My first Red Bull was kicking in, and I was on my third pick. Craft gave me a list of first basemen.
“How many are there?” I asked, flipping through the booklet.
“A lot,” he teased. “I’d pick one from the third page.”
I raised a brow. “You have a name in mind?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever one you think is best.”
I sighed, flipping through the magazine. This guy had high numbers. “How about, Derek Outerman?”
Cody bobbed his head to the side. “Not a bad choice.”
I gave him a wide smile.
Craft stood up from the floor and held his hand out to me once Cody went on to the next pick. “Come here, I want to show you something.”
I looked around the room and all of the men had their noses in their booklets of players. Taking his hand, he pulled me from the seat and back toward the bedroom.
I resisted when we reached the archway. “Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?”
His brows pinched together, then he searched the ceiling. “I told you I wanted to show you something.”
I glanced down at his jeans. “I’ve already seen it.”
He shook his head, biting his lip to hold in his laughter. “Come on, dirty mind. I want to show you why I bought this place.”
“It’s yours?”
He nodded, snatching my hand in his and tugging me down the hallway.
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“Because it’s not completely mine. Cody and I share the profit. He’s re-modeling while I’m managing tenants. We’re both still arguing who gets to keep this place.”
“Don’t you live in the Pinnacle building? On West Lake Ave?”
He opened a door off another room that lead to a tiny porch with a spiral stairwell outside. The lively city sounds of alarms and honking cars was below us. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Are you stalking me?”
I frowned at him. “I order your dry cleaning every Friday.”
His thumb stroked his chin. “That’s right.”
I looked down, realizing we were higher up than I thought.
“What’s wrong, afraid of heights?”
I shook my head and bypassed him, climbing the narrow stairway with easy. He followed me.
“Stop staring at my ass,” I warned playfully.
“Is that why you went in front of me? To accuse me of looking?”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Maybe I wanted you to.”
His lip quirked upward. He was so damn handsome when he smiled at me like that. I had to turn back around and run up the stairs. I couldn’t let his smile affect me so easily.
He was hot on my heels, just barely beating me to the top step.
I couldn’t stop myself from snickering. I was acting like a teenager wanting to be pursued by the popular boy.
Apparently at one point the owner used this space. It had been decorated, and in its prime, it was probably beautiful. But like the outside of the house, it was worn and tattered. A marble decorative fountain was in the center, covered in weeds and unkempt trim. The decorative brick on the ground was bumpy and filled with weeds. I didn’t know so much plant life could live on top of a building.
The horizon of the city skyline was in our view, lights of all kinds keeping the city alive in the still of the night. We could see everything the city had to offer from up here. I’d never been on a rooftop like this. Heights aren’t my thing.
Craft called me over to the other side of the rooftop. “This is why I bought the property.”
Following his voice, I passed an overgrown grouping of planters and came to him. Both his hands were on a railing, looking out to the horizon.
I stood next to him, careful to keep my distance from the edge. I didn’t trust the rickety railing that once was black but was now half rusted.
“I’ve got the perfect view.”
My gaze followed his. “The baseball field?”
A smile formed on his face. “Yes. I love the A’s. I have season tickets.”
“If you have season tickets, then why bother buying a place where you can see the games?”
His eyes fell to the ground, his jaw tensing. The energy in the air thickened between us while he stood there, processing my question. Whatever reason it was, it wasn’t because he hadn’t thought of it. There was more to why he bought this place.
He dropped his hands from the railing, one finding his pocket and the other rubbed the back of his neck.
“You don’t have to tell me.” The sight of Craft being vulnerable should have brought me joy, but it made me want to comfort him.
He met my gaze. “I watched the games with my dad from this rooftop.”
“So, you lived here when you were younger?”
He grimaced. “Not exactly. We lived on the other side of town. An older couple lived here.”
“How did you watch the games then?”
His eyes lit up. “They went to bed at seven, so we’d sneak up here by the fire escape.”
I matched his smile. “That’s very bold of you, Mr. Craft.”
His charming grin turned devious. Taking one long stride toward me, murmured, “You of all people know I like to take risks.”
My heart pounded faster with his proximity. The last time he looked at me like this, he had my panties pulled to the side.
My hand found his pec, flexing against the hard muscle. “You only take risks if it’ll make you money.”
He smirked. “Why yes, that is correct, Ms. Neely.”
Both his hands found my jaw, tilting my face so he could go in for the kill. I didn’t fight his advancements. I’d already had sex with him, what other shenanigans could we get into? I’d deal with my guilty conscious Sunday night, and probably for the rest of my time at Craft Marketing. For now, I was going to give into my desire. Especially when he wasn’t being an asshole.
I gripped his hair, tugging on it, turning his head so I could dive my tongue into his mouth. He groaned, letting go of my jaw and wrapping both his arms around my waist.
“You like to pull hair, don’t you?” He breathed, nipping at my bottom lip.
I licked the seam of his mouth, grabbing another handful. “Maybe.”
He kissed me harder, his own hand fisting my hair. My lips popped, turning into a moan from the yank of his hand.
His teeth sparkled. “You like it, too.” Finding my jaw with his mouth, he planted hot, opened mouth kisses down my neck, pulling my tank top strap to the side so he could travel across my bare shoulder. The trail of wet tingled along my skin, the cool night air intensifying the sensitivity.
Slyly, his hand crept underneath my tank top from the front, lifting it so my waist was exposed. He stopped at the edge of my bra, his thumb brushing above the under wire. My core tingled, eager for his hand to wander higher.
Removing his mouth from my skin, he straightened, caressing the side of my neck with his other hand. My eyes were closed, anticipating his next move. When I opened them, he was staring down at me, his jaw tense.
I dropped my hands from the back of his head. “What’s wrong?”
He searched my face, then shook his head, his mouth finding mine again.
This time, it wasn’t tender. It was passionate, as if he was starved for me. I stumbled backward from the intensity, but he snatched me back to him with his arm, squeezing me to his chest as he kissed me with reckless abandonment.
He walked backward, tugging me with him, our mouths still sealed together. He backed into a bench, sitting down and forcing my legs on either side of his lap, straddling him. His cock was strained by his pants, teasing my center now, and I ground my hips downward, loving the friction.
“Take your tank top off,” he demanded, grasping the hem and pulling it up to my armpits.
I trembled while he maneuvered it over the top of my head, leaving me in only my jeans, shoes, and bra.
His tongue traced the outline of my cleavage, both his hands kneading each breast. It felt amazing. How did this man know just the right amount of pressure to apply to my body? His hands were like magic, bringing my entire body to life with the perfect touch.
“Show me your tits,” he said through heavy breaths. His pupils were dark. He was morphing into the alpha, the man who sat behind the most powerful desk in the marketing world. The vulnerable man talking about his father was no longer here.
Chills ran up and down my spine from the deep, sultry voice making commands. “Ask nicely,” I goaded, leaning backward so he could get a full view.
He frowned. “So only you get to be demanding?”
I raised a brow at him. “If you don’t ask nicely, you won’t get to see.”
“No?” His hand pulled on the button of my jeans. “I think I know how to make you say and do whatever I want.”
Goose bumps trailed down my arms. My body was going wild for his demands, but testing him made the experience all the more exciting.
Once my zipper was down, his hand was underneath my jeans and underwear, softly making circles around my sensitive nub. I groaned in delight, using his thighs as support so I could angle my body backward.
His free hand snaked around my waist, creeping up my spine and unlatching my bra. It fell down my arms and across my stomach, freeing my breasts for him to see.
I didn’t even care. The bit of breeze felt marvelous on my nipples.
He was smirking at me. The fucker got what he wanted, and I didn’t have a coherent word to argue with him. Not while his hand was working over the most sensitive part of my body.
My hips began to move in sync with his hand, my whole body gyrating to the movement of his thumb.
“You like it this way, don’t you?” He breathed, watching my boobs bounce with my movements.
“I’ve still had better,” I teased. He pinched my clit, and I bit the inside of my cheek, expecting pain, but instead found immense pleasure.
“From my dick.” His thumb increased in speed now, showing no restraint or mercy. I ground my hips frantically with his rhythm, ready to burst yet again.
“You wish it were my cock right now, don’t you?” He muttered. “Crammed into your tight hole?”
“Yes!” I shouted, the flood of ecstasy bursting in a mad rush. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Both his hands found my hips, stilling me while I rode out in euphoria. My chest heaved, my breasts still feeling heavy with each breath.
While the earthquake inside of me still erupted, Craft’s mouth found one nipple, sucking and licking, then nuzzling between each breast before moving to the other side.
I clung to his hair, the boiling inside of me still overflowing. Instead of simmering to still water, the ache for release was building again.
Scooting forward on his lap, I took control, guiding his mouth back to mine, clawing at his shirt. He wanted to see and play with my boobs? Well, I wanted the full experience, too.
“Take this off,” I commanded, fisting the fabric in my hands.
“I don’t think I can do that, sweetheart,” he teased, holding my hips still.
The air in my lungs fought while I scowled down at him. “Excuse me?”
His smile was filled with mirth. “We don’t have time to take our clothes off, not this time.”
My face scrunched together in frustration. Covering my breasts, I grumbled. “But it’s okay to take off my shirt?”
He bit the side of his lip.
I snorted, shoving his shoulder, then hopping off of him, covering my chest from his view.
“Delayed gratification,” he said evenly, standing from the bench. I bent down to pick up my bra, turning away from him to snap the clasp. I didn’t want him to watch me, especially after he’d denied going further.
How did this happen? Earlier in the day, I thought I had him in my control, suddenly the tables had turned. The empty feeling in my gut mocked me for letting him touch me so easily. What happened to my self-control?
“Here,” he was standing behind me, holding my tank on the tip top of his finger. I snatched it from him, avoiding making eye-contact.
He chuckled. “What’s got you so heated? If anything I figured you’d be more relaxed.”
The amusement in his voice pissed me off.
I yanked the tank top over my head and shoved it down my waist, rapidly running my fingers through my hair. “Don’t be a dick.”
His hands found his chest. “How am I being a dick?”
I scowled at him. “You’re always a dick!”
His brows narrowed, any sense of humor was gone from his face. “Only when I have to be. I’ve been nothing but pleasant with you all evening.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s a long shot.”
“Pretty sure you’ve had more orgasms today than you’ve had all year.”
My lids popped open. “Excuse me?”
He was being cocky now. This was the Craft I was used to being around. The man who didn’t give a crap if he offended someone by speaking his mind.
“I know you haven’t had any significant others, and I know how you spend your evenings.”
“What exactly are you implying?”
He raised his chin. “Going to the bar every other Friday with work associates isn’t how you’re going to meet people.”
“I go out more than that,” I laughed, although that was a lie.
“The gym doesn’t count. Neither does the grocery store.”
I took a step back. The fucker was reading my mind. “So, people don’t normally have orgasms in public.”
“I meant from a real person. Not some battery operated vibrator.”
“Tell me,” he purred, ignoring my rising anger and taking a step toward me. “How many other men have been in your life?”
I shook my head, baffled with the direction this conversation was going. I was mad at him, and he was by passing my irritation with him. “That’s none of your business.”
“Is there someone now?”
My jaw dropped. “Do you really think I’d screw around with you if I were with someone?”
He shrugged his shoulders, and the root of my anger surfaced.
I stuck my finger at his chest, poking him hard. “Just because you’re okay with fucking every leggy blonde that walks into your office doesn’t mean I share the same standards. I actually give a damn about who I sleep with!”
He raised a brow. “So you care about me?”
My mouth clamped shut. I didn’t have a response to that, at least not one I understood. Not wanting to put up with his cocky attitude anymore, I turned on my heels and headed for the fire exit.