in—alone.”

“I told you we needed to clean up your image. Attacking a reporter isn’t helping.”

He groaned. “He started it.”

“Irrelevant.” She poked his chest. “You’re being judged in a whole new light now. You have to be the mature one, the adult, for once in your life.”

“Wasn’t that the point of your little show downstairs? So I don’t have to deal with that bullshit anymore?”

She blushed. “No. All I’m asking is that you be careful. Since we can’t control other people, and you can’t be a hermit, we need to distract the media and everyone else who wants to discredit you.”

He sighed. “I’m listening.”

She relaxed slightly. “Good. I drew up a list of community groups you could get involved in—to show you’re a nice guy.”

He smirked. “I am a nice guy. Aren’t I being nice, not attacking a single, beautiful woman in my room who’s practically begging for a piece of me?”

Her breath caught, but she recovered fast. “That’s beside the point.”

He leaned over, caging her neatly between his arms. “What do I care what people think? As long as I hit the baseball, score runs, and don’t make errors, that’s all that matters.” His lips brushed her forehead, the strands of her bangs teasing his skin, sending a fresh wave of heat straight to his cock.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “That was before. Now, you have to prove yourself all over again.” She poked his chest again, her nails scraping lightly against his shirt. “You need to build credibility before you can get away with anything.”

His stomach knotted. Another bargain. Another person trying to use him. “What’s in it for you?”

Her expression tightened. “I work for the team. The team’s success is my success.”

“Bullshit.” He stepped in closer. “What’s in it for you?”

Her gaze flickered, but she didn’t back down. “Fine. I need this job. My last one didn’t end on a positive note.”

“I got that.” He studied her, the glimmer of a plan forming. “So, you need me as much as I supposedly need you.”

She crossed her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned. “If I cooperate, you make your boss happy. If you clean up my image, the team gets off my back. But I want something in return.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A price?”

“Yup.” He let his gaze drag over her, slow and deliberate. “So, I’m thinking. You might be my good luck charm. I sleep with you and get offered a contract when no one else wanted me. I kiss you and I go four for four. I wonder… How far could that luck take me? Ballplayers are superstitious. You might be my good luck charm.”

Her mouth parted. “You think I’m a good luck charm?”

He smirked. “For now. Luck is a fickle bitch. And players don’t mess with luck.”

She squared her shoulders. “Well, I can be a plain old bitch. Don’t mess with me.”

His smirk deepened, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Then I’ll just have to keep you happy.” His fingers brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “And make those long road trips a whole lot more bearable.”

S tacia paused for a moment, her pulse thrumming like a live wire. She knew exactly what she’d been asking for the moment she knocked. And she was too much of an adult to play coy—especially when she’d spent the past week replaying every scorching second of their one night together.

“Do you think you have it in you?” she murmured, her voice huskier than she intended.

Jason’s eyes darkened, something feral sparking in their depths. He stalked toward her, moving with the slow, deliberate grace of a predator. He reminded her of the tiger she’d once watched in a documentary—silent, calculating, utterly lethal. He stopped just short of touching her, caging her in with his presence, his hands resting on either side of her hips. Close enough to feel his heat, not close enough to satisfy the ache he’d already ignited.

She resisted the urge to arch into him, forcing herself to stay still as she perched on the edge of the bed, waiting.

He leaned forward, his breath teasing her lips. “I can’t wait to find out.”

A shaky exhale escaped her just before his mouth claimed hers. His lips were demanding, hot, possessive. Flavors exploded on her tongue—salt from his skin, the sharp bite of beer, the tang of ketchup from the fries he’d eaten earlier. It should have been off-putting, but instead, it aroused her further, heightening the sense of wildness simmering beneath the surface.

He wasn’t the man she’d slept with that night—eager, determined, but controlled. No, this Jason was barely leashed, his control like a frayed rope ready to snap. She could feel it in the tension coiling through his body, in the barely restrained growl vibrating against her lips.

And God help her, she wanted to be there when he finally lost it.

Her hands found their way under his shirt, tracing the hard planes of his back, reveling in the taut muscles beneath her fingertips. She dragged her nails down his sides, just enough to make him shudder.

Jason responded with a low growl, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head as he eased her onto the mattress. The weight of him settled between her thighs, his body pressing her into the bed as he slid her up toward the pillows. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking him in place, needing more—needing him.

He released one of her wrists, his free hand stroking the lapel of her suit jacket, slipping beneath the fabric to trace the warm skin beneath. His touch was maddening, teasing. “You have no idea the fantasies I’ve had about what’s under this jacket,” he murmured, his voice thick with heat. “So primly buttoned. A hint of lace, just enough to make a man crazy.” His fingers skimmed under the lace of her bra, brushing over the curve of her breast. “You wore this in the stands tonight?”

Breathless, she nodded.

His finger traced lazy circles on her skin. “Did you go to the concessions dressed like this?”

Another nod.

Jason stilled, then tightened his grip on her hip, pinning her firmly against him. “No moving. I’m in charge.”

The command sent a fresh wave of heat surging through her. She lay beneath him, utterly still, every nerve ending tuned to his next move.

“You teased those poor men in the crowd?” His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. “You’re a bad, bad girl.”

She smirked. “They seemed to like it.”

“I’ll bet they did.” His hand slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip. Then, without warning, he delivered a sharp smack to her ass. A shocked gasp escaped her lips—followed immediately by a soft, needy moan.

Jason’s gaze sharpened. “You like that?” He smoothed his hand over the spot he’d just struck, then did it again, harder this time.

She gasped, arching into him, a fire spreading from where his palm met her skin.

His lips curved into a wicked grin. “You like it a little rough?” He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “Hang on, baby. You’re in for the ride of your life.”

Anticipation coiled in her belly, so intense it was almost unbearable.

Jason sat up and hauled her to her feet, steadying her before stepping back. “Strip.”

Her heart pounded. A shiver ran through her—not from fear, but from the sheer raw power radiating off him. Still, a perverse part of her wanted to push back. To see what he’d do if she resisted.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head in challenge.

Jason didn’t hesitate. He took two steps forward and, with one flick of his wrist, her suit jacket fell open.

She gasped. “How?”

He smirked, stepping back against the wall, his stance relaxed, as if he didn’t care what she did next. “It’s a talent. Now, strip.”

Her gaze raked over him, taking in the tension bracketing his mouth, the way his hands clenched at his sides, the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. He wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he pretended to be.

She slipped the jacket off and let it drop onto the bed. Slowly, deliberately, she undid the buttons of her blouse, hiding the revealed skin with her hands. Finally, she reached the waistband of her skirt, pulling the fabric loose, letting it drift to the floor.

Jason’s breathing turned ragged.

She started to kick off her heels, but he held up a shaking hand. “Leave them.”

His voice was hoarse, almost guttural. The tension between them thickened, electric and suffocating.

She turned, arching her back as she climbed onto the mattress, making sure he got the full view. The moment she wiggled her hips, he snapped.

Jason lunged, his shirt flying off as he covered her body with his own, pinning her down with the weight of his desire. She gasped at the feel of him—hot, hard, barely restrained.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply before pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot at the base of her neck. The contact sent a shockwave through her, her entire body melting beneath him.

He grabbed her wrists, guiding them above her head. “Don’t move,” he growled. “Or I’ll stop.”

She shuddered, the promise of control making her head spin. She normally hated being told what to do, but with Jason, it was different. It was freeing. Exhilarating.

He trailed kisses down her body, pausing to tease, to taste, to torture. His touch was reverent, but his grip was unyielding, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

She whimpered, arching into him, desperate for more. “Jason…”

He chuckled, the sound dark and sinful against her skin. “Patience, sweetheart.”

Patience, her ass.

She wiggled, pressing herself against his hardness, making him groan. His control snapped. He tore the rest of her clothes away, his mouth following the path of his hands, worshiping every inch of bare skin. His hard length poked through the jeans and into her butt. She nudged against it, trying to make him as crazy as he was making her. He squeezed his legs tighter, restricting all movement. “No more of that. Or tonight will be over before it begins.”

“Then get on with it.” Sexual frustration made her snap, irritated at the game playing.

He chuckled against her ear. “Makes me wonder what kind of men you’ve been with, Stacia. Clearly, not the right kind.”

“And you think you’re the right kind?”

He rubbed against her, and she moaned, desperate for closer contact. “I know I am.”

She wiggled again. His rock hard erection grew impossibly bigger against her. His grip slackened for a moment and she took immediate advantage, flipping over and landing on top of him. She turned until she was facing him, pressed against his body. His arms came up around her and he pulled her close for a drugging kiss. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard. He ran his hands up her sides to the straps of her bra. A quick flick and the bra gaped open in the back. He swept it away, allowing her breasts to rub fully against his chest, the sweet friction on her hard, sensitive nipples sending tendrils of fire to her core. She spread her legs around him and rubbed her center against the cock encased by his jeans, hitting the sweet spot, making her gasp.

He rolled her over. “I think you’re moving too fast. And you were naughty.”

She pressed an open-mouth kiss to his jaw, sucking lightly at his pulse point. “You don’t seem to mind.”

He tugged her hands above her head. “Let’s try this again. Don’t move.”

He drew himself up on his knees and his hot gaze traveled down her exposed torso, igniting her nerve endings He stood and slid out of his jeans, no underwear on display. She arched an eyebrow. He shrugged, then snagged his toiletries bag, pulling out a strip of condoms. He tossed them on the side table and lowered himself back onto the bed.

“I thought you weren’t expecting anyone.” She frowned at the thought that he was always prepared, as if expecting someone else.

“I’m always prepared.”

He lowered his head and took a nipple in his mouth, swirling a tongue around the taut tip, then biting down lightly. She gave a small scream at the sharp bite of pain, but he soothed it with his lips and tongue. The next time he nipped, she was prepared and arched into his mouth for more. His other hand kneaded and massaged her other breast, plucking the nipple until it pebbled. Then he switched, alternating nips and sucks against the sensitive tip until she was squirming, awash in sensations buffeting her from all angles. She tried to move her legs, to ease the ache between her thighs, an ache that was intensifying every second, each tug sending shoots of electricity straight to her core, but his legs firmly encased her, not allowing any movement.

“Have you ever come from someone playing with your breasts alone?” he murmured against her skin.

It took a moment for the words to register through the sensual haze fogging her senses. She shook her head, unsure if she could speak beyond the moans she made with each twist and caress of her breasts, which she had never thought were that sensitive.

He smiled. “This will be a first for you then.”

He renewed his attack on her breasts, pushing them together, using fingers and tongue and lips to reduce her to a quivering, screaming mass within seconds, her world exploding into tiny fragments. When she finally came to, he was levered above her, a very satisfied smile playing about his lips. He glanced up at her hands, still above her head, twisted in the pillow. He nodded once. “I think a reward is in order.”

“More?” She shivered at the promise in his gaze, thrilled and excited at the playful side. He laughed, a deep throaty sound. “Oh yes, more.”

Jason took her lips in a deep kiss, tongue stroking hers, stoking the coals of sexual desire, where they smoldered after her shattering orgasm. He kissed his way down her body, pausing to tongue her navel for a moment, another erogenous zone she never knew she had. He continued lower, finally reaching the spot that had been begging for his touch almost as soon as she’d walked into the room. He traced the outline of her panties with his tongue, dipping beneath to the sensitive skin along her groin.

A ripping sound drew her attention back to the moment. Jason tossed her panties to the side. He parted her legs and her outer lips to gaze at her, a red flush covering his face. She tried to draw her legs closed, never comfortable with anyone looking that close, but he was too strong. In one motion, he leaned forward and swiped his tongue from her entrance up to the swollen bud at the top. She gave a strangled scream and almost shot up in bed, and buried her hands in his silky hair.

He glided his tongue into her entrance, deep, then swirling around the opening, pressing it to her hot, wet flesh. He flattened his tongue, the pressure more and more insistent as he traced her lower lips, avoiding the bud begging for his attention. She tugged his hair and he chuckled against her, the breath inflaming her nerves to a breaking point. At that moment, he sucked on the nub and sucked, one then two fingers driving deep. She exploded around him for a second time with a loud cry.

She had barely come down when he sheathed himself in a condom and drove into her in one long stroke. She cried out at the sensation, the sensitive tissues stretched and filled. He sank hard and deep, then slow, twisting lightly before plunging inside again.

“I can’t go slow, Stacia. I can’t.” His voice sounded strangled and hoarse.

She wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. “Then don’t.”

As if her words had unleashed the beast, he drove harder, deeper and with a few short strokes, he was coming, and she was coming around him, letting herself fall into the well of sensations, pulsing deep within her. He collapsed beside her, pulling her close, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts still pounding in sync. His fingers traced lazy circles along her spine, grounding her in the aftermath.

As her eyes fluttered shut, she let herself drift, utterly spent and completely sated for the first time in forever.

S tacia stood in front of the hotel room’s full-length mirror, twisting her hair into a sleek French twist with practiced precision. The morning light streamed in through the window, illuminating the bare expanse of Jason’s chest where he lay sprawled across the bed, the sheet barely covering his lower half. His gaze burned into her, dragging her back toward him with invisible tendrils of heat. She suppressed a smile at the little-boy pout tugging at his lips.

“Forget about it, Jason.” She smoothed the last of her makeup into place, brushing her fingers over her lips. “I have things to do—namely, fixing your reputation.”

“How about you just do me and to hell with my reputation?” His voice was rough with sleep, thick with suggestion.

She shot him an admonishing look over her shoulder. He grunted and rolled onto his back, stretching in a way that made her stomach dip. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”

Satisfied, she strolled to the edge of the bed and perched just out of his reach. “You’re willing to work with me on this?”

“Within reason.” His voice scraped along her nerve endings, as gritty and sexy as last night’s whispered demands against her skin.

A thrill of victory coursed through her. Finally. Progress. Now to break the news. “Per your dictates and your contract, we need to stay low-key. So, instead of photo ops and charity events, which, let’s be honest, you don’t have time for, let’s focus on your play on the field.”

His barked laugh filled the space between them. “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to tell me how to play baseball?”

“You went four for four last night, didn’t you?” She arched a brow, knowing damn well she had him. “No, I don’t plan on telling you how to play. But despite your hitting, the press and the commentators still tore you apart.” She lifted her tablet, scrolling until she found the article. “‘Friar proved he could still hit, but he dogged it around first. That single should have been a double, which could have led to a run.’”

She handed him the tablet, watching as his expression darkened while he scanned the words.

“One of your biggest criticisms is that you’re not a team player,” she continued. “You said no one cared about your off-field antics when you were producing. Well, if we ignore the off-field part, you still have work to do. Namely, on plays like this. We need to manage the narrative. Don’t give them excuses to spin it against you.”

Jason tossed the tablet onto the bed and stood, letting the sheet fall away without a second thought. Stacia swallowed hard, dragging her gaze away before he could see the hunger burning through her facade.

Completely unbothered by his nakedness, he stalked to the desk, raking a hand through his already mussed hair. “I just got back. My legs aren’t there yet. I didn’t think I could make it to second.”

She met his glare head-on. “You didn’t even try.”

He whirled on her, eyes flashing. “Now you’re my coach? I know my own body, Stacia. I would never dog it and hurt the team.”

“Are you sure?” She stood, crossing the space between them slowly, deliberately. “Maybe you’re protecting yourself. Maybe you’re making sure your body holds up.” Her hand trailed lightly up his forearm, over the tense, twitching muscles of his biceps. “Is this job a throwaway for you? A way to worm your way back into the sport?”

His body went rigid under her touch. “You’re probably right,” she murmured, letting the words settle.

His jaw tightened. “Probably?”

She ignored the warning in his tone. “It looks like it. And yes, I know that reality and perception aren’t always the same thing. But I’m here to manage perceptions.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you care? As long as I keep my nose clean off the field, management is happy.”

She tilted her chin up, refusing to let him bulldoze through her argument. “But that’s not your goal, is it? You want another contract after this. And we both know that unless you show something remarkable on the field, no team is going to take you, no matter how squeaky clean your image is.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging both hands through his hair, frustration etched into every hard angle of his face. “Damn it.” His voice was low, almost guttural. “I’m taking a shower.”

He stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Stacia let out a breath, shaking her head at herself. That hadn’t gone the way she’d planned. She usually handled delicate conversations with finesse, but Jason Friar had a way of getting under her skin, twisting things until she lost her edge.

How could she read manipulative politicians like an open book, yet this man was a complete mystery to her?

Was it the sex? She’d slept with men before—powerful men, charming men—but none had ever unsettled her the way Jason did. None had ever made her care.

Her stomach twisted. He was right—his future wasn’t her concern. She’d been hired to get him through this season, not secure him a contract for the next. That wasn’t her job.

But if she screwed this up, she’d lose any shot at a serious career after this. She and Jason were in the same boat—both trying to claw their way back to the top. And she hated that her success depended on him.

That had never worked out for her before.

The sting of past failures lingered—Representative Glazier, the campaign that had gone up in flames, the betrayal that had left her grasping for control. And now, she had to trust Jason to hold up his end of the deal.

Her career, her reputation, her future—they were all in his hands.

And that scared the hell out of her.