Playing with Fire - A Sports Romance (4 page)

It takes a moment for the door to the penthouse upstairs to be answered, and I lean against the jamb, waiting. When it is, when Madison sticks her head out the opening and eyes me with her lip between her teeth, I have the urge to throw the door open and take her right there.

“Hi, Corey,” she says, all sly and sexy in a tight yellow tank and black yoga pants. Madison is a trust fund baby. Her daddy bought her the apartment down the hall from me, and she uses her black card for all her needs. Like traveling to Arizona on a whim. She texted me the night after I got in, letting me know she’d be in town for a couple weeks. She somehow found out which hotel the team was in and booked herself a room.

I don’t even get out a hello before the door is pulled open and a gorgeous redhead in a purple sports bra and matching yoga pants sidles up next to Madison.

“Well, hello stranger.” Red is licking her lips like she’s ready to attack me. I trail my eyes down her body. Her red hair is like fire, trailing down her shoulders and back in waves. She’s tall, almost as tall as me. Though she’s not as thin as Madison, the muscles in her arms and legs promise a good time.

“Did you need something?” Madison asks me. She’s twirling a strand of her chocolate hair around her fingers, staring back at me. I realize I haven't said a word since I got here.

“I, uh… I was checking to see how you were doing. You know,” I shrug and give her my best smile, “to see if you were free.”

Madison turns her face to Red, and green eyes meet caramel. Raised eyebrows and smiles flow between the two women before they both turn back to me.

“We’re free,” Madison says with a sexy smile.

“That is,” says a grinning Red, “if you think you can handle us.”

Blood throbs through my crotch and it’s like it’s all drained from my head. I'm lightheaded from the thought of being with these two beautiful women at once. I want Frankie off my mind, and this - Madison and Red - this will do just fine.

I smile and push off the jamb. Both ladies grab an arm and pull me through the door to the kitchenette at the front of the suite. Madison offers me a beer from the fridge while Red pours shots of tequila at the tall granite countertop. I look out over the massive suite while I take a pull from the beer. It’s the best money can buy, with white leather couches and chairs, a full-sized dining table, floor to ceiling windows, and a black baby grand piano in the corner.

“Drink up, gorgeous,” Red tells me as she hands me a shot glass. She grabs my ass as I throw back my shot, and I nearly choke on the amber liquid. “Mmm, I want to drink you up.”

Madison pushes Red aside and pulls my face down to hers. The sting of my shot burns in my throat as her tongue plunges deep and her hands coast along the ridge in my jeans. Soon, Red is there, her presence interrupting Madison’s assault. I accept another shot, and then another, as four hands caress my body. I reach to stroke the pale pink skin of Red’s stomach, only to have Madison beat me to it, and my hand lands on hers instead. Another kiss, another drink, another soft caress. My cock is so hard it feels like it might explode.

When the shots are gone and the beer is almost there, Red quirks an eyebrow up at Madison and smiles. Though Red is clearly the stronger personality, Madison takes the lead. She steps up to me, grasps the hem of my shirt, and drags it up and over my head. Her lips are like poison, her fingers like razor blades as they rake my chest and back. Soon Red is there, freeing me from my jeans and guiding me backwards through the massive suite to the bedroom and the plush, king-sized bed that awaits there. I peel Madison’s tank off as Red makes quick work of her bra. Red pushes me down to the bed and the ladies turn to each other, making a show of removing the rest of their clothes for me as their mouths land on the skin I want to taste.

Madison, hot and naked and oh so ready, climbs on top of me. Her lips blaze against mine as Red shimmies down next to me on the bed. With her lips removed from mine, Madison turns her attention to her friend once again. I want to watch, but Red’s hand is pumping me and I close my eyes to enjoy it.

For the first time since Ashley became Frankie, the woman is finally out of my mind. All my thoughts of her - the softness of her skin, the fullness of her lips, the taste of her on my tongue - disappear as I’m consumed by the passion around me. This is exactly what I need - these two ladies worshiping me with their mouths, hands, and bodies. Each taste of them is the world’s finest wine, given to me like I’m a king upon my throne.

F
rankie

I
plunge
into my work with a fervor that's familiar to me. There’s so much to do, so many projects I have decided need to be done, and I’ve set myself a strict timeline of when they should be completed. The work keeps me occupied so I don't have time to think about other things. Like my personal life.

Between work and flying back and forth to Arizona, I don't see Corey much over the next four weeks. But I see enough. He flirts with every skirt in a fifty-mile radius. His buddies, Cromwell and Rodriguez, and half the rest of the team, bow down to him as he struts around practice like he’s the King of Baseball. He’s always there, on the edge of my consciousness.

My only consolation, my one glimmer of sanity in my messed-up life right now, is Mitch. The man has proven himself as the ultimate bartender. Each night I’m home, he keeps my drinks coming. He lends his ear, and his previous inability to know when to shut up has mostly disappeared. The customers come and go, but Mitch is at my side whenever he’s not needed elsewhere.

“You ready, darlin’?”

I turn from the bar and find Mitch standing in front of me, his hand held out to me. I smile and slide my hand into his.

“Absolutely.”

Mitch pulls me along behind him out to the dance floor. When we get there, he slides his hands down my hips and I push tight against his hard body.

Needless to say, we’ve become close. I've told him who I am, what I do, what makes me tick. Maybe it’s that he’s such a good listener, I don't know. But I've come to consider him my friend. The best I've ever had. When he isn't helping other customers or listening to me talk about my sorry life, he tells me about himself. His parents, five brothers and two sisters. His stint in the Marines. What it’s like to work as a bartender, and his desire to do something different with his life.

He’s a breath of fresh air. There are no worries about a relationship, about how his presence will affect my job. About what Marco would do. We’re friends. Just friends. He’s the guy I can spill my concerns to without worrying about where we’ll have sex. He takes me out on the dance floor a couple times a night and we work off some of our pent up energy together. And even as we grind together, our hands grasping each other's bodies, I'm able to curb my desire to lick every inch of the tattoo that curls around his neck. The one I know covers his back and shoulders. The one he’s unwilling to tell me exactly how much of his body it covers.

“You talk to him yet?” Mitch asks with his face nuzzled below my ear. I wait for the kiss, his warm lips against my throat that always comes when he has me like this, when he’s crossing the line between attentive bartender and caring friend. He’s giving me an out. If I don't want to answer, I can draw away from his touch and he’ll drop the subject, no harm done.

But tonight I don't want to drop it. As much as I want to forget, and Mitch’s body against mine certainly aids in that mission, I feel inclined to talk.

“I’ve talked to his friends,” I tell him.

Mitch kisses my throat again, then pushes me away, spins me around, and pulls my back tight against his chest. With his hands clasped to my hips, he nuzzles my neck once again. “Did you ask about him?”

“I didn't have to. They seem to be obsessed with him.”

“Like someone else I know.” Mitch takes a quick step back as I spin to face him. He stands with his hands raised at his sides. The grin on his face makes me want to slap him. “I know, I know, darlin’. Not obsessed.”

I narrow my eyes at him for a moment before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back to me.

“Not obsessed,” I parrot.

“Just longing for the best sex of your life.” He nuzzles my throat again as I press my body against his. I'm glad for it. Otherwise he’d see the flames igniting my cheeks. I silently scold myself for ever saying anything to Mitch about my wild ride with Corey.

Before I can answer, the song ends. Mitch holds me close, smoothing his hands over my backside, then pulls away so slow it leaves my body wanting. His deep brown eyes are full of mirth as he sees me shiver before him. Dancing with Mitch is better than sex with most of the men I've been with.

Mitch takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles before leading me back to the bar. After refilling the drink of one of his other customers, he leans on his elbows on the bar in front of me.

“So what did his minions have to say about him?” He smiles, and the lights above the dance floor shimmer in his eyes.

I chuckle and take a sip of my beer. “Cromwell seems to think he’s God’s gift to women.”

“I'd say he feels the same way about himself.”

“Quite possibly,” I agree. Although, I have to admit, I almost believe it’s true. “And Rodriguez…”

When I don't continue, Mitch chucks me under the chin with his finger. “Rodriguez?”

I shudder, trying to get his words out of my head. “For such a small man, he sure has some big feelings.”

Mitch laughs but doesn't pry. After a moment, he takes his leave to wait on a group of customers that came in.

I’ve pulled nearly all the guys from the team in to interview them for their updated bios. There are only a couple left, Corey being one of them. I can't bring myself to face him. It’s been four weeks since we were together, and each day that passes makes it harder for me to talk to him.

I was thrilled when Cromwell let it slip that Corey went on a date with Tanya from reception when she came down last week. I thought maybe he’d moved on, that we could forget what happened between us. But not even an hour later he was flirting with Lauren, one of the team’s assistants, and all my hopes came crashing down again. I'm not sure how I'm going to face him now. I need him to be with someone else. I need to have that pressure removed. Otherwise, lives could be ruined.

“Sweet mother of…”

I glance up at Mitch and find him staring with wide eyes across the room. In fact, all the guys at the bar are looking the same way. I frown and follow their gazes and realize what has come over all of them.

The woman standing at the door looks like a cross between a movie star, a lingerie model, and a Playboy Bunny. Her flowing brown hair has perfect honey-blonde highlights. Her olive skin is tanned to perfection. And her short black dress hangs off her breasts and hips in a way that looks classy and at the same time leaves little to the imagination.

The men in the room collectively take a deep breath. But before a single one of them can make a move, the piercing blue eyes of the woman fall upon someone and a gorgeous smile spreads across her face.

“Ah! There you are.” Striding across the room in five-inch black stilettos, she has the eye of everyone in the bar. The bottom of her dress skims her thighs and her breasts tease at the fabric holding them in place. She stops in front of me and grasps my shoulders. “Frankie, my dear, it’s been too long!”

Before I can say a word, she kisses both my cheeks, then pulls me in for a hug.

“Viv, I'm so glad you're here.” I pull back and take her in. “How was your flight?”

She slides onto a barstool next to me and grasps my hands. “Oh, you know. First class is no private jet, but it’s better than coach. I miss flying private. I ordered a Bloody Mary and I’m pretty sure it was just watered-down V8 with a splash of vodka on top.”

I’m so wrapped up in listening to Vivian that I don't realize someone is behind me until warm hands slide across my hips. Vivian raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me as Mitch nuzzles his face into my neck.

“You going to introduce me to your friend, darlin’?”

“Yes, please introduce us,” Vivian says as she leans forward on the stool, giving him an eyeful of her chest.

I give Mitch a smirk and pull him to my side. “Vivian, this is Mitch. Mitch, my cousin, Vivian.”

He reaches forward and takes Vivian's hand, then raises it to his lips for a gentle, lingering kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mitch says in a low, sexy voice.

“Mmm, the pleasure is all mine.”

My cousin is used to men falling all over themselves to be close to her. Mitch, though clearly smitten, handles himself better than most I've seen. In fact, once he releases Viv’s hand, he takes a step back and puts his arm around my shoulder.

“Can I get you two a drink?” Mitch asks, his eyes on me. “Maybe a good Bloody Mary?”

“That’d be lovely,” Vivian says. The gorgeous smile on her face is replaced with a slight frown as Mitch leaves my side and goes behind the bar to make our drinks. When his back is turned, she scoots close to me and asks, “A bartender, Frankie?”

“Let it go, Viv,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes at her. She purses her lips as she straightens up. I know that look too well. She’ll be quiet for now, but it won't be long before she’s hounding me for the details about my friend.

* * *

“
S
o
,
darlin
’,” Vivian says, a slow drawl meant to imitate Mitch. “You going to tell me about your sexy boyfriend?”

I suppress the urge to act like a teenager and roll my eyes at her. Instead, I flip a page in my magazine and continue to pretend to read the article about the benefits of having multiple orgasms. “Mitch isn't my boyfriend,” I tell her for the third time.

“Well, why the hell not?” Vivian asks. “Frankie, the man is gorgeous. And you clearly enjoyed yourself on the dance floor last night.”

I can't hide the smile tugging at my lips. “I enjoy myself every night on the dance floor.”

“With Mitch?” she asks as the salon tech lifts my foot off the edge of the sparkly pink tub and sinks it back in the swirling stream of water. My cousin’s eyes are wide as she fans her newly manicured fingers out across her chest. As the tech rinses the exfoliating scrub from my foot and calf, Vivian tosses her magazine to the vacant, cushy black chair beside her.

“With Mitch,” I confirm, turning another page.

I knew, despite my warning for her to drop the subject last night, that Vivian would grill me until she got the goods. Even our relaxing spa day couldn't postpone this conversation. I opted for the two-hour hot stone massage and a one-hour facial, hoping my absence from her would diminish her desire to pry. But now, stuck next to each other for our pedicures, there was no more escaping it.

“And you know very well why he’s not my boyfriend.”

“You don't seriously think he’d do anything, do you?” Vivian asks.

I shrug and shake my head. “What’s changed?” I ask. “You know as well as I do Marco doesn't go back on his promises.”

Vivian frowns but falls silent.

Years ago, Marco promised his baby sister he’d look out for her daughter, no matter what. When my mother passed away, even though I chose to move in with my grandmother, Marco was a constant in my life. He ensured I had everything I could ever need - clothing, cars, money, all the finest. When it came to my social life, however, he tended to take things too far.

Once my grandmother passed, I was forced to move in with my uncle and his family. While Vivian could do whatever she wanted, and date whomever she wanted, every friend of mine was heavily vetted to ensure no harm would come to me. What Marco failed to understand was the harm he caused by trying so hard to protect me. To date, no amount of pleading or explaining had gotten me out from under his thumb.

That’s why I don't do relationships. That’s why, outside of work and family, Mitch is the only friend I have. It scares me, what Marco is capable of. Anyone who’s ever gotten close to me has been scared away. And really, it’s just a matter of time before Mitch is gone, too.

“So, how’s Vinny?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, you know, he’s recovering.” Vivian snickers and grabs a new magazine off the table between us. “I'm sure he’s looking for his next great love.”

Though she’s talking about her twin brother and his constant search for
The One
, I can't help the shudder that races through me. Her words remind me of Ramon Rodriguez and what he told me in my office yesterday afternoon when I interviewed him.

The small Latino man had been telling me of his new love, whom he recently met. He assured me it was true love, what he and Emily had, as if I’d questioned him on that fact. Once he realized I wasn't fighting him, he apologized.

“Forgive me, Belleza,” Ramon said, his hands clasped in front of himself like he was praying. “I'm so used to having to defend myself. You see, Matt never had to search for true love. His Ellen found him when they were young. And Corey… Dios mío! Until recently, I didn't think the man would ever settle down.”

“Corey?” I asked, sitting forward in my chair. “As in, Corey Lucas?”

“Sí, the one and only. He was the kind of man who had to taste a little of everything life had to offer. But now, the past four weeks… He won't admit it, but he’s in love. I can see it.”

Ramon noticed the look of confusion on my face and began laughing.

“Yes, I know. He’s in denial, the poor man. He’s been trying to prove to himself that it’s not true. But I know love, Belleza. I have felt the truth of it in my heart. It is one of those things that, once you have known it, it changes who you are, right down to your soul. You can't stop thinking about her, and your existence comes to depend on the air that she breathes. That is what I feel every second of the day about my Emily.”