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“Taran,” Corey groaned around her mouth, and she whimpered.
Her heart was pounding so loudly she swore he must hear it. Boom, boom, boom. Her hips seemed to pick up the rhythm of the pounding in her head.
Corey yanked back and glanced around. “Jesus,” he cursed.
The pounding wasn’t her heart—it was the door. And she realized what she had almost done. How could she almost sleep with an athlete on the team she was traveling with? And whoever was on the other side of that door would know it. If people talked about this, she’d never be taken seriously again. Her heart dropped.
It took Corey too long to process the sound of someone pounding on his door. But he had been in heaven. Exactly what he’d been dreaming about, imagining for weeks. And now, when he was close to finally sliding into all that Taran was offering him, someone was at the damn door. He glanced back down at the beauty under him. Her thin bubblegum pink lips were swollen; her chin and neck were scraped from the scruff of his beard. Her hair was falling out of her usual bun, framing her face. The face that was sporting a look that told him no matter who was on the other side of the door, Corey wasn’t getting his hands on her again tonight. Taran’s expression was silently saying this was a mistake.
But fuck that. It wasn’t.
He pushed himself off her and glanced down. Anyone would know exactly what they had been doing. His privacy was essential to him, and he hated that he might be about to lose some of it.
“Son of a bitch,” he cursed before stomping over to the door. He glanced through the hole, and his eyes narrowed when he saw who was standing on the other side.
“Open the door, Corey. I’m not any happier about this than you are. My wife is pissed off right now,” Marc yelled. “I have no problem letting the entire team know they called me in again if you leave me standing here any longer.”
Corey had told the general manager he needed to get his head on straight. He hadn’t asked for them to bring in his pitching coach. Yet they must have. Corey was probably closer to getting pulled from the rotation than he realized. But he needed to get rid of Marc.
Corey yanked the door open and glared, “Your timing sucks.”
Marc’s eyes ran from Corey’s mangled hair down to what Corey knew was the mother of all bulges in his pants. Marc winced.
“Should I come back in an hour?”
“No.”
The voice came from behind Corey, but he was not letting Marc in to see Taran. He didn’t allow his relationships to become fodder for gossip. Marc would eventually find out about them, but not when the team was around. Corey turned to look at her. She’d taken five seconds to fix her hair so she looked slightly less about to be fucked—but still. She wouldn’t meet Corey’s eyes as she said. “I’d rather not have a scene. Let him in.”
“Taran.” Marc’s voice went up two notches, and Corey whipped his head back in Marc’s direction. The man needed to shut up, not yell Taran’s name. “I didn’t realize.” He shook his head and then frowned at Corey. “I don’t need to be here. This is the problem. I thought you knew better than to bring someone on the road with you.”
“I didn’t,” Corey snapped as he yanked Marc inside, letting the door close. Marc moved into the room, pushing past Corey. He walked toward the bed before spinning back to face them, crossing his arms over his chest. Marc’s gaze flicked from Corey to Taran and back before lifting his eyebrows in silent questions.
“She’s traveling with the team as a reporter.” As Corey said it, he watched Taran’s face lose all its color.
“Is anyone in the hall?” Wide-eyed, she desperately glanced around like a magic door she could escape through might appear in the wall.
Corey reached out to hold her, calm her down, comfort her. But she jerked away from him. That hurt more than he thought it would. He cracked his neck left and then right. Her glance slid away from Corey to Marc, and she winced. Her eyes flitted shut before she took a deep breath. Corey just wanted to make her feel better. The way she was acting was giving him an ache in his chest.
“Is anyone in the hall?” she asked again, and her voice cracked.
Marc shook his head.
Taran almost looked up at Corey, but she forced her head away, looking at the door. She moved without a word.
What the hell?
The door slamming shut sent Corey into motion. But before he could get out of the room, a firm grasp pulled him back.
“Cor—if you care about her, let her go,” Marc warned.
Corey turned to Marc, bewildered.
“She’s a reporter traveling with the Metros. No one on the team can know what was happening here if she wants to keep any of her credibility.”
Then it all clicked. It wasn’t just about Corey and his privacy. No female reporter could sleep with the athletes they wrote about and still have respect. If she slept with the talent, the talent all assumed she was fair game, and she lost her status as a serious journalist. Maybe Taran wrote gossip stories, but everyone in the Metros locker room respected her. He’d witnessed that in the two weeks she had been around. It hadn’t occurred to him to worry about her job. He was an asshole.
Corey flopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Ever meet a girl who you can’t seem to get off the wrong foot with, even though you feel like you’re jumping through hoops to get on the right one?”
