Sinker: Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Colleen Charles

  I nodded. I couldn’t help but beam my pride across the entire office. “It feels good.”

  “Well, I’m so proud,” Sandy said. “I couldn’t be working for a better mentor than you.”

  Sandy hugged me, then went back to her cubicle. As I lowered myself down into my office chair, I still felt dazed. It was hard to believe that in a year and a half, my life had changed completely.

  After spending several days with Mom and Dad, I’d taken a ten-day vacation to Bermuda, where I stayed with a friend from college. Despite Nina’s advice to relax, I hadn’t been able to sit still for more than five minutes. I’d spent my time reading and catching up on the news. That was when I found myself feeling the itch to write. I’d gone to a cricket match and thanks to a rogue piece of gossip, I’d spent two weeks investigating corruption and scandal on the Bermuda Cricket Board. My piece ran in Sports Illustrated and Deadspin, and to my great shock, I’d received the Selden Ring Award for Best Investigative Journalism.

  When I’d come back to New York, Nina just about threw me a ticker tape parade. She’d put me in charge of hiring new junior reporters, and then I started getting assignments that were way beyond covering whether or not some baseball player was getting laid in an alley. I felt like I hadn’t been home for more than a week at a time – I’d spent the past year mostly traveling the country, and writing about scandals and cover-ups in college athletics. It had, without a doubt, been the most satisfying year of my career.

  And the cherry on top was my relationship with Rhett Bradshaw. In Bermuda, I’d found myself missing him more than I thought possible. I’d always been good at holding grudges, but Rhett really worked to prove me wrong. Although I’d never forget his major misstep, I’d forgiven him with all of my heart. We’d officially been a couple for eleven months…and I was looking forward to what the future would bring.

  As much as I would have liked to avoid her for the rest of my life, I’d bumped into Riley a few times too. It had taken some prodding from Rhett, but I’d run a background check on Riley and discovered that she’d faked nearly her entire resume, including her degree from Stanford and her previous journalism experience, even at the college level. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been selling pretzels at Auntie Anne’s by my gate at LaGuardia.

  I bounced in my chair, still riding the happy wave from my call. Just then, I glanced down at my watch.

  “Darn it!” I yelped. “I’m gonna be late!” Throwing my cardigan over my shoulder and grabbing my bag, I darted out of the Sport Taste office and ran down the stairs. I’d promised to meet Rhett at Yankee Stadium at four-thirty, and if I didn’t rush, I knew I wouldn’t make it in time.

  Diving into a cab, I passed the driver a fifty. “Get me to Yankee Stadium,” I barked. “Fast!”

  The cabbie smiled. “I gotcha, lady,” he said. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

  I sighed, rolling down the window and inhaling the fresh spring breeze as we zipped across the city. Ah, the bloom of spring and a fresh baseball season. It didn’t get any better. Especially, when you were on the arm of the best pitcher in the league. After making it official between us, Rhett’s game had become stellar.

  Rhett had even graced the cover of last month’s Sports Illustrated, with the headline: “God’s Arm, Yankee Stadium.”

  I’d never been more proud.

  The cab screeched to a halt outside the stadium, and I dashed inside at a quick trot, panting and running on the concrete. The clock ticked four-thirty, and I gasped as I ran into the stands, expecting more noise and activity.

  The field was empty. I frowned, scratching my head. Rhett told me there was going to be a special pre-game practice, I thought, pulling out my phone and going through my texts just to be sure. He told me that he wanted me to cover it for the magazine since I hadn’t done much writing about the Yankees yet this season.

  But there was no one there. Frowning again, I scrambled over to the only other person in sight – a groundsman, sweeping the stands.

  “Hi,” I said. “Excuse me – I thought there was a Yankees’ practice today.”

  The man smiled. “No, ma’am. Nothing special.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He bent down and swept a piece of trash into his dustbin.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re really sure?” I shielded my eyes from the sun. “Rhett Bradshaw – you know, the pitcher – told me to come and cover a special practice, today, at four-thirty.”

  The man looked at me and shrugged. “Look, lady. I don’t know nothin’ about no practice. You might want to head on down to the field.”

  Just as I was about to reply, the sound of the organ blared loudly through the stadium. I shrieked, jumping into the air and nearly twisting my ankle as my heel came crashing down on the floor.

  The janitor gave me an odd look. He nodded down toward the field. “You go see what’s happening,” he said. “I leave now.”

  Groaning, I set off at a fast clip toward the field. As soon as my heels touched the dirt, I gasped. The organ kept playing – an oddly familiar song, but not one that I’d ever heard at a baseball game.

  I’m really going to throttle Rhett, I thought as I stalked down the steps. I can’t believe he’d do something so childish. He’s worked so hard to grow into a new man. And he has. And now, he’s pulling something underhanded.

  I stalked down into the tunnel and walked through the darkness and onto the field. And there he was. Rhett stood on the pitcher’s mound, clad in his home uniform. He grinned when he saw me and waggled his eyebrows.

  “Rhett, what’s going on?” I demanded, looking around to see if anyone else had miraculously appeared on the field. “I left work early because you told me you wanted me to cover this special practice?”

  Rhett grinned again. The organ stopped, then blasted a new selection, and this time, I recognized the song.

  It was Mendelssohn’s The Wedding March, playing in the background.

  As I approached him, Rhett dropped to one knee, my jaw dropped along with him. Rhett pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. A huge diamond ring glinted in the sun.

  “Brenna, I wanted you to come here because this is where we first met,” Rhett said. “And I don’t mean actually met – I mean, the first time we really met each other, that day I showed you all my pitches. The day we began to see each other for the first time.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes, and I hastily wiped them away, nodding so that he’d keep going. I’d never heard more beautiful words.

  “You’re the most important person in my life, and I love you,” Rhett said. “Please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  I couldn’t speak. Emotion had a stranglehold on my throat.

  “Well?” Rhett’s lips lifted and that sexy dimple winked at me. “What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”

  “Yes,” I squeaked, not even caring that he’d slipped and called me sweetheart. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Rhett got to his feet, and I flung myself toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck. We kissed, and I moaned softly as Rhett nibbled on my lower lip. When we pulled away, he took my left hand and slid the ring onto my third finger. The pear-shaped diamond sparkled in the sun, and I let out a quiet sob of happiness as hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

  Rhett pulled me close. “I love you, Brenna,” he said, nuzzling my hair. “Now it’s just you and me. Will you call my pitches for the rest of our lives?”

  “I will,” I whispered, looking into the handsome face of the man I loved. “As long as you retire the sinker.”

  He chuckled and squeezed me so hard I yelped. “That I can promise.”

  BONUS BOOK - WASTED LOVE

  By

  Colleen Charles

  Prologue

  Ashton

  The hard length of his body slithered down mine and I couldn’t stifle my groan. I gripped the sides of the narrow twin bed and braced myself for it. The pain.
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  “Are you okay with this?” Quinn asked. His clear blue eyes narrowed with his concern.

  At this point, it was too late to be worried. Like a runaway freight train, there was no stopping this trip down the tracks. He was naked. I was naked. We were already at the edge of passion, with one foot dangling over the cliff. All we had to do was let go.

  “I’m sure,” I whispered and nodded my head. A barely perceptible shake.

  Thousands of butterflies fluttered inside my stomach and my knees trembled, but I wasn’t backing out. No way. I’d dreamt of this moment every single day for years. As far back as I could remember really. For as long as I’d held understanding of what happened between a man and a woman when they loved one another. How they physically expressed that love.

  I now laid exposed in the bed with Quinn Andrews, my older brother’s best friend, living out a secret fantasy I’d had since the day that boys had replaced Malibu Barbie in my private fantasies. Tonight he’d receive the ultimate gift. He was about to take me places that a virgin could only dream about. My lips quivered, my skin glistened with perspiration, and the gentle swelling from deep in my loins grew more intense with each heartbeat. Ready. Completely and utterly ready to be taken by this man.

  “Good,” he said with a smile, and his gorgeous eyes locked with mine again. Sparkling with desire. “Just tell me if it starts to hurt. We’ll go nice and slow.”

  I drew my lower lip under my front teeth and nodded in agreement. His gentle hands gathered the strands of hair clinging to my face and tucked them behind my ear. It was the little things that Quinn did that made my heart go flip-flop. I couldn’t wait to feel all the passionate feelings I’d only read about before tonight. We’d climax together. It couldn’t happen any other way.

  “You are so goddamn gorgeous,” he said, as if pushing back my bangs allowed him to see my face for the first time.

  Oh boy, I thought to myself, hurry up and make love to me, Quinn. I want to feel it. All of it. Pain quickly replaced by pleasure.

  I watched him pump himself a couple of times, eyes widening. Hard to believe that gigantic member would fit inside my slight body. A flood of wetness pooled between my legs at the sight of his pulsing erection. As if to tease me, he brushed the tip across my slippery flesh and I felt an answering tug deep in my core. Then, very carefully, he slid into my untried pussy.

  I stuffed a fist in my mouth to muffle the cry from the excruciating burn. Because I felt ripped in two, split wide open and I automatically stiffened. Not moving a muscle in order to protect myself from further discomfort. Slowly, he inched in further, not breaking his promise to be careful, until he was buried all the way inside of me. It was uncomfortable for a moment, and I was surprised by just how deep I could feel him. I struggled to adjust to his girth and couldn’t stop the tears that moistened my eyes.

  Quinn wiped them away and, with a look of concern, asked me, “Are you okay, Ashton?”

  I gave him a weak smile, a bit embarrassed for crying. My body had betrayed me, and my emotions were all over the place. I’d just become a woman. But I wiggled my hips ever so slightly, guiding his tip to every spot deep inside. Then, like the flip of a switch, the pain and discomfort erupted into immeasurable pleasure. More wetness pooled and enveloped his cock and I squealed with delight.

  Once Quinn saw this excitement, he pulled back and thrust himself in again, a bit harder this time. Again he hit the mark and my back arched involuntarily, a reflex of pleasure. Soon we found a comfortable rhythm as my hips matched his every move, his every stroke.

  “Oh, Ashton! Babe, you are so tight,” Quinn breathed. He pumped harder and faster, as his breathing grew heavier. “Damn, this feels so good.”

  Every stroke was bliss. For what felt like an eternity he pummeled into me. I wanted to scream his name and every expletive I could think of, but all I could manage was a series of moans as I bit hard on my knuckles.

  With one last forceful plunge he slid all the way, his balls smacking against my ass, as he called out my name, “Ashton! Oh God, I’m coming.”

  Unfortunately, I didn’t quite reach the orgasm that I’d read all about in my bookshelf of romance novels and issues of Cosmopolitan. I knew how to pleasure myself, but I was looking forward to that mind-crushing, toe-curling orgasm that only came from having an experienced lover. Maybe next time? Or maybe those orgasms I had read about were just as fictional as the characters that experienced them.

  Quinn collapsed on top me and kissed my forehead. “Princess, that was awesome. You okay?”

  I nodded. Maybe it was due to the lack of said toe curling orgasm, but my only thought was that I hoped the condom didn’t break.

  ***

  Griffin was ready to smoke a bowl. The party hadn’t gone too late, but most of the girls had midnight curfews and already left. It’s no secret that once the girls are gone, the party’s over. Now it was almost one in the morning and Quinn had gone AWOL like a frightened soldier. He hoped his friend hadn’t skipped out on him with that chick he’d been flirting with earlier. Bros before hos.

  The house was a complete mess and he needed help cleaning up before his parent’s came home tomorrow. Ashton would help a little, but not without bitching. He showed the last stragglers out the front door and, after surveying the mess, went to look for Quinn.

  He checked his parent’s room first, which was supposed to be off-limits to his friends. No Quinn. But if he were lucky, his father would have left some dope in his stash in the closet. How cool was it that his dad smoked weed? Griffin knew a lot of parents did it, but his dad had always been open about it. Surely he wouldn’t mind it if Griffin borrowed a bit in this time of need right? He’d replenish it later with even better stuff than his dad could procure.

  Griffin wandered into the closet and flipped the light switch. At the same time, a faint voice whispered something from behind his back, startling him. He turned around but no one was there. He heard the whisper again, this time it was joined by a blinking green light in the corner of the room. It was the baby monitor. Which was strange, because his parents had taken his baby brother and left for a weekend to visit his uncle Mark in Encino.

  He slid onto his parent’s bed, picked up the baby monitor and pressed it flush to his ear. There were two voices – male and female – whispering and giggling. Unable to make out what they were saying, Griffin hit a button that turned on the monitor’s video screen, which was linked to an infrared camera in the corner of the room. Damn technology. Mom would blush at the other uses she hadn’t even considered.

  He smiled as the video feed came in, grainy and broken. Two figures had taken advantage of the tiny twin bed in the corner of his baby brother’s room. His dad and mom used to take turns sleeping on that bed when his brother was teething and had trouble sleeping through the night in his crib. It hadn’t been used in a while, until now.

  Boy, they were really going at it. Griffin chuckled as he gave the monitor a shake in a futile effort to clear the feed. Who in the hell was that in there? The screen was small, so it was kind of hard to tell which of his friends had just hit the pussy jackpot. He turned up the volume.

  “Oh God, Ashton…” Griffin heard the voice loud and clear. It was his best friend, Quinn. He smiled for a second before it registered – did he say Ashton? Griffin balled up his fists. White hot rage permeated every cell in his body and he hissed in a ragged breath to keep from passing out. His best friend was fucking his sister! It took everything he had not to go into that room and knock Quinn off of her. Rip his dick off and jam it down his throat. Punch the bastard into unconsciousness. How dare his best friend take advantage of his baby sister? That was the ultimate betrayal.

  Griffin jerked the baby monitor off the charger and tossed it against the wall, smashing it into tiny pieces. His best friend had just broken the number one rule of Bro Code! You don’t sleep with your best friend’s sister or girlfriend.

  Ever.

  Now Quinn had to pay.

>   Chapter One

  Ashton

  TEN YEARS LATER

  The ladies room seemed like the perfect place for me to gather up my courage and muster some kick-ass, psycho mumbo-jumbo in order to face the corporate suits waiting for me in the conference room. A little lip gloss, a little bullshit.

  Staring at the mirror, I recited over and over, “I’m smart, I’m a great negotiator, I don’t give up…and I am NOT going to puke all over the conference room this time.” I stuck my tongue out, the mirror reflecting my silly face right back at me.

  Dear God, I needed some makeup. Deep in my bag I found some nude gloss, a tube of black mascara, and some bronzing powder. Either this bathroom, with its soft yellow tiles and low lighting, made my skin look sallow and washed out, or I needed a damn vacation. Probably the latter. Maybe somewhere tropical and warm where I could soak up the sun and get my tan on. But first, I needed to close this damn deal. The deal of the century. The career maker.

  My boss, Henri, had all the confidence in the world in me to get it done. He hadn’t even bothered to come with me to the meeting. No need for babysitting because everyone knew I excelled at everything I did. So what if my perfectionist tendencies and reputation as an alpha hard-ass had kept all the possible suitors away from me? Running like scared pussies with their hair on fire.

  Henri’s last words had been, “You’ve got this kid. Don’t let me down.”

  So if this deal did go through, I could be on my way to Tahiti or the Bahamas really soon. Deeply tanned skin, mojitos on the beach, cute cabana boys waiting on me hand and foot. The one night stand I desperately needed but never seemed to have time for because I was married to my career.

  Okay, Ashton, concentrate. You need to seal the deal. I slicked on the nude gloss and swiped some mascara across my lashes. A touch of bronzer and I thought I looked pretty damn good. My cosmetic armor. Like a sexy, deal-closing machine. Watch out, Ivanka Trump! I’m on my way to the big time! After today, I could afford one of her handbags.