Chapter Five
Connor
Pleasure burst out from inside me, like a bright sun flaring hot in pulses, and all because of Gia. I knew that, but I was still immersed in the happiness of it. Too drenched in the light to find her.
But then it dimmed, as it always did. My hand relaxed, my shoulders drooped. Weakness invaded, and I opened my eyes to see her. Naked except for her panties. Flushed from her own orgasm, with her hair in a messy ponytail that I found utterly charming. But what held my attention was her expression as she watched me. There was simple, clear happiness in her eyes as they met mine.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmured.
I ought to be insulted. Guys weren’t beautiful, but the way she said it made me heat with pleasure.
“You, too,” I rasped, and I meant it.
And there went the last of the afterglow, as we both descended into awkward silence. I had to clean up. People were going to come looking for us soon. And though this had been the hottest sexual experience of my life, I didn’t exactly want to date her. She was a complication that I didn’t need. And yet, when she’d watched me at batting practice, I couldn’t think of anything but plunging myself balls deep inside her.
I broke first, my thoughts darkening by the second, and looked away from her.
I moved toward the counter, and as I began to clean up, I thought she would too. Instead, she settled her hip on the sink, folded her arms beneath her breasts and just watched me, a speculative look on her face.
I didn’t want to look at her, but it was hard not to. She was right there, all plump and curvy. She brushed her hair from her eyes, and her ponytail came tumbling down. Lush dark curls dropped to her shoulders and coiled around her breasts without quite hiding her nipples. I was efficient with what I was doing, but my attention was riveted on the sight of her.
A normal man would have preened, but I didn’t like the scrutiny. Not when I hadn’t a clue what the woman was thinking. Her bright brown eyes seemed to dance with intelligence, but she never said a word.
“What?” I asked.
“What, what?” she countered in a mischievous tone.
“You’re staring.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“So are you, but I’m not staring.”
She giggled, and the sound had a magical quality to it. “Maybe I’m happy and don’t want it to end just yet.”
I envied her that, so I nodded and finished cleaning up. Pulling up my pants, I put everything back in place. All neat and tidy. Then I turned and faced her.
Wow, nearly naked Gia—full frontal—was a gut-punch of glory. My hands twitched with the need to touch her. My mouth watered, and my libido surged again. It was all I could do to stand there and not go to her. I saw now that she was less casual about her pose than she pretended. She was chewing on her lips, and her chest was starting to flush.
“Do you need help getting dressed?” She flashed me a confused look, and I gestured to her dress. “Zipping up.”
“No, I’ve got it. But I’m wondering what happens now. Are you going to ask me out to dinner or something?” Was there a hopeful note in her tone? I couldn’t tell.
“Would you say yes?”
Her lips curved. “Don’t know. Depends on how you ask.”
Right. I took a deep breath, but I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t expose myself to more of Gia until I figured out how I felt about what we’d just done, what I still wanted to do. I was too vulnerable to her. All she’d done was watch me at batting practice, and look what had happened. I’d broken two of my cardinal rules—no sex at work, and no coworker sex at all.
But she was looking at me, her expression tightening the longer I said nothing. I didn’t want to hurt her, but there was no way I was going to do more with her without a game plan of some sort, a way forward that wasn’t a minefield of disasters.
So I said nothing, and in the end, she sighed. “Okay,” she said as she reached for her bra. Gia in motion was a feast for the eyes, and I couldn’t look away. “Might as well get back to work. Tell me how you’re feeling, about your hitting goals, I mean. Does practicing like this hurt your knees?”
I stared at her, my mind so absorbed with the movement of her body that I couldn’t process her words. But when they finally sank in, I gaped at her.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She frowned as she straightened up. “Getting dressed.”
“The questions. Why would you ask me those things?”
Her brows raised. “Because I’m writing the articles on you and need the answers.”
I shook my head. “I can’t answer those questions. Not after this. Not…”
“Not after what? Fun times in the women’s bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “So I can’t think of you as the press now. You’re in a different place in my brain.” I had these neat categories in my mind, places where people fit: coworker, journalist, girlfriend, family. Gia never stayed where I put her. She was always pushing the boundaries, even in the quiet of my own head. I blamed that stupid, wonderful New Year’s Eve kiss. From that moment on, she’d refused to settle into any one place. Hell, she’d even become part of my pre-game ritual—my lucky charm—even if she had no idea that I had to see her face before I played.
“Too bad.” She stepped into her dress and wriggled it up over her hips. Her breasts were back in the copper lace, but they were still plump, delicious mounds. “I don’t know what this is, Connor. It confuses me, and you’re not explaining.”
Well, that made two of us, because she wasn’t exactly spilling her inner thoughts, either.
“So we’re going to table this encounter,” she continued. “I’m going to file it away in my mind under Awesome. I really liked it, Connor. Though, God knows, I’m not sure what to do about that, you being a teammate and all.”
“Office relationships are a terrible idea,” I said. And yes, we weren’t in the typical office, but the concept still fit. And though there wasn’t a written rule saying we couldn’t fraternize, it was against my personal code of conduct. The idea that we’d be forced into even closer contact made my body tingle, and I wasn’t at all sure I liked it.
“Relationships are fine. Romance is something different.”
I arched a brow. “I think this qualifies as…” I couldn’t even say the word “romance.” We’d just had hot finger-fucking. She waited, clearly expecting me to finish my sentence, and when I didn’t, her lips pursed in a tight frown.
“Don’t stop now, Connor. What is this?”
I swallowed. “You tell me.”
She snorted and whipped her arms around her back as she struggled with the zipper. That, at least, was something I could do. I moved behind her and grabbed the zipper. I even managed to pull it up in a relatively efficient way. But I also couldn’t stop myself from trailing a knuckle up her creamy flesh, or feeling the bump of her shoulder blade and the ripples of her spine. It was her skin, her body, and I was touching it, however briefly.
I heard her breath catch at my caress. Felt her body still and knew that she was stretching up on her toes as if to prolong the moment. And then, at the very top of the zipper, I paused. I wanted to press a kiss to the base of her neck, to lick her there and everywhere else, as I pulled the zipper back down.
There were so many things I wanted, but as I stood there fighting my hunger, she dropped back down onto her heels. And then, a breath later, she stepped back and turned to face me. Her eyes were shrouded, her lips wet and plump as if she’d been chewing on them.
“Gia—” I said, but she cut me off.
“I don’t know what I think about this,” she said. “But I do know what I think about my job. So answer the question, Connor. How do you feel about your hitting average?”
I hated this, and I hated her for forcing me to think about baseball after what we’d just done. Especially when I wanted nothing more than to do it again. With condoms and in a bed.
“I’m not doing this with you,” I said, my voice loud in the bathroom. “Find a different reporter. A male one.”
Her brows shot up at that. “Because women can’t write about baseball?”
I didn’t care if the reporter was a woman, a man, or an alien from Alpha Centauri. It just couldn’t be her. “Because a guy won’t seduce me into the bathroom.”
That was the wrong thing to say. I didn’t mean that she’d acted like some black widow seductress or anything. It was just that I couldn’t think straight around her, let alone improve my hitting. But it was too late to take the words back. And from the hard expression in her eyes, it was too late to make amends. So instead of trying to explain myself, I changed course.
“Why the hell are you a publicist, anyway?” I asked.
“What?”
“You’re smart and beautiful. You could do anything. Why this?”
“Because I like it? Because I’m good at it?”
“You’re spending your life creating lies.”
She gaped at me, but it didn’t take long for her to rally. “They’re not lies,” she snapped. “They’re stories. About real people.”
I folded my arms. She’d just proven my point. “Stories,” I echoed.
“Not lies!”
I shook my head. “The truth matters, Gia. And what you do is create spin.” I gestured at the entire stadium. “About the Bobcats and the players. About what we’re going to do.” I pitched my voice to mock her. “We’re heading for the pennant. Then straight on to the World Series. Everything’s looking great.”
“You are heading for the pennant! And everything does—”
“Look great? Maybe Rob’s hitting well, but our pitching is hit or miss. Jake can catch a gnat on speed, but his head isn’t in the game right now. And if he hurts Ellie, I’ll break him in half. How will our chances look if I get arrested for murder?”
She stared at me. “You can’t possibly equate marketing with lying.”
I folded my arms across my chest. Shading the truth was still lying. Creating a false image of a man was still false. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that promotion was part of the world. But I could still wish that the world was a better place. Or that the most amazing woman I knew did something else for a living. Anything else.
But those were the breaks. And I could tell from Gia’s expression that my hard line wasn’t sitting well with her.
“I am not quitting my job just because you’re messed up in the head.” Then she tugged her dress smartly into place. “And I’m not going to stop writing the articles just because you’re an ass.”
“I’m not going to talk to you. You can’t write anything if I don’t talk.”
She flicked her fingers at me and set her other hand on her hip. “According to you, it’s all lies, anyway. I’ll just make some shit up.”
I snorted. “Do it, and I’ll sue.” It was a ridiculous claim, but at that moment, I believed it. No, I wasn’t thinking logically. Some part of me knew that. But the rest of me was hell-bent on thwarting her, in any way possible.
She shook her head. In truth, her whole body shook. “You are some piece of work, Connor. One minute you’re knuckle-deep inside me, and the next, you’re threatening to sue! Are you trying to get me fired?”
I pulled back. “I’m trying to show you that what you’re doing—this whole path you’re on—won’t work. Not for you. You’re too good for it.”
She gaped at me, and who could blame her? I wasn’t making any sense. And I sure as hell wasn’t someone who could tell her what to do with her life. But I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. And while I was fighting for a way to explain my words, she just glared at me, a muscle in her jaw pulsing with fury.
Then she spoke, her voice vibrating with anger. “I’ll tell you what I’m too good for,” she said. “You. I deserve way more than an arrogant, asshole of a jock!” And with that, she whipped around me and stalked out the bathroom door.