Check Swing (Callahan Family Book 3) Read online

  But I’m fine with all of that. I don’t have a problem being alone. In fact, I quite like it: just me, tequila, and the sunset.

  Except, a tingle up my spine has me turning my head.

  I spot Sinclair before he sees me. He’s sitting at a high-top on the corner of the patio, instead of on a barstool like I typically occupy. His eyes are transfixed on the ice in his glass, the cubes floating and bobbing as he twirls the skinny red straw around and around. The undeniably gorgeous man looks somewhat lost; that mask of cockiness he’s always sporting when he sees me at work seems to have slipped.

  The only bleak spot on this week is that I keep bumping into him. Everywhere I turn, that long, lean, wiry body fills my vision. Or his knowing smirk, which is really beginning to piss me off.

  I’ve asked around. Everyone I’ve talked to—okay, the two people I have since I haven’t wanted to seem overeager—seem to not know all that much about the guy. His full name is Sinclair, he works on the video crew, and just from looking at him, you can tell he’s not from Florida.

  And look at him I have. Good Lord, you’d have to be frigid or dead to be able to tear your gaze off of that guy.

  Sharp, that’s the word that comes to mind every time I picture Sinclair. That, and dangerous. A sharp, chiseled jaw. Piercing blue eyes so clear they look like the ocean water just outside my apartment. A wolfish mouth, full and luscious that can send my heart into an aggravating frenzy. The stature and physique of a thief, agile and honed as if he might run away with your conscience and good intentions forever.

  I mean, the man’s name is Sin. And you can tell he’s committed multiple of them, numerous times over, just by looking at him. Maybe I’m annoyed that he makes me want to tick one or two off with him.

  As if feeling the pull of someone’s stare, his face tips up and meets my gaze full on.

  A slow, seductive smile transforms all of those sharp, dangerous features. And before I can escape back to the safety of my own apartment, preferably, he’s making his way over.

  “Francesca Kade.” He whistles low in his throat, and his Adam’s apple bobs.

  Jesus, why does my name sound so scandalous rolling off his tongue?

  “Sinclair.”

  “Please, call me Sin.”

  Nope, I won’t do that. It’ll just be a constant reminder of how much his nickname sounds like something I very badly want to do, but shouldn’t.

  I down the rest of my tequila, even though it burns like hell, and go to pull a twenty from my wallet. His long, thick, olive-skinned fingers shoot out to refrain me from doing so, right before he throws a bill on the bar.

  “You don’t need to do that. I can pay for myself.” I sound like a brat, but I don’t want him getting any ideas.

  I’m not sure why I’ve taken such a hard stance with this guy. I barely know him. And I’m usually up for a little bit of fun. I don’t really do relationships, but I’ve had months-long casual hookups. I like sex, love it with the right, fun partner. Sinclair could be that. But I have this gut feeling, an intuition that screams do not touch.

  “I get it, you’re independent. It’s hot, really. But you look like you’re drinking alone, and with the week of work you’ve probably had, someone should buy that for you.”

  I try to ignore the flutter of appreciation in my stomach and give him a curt nod. “Fine. Thank you.”

  No use arguing, plus I’m too tired and on my way to drunk.

  “You come here often?” he asks, and I feel his eyes lick up every part of my exposed skin.

  I’m only wearing a plain tank top and cutoff jean shorts, but I suddenly feel naked. My fingers self-consciously rub up from my wrist to my shoulder.

  “That sounds like a cheesy line if I’ve ever heard one.” I give a sardonic laugh.

  Sinclair shrugs. “It wasn’t meant to be. Just an honest question.”

  “I do. And I’m enjoying it alone, if you don’t mind.”

  He completely ignores my brush-off. “Why it’s my first time here, thanks for asking. Yeah, I was supposed to be meeting a friend, but he blew me off.”

  He? Maybe he’s gay. That would work well for me since I find this guy far too attractive.

  “But hey, since he was lame as hell, maybe I can join you.”

  Yeah, the way those blue eyes heat to melted sapphires with the way he’s looking at me, there is no way this man is gay. Wishful hoping on my part because the two tequilas on the rocks I’ve had are making my blood hum way too much in his presence.

  “I’m not going to let you buy me another drink.” I narrow my gaze, trying to be stern.

  If I can be stern with him, maybe I can give my suspiciously wet panties a good down, girl.

  “Well, that’s just fine with me, since I’m not even buying my own.” He toasts me with his glass.

  “You’re drinking right now.” I roll my eyes.

  “Water and lime, sweetheart. It’s a recovering alcoholics number one trick in the playbook to make it look like you’re drinking. Nothing worse than not fitting in. Well, except for being sober at a bar.”

  The way he says it, I can tell he’s trying to make a joke at his own expense. But I’m a recovering addict, too. Maybe not from drugs or drinking, but I know what it looks like to miss that destructive part of yourself, no matter how much it threatened to kill you.

  And just like that, Sin worms his way under my skin. I see a part of myself mirrored in him, and I realize we might not be as different as I thought.

  That only gets my skin humming more, has me leaning in, warming to the idea of spending time with this man.

  “That’s big of you, coming out to a bar. Takes a lot of strength.”

  He shrugs. “Can’t avoid them forever. Especially when they’re as pretty as this one.”

  Those aqua eyes swing out toward the waves, and I can tell he’s as enchanted by my little slice of ocean as I am.

  “I wouldn’t call Eddie’s pretty, per se. Just a lucky spot with a kick-ass view.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’d say it’s damn beautiful.”

  When my head tipsily swings back to him, he’s not looking at the water.

  He’s looking at me.

  So I do the only thing the alcohol can seem to make my brain act upon.

  I lean in and kiss him.

  5

  Sinclair

  “Nice place.”

  The words manage to squeak out as I kick Frankie’s apartment door shut with my foot, right before our mouths collide like heat-seeking missiles for what seems like the dozenth time.

  Not that I can really see her place, it’s so dark. And not like I really care.

  The only things I can seem to concentrate on are Frankie’s body in my arms and my cock throbbing like hell, begging to be let out of its cage.

  It’s been almost three months since I got laid. Not since I met up with an old hookup who used to be my go-to in the worst of my partying days have I dipped my dick in anyone. The experience, the one three months ago, almost sent me back to the bottle. It scared me shitless, being with someone as a sober man, and I kind of went off the deep end for a few weeks. My sponsor had to talk me off the ledge more than once, and I vowed to be celibate until I could get that anxiety under control.

  Apparently, though, one kiss from Francesca Kade and I am voluntarily diving right off the metaphorical building.

  “Thanks. Bedroom is this way.” She pulls me by the shirt, and my dick is so excited he’s knocking furiously against the zipper on my shorts to be let out.

  We’re all hurried steps and hands everywhere, our mouths trying to keep up but constantly getting separated because of our rush to make it to a mattress. Or really, any available surface. As long as I get to be inside her, I don’t care if it’s the kitchen counter or the living room floor.

  There is no talking, no further introductions or seduction. This is sex, you can smell it in the air. Just two hot, horny adults ready to bang each other until they
can’t move.

  She stops us in a doorway, and I’m not wasting any more time. I undress her, pulling off her tank top and relishing the feel of her silky smooth, ivory skin underneath. I want to trace the freckles leading from the bridge of her nose down to where they dip below her waistband with my tongue.

  Frankie whips my shirt off too, and when her nails rake across my abs, I hiss. Frankie is moaning into my mouth as we kiss, her skilled tongue dancing with mine. Christ, the woman can kiss. Skillfully, I pop the clasp on her bra and draw it down her arms.

  “Impressive.” She smirks, but the smile is gone on a gasp as my thumb and forefinger pinch one nipple.

  Fuck, her breasts are incredible. Much more than a handful, with these peachy pink nipples just winking up at me.

  My belt is next to go, and then she’s pushing my shorts and boxers down over my hips. My cock springs free, and just the contact with the air makes me start leaking pre-cum. It’s been too long, and Frankie is a dynamo. The foreplay alone could make me come, which is something that’s never happened before.

  “You’ve got to be joking me, right?” She rolls her eyes, but they drop to my dick as her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

  Here I am, my fingers rolling her nipples as she stares at my cock. I jut it out a little bit, the entire steel length of me yearning to be inside her.

  “What?”

  Frankie makes some kind of half-moan, half-sob sound in the back of her throat, and my dick twitches in reaction. One small, slim hand reaches between us to tentatively stroke me, and I have to gulp against the sensation that shoots right down to my balls.

  “You look like this”—she waves her free hand in my face—“and you’re hung like a horse?” Her hand strokes me a little more forcefully now, and my eyes may roll back in my head. “How the hell is any of this fair?”

  A laugh bursts from my throat, even as this gorgeous woman continues to grip me in her palm. “Hung like a horse; I think I might be in love with you.”

  I haven’t even fucked her yet, and I’m already enamored. Which doesn’t happen often for me. Mostly, sex has been about empty release. There are a few girls who have occupied my bed for more than a one-night romp, but it’s never been love. Most times, I can barely remember having sex I was so high or drunk. It was just the next step at the end of the night, a girl in my bed.

  But I’m stone-cold sober now, standing in front of a half-naked woman who is as intelligent and witty as she is breathtakingly beautiful. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone, and I’m a lucky son of a bitch that Frankie suddenly changed her attitude toward me.

  I’m not sparing any more time.

  I keep one hand on her breast, and the other goes to her waist, pulling her to me. My cock is wedged between us, and all I want to do is rub up against her.

  But I want to get her naked more.

  I step out of my shoes, and the bottoms now pooled around my feet, then back her up to the foot of her bed. My hands work fast, popping the button on her shorts and pushing them down. My fingers hit lace, and that’s gone too as I push her gently until she falls back onto the mattress.

  Frankie lies before me, a sensual goddess, her violet eyes sparkling in the dark as I take her in. Biting down on my lip, my fist works up and down my shaft.

  “This is going to fun.” I smirk.

  “Stop talking and get down here, then.” Her voice is raspy but authoritative.

  Instead of sinking down on top of her, I place a knee on the bed. And dip my mouth right to her center.

  Frankie’s hips fly up and she lets out a strangled cry, but I lock my grip on to her hips and plunge my tongue deeper. She’s sweet, so fucking sweet, and the scent of her is making me dizzy. I lap at her, swirling her clit with my tongue and then gently biting down on it. The sounds she’s making are enough to make me come, and I have to actively stop thinking about my cock.

  “Sinclair, fuck me. Now.” The dirtiness of her words has my ass cheeks clenching.

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Hastily, I crawl up her body, positioning myself between her legs.

  “I’m clean,” I tell her, because it’s true.

  “I’m protected,” she says.

  And that’s all either of us needs to know. I thrust into her, balls deep, bare against the slick wetness of her pussy.

  “Oh my fuck …” I curse, grinding myself against her as far as I can go.

  “Yes. Go harder.”

  Her wish is my command. I move, pumping my hips over and over and over again. She’s so goddamn tight, but Frankie gives as good as she gets. Her nails are digging into my ass cheeks, on every down thrust she’s meeting me with a flick of her hips, and the noises she’s making …

  If I wasn’t so hungry, like an animal feasting on its prey, I would slow down. I’d take my time, contort her into every position I know. I want Frankie on top of me, riding me hard. I want her face in the mattress as I pound her ass. I want her up against the wall.

  But I’m so fucking hard, I’m going to burst any second. I have to see her climax; I crave it.

  “Come, Francesca. Come on my cock,” I command her, using her full name.

  I drive hard, all of my muscles quaking. She explodes. I watch her mouth form a perfect O, all sounds ceasing from her throat. Her thighs shake, vibrate, and then she’s coming on me in waves. I feel her pussy contract, milking me, and it’s all I can do to muster the energy to pull out. It’s impossible to stop looking at her as she rides out her climax.

  But then mine is upon me. I pull out, fisting my cock and spurting ropes of hot cum onto her stomach.

  I collapse, my wet cock between us, my heavy breaths mingling with hers.

  “Holy shit,” Frankie whispers in my ear, and I smile against her cheek.

  “That was incredible,” I agree.

  She taps my shoulder, a signal to roll off of her.

  The haze of sex begins to wear off, that buzz leaving my bones.

  “So …” I look up at the ceiling, so unfamiliar with the feeling of being sober after sex.

  Though, having Frankie just fuck my brains out kind of leaves me feeling drunk.

  “I’ve got an early morning, so if you don’t mind.” She shrugs, getting out of the bed and heading to the en suite bathroom.

  She flicks the light on, giving me a full profile view of her naked body. Jesus, I’m hard again in two second flat. Frankie isn’t shy, not even close. She’s the most confident woman I’ve ever encountered. Talked about everything she wanted while we were going at it, is basically kicking me out of bed, and now she’s standing in the full light of the bathroom, completely naked.

  What a fucking knockout.

  “Sinclair? Are you going?” she asks expectantly.

  My ego begins to bruise. Sheesh, I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning to stay. But it does feel a little embarrassing that she’s kicking me out so quickly. I could go another round, or four. I could spend all night in this bed, finding every spot that makes her moan.

  But she’s right in her dismissing of me. This is casual. Maybe just a one-night thing. Lord knows, I’m not built for romance or long term.

  So I dress quickly, trying to keep my hands to myself as she stands in her bathroom, completely naked, and begins to brush her teeth.

  I walk over, offering her a hand. “Thanks for the great sex.”

  She shakes it. “You, too. Get home safe.”

  I have to chuckle as I walk out the door. That Francesca Kade is truly something else.

  6

  Frankie

  There is not one time I’ve felt even a little intimated in the man’s world I occupy.

  Sure, I’ve been nervous to perform my job at a high level, to impress my bosses. That’s a natural feeling. Yes, I’ve been hesitant to ask questions in case I come off dumb to superiors. And I’ve had times where I doubt my ability to get my athletes to their peak level.

  None of that has ever had to do with being a woman stepping
into territory that men usually dominate. I feel those things because it’s a natural part of having a career, no matter what it is. But I’ve never allowed myself to doubt anything that has to do with me and the ball club simply because I’m a female.

  That is, until today.

  Walking into the Pistons’ southern facilities feels like walking on eggshells. For the first time ever, I feel out of place walking into this building. Which is such bullshit, because I was the one who worked here first. This is my second home, my domain. This is the place where I’m the top dog, and every man in here typically shuts up and listens when I’m talking.

  Sinclair came in and decimated that.

  Because of him, I’m sneaking around corners, trying to get to my office without interacting with a single soul. Just the thought of coming into contact with him after what happened on Friday night makes me break out in a really unattractive sweat. Like, sniff my armpits, reapply deodorant, sweat.

  My gut intuition had been right all along. I shouldn’t have even touched him. Because one touch would never be enough. I’ve played that sex over and over again in my head for days. Even now, when I’m furious that he’s made my work building an uncomfortable place for me, I’d like to slink off to some dark corner and have him rail me up against a wall.

  God, Sinclair is—sexy as hell. He’s a god in bed, and he knows it, too. Just thinking about him telling me to come on his cock has me nearly passing out here, in the lobby of the building I work in. Before him, I hadn’t had sex for a while. And now that I’ve gotten a taste, especially of him, I want the whole damn pie.

  “What are you doing? You look like a snake trying to slither through the grass.” Jorge looks at me like I’ve grown a third head. “Are you tiptoeing, mija?”