“I would like a better look, too,” Delaney whispered, her hand moving to his belt buckle. “You have a few fantasies to live up to, you know.”

With a roll of his shoulders, he had his shirt off since the buttons had been undone earlier.

“Is that right?” The thought of her fantasizing about him singed any restraint he might have had. “I like the idea of you lying in your bed thinking about me.”

He unfastened his fly and stepped out of his pants. Her eyes never left his body, her gaze following his every move.

“I’m glad I can do more than just think about you this time.” She reached for the waistband of his boxers, one shiny red nail dipping below the black cotton elastic.

He stopped her, unsure how much foreplay he could withstand given the long drought in his sex life. He’d barely dated in the last two years. There’d been a couple of girls in all that time, but they’d been mutually casual hookups that had barely taken the edge off.

“I’m going to be honest. I’ll need to be inside you about two seconds after you touch me, so maybe we should make plans for protection first.” He had nothing with him since he’d had no reason in the world to guess the sensual feast he’d walk into today when he arrived at work.

“You didn’t feel this earlier?” She reached into her bra and withdrew a foil packet from the left cup. “I didn’t have a pocket, so I was forced to work with what I had.”

“Very resourceful.” He took the condom and laid it on the coffee table before pushing the glass-topped piece aside. Kneeling beside her, he positioned himself near her hips. “I’ve got a few hidden surprises myself.”

He saw her eyes widen as he bent to kiss the patch of satin that covered her mound. And then he didn’t see anything else, his world narrowed to the scent and taste of her as he kissed her intimately.

Delaney gasped at the feel of his tongue taking shocking liberties with her. She’d never—well, she’d just never. Even her one long-term relationship had been more cerebral, the sex more restrained. But oh. The way Rick touched her, kissed her, was exquisite.

She heard her own harsh cries, but was powerless to contain them as he swept aside her panties for better access. She considered protesting for the space of a heartbeat, but then she remembered her original quest for the night.

No more tiptoeing around the fringes of life. She planned to dive right in.

And as Rick laved every inch of her with languorous kisses interspersed with strong strokes, she knew she wasn’t on the edge anymore. He’d thrust her into the eye of a sensual hurricane, her nerves overwrought and swirling with raw sensations that threatened to drown her in a blissful delirium.

Her head thrashed from side to side, as if she contended with some darkly sensual force within. But whatever the encroaching feeling was, it seemed determined to have her way with her. She tried to be still, to let it happen and let Rick do as he wished with her body but—

“Oooh!” The climax hit with the force of an oncoming freight train, rocking her body at its very core with lush spasms.

Her fingers sank into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he gave her the first man-induced orgasm of her life. She could scarcely catch her breath in the aftermath, the residual shockwaves blindsiding her even after he released her to undress them the rest of the way.

“I’ve never—” She shook her head, at a loss for words. Licking her lips, she started again. “Let’s just say, you have far better tools at your disposal than me.”

“Glad to hear it.” He’d rolled on the condom at some point. Now, he positioned himself between her thighs. “That means you’ll have to come back if you want more.”

“I’m ready for more right now.” Still trembling from her release, she rubbed herself shamelessly against him.

He obliged, entering her by slow, heart-stopping degrees. Her back arching, she wrapped her legs about his hips, sealing them together.

He supported her spine with one arm, his fingers tunneling into the back of her hair to hold her steady for his kiss. With his deft mouth, he reminded her subtly of the pleasure he’d provided her moments ago in that most intimate of places. The slide of his lips on hers became all the more erotic, all the more intoxicating to her overloaded senses.

The pressure built inside her, both from being impossibly stretched and from her own mounting pleasure. He found a rhythm that sent her reeling, the glide of their bodies a seamless union.

Vaguely she wondered if a woman had ever fainted during sex. Lights flashed behind her eyes and a sweet light-headedness made her cling all the tighter to him. Next time she would cater to the man’s every carnal desire. But right now, all she could do was hold on and ride the wave as another orgasm seized her. She cried out as her heels dug into his back, her hips tilted to meet his fully.

In some part of her mind, she recognized that he found his release, as well. He throbbed inside of her, his shout echoing hers. Delaney couldn’t remember any moment in her life ever feeling this perfect. As they rolled to lie on their sides on the sofa, their hearts pressed so close together that the beats seemed to fall into synch.

Right then, she couldn’t work up the least bit of regret about their night together. Frankly, she couldn’t imagine any consequence that would make her think this time with Rick hadn’t been worth it.

Still, if he got traded tomorrow because of her—because she’d put a good, upstanding man in a compromising position—she didn’t know how she would handle it. She’d never anticipated that living life to the fullest would mean the heartache would be every bit as potent as the pleasure.

Unwilling to let those thoughts overshadow this one night, Delaney released her hold on Rick enough to plant a kiss on his chest. And then another, lower down.

If she was going to go through life with this night imprinted on her memory, she planned to make sure he couldn’t forget her, either.



3



FLASHBULBS POPPED in Rick’s eyes as he adjusted the microphone at a podium in a midtown Atlanta hotel.

Eager journalists raised their hands all over the ballroom while others shouted out questions at the hastily assembled press conference.

“Rick,” one of the loudest voices called, “you’ve got to admit the woman in this photo bears a strong resemblance to owner Dan Blair’s daughter—”

“I’ve got no comment on that,” Rick repeated for the second time, shutting down the question posed by the Rebels’ beat writer for the ATLANTA CONSTITUTION JOURNAL.

Rick had called a press conference first thing to respond to the photos that had appeared on a celebrity magazine’s Web site and then innumerable fan blogs.

While the traditional media hadn’t run the pictures that hardly counted as “sports news,” reporters from those same media outlets had phoned the Rebels’ front office for comments on the photos.

Rick had barely left Delaney’s side that morning when he’d started getting calls from his agent, his manager and even a couple of teammates who said they were only looking out for him. Rick had given himself just enough time to run home, shower and change before meeting with an independent publicist. He didn’t have his own media person and he sure as hell wasn’t going through the team publicity guy, so it had seemed the best course.

He’d avoided the media for most of his career, and look how far it had gotten him. While he never would have been the kind of guy to kiss and tell after a night with a woman, the photos told their story whether he wanted them to or not. And since that was the case, he would put himself in the media spotlight this once to deflect attention from Delaney and keep the focus on him.

“You expect us to believe that anyone but a Rebels insider would have access to the locker room on a game day?” a skeptic piped up from the middle of the pack, her tone both condescending and chiding.

“Hey, one of you guys managed to worm your way into the locker room on a game day,” he pointed out, pausing for a sip of water from the bottle under the podium. “It’s not exactly Fort Knox over there.”

That brought a few chuckles of appreciation from the crowd. Clearly the press corps was well aware of how low some of its more smarmy members would stoop.

“Have you been summoned to the front office yet, Rick?” someone else called out, and he recognized one of the staffers for a big sports radio affiliate.

No doubt those guys would have a field day with this story. Sex and scandal sold papers and increased audiences better than home runs. It was one of the reasons Rick wasn’t exactly a household name despite ten seasons of solid defense, consistent RBIs and not a single appearance on the disabled list.

“No.” Rick wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable talk with management given how much he wanted to remain in Atlanta. The Rebels finally had a shot at the series this year, and if not this year, they’d be there next year for sure. The last thing he wanted was to be traded off a team that might finally make it to the big dance. “And you know as well I do that this unfortunate invasion of my privacy is my personal affair and not team business, so I don’t anticipate having to defend myself to the team.”

He signaled to the P.R. consultant that he was done and pushed back from the podium, confident he’d done what he could to steer interest toward his career. He’d downloaded his stats from the Rebels’ Web site and had them passed out as people came in to remind the reporters he was all about baseball.