muscles. Every last one of them.

Why? Because she could, damn it. And because this morning as she’d walked into that courtroom she’d been absolutely sure she was never going to see the light of day again.

The sound of Peter clearing his throat drew her attention. “Your brother sent me instead. He’s been, um, detained.”

Leslie snorted again. She knew exactly what—or rather who—had detained him. No doubt she had legs up to her chin and breasts like over-full water balloons. “So I’m s’posed to thank you in his place?”

The only reason she was in the expensive hotel with its glittering chandeliers and pink fresco walls in the first place—instead of curled up at home with a box of macaroons and a whole lot of tissue—was to give her brother a giant hug for helping her out in her time of crisis.

Looked like she’d wasted her time.

The ballplayer chuckled. “You can thank me anytime you want.” The way he said it made giving thanks sound dirty.

Her gaze roamed over his body once again. Maybe she would thank him. Because dirty was good. It was distracting.

She just bet that Pete, with his badass looks and rock-hard body, could be one hell of a distraction.

Why not let him?

Spinning suddenly on her barstool, Leslie reached out and grabbed a handful of his white T-shirt, thoroughly enjoying the surprised look on his rugged face. Before he could open his mouth to speak she leaned off her stool and planted her lips full on his.

The zing of connection shocked her.

Sliding from the stool like water from a glass, Leslie let go of his shirt and wrapped both arms around his neck as she landed in his lap. She kissed him hard and deep, feeling the pain melt away with every passing second her lips were on his.

This was so much better than getting drunk.

Yanking back, Leslie took in his heated, intense expression. “You’ll do.”

His eyes narrowed. “Care to elaborate on that?”

Did she?

Nope. She was going to show him instead. That way she could ignore the hollow ache in the center of her chest for a few hours and pretend it didn’t exist. She could pretend she wasn’t on the verge of breaking down. “This is your one chance, Peter. Make it count.”

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.

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