by Tessa Layne
He’s not wrong. Already, I can feel the discomfort brewing in my gut. If I have a goal, and I’m not saying I do, it would be to end this crazy chemistry between me and Sparky once and for all. Scratch the itch and move on. She’s had my cock in irons for nine months, sixteen days, twelve hours, and… I check my watch… forty-seven minutes. That shit ends tonight. But the team will eat me alive if I confess it. I change the subject. “I don’t need a resolution, because I’m happy with my life.”
Stockton chortles. “You’ve been celibate for nine, almost ten months, and you’re happy about it?”
Mac perks up. “What’s this? Harrison Casanova Steele has been celibate? How’d I miss this?”
Beside me, Sparky’s shoulders are shaking, and she looks very interested in her empty glass.
“When was the last time you’ve seen him with an arm draped around a boat bunny? presses Stockton. “I want to know what kind of deep zen enlightenment you’ve achieved by keeping your dick under wraps.”
“Wait, did you say nine months?” asks Owen. “For real?”
A quiet giggle escapes from Sparky’s mouth.
“So that’s why we had the best season ever,” Jackson adds. “You’ve had a bad case of blue balls.”
“I wondered why our speed was phenomenal this season,” says Owen. “Maybe I should give up sex too.”
“No,” I say too sharply. “That’s a dumb idea. I only did it because… because I bet I could. But that deal’s off.” I swing my gaze to Sparky who quickly looks away. “No more one-night stands. I’m holding out for the real-deal.”
Mac sweeps a hand across the room. “Good luck with that. I bet any single woman, and a lot of the married ones would happily help you discover the real deal,” he ends with a snicker. “Take your pick.”
Sparky comes to my rescue. “Guys. You didn’t win because Steele kept his dick tucked in. You won because you’re an amazing team. And if you want to win again this year, we’re going to have to up our game. Starting first thing tomorrow. We’ve got less than twelve weeks for the Thames race again, and you know the local boys will be gunning for us. They’re pissed as hell that a bunch of cocky Yankee bastards stole their title.”
“Earned it,” Jackson growls.
“Of course you earned it, but they’ll always think it was rightfully theirs.” She gives all of us her don’t fuck with me stare. “You need an experienced rower to jump into Trevor’s seat. More importantly, you need someone you can trust. Danny seems like the obvious choice.”
Stockton looks my way. “We could sweeten the pot. Now might be the time to tell him about our idea for the distillery out at the baseball field.”
I look at Jackson, Mac, and Owen. “How do you guys feel about offering Danny a spot in the owners box?”
“Sure, why not?” answers Mac.
Owen nods his agreement.
“I’ll head downstairs and write something up. See you all at the gym first thing?”
“Seven-thirty,” Sparky affirms amidst the groaning protests of the guys. “New Year, New Team,” she says with a grin. “Trevor, why don’t you ask me to dance? We can leave these guys to cry in their whiskey about tomorrow morning.”
“Sure thing,” Trevor answers with a grin.
I resist the urge to go all caveman as Trevor ushers Sparky out to the dance floor. I make up my mind right then and there, that I’ll be kissing Sparky at the stroke of midnight. Come hell or high water.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s nearly eleven-thirty. Sparky has taken rounds on the dance floor with everyone but me. Her eyes shine with excitement, and something tugs deep inside me. She looks almost… happy. Maybe it’s the champagne, or the plans being made for the next season, whatever it is, it radiates from her like sunshine sparkling on the lake. She catches my eye and grins as she floats by in the arms of one of my upper management guys. Evan’s a good guy. The kind of nice guy you bring home to your mother, but I’m having none of it. No sirree. I put down my drink, and make a beeline for the dance floor. I’m in position the next time they circle round, and I tap Evan’s shoulder. “May I?”
He looks chagrined when he sees it’s me. “I can’t exactly say no to the boss, can I?”
“Not this time.”
“Thank you Evan. It was nice to meet you,” Sparky says with a smile that would give any dude a boner.
“The pleasure’s all mine. See you around, Mariah?”
Heat coils in my stomach. The way he says her name makes my blood curdle.
She nods, slipping into my arms just as the music slows, and the singer begins to croon the opening lines of At Last. My hand lands at the small of her back, and I pull her close. “You’ve been having fun this evening.”
She tilts her head up. “I haven’t had this much fun since… I don’t know when.”
“Good. I think you work too hard.”
“Cute, coming from the man who thinks four hours is a good night’s sleep.”
“Work hard, play hard,” I quip.
“Indeed.” Her eyelashes flutter down.
There’s so much I want to say to her, and I don’t know where to begin. I settle for the feel of her pressed against me, for the way her tiny hand is encased in my own. At the high point of the song, she glances up, face unguarded for once. My mouth goes dry from the wanting, the longing. “Mariah.” My voice comes out choked.
“Yes?” I hear breathless anticipation in her voice, so much emotion. As if she’s been longing, too.
“I still want to kiss you,” I murmur, voice dropping to the basement.
She bites down on her lower lip before glancing away. Her cheeks flush dark pink, and I swear I can feel her nipples puckering against my chest. She nods. “I think we need to talk.”
“I’m not interested in talk right now.”
“I’m not either, but we need to.”
That… wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Hope surges through me, and I lead us to the far corner of the dance floor, away from the prying eyes of my teammates. “Come upstairs with me?”
She nods and lets me lead her to the service exit. We slip down the deserted hallway that will take us to the main bank of elevators, our echoing footsteps the only sound between us. I punch the main elevator button, still holding onto her hand like it’s a fucking lifeline. My heart thumps loudly in my ears. We step into the car, and the door shuts behind us with a whoosh. If I were less of a gentleman, I’d kiss her senseless right here. But I want to hear her out. And honestly, what’s a few more moments of torture?
She sucks in a breath as the doors open to my office suite. It takes up half the top floor. Thick plush carpet spreads in every direction. We skirt the receptionist’s area, and the boardroom, and head back to my office, which overlooks Power and Light. “You live here too?” She asks with surprise in her voice, as she catches sight of the bedroom off my office.
I grin. “Only when I’m working on a deal. Sometimes it’s just easier to catch a few winks here, and then start the day again.”
“You totally work too hard, then.”
I shrug, “It’s paid off. And the rest of my C-team has beds in their offices too.”
“So all of you work too hard.”
“No time for sleep when you’re building an empire.”
She turns to me. “And what comes next? After you’ve built it?’
Her line of questioning makes me uneasy. “I guess I’ve always thought I’d know when the time was.”
“Hhmm,” she grunts, surveying the space again.
“Nightcap?” I offer, moving to the sideboard.
“Sure.” She kicks off her shoes and follows me to the liquor cabinet.
“What’s your poison?”
She clears her throat, and I swear she muttered you under her breath. “I’ll have what you’re having.”
“How about this?” I pull out a bottle of 2015 Côte Rotie. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.”
“S
ounds perfect,” she says lightly, settling herself on the big leather couch that takes up one wall of my office.
I join her and hand her a glass. “New year, new you.” We clink glasses and take a sip.
“Mmm, delicious.” Her eyes shut as she savors the flavor. I watch, rapt, as she swallows. She is the very embodiment of sensuality.
“I surrender,” I say hoarsely, unable to take it any longer. “You made your point, bet’s off.”
Her eyes fly open. “Why? What changed?”
Everything. Can’t she see that? “What changed, Mariah, is that I’m uninterested in anyone but you. I go to sleep thinking about you, you interrupt my thoughts during the day. I wake up with your name on my tongue. Every time something good happens, you’re the first person I think of telling. I want to kiss you, I want to get down and dirty with you, I want to know what you look like when you climax, and for fuck’s sake — I want to know how in the hell you got that scar over your left eyebrow.”
She stares at me for a full second, before bursting into laughter. Not exactly the response I was hoping for. My stomach sinks. But in true Sparky fashion, she does the unexpected. She takes my glass and places it on the coffee table next to hers, then climbs into my lap and begins to loosen my tie. “I got the scar when my older sister, Cecilia— CiCi— threw a Barbie doll at me.” She pulls my tie off and folds it neatly, setting it aside before attacking the top button of my shirt.
“Mariah.” My voice is full of gravel. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she teases with a flirty smile.
My cock is hard beneath her, hotter than a three-alarm fire. “Are you sure?”
“Mmm, most definitely,” she says with a nod.
“But I thought you wanted to talk.”
Her hands stop moving. “Do you really want to talk?”
“No, but—”
“Then shut up and kiss me,” she says lowering her head.
She doesn’t need to ask twice. If there’s one thing I know I’m good at, it’s seizing opportunity. This opportunity may never come again, and I’m sure as hell not going to miss it. Her lips are soft against mine, sweetly sensuous, and so so much more amazing than I’d imagined. Her kiss sets off a raging inferno inside me, like a spark to gasoline. My thighs tense, every neuron in my body fires. With a groan, I wrap my arms around her and take over the kiss. I flick my tongue across her lower lip, and her mouth opens with a sigh, tongue meeting mine stroke for stroke. She tastes like wine and sunshine, and the promise of unending bliss. I’m hungry for so much more of her, but it’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone, I’m content to make out on my couch as long as she likes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
From the perspective of Steele’s dick
Can I just say that it’s about DAMN TIME?!?!? Jesus fucktits. Can I also say that you can tell so much about a woman by the way she kisses? Sparky is no exception. There’s a latent sensuality packed into her kiss, soft and languid like a hot summer day. She’s a slow burn, this one. And she’s not afraid to ask for what she wants. Which I like, because I fucking aim to please. And by god, I intend to rock her world so hard, she never wants anyone else.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’m not sure how long we stay there, lip locked. We’re both breathless when we part, and I dimly register the sounds of fireworks outside the building. “Happy New Year,” I rumble thickly.
“Happy New Year,” she mumbles back, mouth still pressed against mine. She kisses me again, hot and sweet, and it’s better than any high I’ve ever experienced. My eyes about roll into my head when I rock my erection against her, and she grinds back.
“God, Mariah,” I say when we part again. “What do you want from me?” I half expect her to climb off me and walk away, now that we’ve kissed. While it’s not my first choice, I’d understand why.
“I want my one night,” she says breathlessly, dropping her mouth to the hollow at my neck and gently biting. Lust rips through me, and god help me, I want her to bite again.
“Are you drunk?”
She bites again, and my cock jerks beneath her. I know she feels it, because she rocks against me, harder this time. “Nope. Definitely not drunk.”
“Why? Why now?”
She braces a hand against my shoulder and pushes herself away. Her eyes are dark pools, glazed with raw heat. “Because I’ve had a crush on you since forever, and this year I’m doing things differently.”
My head snaps back, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. How did I miss this? I mean, I could tell she wanted me after I told her I wanted to kiss her, but before? How could I have been so blind?
Easy, when you’re chasing pussy, asshole, my conscience chides.
“You’re sure about this?”
She leans in and takes my mouth in a slow, hot kiss, tongue sliding against mine. I can barely breathe from the exquisiteness of it. “I’m very sure,” she murmurs once she pulls back. “I’ve wanted this, you for a very long time.”
Her confession socks me in the gut. I’m not worthy of her deep affection. I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Yet it’s there. And suddenly, the stakes feel a whole lot higher than a one-night-stand. This is Sparky — my confidante, my teammate, and fellow ass kicker. I want to give her everything she’s fantasized about and then some. “I don’t want to break you,” I blurt.
“You won’t. But I might break you.”
Her words bring sweet relief, because I know for a fact, I can’t be broken. I thread my hands through her hair, and nip at her lower lip. “I promise I’ll make this good.” God, I’d give her anything she asked for right now.
She gives me a lopsided grin. “I’m banking on it, hot stuff.” Her mouth lands on mine while her hands fiddle with the rest of the buttons on my shirt. Her touch is as confident as her mouth, and I can’t help the groan that escapes when her fingernails scrape across my chest. I flex my fingers into her scalp, loving the feel of her silky dark hair sliding through my hands. I could fucking kiss her mouth all night long. I draw a hand down the column of her neck, down the exposed skin of her back, and back up to the clasp of her halter. I make short work of it, and the front of her dress falls away.
I suck in a harsh breath. Her tits are more perfect than I remember, high round globes with dark nipples, erect, and waiting to be pleasured. “You’re fucking perfect, Sparky,” I say on a ragged breath. I brush my thumb across her nipple, delighting in the way it puckers and goosebumps rise across her skin. She moans, arching her back, when I take it in my mouth, lapping and swirling my tongue over the hard peak. I do the same to the other, going back and forth until she’s writhing in my lap, breath coming in short gasps.
I lift my head and our eyes lock. She flashes me the most wickedly delighted grin. If I wasn’t a goner before, I am now because, holy hell, it’s hot as fuck. My cock is like iron, but he’s just gonna have to wait a little longer. I wrap my arms tight around her and rise. Her legs hook around my hips, and I stride to the bedroom, place her gently on the edge of the bed, and drop to my knees. She gives me a look of hungry anticipation, and opens her knees with a flick of her eyebrows. The scent of her arousal fills my nostrils. It’s heady as fuck, better than any high. My hands tremble ever so slightly as I push up the soft material of her dress, exposing her thighs. “Lean back,” I say, voice full of gravel. She drops back to her elbows, eyes fixed on me.
So she’s a watcher. I like that. For some reason that turns me on even more. It also strengthens my resolve to give her one mind-blowing orgasm after another. I slide the palm of my hand up her thigh. Her skin is as soft as silk. Anticipation rises within me. Are her curls going to be as wild and untamed as the last time I caught a glimpse? Or has she done something entirely different? My other hand takes the same path, and I press against her inner thighs, thumbs caressing the crease where legs meet torso. She lets out a tiny sigh. I glance up with a grin. “Yes?”
She
nods, answering with a grin of her own.
I reach farther, brushing the fabric that separates me from paradise. “You’re soaked,” I murmur, glancing up again.
“Take them off,” she says, lifting her hips.
I’m only too happy to oblige. I hook my fingers through the sides and tug. I can’t help but chuckle when I catch a glimpse of them. I was expecting something racy and lacy. Instead, they’re pink polka dot cotton briefs.
“Don’t judge,” she reprimands with a sheepish grimace.
“Oh, I’m judging,” I tease.
“Do you have lacy special occasion briefs?”
I scoff. “Of course not.”
“Right? Totally impractical.”
I never thought of it that way, but I see her point. “I love how practical you are.”
“For real?”
I nod. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Sparks.”
The air grows heavy between us. Serious, even. My chest grows tight as we take each other in. This is as honest and raw as I’ve ever been with a woman. It’s simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. I caress her legs again, just to ground myself. This is a one-night-stand. Nothing more. And I’m going to make it the best night either of us have ever had. I bend, and plant a kiss inside her thigh, letting her scent wash over me, pushing the fabric out of the way as I make my way closer to her pussy. When I reach her apex, I pause, checking in with her again. She’s right there with me, watching avidly, mouth parted. I have to kiss her. How can I not kiss that perfectly plump mouth? I rise, clasping a hand behind her neck, and kiss her. Soft little brushes at first, until she leans in, opening her mouth to receive me. She kisses with abandon, with the same fierce energy she uses to drive the boat, letting me lead, but only so far, because she’s too used to calling the shots.
“More,” she breathes, when we part. “I want more.”
“Patience, grasshopper,” I say, mouth curling up. “I’ll give you everything you want and then some.” I drop to my knees again, pushing her skirt out of the way so I can take in her pussy. It’s damned near perfection. Dark pink folds, glistening with arousal peek through a tangle of dark, damp curls. She’s an untamed garden. Wild and free — just like her personality. I fucking love it. I hesitate, heart in my throat, the weight of this moment pressing on me— but only for a moment. Then I dip my head and kiss the tender skin next to her folds, letting my breath warm her skin, before moving over to the place I’ve been fantasizing about for far too long. I breathe her in, the sharp, clean, scent of her arousal. I blow over her sensitized skin, and a shiver ripples through her.