It's finally here -
the third installment in the Mustangs Baseball series!
He's through playing games.
Antonio Ramirez is ready to leave his wild reputation behind in New York and adopt a more respectable life with the Texas Mustangs. When he spies the woman of his dreams at a Fundraiser—its love at first sight. Convincing Clare Kincaid that he’s sincere is harder than he expected. Giving Clare what she wants could wreck his career and compromise his feelings for her.
When super sexy Antonio Ramirez approaches her, Clare is sure he’s playing a cruel game, but the Mustangs new Center Fielder won’t take no for an answer. She might be convinced of his sincerity if only he would invite her to play the one game she longs to play.
Two days had passed since their spa date, and Clare hadn’t heard a word from Antonio until a few minutes ago. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? She’d shown him more of herself, literally and figuratively, than she had any other man—ever. She’d shown him enough to send him running back to New York, she thought.
But he hadn’t run. He was on his way up to her office. Probably to say goodbye. Well, goodbye, yourself, Antonio Ramirez. Go find yourself a skinny-assed actress to play the part of your wife. I’m through playing your games.
She shoved random clutter into her file drawer and silenced the metronome tick-tocking away on her desk. She never should have answered the call, but when his name appeared on the caller ID, she had practically gone into cardiac arrest. She’d been starved for the sound of his voice. Couldn’t get the feel of his hands on her out of her head. Couldn’t breathe without missing his scent.
She had just crammed the latest set of ungraded test papers into her briefcase when he filled her doorway. One look at him and she realized she wanted nothing more than to play every game in the book with him. If only he would ask.
Leaning against the jamb, his arms crossed over his chest and one knee bent, he looked like a billboard for sex. Want sex? Call-800-Antonio. Warmth flooded her system, and she swallowed hard.
“You done, babe?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He straightened and took a step inside, closing the door behind him. He folded his hands behind his back and leaned his shoulders on the door. No one wore a T-shirt like Antonio Ramirez. The fabric wasn’t tight, but it clung to his hard chest and abs. He shifted slightly, drawing her attention lower. Tight jeans left no doubt as to his state of arousal.
“I tried to stay away. I tried to tell myself you needed time, that I could wait to have you, but I was lying to myself.” One hand moved to the doorknob. “I want you. Right here. Right now.” His index finger and thumb closed over the lock mechanism. “If you feel the same way, say yes, and I’ll lock the door.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Did she feel the same? Hell, yes! Her body throbbed with want and need.
Her mind raced through practicalities and details. Here? What if a student comes by? The hell with office hours. Underwear? Not sexy, but decent. She’d shaved and trimmed this morning—thank God. It was now or never. How many times would she get an offer like this? Never again, she was sure.
She clenched her hands into fists in her lap and squared her shoulders. So what if he only wanted a fuck buddy until he found someone more to his liking in Dallas? She’d have to be insane to turn down an opportunity like this.
“Yes,” she said.
Before she finished the single syllable, he set the lock and pushed away from the door.
Her heart leapt into her throat. This had to be a dream. Maybe she’d nodded off and her subconscious was having a field day. She dug her fingernails into her palms until the pain told her she was awake.
His legs made short work of her small office. Her feet shuffled, spinning her chair to face him as he rounded her desk. Antonio leaned over and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, boxing her in and surrounding her with his now familiar scent. Desire pulsed through her system.
“Don’t move,” he said, sinking to his knees in front of her. He parted her legs and filled the space with his body. A shaft of late afternoon light crowned his head, burnishing his blue-black hair with gold highlights. “How much time do we have?”
Her brain scrambled for an answer. “Um…. My office hours are almost over, so…as long as we want?”
His smile almost melted her panties. “Oh, babe, you don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”
He cupped her knees then slid beneath her skirt, up to where her underwear banded her thighs. Clare stared at the bunched fabric covering his hands. So close.
“These have to go.” His thumbs brushed cotton, found the elastic at the top, and tugged. Somehow, he lifted her and slipped the conservative garment to mid-thigh without her help. Then they landed on top of her desk in a twisted heap, and he was right back between her knees, only this time his fingers teased the short curls beneath her skirt.
“Your skin is silk. I could touch you all day, Clare, but I need to see you. The other day, at the spa…I can’t get it out of my mind. Can I see you like that again?”
“Yes.” A slight nod accompanied the whispered word.
“Unbutton your blouse for me, babe.” His thumbs pressed between her legs then gently pulled, opening the top of her slit. If he could see through the skirt fabric, he would see her clit peeking out, begging for attention.
She lifted trembling hands to the top button on her blouse. Dazed, she did as he said. One by one, the buttons slid free. Cool air rushed in and caused her heated torso to break out in goose bumps. When she reached the last button above the skirt’s waistband, he said, “Pull it open for me. Let me see.”
His hands were still beneath her skirt, lazily toying with her folds, her clit, driving her insane while his gaze roamed every inch of exposed skin above. Her clit pulsed and throbbed.
“Now the bra. Push it up. We’ll unhook it later.”
She worked the fabric upward so her freed breasts were framed by her bra on the top, her open blouse on the sides and the waistband of her skirt below. Cool air hit her nipples, and they tightened into hard points. Heat crept from her chest to her face. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip while her hands gripped the chair arms as if she were about to be launched into space.
Lord, what was she doing? She’d had her share of horny professor fantasies, but never anything that came close to this. Antonio had trapped her within his force field, almost had her believing the things he said to her.
“You are so fucking beautiful, babe.”
Pretty little lies.
Moving quickly, he took her right breast in his mouth, swirling the nipple with his tongue, suckling hard. She arched her back, encouraging him to take all he wanted. She held onto the chair in a death grip while he lavished attention on one breast, then the other. He seemed to know just what to do to make her lose her mind. She was wet, drenched between her legs. His fingers found her, plunged deep, retreated, and plunged again.
She writhed against his hand, sliding her ass across the seat toward him until she was about to fall off the edge. He groaned, sending a shiver of pure carnal lust from her breast to her pussy.
She ached for him. Needed more than fingers and a solo orgasm. She didn’t think twice. She begged.
He released her breast with an audible pop at the same time he withdrew his fingers leaving her empty and beyond desperate. Before she could muster a protest, he stood, lifting her as if she were a feather.
“Got to have you,” he said.
Supporting her with one hand, he shoved her chair out of the way and lowered her to the floor.
God, the man could move fast. Home plate to first base in three point nine seconds. He stood, stripped off his jeans and boots, yanked his shirt over his head, and dropped to his knees between her splayed legs, wearing nothing but his socks and a pair of white cotton briefs. He worked her skirt up to her waist and sat back on his heels.
“I’m speechless,” he said. “Tell me you want this.”
He was speechless? He had a body every woman dreamed of—all hard planes and tight skin over defined muscles. Flat, dark nipples punctuated powerful pecs. His ribcage, wide at his chest, tapered to a slim waist and hips that would fit perfectly between her legs. She’d never wanted anything or anyone more in her life. He made her feel reckless and wanton, and the desire in his eyes made her feel beautiful. If he never looked at her that way again she would take this moment and cherish it forever.
“You better have a condom.” She’d have to kill him if he didn’t. Where that bit of sanity came from, she didn’t know.
He reached for his jeans, fished a foil packet out of his pocket, and shoved his underwear down his thighs. His erection sprang free. Her mouth watered. He rolled the sheath on with the ease of a man who had plenty of experience and not an ounce of self-consciousness.
The moment of sanity was gone.
Clare lifted her hips in invitation.
She wanted him inside her.