The Natural
meets 50 Shades in this erotic story
of sex, secrets and seduction. He’s an athlete with a secret that could end his
career. She’s a woman with a past that could destroy them both.
After five years spent proving his innocence in
a gambling scheme, Jimmy Doyle Walker is back on the field for the Washington
Diplomats. Given one season to demonstrate he can still contribute to the team,
he guards his secrets well, knowing exposure of his unorthodox sex life would
create a career-ending scandal. When he meets Evelyn Gardner, she tests his
resolve, and he risks everything to show her the delights to be found in his
arms.
Living day-to-day as a switchboard operator,
Evelyn Gardner loathes the sexual cravings that cost her the home and family
she’d always dreamed of. When she meets Jimmy Doyle Walker, the sexy first
baseman for the Washington Diplomats, at a church revival meeting, he
challenges her beliefs and her expectations. Determinedly, he seduces her
through erotic letters, sensual gifts, and sexual play, until she dares dream
she can have satisfaction and respectability.
Too bad her father, the preacher, seems set on
ruining not only their reputations but also their lives.
Excerpt:
Jimmy Doyle requested the empty booth in the back so they
could have a modicum of privacy. For a moment, he was afraid she would balk,
but she surprised him by squaring her shoulders and following the waitress as
if his request didn’t have scandal
written all over it. She took the seat with her back to the restaurant, which
suited him just fine. She’d be less guarded with her facial expressions if she
knew only he could see them. He had every intention of learning all he could
about her in the time he’d been given. Starting with her name.
As soon as the waitress left to fill their beverage orders,
he said, “I don’t even know your name.”
He saw the lie in her eyes. There would be honesty between
them, if nothing more. “Don’t even think of lying to me.” He tempered the
authority in his voice, knowing somehow that unleashing his full dominant nature
on her at this point would send her running, and he wasn’t going to lose her.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said,
“Evelyn.”
He raised an eyebrow, silently demanding more.
“Evelyn Gardner.”
“And where are you from, Evelyn Gardner?” He’d drag every
scrap of information out of her if he had to, but he hoped by the time he said
good-bye to her this evening, she’d feel comfortable enough to answer anything
without hesitation. Gaining her trust would be the first step to owning her.
The waitress set two sweating glasses of iced tea on the
table, then pulled an order pad and pencil from the pocket of her apron.
“What’ll it be?”
He nodded at Evelyn. “Anything you want, sugar. My treat.”
“I—”
“You can. Let me buy you dinner.” He hoped his tone conveyed
that there were no other expectations connected to the offer. He simply wanted
to feed her. Letting him take care of her basic needs was something she would
have to get used to.
She raised the menu, looked it over quickly, then placed her
order. It wasn’t much, but he’d see that she ate it all. He ordered, handed the
waitress both menus, and turned his attention back to the fascinating woman
across from him. He couldn’t remember wanting to know every little thing about
a person the way he did her. She was going to be a challenge. Once he could
restrain her, he’d devise ways to make her talk. Ways they’d both enjoy. His
dick stood at attention, ready to heed its master’s call.
He lifted his glass to his lips. “You were saying?”
Evelyn’s lips caressed her glass. He watched the muscles in
her throat work as she swallowed. Christ, he couldn’t wait to wrap his hand
around her throat and feel those same muscles contract as she swallowed his
cum.
“I grew up in central Virginia.”
Patience. Her answer was vague, but he sensed that she was
telling the truth. He prodded for more. “Family?”
Her gaze flitted away; then her eyelids closed, and she
shook her head. He recognized shame when he saw it. He’d seen it often enough.
“I won’t think less of you, no matter what you tell me.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. So, she wasn’t ready
to tell him her story. He couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t ready to tell her
everything yet either. He backed toward safer ground. “What do you do for a
living?”
“I’m a switchboard operator.”
There were few jobs a respectable woman could hold, and that
was one of them. He laid his hand on the table, palm up. “Let me see your
hand.” He was a perverted fuck, and he knew it. Wanting to see the hands that
shoved things in and out of tiny holes all day amused him.
She rested her gloved hand on his palm. There was a tiny
stain on the tip of her index finger—a small imperfection on an otherwise
perfect canvas.
His eyes met hers, held her gaze. “I want to see your
hands.” He tugged on the fingers, one at a time until the worn glove slid free,
leaving her bare fingertips resting on his skin. Fuck. He was going to lose it right there, and that was not
acceptable.
Sliding his hand beneath hers, he clasped his fingers around
her wrist. Her pulse raced as fast as his, another reason he shouldn’t be doing
what he was. Neither one of them was ready for what he wanted to do with her,
but it was only her hand, he reasoned. Touching her this way was inappropriate
as hell, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to feel her skin, and it was
imperative that she get used to him touching her. It was never too soon to
begin teaching her to accept him.
“Keep your eyes on mine, sugar. Don’t look away, no matter
what.” He explored her fingers with his thumb, rubbing it along the length of
each one before repeating the process, this time gently nudging into the soft
flesh between each digit as he went from one to the next. When her eyes dilated
and her breath grew shallow, he almost came in his pants. Shit, she was a natural
submissive, and he couldn’t wait to have her completely under his spell. The
things he’d do to her body. The pleasure he’d wring from both of them.
“Your hand is incredible, sugar. I can imagine these fingers
shoving in, pulling out. All. Day. Long.” He turned her hand over and began
massaging her palm with his thumb. “Does your hand cramp at the end of the
day?”
“Sometimes.” Her lips barely moved as she formed the word.
He pressed his thumb hard into the center of her hand. Her
fingers instinctively curled inward, encasing his thumb in the sweetness of her
embrace. He returned to stroking her skin. “And do you massage the ache away?
Alone? In your bed?”
Heat crept from the prim lace collar of her dress to her
neckline, yet she held tight to his thumb. God, he could do this all night,
tease her, stoke her need. One day soon he’d take care of her himself, but
tonight, it would be enough to know that the hand he held in his now would be
between her legs tonight, massaging away the ache he’d put there.
The clatter of plates and squeak of rubber soles on linoleum
alerted him that they were soon to be interrupted. He glanced up and noted the
waitress headed their way. With a gentle smile, he tugged his thumb from her
grasp and pulled his hand to his side of the table. Turning her face to the
wall, Evelyn tucked her hands into her lap.
Once the waitress left, he reached for her again. “Give me
your other hand.” She hesitated for only a second before presenting her gloved
hand to him. He stripped the garment from her fingers, set it atop the other
one. “Eat.”
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