Fifteen Teagan
Fifteen
Teagan
“H ey, boss.” Brett knocks on my door at the office on Monday morning. After my inauspicious meeting with Dominic on the trail yesterday, I came in early to clear my head. He’s been invading my thoughts far too much lately, so I’m perusing the latest financials. They are still abysmal, but at least there’s hope for the future.
“C’mon, Brett.” I wave him in. “What’s going on?”
“I have some good news,” Brett replies. “The Walthers have signed the contract for the North Scottsdale. They want to close in thirty days.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
He nods enthusiastically. “Given the state of the company, would I lie?”
“Omigod, Brett,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “I’m so excited to hear this. I was worrying about how much longer I could keep up at this rate. This commission will definitely help.”
“Hell yes, it will,” Brett says. “I think your gamble with the membership at the country club is paying off. I got another call from a couple who was referred by Mitzi.”
I clap my hands in glee. I wasn’t sure it would yield dividends, but I’m glad to see I was right. “Now you just have to close the sale.”
“I’m your number-one sales agent,” Brett replies with a huff. “Do you doubt my abilities?”
“Absolutely not.” If anyone can close, it’s Brett. It’s why I hired him. He has charisma in spades and, having been born and raised here, he knows Phoenix real estate. Brett graces me with one of his signature smiles.
After he leaves, optimism fills me. Right when I’m feeling defeated, a spark of hope comes through. It hasn’t been easy keeping up this facade, but the nature of the real estate business requires it.
It’s not the first time I’ve been down and out and unsure of the outcome. When I lost tennis—the thing that brought me joy and success and garnered me independence from my father—I was devastated. How would I support myself? Others suggested I could become a coach, but the thought of being unable to play professionally was too much. I know I’m the pot calling the kettle black because I suggested Lyric teach ballet after her injury, but we’re different people with different experiences.
Despite being adopted, Lyric always had two loving parents who supported her no matter what while I, on the other hand, felt as if my parents’ affection was conditional based on if I won or lost. Maybe it wasn’t that way for my mother, but it was certainly the case with my father. Russ Williams made his displeasure known if I failed.
And when my injury meant I could no longer play tennis, and the thousands of dollars he’d spent making a champion was taken away, my father was angry. While I was battling my own demons, fears and insecurities, and dealing with my crumbling relationship with Dominic, somehow I found the inner courage to pick myself up by my bootstraps and start over.
A colleague of my father’s, Lou Payas, had a real estate business and offered to take me under his wing. Since I didn’t have other options and was staying at my parents’, I took Lou up on his offer of employment. He taught me the ropes and I blossomed. I found I didn’t just have a knack for hitting a ball across the net. I was a people person and skilled at the art of negotiation. Soon, I was one of Lou’s top sales agents, until eventually it was time for me to branch out on my own.
I saved up money and leased my office, but I wanted to own the building where my brokerage would be located. My inheritance from Wynter’s aunt Helaine was a godsend and gave me the remaining collateral I needed. I would never want to lose this place—because of her my new dream was realized.
But I never forgot about my old dreams, which have resurfaced because of the club and Dominic’s reappearance. Everywhere I look, he turns up. It’s disconcerting. I don’t want to think about how gaga I was over this man. How he made feel not only important and seen , but beautiful and sexy , without even trying. Most men saw me as a tomboy because of my short hair. But Dominic, he saw me, and I noticed him too.
Still do.
And that’s the problem.
I feel vulnerable with Dominic. Yesterday, when he drew closer, I wanted him to kiss me. I know how Dominic kisses. He passionately uses his lips, tongue and teeth to spark a flame.
And for a moment, I was tempted to have a taste of him.
* * *
On Saturday, I show up to the country club in a new outfit. Did I go to Lululemon to buy a new outfit? Maybe. Does this Cascadia Green, collared tennis bra with open back and a deep V cup my breasts and show a hint of cleavage? Maybe. And so what if my high-rise, pleated tennis skirt happens to show my toned thighs and the firm shape of my legs. I’m proud of my body. It has nothing to do with the fact that when I called earlier to check if the courts were free, I learned Dominic had been on-site since 7:00 a.m.
What is he doing here so early? He’s supposed to be on break. I’d hoped to get in a few sets because the wealthy housewives aren’t quite up this early, so most of the courts are empty. Get in early and be out of the country club before Dominic arrived. No such luck.
With my tennis bag over my shoulder, I head to my lucky court seven, but who is there? Dominic. He knows it’s my lucky number and that we tennis players are superstitious. He could have chosen any other.
Did he come here on purpose?
My eyes can’t help but stare as his lean, solid frame glides across the court as if he owns it. Dominic’s hitting partner is trying his best, but Dominic doesn’t know how to lose. Eventually, they take a break and that’s when Dominic leans down to grab a bottle of water. He’s chugging it when he notices me ogling him like a teenager with a crush.
“Teagan, good morning.”
His eyes pierce mine and I feel my cheeks heat at having been caught. A knowing smile stretches across his beautiful face. It’s electric and dynamic and the sensation drenches my skin like it did all those years ago when he used to look at me like I was the only woman in the world.
I tremble. Can he tell? Our gazes clash and his seems to me to glint with amusement. He finishes off the bottle and tosses it into the empty recycle bin.
“You’re on my court,” I say defensively when I come to stand in front of him.
He glances behind me. “I don’t see your name on it.”
My eyes narrow. “You know it’s my lucky number.”
“And you weren’t here to claim it first—I was. I guess you’ll have to find another one.”
“Not necessary,” Dominic’s opponent replies, stalking toward us. “If you feel brave enough, you should practice with our champion here. I, for one, have had my fill.” He salutes Dominic. “Should I say thank you for the ass kicking?”
Dominic chuckles. The two men shake hands, leaving Dominic and me alone.
“Guess I’ll find another court,” I say.
“Why? Scared to practice with me again? My offer to help is still on the table.”
“I don’t need you.”
“Maybe not, but I can help you rise to the occasion and finish strong at the tournament. And the Teagan I know always loved a good challenge.”
I toss my bag down and grab my racket. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Fletcher. Bring it.”
A lazy smile crosses his lips. “Game on.”
* * *
I let my mouth run away with me when I agreed to play Dominic again, but in actuality I’m dying inside. I won the first game. It was a fluke. I managed to stay afloat by a stroke of luck, but Dominic is a master of the long game. He knows about the pressure, the expectations of having the crowds, the world watching and waiting for you to win or lose. I haven’t had that kind of pressure in a long time, but I can feel it bubbling inside of me. The need to live up to what I once was.
I lose the remaining games because I’m out of shape, and it pisses me off. It takes stamina and endurance and I’m out of practice. I’m going up against one of the best players in tennis. Dominic can easily go round for round in extreme weather conditions and on different surfaces. That used to be me. Not anymore—I’m drenched in sweat. My once-cute outfit is sticking to me like a second skin. Meanwhile, Dominic barely has a light sheen on his brow. He used minimal to no effort to best me and it grates on my nerves.
“Good job, Teagan,” he says at the end of the fifth set when he’s demolished me 6–2. Dominic offers a hand, which I begrudgingly shake. I’ve never been a sore loser; it’s unsportsmanlike. It is one of the few things I learned from my father. He wouldn’t tolerate childish antics.
“I feel like your hitting partner. Should I thank you for that smackdown?”
“You’ll get better,” Dominic replies. “You rely too much on your forehand. You always did and now you don’t have the speed you once had.”
“I didn’t ask for your advice.”
He shrugs. “Well, you’re getting it. Can I interest you in a cold beverage inside?”
“All I’m interested in is a hot shower.”
I want to go in a corner and lick my wounds in private, but Dominic won’t let up. Why does he want to spend time with me anyway? I’m not the young ingenue or child tennis prodigy I used to be.
“C’mon, Teagan. You were willing to spar with me on the court and now you’re running with your tail between your legs? I thought you had more grit.”
Fury sparks and I walk right up to him and poke him in the chest with my index finger. “You don’t get to judge me, not after what you did.”
“Christ!” He rubs his hands over his bald head. “Don’t you ever get tired of fighting?”
“With you, no,” I say, deadpan.
“Bullshit. I think there’s a part of you that still misses what you had before.”
I raise a brow. “Tennis?”
“No, being in my bed.”
“You smug son of a—” I don’t get to finish my sentence because Dominic’s hands close around my upper arms and pull me to him. “Wh-what are you doing?”
Suddenly, my sweaty bosom is pressed against his hard torso and my legs are between his, allowing me to feel the heat of his groin against my belly.
Lightning arcs through me and I feel soldered to the ground.
“Don’t you think it’s time we stop playing this game?” Dominic’s voice is a low whisper as he tips my chin up to meet his hungry gaze. “I know what you want, Teagan. It’s what we both want.”
I swallow hard and I lick my dry lips. This can’t be happening. I can’t still want him. I sway, desperate to get away, but lose my balance and my palms flatten on his broad chest. I should push him away, but instead I feel the steady beat of his heart. It’s in time with the thud of mine. The air between us is thick with sexual chemistry.
Don’t overthink it, Teagan , my body says. Take what you want. Don’t be afraid.
I grip Dominic’s T-shirt in a tight ball and pull him down to me. Our mouths are within centimeters, but we don’t kiss, not yet. It’s as if we’re preparing each other for what comes next. It seems he’s as uncertain as I am, but like a moth to a flame, I slide my hands up to his face and cup it between my palms—that’s when Dominic finally brings his mouth down on mine.
It’s a soft caress at first. His lips brush mine, once, then twice, but then he settles in. His tongue glides across the seam of my mouth, and I open for him. That’s when everything changes. The kiss turns erotic, all-consuming, carnal. Our heads angle for better access, our hands grasp and our bodies press together. I shake with the force of need that erupts within me and wiggle myself between his thighs until I register the long column of Dominic’s thick, hard dick.
Dominic grips my ass and draws me to his erection. With only damp fabric between us, I feel his hardness against my softness, but that’s all I can think about because I’m straining against him. I circle my hips and heat saturates me from my hairline to my toes, but most especially my core, where an ache is starting to form from the friction.
I want more. I devour his mouth and he lets me, then devours me right back. He rams his tongue deep inside me with unbridled desire. My entire body arches to meet him, eager for him to possess me as he once did. I rake my hands across his back. Moans of pleasure escape my lips and Dominic groans, burying his face in my neck and planting hot, wet kisses on the sensitive skin. It feels so good to be in his arms again that I momentarily lose time and place. It’s Dominic who finally lifts his head, his ebony eyes trained on me. How can he be this coherent after those earth-shattering kisses?
“Teagan…we need to find someplace more private than, uh, the tennis courts.”
Reality hits like a Mack truck and I give him a shove, pushing him away. Anyone walking by could have seen us making out. I’m mortified. What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t.
I was carried away by Dominic’s passionate, hungry kisses. The way I rubbed myself against him was unconscionable. I’m supposed to be angry at him for the way he treated me and I still am, but somehow one kiss is enough to make me forget about all the nights I cried myself to sleep because I felt lonely and abandoned.
“We’re not finding someplace private. That shouldn’t have happened.”
His brow furrows, and he moves closer to me. “Like hell it shouldn’t. Every time we’re within a few feet of each other, there’s sparks, Teagan. You know it and I know it. What’s wrong with acting on the attraction we obviously still feel?”
I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “No, no. I can’t… We can’t.” I turn away from him, desperate for some space to think.
“C’mon, Teagan. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
Appalled, my head whips around to stare at him. “And how do I look at you?”
“Like you want to touch me. And I don’t mind because I want to touch you.” His words are bold, but I’m humiliated by my behavior. I need to escape and think about why this happened. How I can stop it from happening again.
“I have to go.” I find my tennis bag on the ground, lift it over my shoulder, but Dominic is already to me in two seconds flat.
“Dammit, Teagan! Don’t do this. Running away won’t change things. We have chemistry. Always have.”
I glare at him. “It doesn’t mean we have to act on it. That kiss was impulsive and a mistake. One I deeply regret!” I move as quickly as I can without breaking into an all-out sprint. I don’t look behind me because I don’t want to be brought back into a sensual haze. He’s only been back in my life for a couple of weeks and I’m ready to drop my drawers because he looked at me with those fuck-me eyes.
I’m deep in trouble because, lord help me, he’s right. I do want him. But going to bed with him will only muddy the waters. I know that alienating him, I run the risk of ruining his participation in the charity tournament and consequently my chances of resuscitating Williams & Associates, but I can’t think clearly when I’m around him.
I have to get away while I still can.