Worth the Trade (More Than A Game) (11 page)

“You’re so hot.” He moaned, moving his mouth across her skin so he could give her other breast the same attention. “So, damned hot.”

She made sexy little noises as he moved his hands and his mouth down her body. After undoing the top button of her slacks, he kissed a trail down her belly as he slid the zipper down and pulled her pants off.

“More white cotton. We’ll have to do something about that.” He grinned as he slipped his hand beneath her panties.

“Marco.” She gasped when he slid one finger into her center. She was so wet. So ready. And so responsive. He’d barely gotten a feel for her when she started to buck against his hand. She whimpered and shuddered as an orgasm overtook her. “Oh my. I wasn’t quite ready for that.”

“Well, get ready.” Marco reached for a condom from the bedside drawer. “Because I’m just getting started.”

“You can start by getting naked.” Her voice was so sexy and seductive.

“You’re the boss.” Marco tore his shirt over his head while she reached for his jeans. She undid the buttons and zipper and shoved his jeans down over his hips.

She licked her lips as she slid her hands beneath the elastic waistband.

“Oh my.” Her eyes widened at the sight of his erection. “Oh my, my, my.”

“This is what you do to me.” Marco groaned as she wrapped her hand around him.

She fumbled with the condom, so he took it from her and made quick work of covering himself. He knelt between her legs, placing his hands beneath her thighs, he lifted her hips for easier access.

She gasped as he slid inside. She was tight, almost too tight. He withdrew, and then pushed again. Slowly, carefully, he eased into her.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” He laughed, hoping like hell that he wasn’t hurting her.

“No.” She shifted her hips, drawing him deeper. “It’s just been a while.”

He relaxed.
Thank God
. He thrust a little harder. Once, twice, a third time. He was just starting to find his rhythm.

“Oh hell no!” He pulled out suddenly. “I’m sorry. It broke.”

He pulled the remains of the condom off, swearing in a combination of English and Spanish. “I think we’re still okay. I didn’t… I wasn’t close.”

“Relax, Marco.” Her face softened into a smile. “I’m on the pill.”

“Oh. Okay.” He breathed a small sigh of relief. “And I’m… You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

“I know. I trust you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back toward the bed. “Now. Where were we?”

She trusted him. Even now. She’d come to him tonight because she believed in him. She knew what he needed and she’d given it to him. He grabbed another condom. If only to keep the sensation down. He was a lot closer to losing control than he’d like to admit.

He shifted his weight, centering himself over her. She wrapped her legs around him and he entered her slowly. He didn’t want to hurt her. He only wanted to please her. To prove to her that he was worth her trust, her faith in him.

He wanted to take his time. To make this last. But she was making it so damn difficult to hold on to his control.

She bucked beneath him, digging her nails into his shoulders. It was coming. He could feel her inner muscles spasm. She wrapped her legs around him even tighter, squeezing his hips with her thighs, drawing him deeper, deeper into her as her climax built.

She gripped him tighter, her hands, thighs, and inner muscles all tightening at once as she called out his name. It was all it took for him to plunge over the edge. He thrust once more, shuddering his release. Filling her with everything he had.

“Wow.” She let go of his shoulders, sliding her hands down his arms.

“Yeah. Wow.” He was pretty sure he had bruises where her fingers had dug into his flesh. And he’d never felt better.

Chapter 7

“Ms. Collins, you have a delivery.” Hunter’s receptionist buzzed shortly after lunch. “Can I send her back?”

“Thank you,” she replied to the intercom. “That would be fine.”

A small quiver of anticipation bloomed in her belly. She wondered what Marco had sent. Flowers? Chocolate? She hoped it wasn’t too embarrassing, like a singing telegram.

An attractive brunette appeared with a large shopping bag. Bright pink stripes and the Victoria’s Secret logo gave her a clue as to what was in the bag.

“I didn’t know your store delivered.” Hunter’s cheeks flushed.

“Normally, we don’t.” The brunette smiled. “But your boyfriend is very charming.”

Boyfriend? They’d slept together once. She was his boss. Okay, the boyfriend label kept things simpler.

“Yes. He is quite charming.” Hunter’s blush deepened.

“He wanted me to make sure it fits.” The brunette handed over the bag and waited.

“Have a seat.” Hunter offered one of the guest chairs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Hunter took the bag into the private restroom adjacent to her office. She peeked inside. Underneath the pink tissue paper she found more pink, in satin and lace.

She held up the camisole. It was pretty. Delicate. Feminine. Everything Hunter wasn’t.

She shrugged out of her blouse and bra, slipping the lingerie over her head.

Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes as she realized Marco already saw her this way. As a woman. A feminine, sexy woman.

Hunter quickly took it off, stuffed it back into the bag, and put her plain white bra and ivory blouse back on.

“It fits. Thank you.” Hunter returned to the woman waiting in her office.

“Good. I’m glad. Most men have a hard time judging sizes. He took his time, carefully selecting just the right thing.” The other woman smiled. “He didn’t even flirt. Some guys do, you know. Like we would be impressed with a guy who says he’s getting something for his sister or mother.”

“Men really do that?” Hunter couldn’t imagine.

“Yeah. But not your man. He just wanted to pick out something special. For the special woman in his life.” She sighed, impressed by Marco’s charm. Maybe a little envious that it was wasted on someone like Hunter. “He wanted to buy you a lot more, but since he didn’t know your exact size, I suggested I have you come in for a bra fitting.”

“A bra fitting?”

“Yes. We do them in the store all the time. You’d be surprised at how many women wear the wrong size,” the woman told her. “And your man convinced me to deliver the camisole and do a fitting while I was here.”

“You want to do a fitting? Really?” She didn’t want to take off her shirt here in the office.

“I can do it right over your blouse. It’ll just take a minute.” The woman withdrew a tape measure from her pocket and smiled. “He had several items picked out. I just need to confirm your measurements and then I’ll deliver those too.”

“Wow.” A lump rose in Hunter’s throat. A lot of guys would have just sent flowers. There were rumors that one baseball player left autographed baseballs as a souvenir for his one night stands.

The salesclerk took Hunter’s measurements, and noted the figure on two cards. She handed one to Hunter and slipped the other in her pocket along with the measuring tape. She thanked Hunter, even though she was the one performing a service. A very personalized service.

Hunter glanced at the clock. Still five hours until game time.

* * * *

Marco stepped up to the plate. He cast a quick glance at the seats behind home plate. Hunter was there, in her typical suit, but the blush on her cheeks was nearly as pink as the camisole set he’d had delivered to her office. The salesgirl had called, verifying the purchase for the remaining items. She’d told him that Hunter was willing to pick up the items at the store, but he thought it would be much more fun to deliver one piece at a time.

That way he would know what she was wearing each night when he stepped to the plate.

Tonight, she was in pink. Hot pink. Very hot pink.

And he was the only one who knew it.

Marco smiled as he settled into the batter’s box. He noted the smug look on the pitcher’s face. No doubt his opponent thought he had his number. He’d probably studied his last several at bats. He looked pretty confident as he went into his windup.

Marco took the first pitch. He even went so far as to shake his head as if he’d known he couldn’t have hit it anyway. He asked for time. Stepped away from the plate, and closed his eyes. Oh yeah, he could picture Hunter sitting on the edge of her seat, wondering if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed. He’d show her. And everyone else in the ballpark.

Marco stepped in. He watched the pitcher nod to his catcher then wind up and throw it a little low on the outside corner. Right to his sweet spot.

Marco stroked a double down the left field line.

Damn, that felt good.

Almost as good as having Hunter in his bed.

He stood on second base, giving a nod in her direction.

That was for you.

He watched Hunter as she bent over her scorebook. She tucked an errant wisp of hair behind her ear. She had no idea how beautiful she was.

The next batter hit a slow ground ball to first base. Marco advanced to third on the sacrifice. With two outs, Hunter moved to the edge of her seat. She wanted him to score. To break up the tie. She wanted him to come home.

The pitcher dropped a curveball that squirted through the catcher’s legs. Marco made a dash for home. Sliding just under the tag, he heard the umpire yell, “Safe!”

Marco stood, dusted off his pants and tipped his cap in Hunter’s direction. Forty thousand fans erupted into cheers. But he had done it just for her.

He finished the night with three hits including a home run, a double and four RBIs. Not bad. Not bad at all. Especially when the Goliaths took the win to even the series. Tomorrow would be the third game. A game he felt a lot more confident about now.

“So Marco, I think this is the kind of game we were all expecting when you joined the Goliaths.” Rachel Parker caught up with him after the game. She met him at the top of the dugout, with her microphone and her friendly smile.

“I hope it’s just the beginning.” Marco didn’t want to spend too much time talking. Not when he had a lingerie inspection to conduct as soon as he could get Hunter alone.

“You looked a lot more comfortable at the plate tonight.” Rachel had noticed. “Any change in your routine?”

“I think I was putting too much pressure on myself.” Marco wasn’t about to tell her the reason he was so relaxed. “I tried to let up a little, not take myself so seriously. I just hope I can continue to help the team.”

“You looked pretty good in the outfield tonight, too.”

“I pride myself on playing solid defense. If it’s in the park, it’s my responsibility to make the play. If I can’t get to it, then I’ve let my pitcher down. I’ve let my team down.”

“Well, tonight you lifted your team up. That’s one of the longest home runs I’ve seen at this park.”

“Really? I know it felt good coming off the bat, but I didn’t see where it landed.” Marco had long ago given up trying to figure out why one hit was a home run and another sailed directly into the defender’s glove. A lot of it was luck. Timing. Hitting the ball in the exact right spot. If it was possible to do it every time, this game wouldn’t be any fun anymore.

And he could admit that this game was a lot more fun when he was hitting. Home runs, doubles it didn’t matter, RBIs were the stats he took the most pride in—the number of runs batted in that made the difference in a game.

“Congratulations on a great game.” Rachel turned from him toward the camera. “This is Rachel Parker, signing off after another Goliaths’ win, thanks in part to Marco Santiago’s monster home run.”

Marco made his way back to the clubhouse. He was greeted with high fives and back slaps, making him feel more a part of the team than ever.

Bryce came up to Marco after they’d both had a chance to shower and change. “So, you got a dugout interview with Rachel Parker, huh?”
 

“Yeah. I finally had something to talk about.”