She hurt with wanting so much. All of him.
He thrust his muscular thigh between hers and rocked his pelvis against her in slow, rough moves. And she just let him. He muttered between kisses. Talking dirty—telling her what he knew she wanted him to do. Turning her on in a way she never would have expected.
More. But she didn’t ask, didn’t move…it was all she could do to stay upright.
…
Brake, brake, brake.
Joe lifted his head and silently regarded her. What had started as a tease was out of hand; he was seconds from seeing through a raging fuck-fest. He knew he should pull her away from the door so he could open it and steer them both back to the crowded bar. It was that or pull her pants to her thighs, whip out his cock, and shove it inside her in the next two seconds. So not the smooth moves he was used to. What was with this sudden psycho urge to screw her ASAP? He never felt this out-of-control hot and hard for a woman. Sex had always come carefree and easy and fun. That’s how he liked it. Wanted it. Would have it.
Just for fun.
He took what was offered, never pushed for more. He sure as hell was pushing now—imprisoning her, using every touch to make her want him. Demanding she admit it and offer—what? More than what he was used to?
This driving urge was all more than he was used to.
But seeing that guy Pete eat her with his eyes? Standing so close to her? He’d been so damn obvious about what he wanted to do.
No matter that it was exactly what Joe wanted to do. He wasn’t going to stand for another guy offering it. No, if Abbi wanted to practice her moves, then he was going to be her sparring partner.
He’d had to stake his claim. But shit, that had escalated in a moment he hadn’t originally intended. At least, not so soon. And now? Lust was rampaging through him. The things he wanted to do—now, hard, fast, again.
She’d gone off like a firecracker in less than five. Watching her come? Watching her eyes glaze and her lips part? Hearing her breathless little sigh?
Her compliance turned him on so tight he was about to burst. Somehow she’d unleashed a temptation he didn’t think he could resist.
When had he ever wanted a woman like this? Until now he’d just taken what a woman offered—taken less. A fuck or five and a wave good-bye.
But Abbi? He wanted to push her into letting him do anything…
His cock strained harder against his jeans. His body screamed to be buried in her tight, wet heat. The want in his gut was so bad, he hurt worse than when he’d fallen and his bone had smashed through muscle and skin on live TV.
He wanted her too bad.
He should walk away. Joe always had to be able to walk away. He could take it or leave it. Anything. He needed nothing from no one. Ever.
But for the life of him, he couldn’t peel his hands from where they pressed against the door on either side of her head.
Imprisoning her.
A door slammed nearby. A shout of laughter echoed even louder as a bunch of supporters walked right by the room they were using. Hell, they were at a baseball game with thousands of other people, hardly out of public view, and he was almost at the point of fucking her. He loved sex, but he wasn’t an exhibitionist.
None of this was Joe’s usual modus operandi. He might play but he didn’t risk public displays of lust. Maybe it was from too many years in the sports media and all the training from team management, warning them to avoid groupie trouble. Clearly he’d been working too hard recently and needed a blowout.
She didn’t deserve to be taken in such an out-of-control fashion. It’d be over in less than five seconds the way he was feeling. He’d never been so out of control. Never been so angry. Never been so turned on. Never wanted a woman so badly.
But Abbi deserved better.
Fuck.
This should be slower. Less intense. Was she really ready for this kind of casual screw, even with that wannabe vixen cloak and spurt of sassy talk? Least he could do was hit pause and double-check. And gain some control.
But before his very eyes she was retreating. He straightened, lowered his arms to his sides. She visibly pulled herself together and fixed her clothes, stepping to the side now that he’d backed off.
“You wanna check out the game?” he asked, meaning whatever kind of game she wanted. He wanted to see what she’d say—whether she could maintain that playful talk.
But she didn’t say anything. She’d reverted to shy silence. Hell, she even blushed.
“Come on,” he said, suddenly irritated with himself because he shouldn’t care.
But he did.
They walked out into the corridor, smack into the middle of a crowd of hyped baseball supporters.
“Hey, it’s Joe Fuller!”
He tensed. He’d long since learned that while die-hard sports fans had their favorite sports, they liked talking any kind of sport. And they liked nothing more than talking sport to a pro. Even an ex-pro like him.