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  “There’s no one here, Flora. Who would see?”

  His soft words encouraged her to look up at him and meet his gentle blue gaze. He’d showered before coming to her office. His brown hair had only half dried. The top strands still clung together in short damp spikes, but he was clean. His laundry fresh clothes and faint soap scent seemed so far removed from the cloying taint of football politics.

  “The parking lot and the elevators have cameras,” she answered.

  “Is that the only reason you keep shooting me down?”

  “Technically, Mr. Tate, you’ve already gotten me naked. Count it a success and sniff elsewhere.”

  She could have sworn he’d been further away. Without seeming to move, he stood immediately in front of her. He braced a hand on the door frame as he gently slid his fingers up and down her bare arm. She should let go of his biceps. Would it show weakness to back away? She decided it did, choosing to stay her ground.

  “How about here?” he asked. Lowering his head, he nuzzled the side of her exposed neck. “Or here?” he asked, trailing upward behind her ear.

  His stroking hand moved around her waist and drew her against his hard chest. She tried to remember what she normally did when a man got physical with her and she wanted to extract herself. Unfortunately, her body and head were at war about the proper course of action. Other than wrapping her legs around him and begging him to ride her hard and fast, she couldn’t think at all.

  Ian’s lips brushed her ear. Shivers tripped over themselves to raise goose bumps and set tingles loose in her pussy. Her abdomen squeezed deep inside. Pressing her aching nipples to his hard, warm pecs drove her to slide her hand over the muscular contours of his shoulder. She delved her fingers into his hair. It was softer than the spiky style led her to believe.

  “Definitely here,” he murmured, caressing her cheek with his.

  Finally his lips touched the corner of hers. If she turned her head—if, nothin’. Why wait? Flora took the kiss he teased her with, devoured it. He tasted fresh and the fullness of his silken lips lit her need.

  She was used to hard kisses and hurried gropes from business men whose time was money. She’d kissed players before, too, before she worked for the franchise. They’d been all hands and plunging tongues. This was different.

  Ian kissed her like he was savoring ripe fruit. His tongue flickered against hers and his mouth stayed pliant. She could have handled rough and ready, pushing him away when she’d had her fill. Ian’s laid-back complexity made a paradox which knocked the starch from her knees and buried every ounce of her reserve.

  His hand dipped to cup her ass. Turning with her, he shifted from doorway to office and pinned her against the wall with his hips. His cock rose full and firm between them. Flora tucked her hips, seeking more intimate contact.

  Ask him to go down, her brain begged. God, that amazing mouth of curious tongue and supple lips on her there would be heaven. Her pussy ached. Her breasts felt full, tight. Touch me.

  Then he retreated. “I believe you asked me to leave.”

  If she could have spoken, she might have denied it. Told him she hadn’t meant it for the first time in her life. She did manage to part her lips in preparation for the words.

  “Goodnight, Flora.” He sweetly kissed her with lingering tenderness. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, leaving her where she stood.

  A few seconds ticked by.

  “Oh, God,” she said, choking on the words. “I’m. So. Stupid. Why don’t I just hand in my resignation? Could I have been any more desperate?”

  Chapter Four

  Ian whistled as he headed toward his truck. Midnight blue, extended cab, elevated chassis with over-sized tires, black windows, and black grill—if a vehicle could give him a hard-on, it would be this one with her bass amped. He loved cruising the freeway with the windows down.

  With Flora in the front seat, he could just imagine the rush of air playfully flashing the swell of one beautiful breast, her hair flying in wild disarray, and the rumble of the road inching her sexy little mini higher and higher up her thighs with each mile.

  Was it wrong that he wanted to fuck her in the front seat?

  He reached the truck and stroked his hand along its gleaming side, around the back edge, and over the gate. He paused, caught up in the image.

  If he cranked the bass higher until it vibrated the windows, would it cream her pussy for him? Would she gasp and moan? Rest her head on the leather seats while the wind coming through the cab windows fondled her body, ripped her finely pressed blouse from its buttons? Maybe she’d plant those high heels on his dash board, knees parted, skirt creeping toward her hips as she gripped the edge of the seat, begging him to pull over and take her.

  He’d seen that pussy. Now he wanted to see that pussy spread and wet. When he did, he was going to savor every dragged out second of flavor, no matter how hard she dug her nails into his shoulders. No, he wouldn’t actually fuck her until he heard her scream, his face pressed to that gorgeous cunt.

  Ian grinned. Then he’d either start over again or let her pull him up her body until he sank into her, balls deep. “Fuck, yeah,” he murmured to himself.

  His cock was ready and his nuts had tightened. God, he might fucking shoot if he kept thinking like this. They’d done nothing more than kiss. But, damn, what a kiss.

  Shrugging off the daydream, Ian patted the side of his truck and rounded the other end of the tailgate for the driver’s side.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to take her from behind,” Bobby chuckled.

  Ian started, not expecting anyone to be waiting for him and certainly not expecting anyone to have seen that kiss. “Fuck off. I kissed her. I didn’t reach under her skirt to test the waters,” he grumbled.

  “Is that some kind of sick metaphor for sticking your dick in her tailpipe?”

  “Jesus, Bobby! I think she might take it personally if I plug her ass before I ask her out.”

  Bobby’s brow furrowed as though he thought Ian had suddenly spoken in Dutch. “Flora?” His understanding dawned with a gut wrenching laugh.

  “Who the fuck did you think I was talking about?” Ian asked.

  “Your truck,” Bobby wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “You stroke that baby with the look of love on you and a hunt dog in your pants. Fucking Flora would be a thousand times more normal. Hell, I’d fuck her if she’d let me.”

  The thought of Bobby fucking Flora was vomit-inducing.

  “Don’t touch her,” Ian warned.

  “The truck, or the woman?” Bobby asked, setting his iron belly to shake with another round of laughter.

  “Either one. Why are you waiting at my truck?”

  Bobby came off the laugh with a sound of amused pleasure. “Oh, God, that’s rich. So you kissed Flora? This will be easier than I thought.”

  “No, it won’t be. I’m not doing it,” Ian said. He reached into his pocket for his keys and flipped them through his fingers until he found the one he wanted. It kept him from looking at Bobby.

  “Oh, no you don’t. You aren’t backing out on me. I got your ass on the team when no one else would have you. I fucking hid the medical reports about your recent concussion and knee injury. You may have lost your representation, but I swung that by calling you a free-agent. The media ate that shit up.”

  “I know and I owe you.”

  “That’s right. You owe me. What would your mom say if she knew you were squelching on a deal with family?” Bobby asked.

  “Don’t bring my mom into this.” Damn it. Bobby went straight for the jugular every time.

  “I’ll bring my sister in any way I choose. She asked me to take care of you. I’ve done that, haven’t I?” Bobby stated the question. They both knew Bobby had come through for Ian more times than he could count.

  “It’s dishonest.”

  “Not if you like Flora. Just spend time with her. Kiss her some more. Maybe have sex when it’s convenient. All you
have to do is tell me about it and get me a good camera angle.”

  “I gotta know why,” Ian said. He did owe Bobby, but Ian had never played someone before. He’d known from the beginning that Bobby wanted him to seduce Flora Harper. He hadn’t known Flora was the woman from the locker room.

  “She’s blackmailing someone pretty high up. How do you think she got to be head of Public Relations in two years when I’ve been trying for twelve? She fucked Deeks, got info on him, and took the job, that’s how. She’s a bitch-whore,” Bobby spat.

  The title bitch-whore Bobby used for Flora didn’t fit the person Ian had met. His skepticism must have shown on his face.

  “You think I’m lying? She sluts around with the team like a fucking cock-tease. You watch. When she tries to lead you around by the nose, you’ll see what I mean. You kissed her, but you’re fresh meat. Once you’re under her fucking spell, she don’t need to impress you.” Bobby snapped his fingers, emphasizing the quick speed in which Ian would get dumped.

  “I don’t know, Bobby. There are other ways to catch her for blackmail.”

  “Deeks tried other ways. Deeks said that, if she’s screwing a member of the team, he could fire her and ruin her credibility. Then if she tries to use what she’s got against him, it won’t hold water in the media circuit.”

  “Deeks said that?” Ian asked.

  Bobby nodded. “Yeah, Deeks said that. Deeks also said she shows up in weird places that aren’t in her schedule book. She pretends it’s nothing, but we think she’s spilling team statistics and plays. If you can find out where she’s going and why, I bet Deeks would find a way to reward you.”

  “Her job would be up for grabs,” Ian noted, watching his uncle carefully.

  “It would be mine—a bonus for helping him out. It’s already been promised.”

  “I wondered how you fit into this.”

  “Let her come on to you and let me catch her in a sexually compromising position. The rest, like figuring out where she’s sneaking off to, is gravy,” Bobby reasoned. “You’re not only fulfilling an obligation to your uncle, but you’re getting the owner of the team out of some pretty sticky shit. He gave you the contract to play. You gonna disappoint him and me?”

  Ian blew out a breath. Lately it seemed like all he did was hold it as he faced down one problem or other. Being near Flora, he’d felt the most normal he had in ages. He thought he could like her. He knew he could fuck her and enjoy it. If Bobby was right, she’d use Ian and dump him. He had to admit, Flora did have a cool edge to her.

  “All I’m asking is that you try to seduce her. How hard is it to follow a beautiful woman and accept when she tries to get in your pants? It’s like free head from a movie star.”

  Ian winced. “You’re not helping your case. I don’t see her like that.”

  “I know her better than you. You just got here last week. What the fuck do you know about franchise politics?”

  “Nothing,” he conceded. “All right. I’ll do it.”

  Bobby grabbed him in a bear hug, smacked his back. “There’s my boy. You do your part, I’ll get you some field play, and Deeks will be off the hook.” He pulled back and gave Ian an earnest look. “Just remember, if the clothes come off, or she hits her knees to suck dick, you snap the cell phone shot. It’s gotta have her face showing. If you can get one of your cock in her cunt, take it.”

  Ian didn’t like the way Bobby talked about her. He wanted Flora, not a cheap screw. Had she already begun deceiving him?

  “If she doesn’t deserve this shit, I’ll find out and bury Deeks. Then I’m coming for you.”

  “Relax. It’s all been checked out.” As Bobby walked away, he looked back at the truck. “It’s a fine truck, Ian. I’d fuck the exhaust, too” He howled at his joke. The sound swelled inside the cement car park.

  Ian hit the button on his key fob and slid behind the wheel. Glancing at the empty passenger seat, the image of a compliant, begging Flora hardened into an ice princess with a sneering smile. That Flora was polished and calculating, cold and selfish. Which one had he met in the locker room and later in her office? Had it been the Flora who genuinely turned him on, or a bastardization of attraction—lust, intent on cold seduction?

  Fuck if he knew.

  ———

  Flora shut the apartment door behind her, reaching back to throw both bolts as she rested her against the cool surface. Safe. Home, her sanctuary, spread out before her in sterile contemporary furnishings of chrome and white, with red and black accents. She removed her heels and walked toward the kitchen for a glass of water, then returned to the main area. Large cut squares of white marble with pale gray veining iced her soles. All encompassing, it stretched the wide expanse interrupted only by an enormous central white-plush carpet, which cushioned her aching feet as she reached it..

  Soaring thirty feet from floor to ceiling, the far wall consisted of polarized glass panels in solid sheets which spanned the entire length of her apartment. She touched a remote by the couch. A soft whir accompanied the shift in glass opacity and suddenly she overlooked the city’s twinkling lights. Thank God for one-way windows.

  Ice bumped her lip as she took a sip. Aside from the soft clink, the apartment stayed as silent as a tomb. She wouldn’t have known the city bustled if she didn’t see the winking of stoplights and two-toned colors of traffic headed in different directions. She closed her eyes, sighing, willing the same cold peace to still her racing thoughts.

  “You are trouble, Ian Tate.”

  The memory of his kiss momentarily stalled the glass on its upward climb to her lips. Not willing to dwell on it too long, she quickly looked for anything she might have left out. Flora grabbed up her Jimmy Chos, dialed the lights and window down with the remote, and strolled toward her bedroom.

  Ian’s jersey hung on a bathroom hook and Flora quickly shucked her clothes, letting the cool mesh slide over her warmer skin. Goose bumps pulled her flesh and perked her nipples to insistent points. The hemline fell almost to her knees and the shoulder seaming drooped above her elbows.

  Flora turned a circle. She liked the way the bathroom lighting skimmed over the royal blue. She loved even more the way Tate’s mesh jersey snagged on her nipples, dropped heavily against her bare pussy, when she rolled in it all night long. God, just thinking about it made her horny.

  She eyed the cupboard where she kept her vibrators. The Beastmaster hadn’t ended well. Maybe the sex party her mom was throwing on Sunday night would turn out to be a good thing instead of too much information about her parents’ sex lives.

  A new toy instead of a new boy. Not as satisfying. Not by a long shot if the size of his erection were any indication.

  Flora finished her evening routine. Her white linen-aid California king sized bed welcomed her between the freshly pressed and tucked jasmine-scented sheets. Egyptian cotton, as smooth as silk, and downy pillows called her into sleep with muted sighs on the whisper of night-cloaked shadows.

  Drowsy warmth infused her limbs. She rolled, feeling the sheet tug against her ankle even as her memory foam mattress cradled her left side. Hair fell backward off her cheek, the weight of it shifting other hairs and giving her the sensation of fingers softly moving over them in a single downward stroke.

  They were back in her office, kissing. This time he didn’t leave. This time he begged her to let him stay.

  “I have to have you,” he begged, falling to his knees before her. His hands already ran up under her dress, over the top of her thigh-high stockings. He wadded his fingers in her dream-underwear, the bulky, baby-flounces of lace which horizontally lined her ass and ballooned around her hips. “I love bloomers!”he exclaimed.

  “I know. I read it in your publicity spread.”

  Ian buried his face in her crotch and moaned, the vibrations making her moist with need. “I’m a fister. I’m very good at fisting,” he said, pressing his fist against her pussy and rotating his wrist back and forth. Clouds of white cotton fluffed aro
und his knuckles.

  “You’re doing it wrong,” she told him.

  “Trust me,” he insisted.

  She didn’t understand. Her bloomers were still on but he looked so intent on pleasing her, on this skill of his creating some delicious impact that she moaned appreciatively. Maybe he’d take the bloomers off, eventually?

  She didn’t see him reach higher, exposing her hip, but she felt his bare hand. It dragged up her side, over her belly, slid under the arm she’d folded across her chest and between her breasts. Now she lay on her side—bloomers gone and his inquisitive hand retracing itself, then dipping around to her spine, over her ass, sliding fingers against her heated flesh, and teasing the base of her now weeping pussy where her puffy sex smoothed to a pout.

  Flora moaned in earnest.

  Errant fingers barely pressed on her. She wanted him inside and she wiggled her hips to persuade entry. His other hand caressed her bottom, smoothing rough palm over spa-pampered skin. She shivered, loving the contrast.

  The wall behind her warmed, began to murmur encouragement. She didn’t think how it could be possible when her dream had taken her from office to bed. It didn’t matter so long as Ian finished what he started.

  “Ian,” she mumbled in her sleep, coming half awake at the sound of her own voice.

  His fingers left her. They wedged gently between her thighs and lifted her upper leg higher and back to prop on his, then caressingly upward over her outer thigh while his other hand moved to her bare apex. He cupped her, letting the heat from his hand over her sex torment her further.

  Hot breath, moist lips captured the rim of her ear, flicked once into the whorls and pulled her lobe firmly into succulent pleasure. From her thigh, fingers trailed up her hip, over her waist and under the jersey bunched beneath her breasts to skim her tightly puckered nipples. They ached and she prayed to all that was holy that she didn’t wake from this dream without coming.

  Flora arched her back and her ass nudged solid, firm, cock—a furnace of flesh cradled against her ass. Still his hand cupped, his fingers teased, his lips tormented moving now from lobe to neck.