by Regina Hart
Jaclyn raised her arms as DeMarcus lifted the dress over her head, leaving her in only her demi-cup royal blue bra, matching thong, panty hose and stilettos. She was singed by the heat in his eyes.
“You’re the amazing one.” DeMarcus slipped his arms around her.
Jaclyn felt a tug and her bra fell away. DeMarcus let the garment drop. Feather-light caresses made her nipples tremble and her breath catch. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. His hard muscles braced her back. His body heat scorched her skin. The deep muscles of his chest pressed against her breasts, causing the fine hairs on his chest to tickle her skin. Jaclyn’s head tipped back as she struggled with sensory overload.
DeMarcus kissed her neck. “You’re so beautiful. And you smell so good.”
“So do you. Like sandalwood and soap.” Jaclyn pressed her fingertips into the corded muscles of DeMarcus’s shoulders. “You make me weak.”
It took too long to take their clothes off. DeMarcus snatched his wallet from the pocket of his sweatpants. He was torn between speed and finesse. He’d never felt that way before. DeMarcus left the garments scattered in and around the study area and lifted Jaclyn into his arms.
She gave him a startled look. “The last man who carried me to bed was my grandfather. I think I was six.”
He arched a brow. “That knowledge doesn’t depress me.”
Jaclyn chuckled low in her throat. The sound was as sexy as her honey-and-whiskey voice. She could probably read a cereal box and make him hard.
DeMarcus stopped beside the hotel room’s king-sized bed. He tossed his wallet onto the mattress. He lowered his right arm, freeing Jaclyn’s long legs. Her right thigh brushed his arousal as she stood. He took Jaclyn into his arms again and kissed her. His tongue caressed the seam of her lips and she opened for him. DeMarcus slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting all of her flavors again—sweet and sexy, bold and bashful. He explored her as he’d done before, as he wanted to do again and for a very long time.
Jaclyn wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck. Her hands smoothed over his close-cropped hair. Her movements were soothing and seductive. DeMarcus drew a hand down her back. Her body arched into his, and he swallowed her sigh. He grasped her hips, pulling her even closer to him. She rubbed herself against him, and DeMarcus’s legs began to shake.
He reached up to cup her breast. Her nipples pebbled in his palm. DeMarcus lifted Jaclyn to her toes as he lowered his mouth to her breast. He licked the trembling tip and heard her gasp. The sound shot straight to his gut. He licked her again and Jaclyn held his head steady against her. DeMarcus drew her breast into his mouth, suckling her and grazing her nipple with his tongue.
Jaclyn moaned. The sound heated his blood. She released his head and trailed her fingernails down his back. His knees shook. Jaclyn shifted her right hand to his front and took hold of his arousal. She caressed the length of him with soft, slow strokes. DeMarcus felt his hips pumping into her palm.
He lifted his knee onto the mattress, settling Jaclyn beneath him. He straddled her thighs, giving her access to him while he kissed and caressed her other breast. His senses had narrowed to know only her—her touch, her taste, her scent, her moans and the beauty of her passion as she writhed beneath him.
A shudder worked through DeMarcus when Jaclyn released him. She pressed her palms against his chest. “Let me up.”
“Why?” DeMarcus rolled over—and found himself pinned below Jaclyn. Her knees pressed into his hips. Her hands were on either side of his head.
Jaclyn buried her face in his neck. “It’s my turn to taste you.” She kissed his mouth, quick and hard.
Jaclyn covered his chest with soft kisses, quick bites and long licks. Her hair tickled his chest as she traveled down his body. If she continued this all over his body, he’d never survive.
Her hands were everywhere. She stroked his rib cage, caressed his thigh and traced his chest. Jaclyn nibbled her way to his navel. He’d never considered the spot an erogenous zone, but when her hot, wet tongue laved across it, his hips rose from the mattress.
“I’m on the edge.” He gritted the words through his teeth.
“Where’s your condom?”
“Under my right thigh.”
Jaclyn looked up at him, her eyebrows knitted. DeMarcus shifted to his left. She found his wallet and handed it to him. He retrieved the condom and tossed his wallet behind him in the general vicinity of the nightstand. The thump beside his bed told him he’d missed.
Jaclyn extended her hand. “Let me.”
DeMarcus hesitated. “I won’t last much longer.”
Jaclyn smiled. “You can handle it.”
She tore open the packet, withdrew the condom, then tossed the empty wrapper behind him to join his wallet. She positioned the protection on his tip and smoothed it down his length. DeMarcus swallowed.
Jaclyn felt hot and damp with arousal. DeMarcus had said he wouldn’t last much longer. Well, neither would she. Jaclyn moved farther up DeMarcus’s thighs and positioned herself above his rock-hard erection. Her nipples puckered at the feel of him at her entrance. She held her breath as she lowered onto his length. Her breasts tightened. Her pulse quickened. DeMarcus lifted to meet her. She gasped, tipping back her head and closing her eyes. They moved in a slow and easy rhythm. Pleasure was a hot, summer breeze rolling over her skin.
DeMarcus’s large palms moved with a consuming fire up her thighs, past her hips, along her waist and over her torso to cup her breasts. His fingers pulled and plucked at her nipples, intensifying her hunger. Jaclyn increased her rhythm, bringing him with her. She bent her body backward, gripping DeMarcus’s thighs behind her. Her muscles were drawn tight enough to snap.
DeMarcus lowered his hands to her hips, pulling her tighter against him. He surged up, gathering her to him and flipped them over so he was on top.
Jaclyn’s eyes popped open. DeMarcus covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. Jaclyn closed her eyes and held on tight. DeMarcus drove deeper inside her, harder against her. Jaclyn felt her muscles straining toward him. The pressure built within her. DeMarcus slipped his hands between them and touched her. She dug her nails into his back and screamed into his mouth. Her body shuddered through her climax, wave after wave of explosive pleasure. DeMarcus held her tighter.
As their bodies stilled, she kissed his shoulder. “I told you, you could handle it.”
Jaclyn felt his smile against her hair. She was happy and relaxed, replete with satisfaction. This step in their relationship had been worth the risk. But as she drifted into sleep, Jaclyn hoped they’d both still be smiling in the morning.
DeMarcus hunkered down. With his left hand, he collected the complimentary copy of the Atlanta Constitution newspaper the hotel had laid in front of his room. His right hand balanced his day’s first cup of coffee. Straightening, he turned back into his room, pushing the door closed with his elbow.
The state legislature’s budget battle was the day’s headline news. DeMarcus wandered back to the sitting area, skimming the other front-page stories. He laid the newspaper on the table and pulled out the sports section. He sipped his coffee. What was Atlanta saying about tonight’s matchup between its Hawks and his Monarchs?
Coffee spewed from his mouth as he stared at the front page photo of Jaclyn in his arms as he gave her a final kiss good night from his hotel room doorway. The article’s headline read, A ROYAL INTERLUDE.
His skin iced over. His muscles went numb. Who had taken this photo? Why had they taken it? And what gave them the right to invade his privacy?
DeMarcus spun toward the door, bringing forward a mental image of last night—this morning. He couldn’t recall seeing anyone in the hallway. He’d checked because he hadn’t wanted players or other coaches, who also were staying on this floor, to see Jaclyn leave his room.
Anger exploded through him, heating the blood now rushing through his system.
“Jack.”
/> What would she think? How would she feel when she saw their picture in this morning’s paper? He started back to his door, then stopped. He wasn’t thinking clearly yet. He was just too angry. Talking to her now, he’d probably make the situation worse, and Jaclyn had enough to worry about. He needed advice.
DeMarcus unclenched his fist and snatched his cell phone from the front pocket of his black warm-up pants. He knew who to call.
His father answered on the second ring. “Yes, the papers here ran the photo as well.”
DeMarcus gritted his teeth. “I’m going to sue these papers for invasion of privacy.”
“You’ll lose. You’re a public figure. This story isn’t false. Is it?”
He rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “No, Pop. It isn’t.”
“Then you can’t claim malicious intent.” Julian didn’t sound disapproving. He didn’t sound disappointed, either.
“What gives them the right to spy on me? This article isn’t news. It’s personal.”
“Well, as you can see, your personal life makes other people a lot of money.” His father’s voice was dry.
“They’re making money off of the sacrifices you and Mom made, and the effort I put into building a name for myself.” DeMarcus turned his back to the newspaper. He glared across the room.
“I know it’s not fair, Marc. I’m sorry this has happened.”
DeMarcus barely heard his father above the pulse pounding in his ears. “This is bullshit.”
“I know, son.”
DeMarcus turned back to the table and gripped the sports section in his fist. He wanted to grab the reporter’s throat the same way. “I’m going to call the publisher and tell him he needs to focus on what’s important—education, crime and health care—and stay the hell out of my privacy.”
“I wouldn’t recommend doing that.”
“Why not?”
Julian sighed. “I know this is new to you. You led a relatively quiet life as an NBA player. For the most part, reporters left you alone. But you’ll only make the situation worse if you call them.”
“So what should I do?” DeMarcus prowled his room.
“Focus on the team and tonight’s game. The story will blow over. If you call the papers, you’ll only give them something else to gossip about.”
DeMarcus’s temper cooled. His father was right. Still . . . “What am I supposed to say to Jack? She has bigger problems to deal with. She shouldn’t have to worry about this crap as well.”
“Remember, the only one at fault is the press. You and Jackie didn’t do anything wrong.”
DeMarcus sighed. “So we should act like nothing happened.”
“Yes. Put this behind you and get ready for the game.”
DeMarcus checked his watch. It was seven o’clock. He was sure Jaclyn was already up. She was a morning person, just like him. “OK, Pop. But, first, I’ll check on Jack. Make sure she’s OK.”
“Then you’d better calm her down before she calls the paper.”
DeMarcus stood away from the table. “Thanks, Pop.”
“You’re welcome. And, Marc . . .”
“Yes?”
“Invite Jackie to dinner.” His father disconnected before DeMarcus could respond.
DeMarcus knocked on Jaclyn’s door, which was just down the hall from his own. He waited only moments before she answered. She grabbed a fistful of his silver Monarchs jersey and jerked DeMarcus into her room. The door automatically shut behind him.
Jaclyn released him to stomp across the hotel’s thick blue carpet from the dining area, across the living room and into the work space. She was dressed in a cool green coat dress, a marked contrast from the fury coming from her in waves. Had he looked as incensed as she did now? Even her riot of rich, dark brown curls were vibrating.
“Have you seen the paper?” Her voice shook with rage.
Had he sounded as infuriated?
DeMarcus watched her march back and forth across the room. “That’s why I’m here.”
“The papers in New York ran the story, too.” Her eyes glowed with temper.
“I know. I just spoke with my father.” DeMarcus walked farther into the room. Sections of the Atlanta Constitution were spread across the dining table. The front page of the sports section featuring their photo topped the pile.
“How did they even know that I would be in your room?”
“I’d wondered the same thing.”
“I’m going to call the newspaper.” Jaclyn reached for the papers, presumably to search for the publisher’s phone number.
DeMarcus stepped forward and pressed his hand on the newspaper. Jaclyn’s hand settled on top of his. “To say what?”
She looked at him with wide surprised eyes. “That I don’t want the paper’s staff skulking around my employees’ hotel rooms. They have a right to feel safe and to be left alone during away games.”
DeMarcus hesitated. He turned his hand over to hold hers. “That sounds reasonable.”
Jaclyn waved the cell phone clenched in her left fist. “Then I’m going to tell the scum-sucking rodents that the next time I see them and their morally deficient minions, I’m going to tear their throats out.”
DeMarcus froze. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” Jaclyn slipped her right hand from his grasp. Storm clouds settled over her features.
DeMarcus held her sizzling cinnamon gaze. She’d moved seamlessly between cool entrepreneur and hot-headed warrior. She was a confident, beautiful woman and a talented, driven athlete. “I know you’re upset. So am I. Neither of us has ever had our personal lives on display before. But we can’t give the media the satisfaction of a reaction.”
His father’s advice seemed even more sound as he spoke it to Jaclyn. But it seemed to irritate her.
She threw her hands up. “Why not?”
“Giving them a reaction will keep the story in the news. If we ignore it, it’ll go away.”
Jaclyn lifted the sports section, waving its crumpled front page in her hand. “I want to meet this photographer.”
“What good will that do?”
“First, I want to make sure he’s not included in our media events or press release distribution.”
Again she sounded reasonable. But this time, DeMarcus was suspicious. “And then what?”
“And then, when I see whoever took the picture, I’m going to shove his pencil up his nose.”
DeMarcus took her hand between both of his. It was cool and delicate, in contrast to her fierce mood. “You’ve got to let this go. Focus on the franchise, the players and the season. They’re what’s important.” He nodded toward the newspaper. “That isn’t.”
Jaclyn returned the sports section to the dining table, her gaze fixed on their photo. “The people who expose these private moments don’t realize or care about the damage they could be doing. How am I supposed to face Gerry and Bert? Or the other members of our franchise?”
Still holding her hands in one of his, DeMarcus rubbed the area of his chest above his heart with his other palm. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Jaclyn’s eyes met his. “I know that. I don’t regret last night. Not one bit.” She frowned. Her attention shifting back to the paper. “But I’m really not pleased about this morning. How are you supposed to coach the team?”
Her words stopped the tearing in his heart. “I’ll be fine. So will you. But in the meantime, if the team continues to lose, people will think you’re keeping me as the coach because we’re sleeping together.”
Jaclyn shrugged. “We know you’re my head coach because you have what it takes to turn the Monarchs around.”
“Thank you.” His throat dried at her words.
“But to win, you have to get to know the people behind your game plans. What motivates them? What keeps them from winning?”
DeMarcus crossed his arms. “I can’t be the Monarchs’ counselor.”
“Try, you stubborn man. If you’d like, I�
��ll even order your subscription to Oprah Winfrey’s magazine.”
DeMarcus arched a brow. “You’re barely paying me enough to be their coach.”
“You’re going to need the players behind you, and the only way to ensure that is to get to know them.”
He frowned. “I don’t believe in that touchy-feely stuff.”
Jaclyn moved closer. She ran the fingertips of her right hand over his forehead. “I believe in you, and I believe in the team. The team won’t keep losing. And I don’t care what other people think. So don’t worry about that.”
DeMarcus dragged his fingers over his close-cropped hair and paced away. “There’s something you should know.”
“What’s that?”
DeMarcus claimed her gaze. “I don’t do one-night stands.”
Jaclyn arched a brow. “Never?”
“Never.”
She cocked her head. “Ever?”
DeMarcus smiled at her teasing. “Ever.”
“That’s good because neither do I.” Jaclyn crossed her arms. “So what was last night?”
Despite her banter, DeMarcus sensed Jaclyn’s unease. He read the caution in her eyes and the tension in her posture. He approached her. “I work for you.”
“And I’m your boss everywhere but in the bedroom.” Jaclyn let her arms drop.
DeMarcus reclaimed her hands. His thumbs massaged her palms. He felt a fine tremor in her fingers. That was the effect he had on her. And she took his breath away. “And if I want to get to know you outside of the bedroom?”
Jaclyn smiled. “I’d like that, too. We’ll just have to keep our personal and professional lives separate. Can you manage that?”
DeMarcus brought her hands to his lips. He touched the tip of his tongue to the back of her fingers and watched her eyes darken. “I can handle it.”
“Good.” Jaclyn moved closer to him. “And we won’t worry about what other people think.” She raised on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
DeMarcus’s stomach muscles tightened. In that moment, he wanted to coach the Monarchs to a winning season, not for his reputation or for his family’s name. He wanted to win for Jaclyn.