Winner Takes All (A Full Length Erotic Romance Novel) (6 page)

Sasha drew a deep and calming breath. “What are you doing here, James?
How did you find me?”

He laughed at her again. “It’s not hard to find an amateur like you,
baby girl. Especially if you got connections. And I got connections.”

Shit!
Five years ago, she’d thought she was being so thorough.
So careful. Her brother disappearing into the system had seemed the perfect
opportunity for her to disappear from that old life and leave the wreckage of
her past behind.

Her brother leaned back into her sofa, ankles crossed as he blew smoke
up at the ceiling. His mouth twisted into a cruel smile as he looked her.

“I was watching the races a couple of weeks ago when I saw you on the
TV. Can you imagine? I damn near fell out of my seat.” James laughed. But it
was that fake laugh of his. He was far from amused. If anything he looked
vicious, angry that she’d found success while he hadn’t. “I was happy for you,
little sis. You were getting all that loot and riding for those fucking rich
bitches.”

He laughed again, probably imagining money raining down on her from
some rich woman’s diamond-studded purse. Sasha ground her teeth together, but
said nothing.

“When I heard you were riding in the Kentucky Derby, I made like a
bullet and came up straight up here from Florida,” James continued. “This whole
town is hot for this horserace, so I figured no matter if you came in first or
last, you’d do pretty good.” He paused to look at her, as if re-evaluating her
prior worth. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you up there on top of the winner,
riding and waving at the crowd like a fucking queen.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m
your brother, right? It only makes sense for me to come and congratulate you on
your good luck.”

Sasha flexed her fingers as she waited for the other shoe to drop. With
her brother, there was always something else. Usually something dangerous and
unpleasant for her.

He plucked a piece of tobacco from his tongue, looked down at it. Wiped
it on her sofa. “We’re family, right? So I figure me being fresh out of the
clink and all, I need some help. A cushion to take me through the first few
months.” James looked at her expectantly.

“No
fucking
way.” She growled the words at him, her fists
shaking in fury.

How dare he expect help from her when he was just like all the others
ganging up on her as a child to make her life hell? Where was all his talk of
brotherly love and family loyalty when he was beating on her? When he was
encouraging his disgusting little friends to fondle her and pay him for the
privilege.

“Get out of my fucking apartment, you asshole! I wouldn’t give you a
dime for the fucking donation box.”

“Oh, really?” Her brother’s gaze hardened even more. He drew deeply on
his cigarette then ground it out on the arm of the sofa.

Sasha winced as the smell of burning fabric filled her nostrils. Unable
to take it anymore, she flew across the room, slapping the cigarette out of her
brother’s hand. He grabbed her wrists as the dead cigarette fell to the floor.

“Fuck off!”

She shouted the words in his face, the anger lashing through her. Her
face was hot. Her belly clenched and hard. Sasha kneed James in the stomach and
twisted away from him. But he followed, tripping her with a sudden
sweep of
his legs. She slammed into the hardwood
with a sharp cry, elbow
already flying up to dig into his throat. He gasped but dropped his body down
on top of her, sitting on her stomach, his hands pinning her shoulders to the
floor.

“You’re damn well going to pay whatever I tell you!” he shouted. His
breath blew hot and rank against her cheek. “If you don’t, I’ll tell all these
rich motherfuckers who you really are. I’ll fucking show them pictures of what
you came from. I’ll parade in front of them like a fucking beauty queen and
tell them you and me are the
same
.” He slammed her shoulders into the
floor. “You hear me, bitch?!”

She struggled in his grip, slamming her knees into his back. “Go
fuck—!”

A sharp knock on the door cut off her words. She stiffened.
Immediately, James released her, jumped to his feet to sit back on the couch.
His face was red. The beginnings of a bruise rose on his pale skin. A hole
gaped at the front of his t-shirt where Sasha had torn it in her rage. She felt
a brief flare of satisfaction that she’d damaged him somehow. Then almost as
quickly, she felt shame. She hated what he turned her into. She hated it.

Breathing heavily from their confrontation, she went to the door and
looked through the peephole. She drew a breath of surprise. It was Damien
Taylor. She fought a heady feeling of relief at his presence. She would have
been happy to see the devil himself if that meant saving her from her brother’s
brutality, she told herself.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Mr. Taylor,” she called to him through
the door.

Through the peephole, she saw his head jerk up at the sound of her
voice. Was it her imagination or did he look hurt? No, it had to be her
imagination. That beautiful mouth of his hardened.

“But, I want to talk with you,” he said. “And I have your purse.”

Shit.

After a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door. The peephole had
muted his appeal. In her doorway and in the flesh, he was undeniably gorgeous.
Undeniable. From the top of his neatly trimmed blond hair to his loafered feet,
he was the singularly most appealing man she’d ever slept with. Or met. Or ever
seen. He smelled of aftershave and toothpaste, an expensive aloe soap. His
gorgeous body that she’d seen naked what now felt like weeks ago was clad in a
white dress shirt and dark designer jeans. She clenched her fists against the
sudden need to touch him, to reacquaint herself with the muscled heat of his
chest she’d felt last night.

Damien’s blue eyes fastened on the motion. He took a single step toward
her. And Sasha drew in another breath of his clean masculinity.

Suddenly, she was conscious of not having taken a shower. Of her
brother’s grubby presence in her apartment. She opened her mouth to demand her
purse, but Damien neatly slipped into her apartment. At the sight of James, his
eyebrow arched in question. But he said nothing.

“This isn’t really a good time,” she said.

“I’ll wait,” Damien countered.

She turned to her brother who was watching her and Damien with a
calculating look. For a moment, she tried to see him through Damien’s eyes. His
faded and ripped t-shirt. The thrift store jeans that were too big for his
skinny body. His hair still damp from the shower and sticking up in all
directions from their fight. As if reading her mind, James bared his teeth at
her in what could have passed for a smile. He bent down and picked up his
duffel bag.

“I’ll call you soon, Sasha.” His voice was low and intent, promising
another visit. Whether or not she wanted one.

Her brother slipped behind Damien then, after throwing her another
leering grin behind her boss’s back, left the apartment, slamming the door
behind him. The sound of the slam reverberated like a gunshot through the
apartment. Sasha clenched her jaw but couldn’t stop the sigh of relief from
whistling past her teeth.

Then she turned to face Damien, knowing that she wouldn’t like whatever
it was that he came to say.

Damien looked at her with his intense blue eyes, watching her every
move but saying nothing until the silence stretched and grew, nearly
suffocating in its size. Sasha cleared her throat.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure. Mineral water, if you have it. Orange juice, if you don’t.”

She nodded and walked to the kitchen, very aware of his presence in her
small apartment. He dropped her purse on the coffee table and followed her into
the kitchen, his steps quiet and graceful.

“I was disappointed that you had to leave my house so soon,” he said.

Sasha went to the fridge and took out two small bottles of Perrier.
Fetched a glass from the cupboard for Damien but none for herself.

“I thought it was best for me to go,” she said.

She passed him a bottle of water and a glass then stood by the counter
in the small kitchen while he stood near the fridge barely three feet away. He
put the empty glass on the counter, unscrewed the top and put the bottle to his
mouth.

Sexy, sexy man.
Her brain supplied the thought while she stared
at his mouth that was sucking on the bottle. She vividly remembered the feel of
his mouth on her nipples.

“Why? Didn’t you enjoy yourself last night?” An eyebrow rose, a
suggestion that he already knew the answer to his own question.

Sasha briefly thought of denying it. But remembering how incredibly
turned on she had been, how wet, how she had alternately whispered and screamed
his name as he made love to her, she realized here was no denying her reaction.
No denying that she had thoroughly enjoyed him last night. Even now, her body
swelled and made the way for him, eager to join with him again. She cleared her
throat and swallowed. A blush colored her cheeks.

“Yes. I did,” she said. “You know I did.”

She touched the cold bottle of mineral water, tracing a finger through
the condensation. Even with the admission still seasoning the air between them,
she couldn’t look at Damien. She heard the dull thud as he put his water on the
kitchen counter, felt him coming close to her.

“Then why not indulge ourselves again. I had…an incredible time.” He
settled a hand lightly on her elbow, and that touch burned. “Your mouth is so
sexy,” he murmured. “All morning I’ve been thinking about how it would feel on
my cock.”

Against her will, Sasha’s eyes dropped to the crotch of Damien’s jeans.
She licked her lips. He groaned softly. Settled closer to her until his hips
brushed hers. He was already hard. She stepped back. And stumbled into the edge
of the counter. He followed with the heat of his body, his scent.

“No. No. I can’t.” But God, she wished that she could. She took a deep
breath.

“Why not?”

“Please…” She pressed her palms against his chest, aware more than ever
of that gesture as a one of femininity, of submission. “I can’t—” She took a
deep breath. “I can’t think when you’re so close.” She licked her lips aware
that his eyes fastened on her mouth. Her body screamed to be closer to him, to
bend underneath his will, to feel the strength under his and scream his name
until she was hoarse.

His mouth tilted at the corners. After another flickering look at her
mouth, he stepped back until he stood on the other side of the small kitchen.
Sasha took a deep breath.

“I’m very tempted by you,” she said. “You’d tempt the most sainted
angel in heaven to sink down into sin with you. And I’m far from an angel.”
Sasha bit the inside of her cheek. “But I can’t do this with you. I’ve worked
hard to get to where I am. Already, as the only female jockey at Taylor
Stables, people have been spreading rumors that I slept with you or with Linc
to get this position. Finally, after this Derby win with Impact, I have a solid
reputation. I don’t want to ruin it. I have a lot to lose in this; you don’t.”

Damien held the Perrier bottle in his hand, the condensation dripping
around his fingers. “But wasn’t the sex worth it? It was magical between us.
Tell me I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Admit it. You loved everything we
did and want to do it again.” A hint of something lurked in his eyes. A trace
of uncertainty even as his confident words faded away in the small kitchen.

She shivered at the rough tone in his voice. It was the same tone he’d
used with her last night as he’d ordered her to touch herself, as he commanded
her to come for him. Sasha squeezed her thighs together, trying to tamp down
her mounting arousal. She couldn’t give in to him again. She’d only screw
herself if she allowed him to fuck her again.

“No amount of good sex is worth the reputation I’ve built for myself,”
she finally said. “And it’s definitely not worth my job.”

“Your job is in no danger from me, Sasha. And as for your reputation,
no one has to know what you’re doing when you’re not at the stables. I—” He
lifted a hand toward her, then, as if remembering her earlier plea for him not
to touch her, dropped it back to his side. “We can be discreet, Sasha. I want
you. Come to me.”

She swallowed, tempted by his urgent tone, seduced by the idea that he
wanted her enough to argue with her, to try and persuade her to be with him
like that again.

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then he focused his
intense blue eyes on her. “What if I said this can be just sex? No emotions. No
strings attached. Completely separate from the professional relationship that
you and I have.”

Her fingers curled into the counter behind her. She was so tempted.
So
tempted. “I don’t think that’s possible. People try it all the time and it
never works.”

“But
we
have never tried it.” His mouth tilted up at the
corners. Rakish. Irresistible.