Hard to Handle (31 page)

To make his point, Simon crowded closer. “Sometimes a small edge is all a lesser fighter needs. One lucky punch, a bad cut—and the fight is over.”

“Not going to happen.” Come hell or high water, Harley intended to claim the belt.

Simon snorted. “It happens to the best and you know it. So when you face off with Kinkaid, I want you one hundred percent there.”

“I will be.” From the corner of his eye, Harley saw Stasia coming their way, but with the conversation so serious, he paid her little mind.

“Bullshit.” Simon sat forward and scowled. “Whatever game you're playing with Anastasia, it's time to end it.”

“Meaning?”

“Go get laid. Get it out of your system before we fly out to Vegas.”

Harley laughed. He couldn't help it.

Stasia stood right behind Simon, shocked, horrified, her face hot. He looked up at her. “Simon was just about to go. You can have his seat.”

She looked like she might take flight. “I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll just, uh…”

Groaning, Simon twisted around to see her, scowled again, and said, “I give up.” He rose from the table, but leaned back in to say, “You two need to work it out, now, tonight if possible.” Then he walked away with both hands locked behind his head.

Harley kept grinning even as Stasia dropped into a chair. “You have impeccable timing.”

After a fast glance at Simon's retreating back, she whispered, “Was he actually—”

Enjoying her flustered embarrassment, Harley said, “Telling me to get you in bed, yeah.”

Eyes wide, she shook her head. “Talk about personalized coaching.”

Harley laughed again. Everything Stasia said amused him. Everything about her excited him. Maybe Simon was right. What did it matter who won their little game? As long as it ended in bed, he'd be happy. “What do you say, honey? Seems Simon thinks my fate depends on you.”

Very real concern replaced her embarrassment. “Is it a problem, seriously?”

Feeling lazy and strangely content, Harley rolled one shoulder. “Ever heard of blue balls?”

Flashing him an annoyed frown, she said, “As a myth to coerce innocent high school girls out of their panties, yes.” She sniffed his drink, helped herself to a swallow, and sat it back in front of him. “But that wouldn't apply to you, so be honest with me, Harley.”

“Okay.” He watched her, and appreciated her concern. “Simon is worried that I've got too much pent-up frustration. Sexual frustration, that is. He wants me focused solely on the fight, not on what I'm missing.”

“Sex?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“I thought fighters abstained anyway.”

“That's a bigger myth than blue balls, believe me.”

“Oh.” She closed her arms around herself, thinking it through and fretting over it.

“Since that night with you in the garage, which was fun but hardly satisfying for me, I haven't been with anyone.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I assumed…but I wasn't sure…”

“I haven't wanted anyone else.” Harley reached for her hand. “But if you want honesty, then no, it's not going to affect my performance in the fight. If I blow it, it won't be because of anything you did.”

“Or didn't do?”

“No guilt, Stasia. I'm a big boy.” He lifted her hand to kiss her fingers. “That said, just give me the word, and we'll be in bed within minutes.”

Harley felt the trembling in her hand, saw the way the pulse in her throat began tripping.

“Hell, honey, you need it as much as I do. I see it every time you look at me.”

“It's that obvious?”

“Yeah.” His heart picked up pace. “It's only going to get worse and we both know it.”

Nodding slowly, she said, “I have an idea. Something that can work for us both.” She laced her fingers with his. “Instead of you tying me down, why don't you let me do the honors?”

Every male part of Harley went on high alert. “Come again?”

“Think about it, Harley. You're so into bondage and control, and I'm convinced you need to give up some of that iron will of yours. Well, how would it feel for you to be helpless to my whims?”

Hot enough to breathe fire, Harley leaned closer to her. “Tell me about these whims.”

She sat back in surprise. “You mean you'll do it?”

Before meeting Stasia, he would have replied with an unequivocal no. But now…the idea more than intrigued him.

The problem from Harley's perspective was that from the beginning, she'd had him jumping through hoops. It had to end. “I'd love to hear what you have planned. Spell it out for me.”

She stared at him, then looked around to ensure no one could listen in. “To be honest, I've thought about it so many times that I know exactly what I'd want to do.”

It was Harley's turn to be surprised. “Tell me.”

“I think I'd just want to look at you for a while first. Seeing you in your boxer shorts is pretty exciting. You show so much skin, and every part of you is gorgeous. But I've been wondering how you'll look without them, too.”

Damn. “I've got nothing to hide, honey. I'd be happy to show you.”

Warming to her subject, Stasia propped an elbow on the table. “I'd like to touch you a lot, too. You've got all those big muscles, but there are other things about you that turn me on, too.”

“Like?”

She reached out and trailed her fingertips down his arm. Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. “How smooth your skin is here, on the underside of your biceps and inside your elbow. How tight your stomach is, and how the skin is drawn over your hipbones.” Her lips parted and her eyes went heavy. “And I love that sexy trail of hair that goes from your navel down into your shorts.”

Her breathing deepened.

So did his.

She looked up into his eyes. “I even like your feet, Harley. And your knees. And the strength in your thighs—”

He shoved back his chair and caught her arm. “Let's go.”

She pulled him to a stop. “We're really going to do this?”

“Hell yes.”

“No bondage?”

Catching the back of her neck, Harley kissed her hard and quick. “Honest to God, honey, I'm not sure I'd last long enough to bother.”

Her mouth lifted in a smile. “Good.” She took his hand. “Let's go.”

C
AM
nudged Roger and said, “Another one bites the dust.”

He looked up from his conversation with the bartender to see Harley in a heated, and possessive, lip-lock with Anastasia. A second later, Anastasia took Harley's hand and rushed him for the door.

Roger grinned. “Those two have been almost as entertaining as Simon and Dakota.”

“I want everyone to be as happy as us.”

“Impossible.” He tipped up her chin. “No one else has you, so how can they be as happy as me?”

“You're getting mushy, Roger.”

He laughed—until he noticed the blonde following on Harley's heels. Her expression bordered on mean. Roger had heard the woman bragging about her time with Harley, and her detailed descriptions on what they'd done. It disgusted him, but it was Harley's problem to deal with.

“That's Gloria,” Cam told him, and she too looked displeased with the woman. “I don't like her. She has a big mouth.”

To hear Cam speak so unkindly of someone surprised Roger. “Has she bothered you?”

“No. But she's obnoxious, and she has no idea what should be kept private. What Harley ever saw in her, I can't imagine.”

Watching as the stacked blonde exited the bar, Roger raised a brow. “I'd say he was looking at the wrapping, not what's inside.”

“Men.”

He hugged her close. “Some women aren't much different, and you know it.”

“I hope Harley realizes what a catch Anastasia is.”

“He's no dummy. In case you haven't realized, he hasn't played the field much since Anastasia's been around.”

“I noticed.” Cam turned sheepish. “We're terrible gossips, aren't we?”

“I prefer to think of it as being concerned friends.” And, Roger thought, as a friend, he'd keep an extra eye on the blonde. He couldn't abide troublemakers, especially in his place. In fact, it might be a good idea to tell Harley's uncle about her. Satch liked to run interference whenever possible, and with Harley's fight right around the corner, it wouldn't hurt to make his life a little easier.

“T
HIS
is your house?” Stasia looked around as Harley pulled the Charger into the garage.

“Yeah.” With a press of a button, Harley closed the garage door.

Stasia released her seat belt. “Won't your uncle be here?”

“No.” Harley turned to face her, and Stasia noticed that though he looked drawn, filled with anticipation, he sounded calm enough. “Satch is out of town doing a background check on Kinkaid. He's like that. The man can find out anything.”

“Okay then.” Lacking his control, she licked her lips and said, “Race you inside.”

Harley grinned, nodded. “You're on.”

Because the passenger side of the car faced the door into the house, Stasia was the first one in, but she'd only taken two steps into the interior when he scooped her up from behind.

“Wrong way.” He turned a corner, went down a hall and up a few stairs and into a large room.

Stasia barely had time to draw breath before Harley had them both out of their coats and had pinned her against the wall. His big hands opened on her derrière and his mouth crushed down on hers. His hands contracted, drawing her closer, and she felt his erection.

Her breath caught. She freed her mouth and said urgently, “Lights, Harley.”

He took her mouth again in a voracious, hungry kiss that made her coherent thought scatter. At the same time he lifted one hand, groped on the wall and found a switch.

Light filled the room.

Breathing hard, Anastasia held his face and said, “Clothes off, buster. I've been dying to see you, all of you.”

He looked at her with such heat, she felt scorched. Then he stepped away, reached back and knotted a hand in the back of his sweatshirt. It came off with one tug to be tossed aside.

Humming with excitement, Stasia flattened both hands on his chest. “From that first day in my cabin, I've wanted to touch you.”

“Feel free.” In between heated kisses to her cheek, her ear and throat, he toed off his shoes, then unsnapped his jeans and eased down the zipper.

Stasia looked at him, and wavered on her feet. Oh Lord. Definitely as big as she'd imagined. The idea of him pressing inside her left her so hot she couldn't pull together a coherent thought.

“Harley?” She was so turned on, she shook all over.

“Better yet,” he whispered, and he captured her wrist in a strong grip.

Their gazes locked.

Slowly, letting her anticipation build in a deliberate bit of foreplay, Harley carried her small hand to his erection. As she touched him, wrapped her fingers around him, his eyes closed and his nostrils flared.

Marveling that her fingertips didn't quite touch, Stasia measured him. She could feel him pulsing in her palm, heard his low groan as she stroked to the base, then up to the head.

He took her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, mimicking what she knew he wanted to do with her body. She held him tight, squeezing, teasing—

“Enough of that or I won't last.” He pulled her hand loose and stepped back. While watching her, he shucked off his jeans, taking his boxers and socks off at the same time. Without an ounce of modesty, he stepped back for her to look at him. “Take your time, but it'd be nice if you shed a few clothes, too.”

Never had she had a qualm about her body. But she wasn't in his league and she knew it. “I'm a little more shy than you.”

“Then I'll help.” He pulled her close and tangled his hand in her hair, kissing her until she thought her legs would give out. With him now naked, her hands were able to feel a lot of solid muscle, sleek skin, and warm flesh.

She put both hands on his backside and squeezed. There wasn't any give to him at all, and it thrilled her.

Then she realized that he had her jeans opened.

He lifted his mouth from hers, but only long enough to catch the hem of her sweater and draw it up and over her head.

Wearing only a bra and opened jeans, she leaned back on the wall.

Harley looked her over without haste. When he stepped close again, she expected him to kiss her, and he did, but not where she expected it.

Putting one arm behind her back, he arched her body upward and closed his mouth over her nipple through her bra.

The sensation was so hot, so shocking that Stasia knotted both hands in his hair and held him tight. Her bra went loose and she realized that he'd unhooked the front closer. He put just enough space between them to let the cups separate, baring her but leaving the straps to twist around her arms.

When she tried to free herself, he used his other hand to knot the bra tighter, pinning her arms back.

Even knowing what he did and why, Stasia could not find it in herself to protest. She liked being held captive by Harley. She liked the hungry way he sucked at her nipples, the heat that poured off him and his low groans of pleasure.

Suddenly he lifted her and put her on the bed. He pulled away her ankle boots and socks, then he caught his hands in the waistband of her jeans and tugged them away.

Stripped naked, Stasia stared up at him. He just stood there, unmoving, as he looked her over with that awesome intensity that intimidated so many people.

Knotting her hands in the coverlet, she bent one knee—and let her legs fall open.

Harley cursed low, touched her inner thigh with a featherlight caress. He stared between her legs as he said, “Put your arms above your head, Stasia.”

Stasia's heart hammered. She licked her lips in indecision, but there really was no fear on her part. Only excitement. Trembling, she forced her fingers to release her desperate grip on the coverlet. She watched Harley's face as she brought her arms up high and relaxed them again.

His brows came together in concentration. He looked at her breasts, then straddled her thighs and cupped both breasts in his hot hands. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, teased her, lightly pressed. “You're beautiful.”

Stasia wanted to speak as casually, as controlled as he did, but she couldn't manage it. Turning her head to the side, she closed her eyes. But when Harley did nothing else but play with her nipples, she couldn't take it and looked up at him again.

He'd been waiting for her to do just that.

“You want me to rush?” he asked with a small, very satisfied smile.

She dropped her gaze to his pulsing erection. “You don't want to?”

“I want to so much it scares me.” With an edge of emotion that she couldn't decipher, he said, “I'm not a man who scares easily.”

“Then—”

He lowered a hand and pressed it between her legs. “Shhh.” He stroked, opened her, and pressed two fingers in.

Startled by the sudden intrusion, Stasia arched her hips. Harley had big hands, and she felt filled by him. But the knowledge was there, that two fingers were nowhere as big as what would soon be inside her.

He watched her, almost detached as he brought his thumb up to her clitoris and teased.

“Harley,” she said, on a moan.

“Tell me.”

The tension built so quickly, it astounded her. But this wasn't what she wanted, and she had to remember that it wasn't what Harley needed.

Stasia dropped her arms and caught his wrist. “Wait, please.”

“You're close, Stasia,” he predicted. “I can feel it.”

She shook her head. “Harley, please. I want you. Not games. Not control.
You.
”

“You're wet,” he told her. “You're excited. Admit it.”

She couldn't very well deny it when even now, he felt her small spasms around his fingers, pressed so deep inside her. “You're an incredible man and I've been thinking about being with you for years.”

His gaze shot up to hers.

“I'm not so different from other women, Harley. I see you the same way they do.”

He smiled and cupped her breast.

Desperate, Stasia said, “But not like this.” His fingers shifted, and she caught her breath. “I want…” She had to stop, to swallow and gather her thoughts. “I want what you haven't given other women, damn it.”

For the first time, Stasia noticed the rigid tension in his breathtaking body, how tightly he'd locked his jaw.

“You, Harley. Without the control.” She released his wrist and held her arms out to him. “You don't need it with me, I swear.”

For what felt like a lifetime, he hesitated, watching her, primed but holding back. He breathed harder, his eyes flinched, and suddenly he broke.

“Fuck it.” He was on her in a heartbeat, his hands everywhere, his mouth hot and hungry. He fit himself between her thighs, but didn't enter her.

Stasia hugged him tight. “Protection.”

“Yeah.” Between deep, wet kisses, he said, “In a second.” He licked her throat, her shoulder, moved down and sucked hard at one taut nipple.

She wrapped her legs around him, for the first time that she could ever recall almost uncaring about the use of a condom.

Harley put his hand between her legs again, but now it was an unconscious need to touch her. She knew the difference, and she reveled in it. As he stroked her, she clamped down on him and cried out.

“Jesus.” He levered away, fumbled in his nightstand drawer and found a rubber. Hot color slashed his cheekbones and his hands shook as he rolled it on. He was back over in seconds. “Stasia, look at me.”

She saw him through a daze of need.

“You're tight.”

She felt the head of his hardened penis penetrating, and he was big enough that it alarmed her. She couldn't help but tense.

“Shh. Relax.” He caught one of her knees in the crook of an elbow and lifted, opening her.

“Harley…!”

Staring down at her, he pressed in. “Easy, honey. That's it.” He kissed her open mouth, nuzzled her throat. “I'll go slow. And you'll love it. I swear.”

“It's…it's been a while.”

“Hush.” He flexed his hips, working into her, and without meaning to, she dug her nails into his shoulders. “Yeah. Hold on to me.”

He kissed her, softer this time, but deep, his tongue in her mouth—and he drove in the rest of the way.

Stasia stiffened, but Harley didn't let her hold back. He buried himself in her, then withdrew and drove in again.

The sensations were so much, both physically and emotionally, that it felt like he turned her inside out. She wanted to moan, to cry out, but his mouth swallowed every sound she made. He kept her locked to him, too tightly for her to do more than accept him.

And she loved it.