by Roz Lee
“You aren’t the first person to suggest I get laid. I wish it was that simple.”
“Won’t know until you try.”
Was it that obvious he wasn’t getting any since his divorce? “Yeah, well. I loved Hannah.” Royce raked a hand through his hair. Tricia’s scent on his fingers caught in his lungs. Damn. He couldn’t keep using his divorce as an excuse for his poor pitching. Not when he’d had his fingers knuckle deep inside another woman moments ago.
“She’s gone, dude. Get over it.”
“I hear you.” A headache was brewing at the base of his neck. He rubbed the tense muscles. “Thanks for the advice, however stupid it was.”
Tony smiled. “Not stupid if it’s true.”
Unwilling to confirm or deny his sex stats, Royce turned. “Since I’m not pitching today, I think I’ll go see if I can get a massage before the game. I feel a headache coming on.”
He was halfway to the door when Tony called out. “See if you can get laid, instead.”
Without stopping, Royce waved a hand to acknowledge his teammate’s sage advice.
Get laid. He planned to do that all right, but he wasn’t going to tell Tony or anyone else.
***
Tricia stared at the computer screen. Numbers, graph lines and lines of data blurred together into a meaningless jumble even Einstein couldn’t decipher. Somewhere in there was something significant. She could feel it in her bones, but what it was completely eluded her. All her brain seemed capable of focusing on at the moment was tonight. Was she really going to meet Royce after the game? For sex?
He hadn’t minced words. I’m going to fuck you all night long.
Holy, smoley. Even after two orgasms, his softly spoken promise made her ache. She’d thought he would find out what Tony wanted and come back so she could wire him up and get more data, but she hadn’t seen or heard from him since he all but ordered her to come to his bed tonight.
She wasn’t inclined to say no. She’d never felt the kind of things Royce made her feel. And, he’d said he liked the serviceable white cotton panties she’d worn today. Tricia shook her head, and a giggle escaped her lips. She’d chosen the plain cotton ones because there was nothing more uncomfortable than sweating in lace or nylon, not to mention, the idea of scratchy fabric rubbing against her aching pubis all day long was unbearable.
Remembering her other reason for wearing nondescript panties brought to mind the previous evening, and the way it had ended. We’re even.
All the feelings she’d experienced when he uttered those crushing words came flooding back, drowning her desire under a tidal wave of disgust and humiliation. She should have learned her lesson last night. She’d come to the stadium today prepared to be professional, to put everything they’d done together behind her. Instead, she’d confessed the one thing she never should have told anyone, let alone, Royce Stryker.
How stupid can you be? Telling him you liked the…the spanking? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Thanks to her stupidity, she had plenty more to add to her list of things she never should have done. Still, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret a single thing she’d done with Royce. He’d given her more pleasure in two days than she’d had in all the years since she lost her virginity combined.
Regrets? No. He’d shown her what passion was, and a part of her would always be grateful to him for opening her eyes to what she could have with the right person. No doubt she would learn even more in his bed, but those weren’t the kind of things she was here to learn.
We’re even.
Not by a long shot, Mr. Stryker. In a way, she’d always be in his debt, but he was a man who liked to keep score, so it was time to tie the game.
Tricia powered down her computer, stuffing it and the stack of reports she’d printed off into her canvas messenger bag. She sang along to the national anthem as she traversed the empty hallways of the Mustangs’ underground facility.
A short time later, she drove out of the parking lot. “Now, we’re even.”
***
She wasn’t waiting for him. Royce backtracked to her office. The light was off, and the door locked. He knocked and called her name, just in case she was in there, though why she would be sitting in the dark, he couldn’t imagine. He considered calling her, but then he remembered he didn’t have her phone number.
You know where she lives.
On the drive to her apartment, he came up with every reason he could think of for her to have left early. The one he didn’t want to contemplate, however, refused to go away.
She doesn’t want you to fuck her.
If there had been any other reason, she would have left a message for him. A woman as organized as she was wouldn’t leave without a word, unless leaving was the word.
Royce pulled into Tricia’s apartment complex. Her car was parked in the same slot she’d used the previous night when he’d kicked her out of his house then followed her home. He put the transmission in Park then opened his door. With one foot on the ground and the other on the car’s floorboard, he gazed up at the dark landing leading to Tricia’s door.
He was still trying to decide if he should go up and talk to her when a car pulled up behind his. A flash of bright headlights indicated the impatient driver wanted him to move his car.
“Fuck.” Royce slid back into the driver’s seat and sped out of the parking lot.
***
He had a splitting headache no amount of painkiller would alleviate. His mind knew he wasn’t going to fuck Tricia anytime soon, but his body had a harder time dealing with the news. After a restless night where he woke repeatedly with a hard-on that refused to go away, he’d jerked off in the shower in a desperate attempt to find some relief.
The woman had a lot to answer for. Apparently, her first paddling hadn’t been enough. He’d bend her over his knee again, give her the spanking she deserved. Then he’d fuck her senseless.
The door to her office stood open. Her melodic voice, carrying down the hard surfaces of the hallway, went straight to his groin, negating what little peace he’d found earlier beneath the rushing water.
Another voice, deep and decidedly male, unleashed something primal and dangerous inside him. He’d kill anyone who touched her. Tricia was his.
Ready to pummel whoever dared touch his woman, Royce stepped into the room and came to an abrupt halt.
“Strikeout. Glad you could make it.”
“Doyle.” Royce glanced from the team manager to Tricia then back again. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in to see how things are going. Dr. Reed says everything is going smoothly, but she’s anxious to get more game-day data.”
“I pitch on a five-game rotation.”
“We’ve discussed your schedule. She’s aware of the time constraints. That’s why we’ve agreed to give her another test subject to work with in between your pitching dates.”
Royce’s blood boiled. “Tony?”
Doyle nodded. “Ramirez. Yeah, he should be here in a few minutes. If he gives you any trouble, let me know. His wife is my niece. I’ll call her, and she’ll set him straight. Clare has him wrapped around her little finger.”
Royce had seen the couple a few times, and he silently agreed with Doyle. Tony Ramirez was pussy-whipped. Had been ever since he first laid eyes on Clare. “I’ll make sure he behaves himself. No need to call the lady with the whips.”
Doyle held up a hand. “Please. If they’re into that sort of thing, I. Do. Not. Want to know about it.”
“Just a figure of speech,” Royce assured with a chuckle. He hadn’t heard any rumors in that direction, but he’d been at the Crystal Ball last year when Doyle’s niece arrived in the company of her then fiancé, Tony Ramirez, and three other baseball players from various teams. From the looks the men gave the future Mrs. Ramirez, she’d charmed their pants off. Literally. He wasn’t going to voice his suspicions to the woman’s uncle though. Royce valued his life too much.
“I’m
sure he’ll behave himself. If he doesn’t, I’ll threaten to shock him with an electrode.” Tricia held up the business end of one of her wires. “That should keep him in line.”
“You told me those things don’t shock.”
For the first time since he’d entered the room, she looked his way. “Did I say that?”
Royce had to make a physical effort to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor.
Doyle laughed. “Seems like you have everything under control. We’ll talk soon, Royce.”
He waited until the manager’s footsteps trailed off down the hall. Then he exploded. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He pointed a shaky finger at the cord she still held aloft. “Those things could shock me?”
Tricia dropped the wire before collapsing into her chair behind the desk. “No, you idiot. They won’t shock you.” She shook her head. “Do you think I’d lie to you?”
“You did yesterday.” His near-sleepless night, coupled with the real possibility of her putting her hands on fuckin’ Tony Ramirez had darkened his mood from annoyed to pissed off. And she didn’t even have the good sense to appear contrite.
“After you left, I changed my mind. You did say if I didn’t want to take you up on your generous offer I should go home.” She shrugged and reached for a stack of papers on her desk. “So I did.”
He glared at her while she calmly stacked and shuffled papers, ignoring him. Finally, she stopped and looked up at him with eyes as hard as steel. “I think we’re even now.”
Even. The word echoed through his skull, joining the hammering behind his eyes from the headache from hell. So, that’s what this was about—getting even. “Okay.” He held his hands up chest high in mock surrender. “You got me there. I treated you badly the other night, and you got me back. Fair is fair.”
“Fair is you leaving me alone to do my job.” Moisture dammed along her lower eyelids, looking like it could spill over at any moment. He felt like an ass. Thinking about nothing but sex when he should be considering the whole thing from her point of view. His career was his business. He had no right to bring hers down.
“I’m sorry, Tricia. You’re absolutely right.” He straightened and backed away from her desk, giving her space. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t want you, but I promise I won’t pressure you for anything more than you’re willing to give. You need a test subject, I’m here for you. My body is yours.”
He watched helplessly as she dug in her giant carry-all and came up with a tissue she used to dab at her eyes. He would have given her his shirt if he’d thought she would have taken it from him.
“I know I started all this with my inappropriate behavior, and I apologize.” She sniffed back tears then squared her shoulders like a warrior ready for battle. “Since I started it, it’s my place to end it.”
God, he wanted her. And not because of the sex. Well, sex wasn’t the only reason. He admired her backbone. It had taken nearly a decade for Hannah to find the words to tell him what she wanted, needed out of life. Until then, she’d gone along with everything that happened in his life as if she didn’t have any goals of her own. And he’d let her.
It had been so much easier to believe his wife was happy than to deal with the possibility that she wasn’t. He and Hannah both were to blame for the way their marriage turned out. He understood his self-centered attitude hadn’t fostered an open atmosphere for communication, except in bed. Even Hannah would vouch for his attentiveness in bed. But sex hadn’t been enough to hold the marriage together.
Royce nodded. “I appreciate your honesty, though I could have made you stop. Full disclosure here. I didn’t want you to stop. I enjoyed every second your mouth was on me, and I look forward to the end of the month when I’m no longer your test subject.”
Her gaze was direct, clinically assessing. “Why?”
“Because I intend to pick up where we left off.”
He watched the muscles work in her throat as she swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the spot in the corner of the room where he’d made her come—twice. He might be clueless about some things, but desire in a woman’s eyes wasn’t one of them. She was as affected by what they’d done yesterday as he was.
“Believe it or not, I respect your research. My actions indicate otherwise, but from now on, you can count on me. I promise.” Before she could respond, a knock sounded on the door. Tricia leaned to the side in order to see around him. Royce half turned to look over his shoulder.
“Looks like I’m in the right place.” Tony Ramirez entered the room, an uncertain smile on his face.
“Hi.” Tricia stepped from behind the desk, her arm outstretched and a huge smile on her face. “I’m Dr. Reed, but you can call me Tricia.”
Tony took her hand for a brief handshake. “Antonio Ramirez. Everybody calls me Tony. Except my wife. Clare calls me Antonio.”
Perfect. He’s nervous. Royce figured it wouldn’t take much to scare the big guy off. He smiled at his teammate. “Glad you could make it.” The two shook hands.
“Care to tell me what this is all about?” The center fielder’s gaze darted around the room as if looking for the hidden dangers.
“Dr. Reed is going to hook you up to her computer and run a bunch of tests on you.” He clapped Tony on the back. “Nothing to worry about. It doesn’t hurt much.”
The big man’s face turned white and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. It was all Royce could do to contain his laughter. His friend took a step backward—toward the door. “Look. Maybe I’m not the right person for this.”
“Stop it, Royce.” Tricia glared at him for a second before turning her attention to her next victim. “Tony, I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Mr. Stryker was just kidding.” Her gaze swung back to him. The banked fury in her eyes confirmed his own thoughts.
You’re being an ass again. The idea of her putting her hands on any other man, much less the one inching his way to the door, made him crazy, but he’d be the biggest jackass in the world to interfere with her work. He grabbed Tony by the arm and dragged him to the center of the room. “She isn’t going to hurt you, but I suggest you do some serious shaving before you let her put those electrode patch things on you. I didn’t, and I cried like a baby when she ripped them off.”
From the stricken expression on the other man’s face, Royce wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing him he was going to be fine. “Shaving? You mean besides my face?”
“Yep. Chest, arms, legs. If your underwear covers it then it’s okay. The rest?” He ran his hand over his hairless forearm. “Smooth is the new look.”
“Seriously?” A big grin broke across his face. “Clare is going to love this.” He rubbed his hands together like a kid who’d just been told he could have anything in the candy store he wanted. “When do we start?”
Royce rolled his eyes. Tricia smiled. “Mr. Stryker is right. The less hair, the less pain, but body hair doesn’t interfere with my readings. It’s up to you. If you want to do some hair removal at home, then we’ll just do the preliminary stuff today.”
Tony’s expression grew serious. “Prelims it is. What’s first?”
“First is a blood test.”
Royce smirked as Tony’s naturally dark skin paled.
***
The following day, Royce was finishing up another round of wired exercises when Tricia’s new test subject arrived. Though he was free to go, he hung around the small office. Happily married or not, he still wasn’t comfortable leaving Tricia alone with Ramirez, especially knowing how her hands felt pressing the electrode pads to the man’s skin. Tony would have to be a monk not to respond, and when he did, Royce was going to pound him into the ground.
Tricia yanked the pads off Royce’s back while he tugged the ones off his front. He wouldn’t say the sensation was pleasant, but keeping the hair growth under control was the key.
“Ouch,” Tony said, observing the task. He yanked his shirt over his head revealing the smooth bronze skin of
his chest. “Glad Clare helped me shave this morning. That looks like some serious hurt.”
Royce clamped his jaw tight then jerked the corner of the last pad on his pec. Tossing the used strip in the wastebasket sitting atop the desk, he reached for his shirt. “You missed the fun part.” He tapped a spot high on his left thigh about as close to his junk as it could be without him removing his underwear. “This is the worst one. Hair or no hair. Hurts like a son of a bitch every time.”
Tony’s hand went to the same spot on his own leg. Pulling his shorts on, Royce chuckled.
Tricia dug in her big bag, came out with a new box of electrode pads. “Don’t let him scare you, Tony. When it comes to pain, Royce can dish it out, but he can’t take it.”
He couldn’t believe her comment. He was sure she didn’t mean it to sound the way it did, but he couldn’t say the same for Tony.
Ramirez cut his eyes to Royce. One side of his mouth raised in a smirk. “Is that so? Like to make ’em scream, Strikeout?”
“I’ve made my share of batters scream in frustration.”
“Not lately.” Tony hooked his thumbs in his shorts waistband, shoving them down to his ankles.
Royce had to do something with his hands to keep from punching the smartass in the mouth. He grabbed his shoes off the floor and, without sparing his teammate another look, he stormed out of the office.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing. I was just pushing his buttons. He’ll get over it.”
“I certainly hope so.” She needed Royce in her study. Of all the potential players the Mustangs had offered her, his problem seemed the one most likely to benefit from her research. If she could find something…anything to help the man get back on his game, everything she’d sacrificed for her research would be worth it. And not just because positive results would be a great marketing tool, but because she wanted to see Royce succeed.
Her feelings for the man were as far from rational and objective as they could be, and she’d known him for less than a week! It made no sense, but that’s the way it was.