Bigger Than Beckham (20 page)

“Let. Go.”

Then his mouth fastened over her nipple,
sucking hard.

Electricity zinged through Martha’s body and
she rocked into him with a shriek. As her climax bolted through
her, she clung to him, every nerve jolted by the sensation.
Shudders wracked her body and her tight inner muscles contracted
around his thick length. When the contractions took her, rippling
through their joined flesh, Tony jerked, pulling back from her
breast and letting out a harsh groan. As she clung to him, he gave
one last, hard thrust and hung suspended over her for a few
moments, his cock pulsating within her.

Then they both collapsed in a sweaty tangle
of limbs and beating hearts and—in Martha’s case, at least—a
stunned sense of
hell, yes. That was the best sex, ever.

And then…
I am so in trouble here.

She struggled to get both her breathing and
her scattered thoughts under control. As the seconds passed, her
breathing slowed but her thoughts—and her emotions—ping-ponged
through her brain.

With a groan, Tony lifted his head from her
shoulder and rolled to his side, snuggling her between his chest
and the back of the couch.

“You okay?” he asked after a few moments.
“You’re a bit quiet.”

She opened her eyes to meet his concerned
gaze.

Get a grip, girl, and just go with it.

“I was just thinking about something,” she
said.

“And what would that be?”

His wary tone brought a smile to her
lips.

“Well, I was congratulating myself on passing
on leather furniture when I decorated this suite. Given the level
of our, ah, exertions, we’d be in a whole mess of trouble right now
if I’d gone with leather instead of cotton.” She gave an
exaggerated shudder. “You think rug burn is bad. You haven’t known
pain until—”

He pressed a finger to her lips and stared
down at her, torn between laughter and exasperation. “We just blew
the roof of this place, and that’s what’s on your mind?”

She rounded her eyes in mock innocence. “Why,
Mr. Branch. What else would I be thinking about?”

For good measure, she wriggled against him,
nudging her pelvis into his groin. He sucked in a breath and she
had to admit that her heartbeat picked up too. She also had a
feeling it would not be an easy thing to forget what had just
happened between them.

A wry smile curled Tony’s lips. “You are a
wicked, wicked woman, Martha Winston.”

She sighed and patted his chest. “It’s a
dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.”

He bent his head to brush an achingly tender
kiss across her lips.

Lord.
Who knew such a big, tough guy
could be so sweet, too?

Martha curled her hands around his shoulders,
giving herself up to the pleasure of being held securely in his
arms. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good. Why,
she actually felt…happy.

“I’m glad you took on the job,” Tony said
when he finally drew back. His gaze flicked down to her chest, and
his hand followed a moment later. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance
to spend more time on these, though,” he said as he ran the tip of
his finger around her nipple.

Martha shivered with pleasure. “You must be a
boob man.”

His gaze came back up, suddenly unnerving in
its intensity. “When it comes to you, I’m an
everything
man.”

The flutter of yearning in her chest caught
her off guard. “Oh, I like that,” she whispered.

He glanced at the big, old-fashioned clock on
the wall. “We still have a ways to go till the end of the game.” He
shifted again, rolling on his back and lifting her up to straddle
him.

Martha let out a squeak and grabbed his
shoulders. “Mr. Branch! Whatever are you doing?”

His big hands curled around her breasts,
giving them a provocative squeeze. “Well, I don’t want you to think
I’m neglecting any part of you in any way whatsoever, so I thought
we could have another go at it.”

She sat up straight—well, as straight as she
could while straddling a hot, naked man who played with her
breasts. Propping her hands on her hips, she leveled him with her
best southern belle glare.

“Have a go at it?” she said, trying not to
laugh. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so
much fun.

He gave her a lazy, seductive smile, one that
sent another hot flush coursing through her veins. “Well, whatever
you want call it,” he purred, teasing her nipples, “I suggest we do
it again.”

She reached up to cover his big hands,
pressing them tightly against her. “Mr. Branch, I do believe you
have read my mind.”

* * *

Martha gazed sleepily up at the ceiling of
her bedroom, her body cozy warm and utterly satisfied. Though it
was dark, enough moonlight infiltrated the half-closed drapes for
her to make out the long, meandering crack in the ceiling plaster
that had been bugging her every time she got into bed and looked up
at it. She made a mental note to finally call her father’s
handyman. After all, struggling against the probable loss of her
team was no excuse for letting everything else in her life fall to
rack and ruin.

Tony’s warm breath and stubbled cheek felt
blissful against her naked breasts. He’d dozed off peacefully a few
minutes ago, pretty much sprawled on top of her. She’d cradled him,
softly stroking his thick hair as his breathing gradually returned
to normal after another bout of very impressive sex. As for her,
she remained as wired as a lab rat on speed. Here she was, four
orgasms later, all warm and snuggly, and she couldn’t even begin to
shut down her racing brain.

As they slinked out of the stadium, Martha
had recalled vaguely that Tony mentioned the Thunder trailed
three-zip with a minute or so to go in the match. At that point, he
might as well have given her the weather forecast for some town in
northern Peru—that was how little the news had affected her at the
time. But now, hours later, her reaction struck her as mighty odd.
Had sex with Tony Branch really dulled her brain to that extent? Or
had it simply been temporarily transported to a whole other set of
very welcome coordinates?

She opted for the latter. The second Tony
captured her mouth in that first insane chocolate and strawberry
kiss she’d abandoned any concerns about where she was or even about
the match. Only one thing had obviously mattered to both of
them—getting their clothes off as soon as humanly possible. And
they’d certainly accomplished that. Tony had proven himself
exceptionally adept at the art of helping a lady out of a tight
skirt in a most pleasing way. She, on the other hand, had been a
whole lot less careful, practically ripping the tee shirt right off
his brawny chest.

They hadn’t talked all that much after
that—not about anything serious, anyway. Avoiding the problematic
stuff had been just fine with her. In fact, she didn’t even want to
think about the intensity of their encounter too much, because that
creaked open the door to a whole host of potentially troublesome
emotions. Martha had desperately needed a temporary escape from the
harsh realities she was facing and Tony had given her a riotously
good one. One of the best ever, without a word of a lie.

“But was that all it was?” she mumbled, only
dimly aware that she’d actually spoken the words out loud.

“Unhhh…” Tony’s head rose an inch off her
chest, but then immediately settled back down. “What did you say,
love?”

“Oh, nothing,” she hastily said. “I was
talking to myself. Just dopey mumbling, really.” Martha stroked his
head again, wanting to keep it exactly where it was. She’d happily
lie like that for the rest of the night. It was already nearly
three in the morning—she’d glanced at the bedside clock repeatedly
as she lay awake—wondering when and if he’d get up and go back to
his hotel. She didn’t much like the idea of ending the night alone
in her big, empty bed.

“What time is it?” he slurred in a sleepy
voice.

His bristle rasped deliciously against her
breast. She slid the tips of her fingers down the long, smooth
muscles of his back, then traced his spine back up to his neck.
“Going on three,” she whispered.

Tony lifted his head and then raised himself
up on his elbow. He yawned and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Did
you doctor that beer? I’m not sure whether I was dreaming about
something great right now, or thinking it.”

She let out a dramatic sigh. “You got me. I
doctored your drink with an aphrodisiac I picked up the last time I
paid a visit to the witch doctor. It worked too, didn’t it, since I
got my evil way with you. And multiple times, too, as I
recall.”

He leaned down and licked at her earlobe,
then kissed her neck in a lazy, sensual way that sent tendrils of
fire shooting all the way south of the equator. “You think I need
drugs to want to shag you, Martha Winston? Are you entirely
daft?”

Martha stroked his bristly cheek. “Oh, my.
You are such a sweet talker, Tony Branch.”

He gently squeezed one of her stiffening
nipples between his thumb and finger, drawing a gasp of pleasure.
“Look who’s talking?” he said with a lustful grin. “Hell, some of
the things you said back in that suite…All I can say is I’m just
glad I’d switched on that digital recorder I always carry in my
jacket pocket. The gossip rags will love it.”

Martha instantly reached her hand below the
bedcovers, found her target and squeezed just a wee bit harder than
he’d probably enjoy.

“Easy there, love,” he gasped.

“You’re a blackmailing beast, Branch. And are
you telling me you didn’t enjoy my…er, enthusiasm?”

“Absolutely not,” he said with a mock
grimace, “and certainly not when you’ve taken possession of
my—aaahh.”

Martha released the family jewels, sliding
the flat of her hand up his cock, now as hard and long as ever.
“Would it be all right if I retained possession for the whole
night?” she said sweetly. “I can throw together a pretty mean
breakfast. I may even have some bangers in the freezer.”

“No self-respecting Englishman could say no
to that offer,” Tony said.

His tongue was practically hanging out as
Martha stroked his cock, already aching to have it deep inside her
again. She craved him, and she was beginning to worry that the
craving might turn into a permanent hunger.

Time for a distraction.

“Before we get too carried away,” she said,
“are you going to tell me what it was you were dreaming or thinking
about? Something great, if I recall correctly.”

Tony leaned down and gave her a searing kiss
that curled her toes and tightened her grip on his shaft.

“We were in England,” he said a bit
breathlessly. “I’d just taken you to a Lions match, and then we had
dinner at Harry’s Bar. And after that we—”

“Went back to your place and screwed our
brains out?” Martha said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I was aiming for
something a tad more delicate than that. You certainly don’t mince
words, Ms. Winston.”

“It’s true. I’ve never been much of a
mincer,” she said, then arched up and kissed him languidly.

“Well?” he asked when she let him up for
air.

“Well what?” Martha replied in a dreamy
voice.

“Well, doesn’t that sound like a bloody good
idea to you? London, I mean. And right now. Come back with me,
Martha.” His voice was light, but his gaze trapped her with its
intensity.

Although her mouth had instinctively dropped
open in surprise, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about
something along those lines—at least in her fantasies. But the fact
that he voiced it, that he wanted to see more of her, and fast—that
part was unexpected.

Suddenly, she knew she wanted that too,
despite whatever complications might result. And if she wanted to
see him again, somebody was going to have to cross a big old ocean.
He’d come to her first—albeit for a sort of different agenda—so the
ball seemed to be in her court.

“I suppose there’s a chance I could be talked
into something like that,” she said slowly, trying to process the
implications through her struggling brain. “A chance.”

“There’ll be plenty of empty seats on the
plane.” He shifted, bracketing her head between his forearms.
“Really, I know you’re in crisis mode here, but I’ll wager a few
days in London would do you a world of good,” he said with an
encouraging smile.

It was not only an insanely tempting
prospect, his logic actually made some sense, too. Still, the
thought of jumping on a plane to England in the middle of her
current mess seemed irresponsible. At the very least, she and
Kieran had to sit down with their accountant again to figure out if
they could meet the horrific cost-cutting targets the bank had
demanded.

“Tempting, very tempting,” she mused as she
trailed her fingers along his shoulder blades. “At any other
time…”

He stroked her hair gently as he cradled her
head. “I understand. The timing isn’t the best. But it could take a
while for you to get things get sorted out here, and in the
meantime I figured you could use a break. Have a bit of fun,” he
coaxed.

“Sorted out,” she said with a little snort.
“That’s one way of putting it.”

Presiding over her team’s demise was another
way, and Martha was under no illusions that the bank was going to
give her the room she needed. Every instinct, every fiber of her
being told her there was something going on between the bank and
Steam Train, and that feeling had only grown since her meeting with
them yesterday morning. Those bastards had something up their
collective sleeves, something that foreshadowed a world of hurt for
her.

No, she couldn’t count on the bank to bail
her out. She needed an infusion of cash from somewhere else, enough
to give her and Kieran a fighting chance to keep the team alive for
another season.