Jennifer Seasons - Throwing Heat

PETER FLICKED ON the lights and shut the door to his hotel room quietly behind him.

“Are you sure you want to do this, princess?”

Leslie was pretty wasted, and her day hadn’t exactly been stellar. Not that he was opposed to sweaty, raunchy sex with the smokin’ blonde. No, not at all. He’d fantasized about it on more than one occasion already.

It just didn’t seem fair to have sex with her when she probably wouldn’t even remember it the next day.

Without waiting for her response, he slipped into the bathroom to take a quick leak and called out, “We can just talk if you want to.” She was the first woman he’d ever said that to and meant it.

“That’s sweet,” she called back with her sugary Southern drawl all slurred and lazy.

Yeah, that was him all right. Sweet as honey. All the ladies said so.

Peter washed his hands and scoffed to himself. What ladies? There hadn’t been any since he’d first set sight on the blonde bombshell currently sprawled across his hotel mattress like a bed sheet. One look at her luscious curves and intelligent, gorgeous eyes and no other woman would do.

For more than a year he’d wondered what it would be like to have Leslie naked and moaning. He would have found out by now, too, if it wasn’t for Mark being her brother. That had put a real crimp on things.

But now here she was in his bed wanting to have no-strings sex. It was like a cosmic reward for being such a good boy. He just hoped like hell that if he did go through with it, Mark never ever found out. No doubt it would piss him way off, because as much as the catcher tried to hide it, he had a huge heart and was a protective bear about his sister.

If Peter was any sort of morally upstanding guy he’d do nothing more with Leslie than take off her shoes and tuck her under the covers. He thought about it briefly. Considered just leaving.

Yeah, maybe he should do that.

Opening the bathroom door, Peter stepped into the room and stopped dead. Leslie was standing in the middle of the floor without a stitch of clothing on, a sultry smile full of invitation on her lips. Her deliciously voluptuous curves nearly dropped him to his knees. His stomach tightened with need.

“See anything you like?” she purred, and tossed back her sleek blonde hair, putting her hands on her lush hips.

Everything.

Yeah, if he was any sort of moral guy he’d walk away right now. Just leave and let her sleep it off. That’s what an upstanding guy would do.

But the hell of it was that they had something. A chemistry that crackled like fireworks when they were in the same room together. And knowing that made it so hard to be the good guy and just walk away. Especially when he knew that she wanted him every bit as much as he did her.

He took a step back. Swore. Fought an internal battle of conscience—and lost.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk away.

Peter crossed to her and scooped her up in a kiss hot enough to set the room on fire. Her full breasts pushed into his chest and his hands cupped her firm round ass, pulling her flush against him. She moaned and flung her arms around his neck, urging him on.

His conscience yelled at him and he shoved her away roughly, “I can’t.” Christ, he wanted to, but he just couldn’t. It wasn’t right.

And that’s when she reached out and grabbed his hard-on, began stroking it through his jeans, making him hiss between his teeth, and gave him a smile that was absolutely devastating. “I can.”

Then she dropped to her knees before him and yanked open his fly, freeing him, and he forgot how to think. Forgot his integrity.

Forgot everything entirely when her hot mouth wrapped around his cock. He groaned and his head fell back. Jesus, the woman knew how to please.

Somehow they made it onto the bed and Peter took control, sheer lust dictating his actions. He had her on her stomach with her ass in the air before she could gasp, his hand slipping between her legs. When she cried out and bucked against him it only served to fuel him on further.

Peter ripped off his clothing and came up behind her, breathing heavy. “Is this what you want?” he growled against her ear as he slid a finger into her, making her cry out softly and push back against him.

“Yes!” she panted into a pillow and gripped a fistful of cream comforter in both hands.

It wasn’t enough. Shifting positions, Peter grabbed her hips and raised her up further onto her knees before replacing his hand with his mouth. He almost couldn’t believe what was happening. It was way better than any fantasy.

When his tongue caressed her tender flesh, she came unraveled. Arching and moaning, Leslie came almost instantly. And it spurred him on. Without giving her a break he brought her to another screaming peak.

Pulling back, Peter sat up, and pure male ego flooded him at the sight of Leslie panting, her eyes closed and hair a mess, and smacked her on the ass, smiling. “Had enough, princess?”

She made a sound that he interpreted to mean she hadn’t. Good. He wasn’t done. Now that he had her where he’d dreamt of pretty much every night since they’d met, he was going to make it as memorable as possible for them both.

Coming up behind her, Peter covered her back with his body and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making her sit up on her knees, and pulled her tight to him. He growled into her ear. “Ready for another one?” Making Leslie come over and over was all he wanted.

And he did. He moved his hand down her gently rounded belly, loving every inch of her womanly curves, and brought her to shuddering climax twice more, smiling darkly when she sunk her teeth into his arm. Once her tremors subsided he flipped her over, intent on watching her get off one more time before he buried himself in her and found his own release.

Her eyes fluttered open and she whispered dazedly, “You’re amazing.”

Then she focused her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes on him, and some overwhelming force slammed him in the gut like a one-ton Chevy. He gasped, unable to breathe. Fuck, why couldn’t he breathe?

Half-panicked, Peter shook his head roughly and tried to suck in air. But Leslie just kept looking at him, her eyes swimming with emotions he didn’t want to feel, and he swore when he felt the echo of them inside his own head anyway.

“In me, Peter,” she breathed. “I need to feel you inside me.” Her legs curled around his waist and pulled him to her, the head of his cock rubbing against her slick fold.

“Christ, Leslie,” he groaned and looked down into her stunningly beautiful face. Her eyes were shimmering with wetness, and as he watched one lone tear slipped down her cheek.

It gutted him.

And he went instantly limp. Pushing away from her violently, Peter leapt off the bed, panic and other feelings he couldn’t name pummeling him. He was so overwhelmed by the onslaught that he couldn’t tell one from the other. They came rushing at him so fast. All he knew was that he had to get out of there, now.

“What is it, Peter?” she asked as she sat up on her elbows, her incredible breasts on full display. Concern cut through her arousal and softened her voice.

But he couldn’t see, couldn’t think.

Ignoring her, he frantically searched for his clothes scattered across the floor. “Nothing.”

Confusion clouded her eyes. “Where are you going? What happened?” And then the words that killed him, “Don’t you want me?”

His throat squeezed shut and he couldn’t speak. So he just stood there like a jackass, staring at her until understanding dawned and her face crumpled.

“You don’t want me.” It was a statement, not a question.

Denial swirled inside him, and though he wanted to say something to reassure her that it wasn’t her, it was him, he couldn’t. So he just shrugged, not knowing what else to do.

She looked him right in the eyes and burst into tears. The hot, raging tears of a person who had reached the brink of what she could handle emotionally. She fell apart in front of him, sobs wracking her chest like they were being torn out of her from some very deep place, and Peter couldn’t handle it. Watching Leslie Cutter lose it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Leslie,” he said hoarsely, desperately.

But she wasn’t listening. She was curled up in the center of his bed crying harder than any person should ever have to. And seeing her like that made his heart squeeze tight, made him want to go to her and soothe the raging tide of her sorrow.

But he didn’t know how. “Leslie,” he whispered raggedly again.

Her head whipped up, her hair a tangled mess around her anguished face. Bitter eyes stared him down, unblinking. Then she jumped off the bed, grabbed up her clothes, and rounded on him, shaking.

“Fuck you, Peter.”

Without a backward glance she ran from the hotel room.

And she took a part of his heart with her.

Present Day

PETER KOWALSKIN LOOKED through the peephole in his front door and grinned. Leslie Cutter stood on the other side, her ever-cool exterior two steps away from melting. A frown struggled to form between her perfectly groomed brows and almost succeeded.

Almost. “Open up, Kowalskin.”

His crappy day had suddenly gotten a whole lot better.

A moment ticked by while he considered whether or not to make her suffer a little and work for it. The urge to give her a hard time was almost irresistible. Few things in life were as much fun as ruffling the woman’s feathers.