Playing with Fire - A Sports Romance (11 page)

C
orey

“
W
hat color did
you get this time?” I ask.

“Mmm,” Frankie hums against my neck. “I thought about getting red for you, but they didn’t have any available. So I got silver again.”

“I’m fine with silver,” I say. I slide my hands up her waist and shoulders and cup her cheeks. “It reminds me of Milwaukee.”

“I like Milwaukee,” she says before she presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “Now go, before we do something we’ll regret.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I kiss her quick before I slip out of the hotel room.

When we got to New York, Frankie went off and rented another Porsche. The girl wasn’t kidding when she told me she doesn't like to deprive herself of things she wants. We’re here for three days, and she’ll only drive it a couple times, yet she splurged on this pricey baby.

But I’m not complaining. She’s letting me take it out for a spin.

Of course, we need more condoms. I brought what I thought would be enough for New York. I hadn’t planned on having her in Milwaukee. We ran through my entire supply and were forced to abstain this morning. Seeing her naked in the shower has left me with a bad case of blue balls, and I’m hoping I’ll cool off a bit while I’m driving this baby to the drugstore and back.

I grab an economy-size box of condoms off the shelf and head to the checkout line. On my way, I stop to look over a display of roses for sale. They have every color imaginable, and I have to wonder why. It’s not like it’s Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day or anything like that. I trail my fingers over the petals. Pink. Yellow. White. I stop on red. I pick one out and pull it towards me, breathing in the scent. It’s beautiful, like my Frankie.

Taking the rose and the condoms, I turn back to the checkout. I grab a pack of gum off the shelf below the counter and whip out my credit card. I’m shoving a piece of gum in my mouth when I step up beside the Porsche. My feet crunch beneath me. I look down and see a sprinkling of blue glass all over the ground. Looking up, I find the source.

“Fuck.” The driver’s side window is shattered. There’s a long, jagged scratch across the door, and the front tire is flat from a gaping hole in the top. “Fuck!” I rush around the other side of the car and verify there is no other damage. Inside the car, the pink sweater Frankie wore on the plane last night is ripped in two, and the black leather driver’s seat has a slash across the middle.

I grab my phone from my back pocket and stare at it dumbly before turning back to the drugstore. I ask the clerk to call the cops, then go back and stand on the curb. I feel like I could scream. A fucking Porsche. Seriously? Who would do such a thing? I pound my phone against my head, run my hands through my hair, and yank hard as I yell out my frustration. Then I steel myself for what might be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

“Frankie?” I grind out into the phone. “Doll, I’m so sorry. I need you to come down here.”

F
rankie

T
he minute Corey
steps out the door and it’s closed between us, I turn and grab my computer out of my tote. I set it up on the table by the window and turn it on. I have to get my mind off of him or I’ll never get anything done today. I pull my hair up into a ponytail while I wait for the machine to boot up, smoothing it down and untucking a couple tendrils to fall around my face. I love it when Corey kisses my neck, and he's more attentive to it when he has easy access.

I peruse my emails, deleting junk and archiving messages I no longer need. I shoot off a few responses to my staff, delegating tasks that need to be done while I'm out of the office. I’m here for work, technically. But with Corey around, I’m not getting a whole lot done.

Since that night in the car in Milwaukee, I’m having trouble concentrating. My every thought is consumed with images of his face and his body. His words echo in my head over and over:
I don’t want you to stop. Ever.

I don’t ever want it to stop either. Corey has worked his way so deep into my heart, I’m afraid I’ll never be the same. I’m not sure I want to be the same. I want Corey. Every last piece of him. And it scares me. I can’t help but wonder if he feels as strongly as I do. Is it me he wants, or the sex? He worked hard to convince me to give him a shot, and he broke my shaky resolve until I couldn’t say no any longer.

I don’t ever want it to stop.

I’m worried someday he will.

This is the first relationship I’ve ever really been in. Sure, there were a couple guys in college and that lame excuse for a boyfriend back in high school. But I never felt anything for any of them. I never felt anything for any of the dozens of men whose beds I’ve shared, one night at a time.

Corey is different. He makes me want to be different. He makes me want to shake off the binds that hold me back, break down the walls I’ve built around my heart, and give myself fully to him forever.

It’s heartbreak waiting to happen, but I can’t stop myself.

I’ve finished with my emails and have switched over to reviewing a press release that needs to go out today when my phone rings. I smile at the name on the screen: Luke. The name I first knew Corey as.

I grab the phone and break into a wide smile as I speak. “Hey, baby!”

Corey's voice is shaking with something that sounds like fear.

“What do you mean, you need me to come down there? Where’s there, Corey? What’s going on?”

“Shit…” Corey groans and takes a deep breath. “Something happened to the Porsche. The cops are on their way, but you’re the only one on the rental agreement. I’m so sorry, doll.”

“What happened to the car?”

“Someone… Damn. The police are here. You need to get down here, Frankie. They’re going to need to talk to you.” Corey tells me where he is and disconnects. I grab my jacket, throw on a pair of flats, and rush down to the taxi stand at the front of the hotel.

The entire ride to the drugstore, my mind is racing. I’d never heard Corey so terrified, and though he didn’t say anything about being hurt himself, I worry something happened to him. I see him at the curb talking to a police officer. I throw a twenty at the cab driver and climb out before he comes to a complete stop.

Corey pulls me into his arms before I can say a word. “I’m sorry, Frankie. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on, Corey? Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong.”

He pulls back and looks at me, his brows furrowed, his eyes dashing back and forth between mine. “No, baby, I’m not hurt. Why would you think that?”

“You called me freaking out! What was I supposed to think? My God, Corey! Oh my God!” I’m shaking in his arms. Relief floods through me even as images of his broken body flash through my mind.

“No, no, no. I’m okay. I’m okay, it’s just the car,” Corey soothes me, his hand rubbing my back as he presses my head into his chest.

After a moment, the officer interrupts us and I get my first look at what happened. While not a total loss, the damage is still disturbing. Corey isn’t on the rental agreement, so I’m screwed. The insurance coverage I purchased won’t cover the damage. It wouldn't be so bad, but this is a fucking Porsche.

It takes forever to deal with the cops and the tow truck, and I have to go to the rental company and try to get things figured out. Corey is allowed to leave so he can get back to the hotel and get ready for tonight's game, but I’m stuck in the purgatory of dealing with the insurance company.

I miss the first pitch. I miss half the game. Instead of trying to get to the stadium, I go back to the hotel and try to get some more work done while I watch the remaining half on television. By the time Corey returns to the hotel, tears are falling from my eyes.

“Frankie, doll, what’s wrong?” He scoops me up in his arms and cradles me in his lap on the couch.

“I was so scared, Corey,” I sob into his chest. “I thought something happened to you. I thought I’d lost you. And now I’m worried I will. I want to kill Marco for this! I—”

“No, baby,” Corey interrupts me. “This wasn’t Marco.”

“Corey, he ruined a fucking Porsche to scare you off. Don’t you understand?”

“This wasn’t Marco,” he repeats, smoothing his hand against my back and kissing my forehead. “Think about it. It’s your car, not mine. No one has seen us alone together. The only time we’ve been alone together outside of the hotel room was back in Milwaukee, in the middle of the night.”

His words and his soothing tone are starting to calm me, but I’m still not convinced. “He has people everywhere. Anyone could be watching, could have ratted me out.”

“No, doll. This was a random incident,” Corey insists. “Think about it. What did Marco do to your boyfriend’s car back in high school? All four tires slashed, head and taillights smashed? This was one tire, one window, one door, one seat. And it was your car, not mine. Why would Marco smash your car? Especially a Porsche? That doesn’t make sense.”

My sobs cease at his logic, but tears still fall from my eyes. I take in a raspy breath and bury my head further into his chest.

“What's wrong, doll? Talk to me.”

“I can’t lose you.”

Corey kisses my forehead again and pulls me in for a tight hug. “You’re not going to lose me, Frankie. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

I laugh in spite of myself. I love that Corey always knows what to say to make me feel better.

“You okay?” Corey’s lips whisper against my skin.

“Yeah,” I say back.

“Good.” He gives me a tight squeeze before loosening his grip. “Now, go get cleaned up. I’m taking you out.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“We’re going. You promised me.”

“Corey, what if Marco finds out about us? I’m scared he’ll hurt you.”

“We’ll deal with that when it happens.” He pulls his head back and looks deep into my eyes. “You can’t stop living because you’re scared. I’m okay. You’re okay. And you promised me I could take you out on a real date. Now go. Get ready.”

He pushes me off his lap, then swats my ass as I begin to walk away. I spin and glare at him, but I can’t keep a straight face when a grin splits his beautiful face. I love it when he smiles like that.

I change into a dress, sans underpants as a little surprise for Corey, and grab a jacket before we leave the room. Without the Porsche, we’re forced to take a cab. I worry Corey will find his surprise before we even get to the restaurant, as his hand keeps creeping up my thigh as we crawl across town through traffic.

We get a table in the back of the darkened restaurant, hidden from view of the other patrons with only the light of a hurricane candle to illuminate the space. Corey tries to cheer me up throughout dinner, but he has to work so hard to get me to smile. I'm feeling better by dessert. We share a slice of rich chocolate cheesecake with raspberry sauce drizzled on top. Between bites, I tease his jaw with my tongue. His dark eyes are hooded as he keeps glancing down at me, and desire floods through every inch of my body.

“I want you so bad, Frankie,” Corey scrapes out as he kisses me.

“Maybe we should go back to the hotel?” I offer.

“No, doll, you’re not getting off that easily.” He grabs my hand, kisses me deep one last time, and tows me out of the booth. I can’t get him to tell me where we were going, but before long it becomes apparent.

“The Empire State Building?”

Corey grins at me. “I’ve heard it’s awfully romantic up there.”

My heart flutters in my chest, even as my fear of losing him floods through me again. I saw the rose he had been clutching when I got to the car this morning. He gives me everything, and I worry I’m taking everything from him.

The view is spectacular. Even better is the fact Corey is here with me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his chest against my back, as we gaze out at the twinkling lights of the New York City skyline.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” I say as a gentle breeze whips the tendrils of hair around my face.

“Yes,” Corey agrees. “But nothing compares to you, Frankie. I could look at you forever and never get tired.”

Corey’s arms tighten around me and I lean my head back against him. Tears spring up in my eyes, but my arms are trapped under his and I can't move to wipe them away. One giant tear splashes down off my cheek, landing in a splat on his jacket sleeve.

“Frankie?” Without waiting for me to respond, he spins me around and holds my shoulders in his hands. “What’s wrong, doll? Why are you crying?”

I step closer and bury my face in my hands against his chest. I feel like such a fool. “You've given me so much and I will never, ever be able to repay you.”

“Is this about the car?” he asks. “I swear to God, I will repay you every last dime. Just tell me how much.”

“It’s not about the car. I don't care about the car.”

“Then what's it about?”

“I'm not good enough for you.”

Corey moves his hands to my cheeks, holding me steady with his eyes fixed on mine. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because it's true. I’m like my mother, Corey. She was nothing but a whore, and she died a whore. Without you, that's all I’ll ever be.”

“What are you talking about?” Corey shakes his head, his eyes pleading for understanding.

“Marion Leonetti was a whore. That's what I'm talking about. That's my mother, and that's who she was.” I pull my face out of his grasp and turn away from him, crossing my arms over my chest and staring off into the city lights. “She slept with every man she came near. She caught an STD. She ignored it. She got cancer and she died and left me alone, and when I grew up I became just like her. I don't even know who my father is.”

Corey puts his arms around my shoulders again, pulling me back against him and burying his face in my neck. “What do you mean you don't know who your father is? Why is your last name Sarcone if your mom’s is Leonetti?”

“I don't know, a shot in the dark?” I laugh a bitter laugh. “Maybe she chose one of the johns she slept with? Maybe she put the names of all the men she’d been with on a dartboard and took her best shot? Lord knows how she came up with it.” I take a deep breath and swallow hard against the tightness in my throat. “I can’t put this on you, Corey. I don't want that. I don't think we can be together. I'm not good enough for you.”