Fearless: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Read online

  Surprisingly, absurdly, I am immediately soaking wet, and my fingers down the front of Sean’s jeans find him hard. My fingers are slightly cold, and I have trouble getting his belt unbuckled. He helps, and I yank his jeans and underwear down around his thighs and sink to my knees in front of him. He gasps as the cold air moves over his veined cock, but then groans as my warm mouth closes on him. I take the length of him in, sliding my tongue over the sensitive flesh. The feeling of him in my mouth awakens an ache between my legs. I move up and down on his shaft twice, three times, and then I stand.

  “What—” he says in protest, but I take him in my hand.

  “I have to have you,” I say, my voice trembling. “Now.” And I am pulling down my own jeans even as his hands go around my waist and he lifts me onto a bale of hay. The hay pokes my backside and scratches the backs of my legs, but I don’t care. He fights one leg of my jeans free of my shoe and pushes my legs apart.

  “Theresa,” he says, but I grab his ass and pull him to me. When he enters me I part like water and he feels so slick inside me as he moves. In, out, he’s huge and fills me up. In no time at all I am so close to orgasm that I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Sean obviously feels no such inhibition, and lets loose a strangled cry.

  “Quiet,” I gasp, locking my legs around him. I don’t think I can possibly pull him any deeper into me, but I try. My thighs quiver with our combined effort. The air is cold, but his hands on my ass, squeezing and pulling me to him, keep me warm. He pushes me back so I’m lying on the bale, my coat bunched under me. I start to come, and when I do I start to scream. His eyes go wide and he puts a wide palm over my mouth. I shriek my orgasm into his hand, my legs and belly turning to molten lead.

  He grabs my shoulder, thrusts harder into me, faster. His breathing is coming harder and faster, too and then he comes, buried deep in me. His hand is still on my mouth and his eyes are pinched shut.

  Keeping my legs wrapped around him, I brace a hand on the bale beneath me and roll us over, so that I am straddling him. My hair drapes down onto his face. He is still hard in me, and I move my hips slightly.

  Sean groans his appreciation and my hair flutters a bit. “Would it be rude of me to move your hair out of my face? It tickles.”

  I giggle and pull my hair back so it arcs over my shoulder. He looks up at me, mouth partly open, eyes wide.

  “Wow,” he said. “That is possibly the best quickie I’ve—”

  I put my hand over his mouth. “Two months ago, nobody could get you to talk about anything, and now I can’t get you to shut up.”

  He laughs into my hand, then nips at my palm. I yelp.

  “Turns out I have a lot to say.” His hands on my hips guide me as I rock back and forth on him. “God, you feel good.”

  I feel just about ready for round two. “Should I speed up a bit?”

  “Not yet.” His face looks suddenly very serious. “This isn’t what I came for.”

  I stop moving. “What?” I put my hands on his chest and start to push away. “You don’t want—”

  He takes my wrists. “No. No, I mean, yes, of course I want this. I want…I want you.” He is looking at me as if no wall ever existed between himself and the outside world. He looks completely vulnerable.

  “Okay,” I say, somewhat hesitantly.

  “And I want to hire you. That’s why I came here. I want you to write my biography.”

  My jaw drops open and I rock back so that I am leaned against his bent knees. The motion slides him deeper into me and I gasp with pleasure.

  I can’t resist. “Your biography? Full of yourself much?”

  He sits up beneath me, this time grabbing my hips tight and moving them more aggressively. Somewhere deep inside me, a small earthquake is building.

  “Look,” he says, his voice strained. “You’ll make a fortune. I don’t need one. But maybe I need, finally to be understood.” He lifts his hips to meet mine as our bodies strain together.

  “What the hell,” I say. “I don’t have much else to do.” And then, for a while, neither of us can say much of anything.

  Chapter 11

  Six Months Later

  Sean

  Hell, I know I look good. Always have. I don’t have a baby face, and I don’t have one of those carefully curated mugs that you see in cologne ads, but I’ve never been hurting in the looks department. Even for a guy that’s taken a few love taps to the face. And it doesn’t hurt to be tall, either. Everyone seems to like a tall man, especially if he looks as if he works out.

  I, of course, work out.

  So when I look in the mirror, I expect to see a good-looking, well-built guy. I don’t expect what I see looking back at me.

  “Oh, goddamn,” I hear myself breathe. “I look…” I trail off. It can’t be me. I raise an eyebrow. Purse my lips. My reflection does the same. Definitely me.

  “I’m absolutely stunning,” I say. I turn to the makeup artist, whose name is Ashley. “I can’t believe you actually made me look like this.” Her round face turns red, and she smiles shyly. “No, I’m serious. You’re a fuckin’ da Vinci.” I look back at myself, unable to believe the transformation. “And I am gorgeous. I want to give you money.”

  She puts up her hands, her genius hands that have accomplished what I did not believe possible. “I can’t,” she says in a soft voice. “It’s part of my contract with the network.”

  I reach into my pocket, pull out my wallet. “Nonsense,” I say, pulling out a wad of bills. “Fuck the network. I just want to hire you to make me look like this all the time.” The mirror draws my gaze again. I can’t get enough of looking at myself. I tell the makeup artist,“You have to stay in here until I go out on stage,” I point at my reflection. “Or I’m going to start making out with that guy.”

  She giggles.

  No one knows I’m here. Well, a couple of people. Charlie Bean knows, because the WFA needs to know about every damn time I make a public appearance. PR clause in my contract. My agent, because he was able to pull the strings that got me back stage here in secret. That’s about it. A couple of guards that received substantial bribes. And this makeup girl.

  “Okay,” I say, dragging my eyes away from how absolutely amazing I look. “It’s up to you to get me where I need to go.”

  Ashley beams a smile at me. “Are you sure you can drag yourself away from,” she motions at the mirror, “him?”

  “Cheeky.”

  She turns. “Follow me.” We emerge from the makeup room and into a wide passageway. The walls are industrial, concrete, but the floor is deeply carpeted and my steps make no sound as we walk along. She turns to me, presses an unnecessary finger to her lips. The message is clear.

  We mustn’t disturb the show.

  At least not until I go out and intentionally disturb the show.

  We round one corner and suddenly the passageway is filled with the murmur of a crowd. Above that crowd, the voice of Natalie Thomas, host of America Today, the most popular morning show in the country. At the end of the passageway I see bright lights and a burgundy carpet.

  “Today we have a special guest. Some of you might remember her as the woman who showed us the truth behind the Rocky Smithers abuse allegations. Some of you might recall her as the fearless reporter from Sports Now Magazine. Here now, to talk about her new book—and her new life—is our special guest, Theresa Vaughan!”

  We are standing just inside the passage, now. I press my back to the wall, but peek out so I can see Theresa as she walks onto the stage from the other side. She looks—

  Jesus, her makeup person was better than mine. Just seeing her, with her blue heels and short blue dress belted narrow at the waist. Her amazing face and sunbeam smile. I only get a glimpse before she passes out of my line of sight. If I were a man of only marginally lower character I would happily walk out there right now and make a porno with her on national television. I mean, if she was into that kind of thing.

  Which she probably
isn’t. We haven’t actually discussed that, though. I make a mental note to bring it up.

  My hand finds my back pocket, makes sure the box is still there. I am paranoid as fuck it will turn up missing right when I need it.

  Natalie banters with Theresa for a few minutes, discussing her career and interests as a journalist. Theresa (I can just never bring myself to call her “Terry” after her father did) fields the questions expertly, because we spent hours practicing them together. I might be the only person, aside from her mother, who will ever know how nervous she was for her first appearance on national television being interviewed rather to interview someone else.

  “And now you have a new book,” Natalie says, getting to the main point of the interview.

  Even though I can no longer see her I can hear the smile in Theresa’s voice. “I do.” I smile at the choice of words.

  “One might think,” Natalie goes on, “that your book might be about the challenges you faced as a woman in what many still consider to be a man’s job as a sports reporter.”

  There is quiet booing and hissing from the audience.

  “But that’s not what this book is about, is it?”

  “Nope, not this book,” Theresa, the love of my life, says. “Maybe I’ll write that one next, but for now I’ve written something else.”

  Per the pre-approved scripting, I know that Natalie is picking the book up from the table beside her chair. “It’s this one right here, isn’t it?”

  And the crowd goes nuts. Because what are they looking at? My stone face, staring out at them from the cover of a book.

  “That’s the one,” says Theresa.

  Natalie reads the title aloud. “King Kelly: Uncaged.” She pauses. “What a wonderful title.”

  Theresa laughs. “It sounds super serious, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, but it’s about a very serious man, so what else should we expect?” It’s Natalie’s turn to laugh. “I mean, the man’s an enigma, and his public persona is so stony and unavailable. In over a decade in the spotlight he’s never given a single interview, but you get not only an interview, but an entire authorized biography. How did you manage that?”

  “He’s really not that elusive if you’ve done your research.”

  “So you…dug up the goods on him and backed him into a corner?”

  Yes, Natalie, that is exactly what she did. Beware the reporter in the wild. She’ll expose you. Or herself. Or possibly both of you, depending on her mood and the relative privacy of the moment.

  In my mind’s eye I can see Theresa shaking her head. “Not exactly, no.”

  “But you are dating him, aren’t you?”

  My jaw drops open, and I can tell by the slight gasp though Theresa’s microphone that hers does, too.

  “How did you—”

  Natalie’s voice is humorous and chiding. “You’re not the only person that can do research, Theresa!”

  Where have I heard that line before?

  “So spill. Give us the goods! What’s he like?”

  Theresa stammers. “He’s like…he’s like…well, I mean, I wrote a whole book about what he’s like!” She pauses, collecting herself. I want to go now, to unveil my big surprise, but I also want to hear what I’m like in Theresa’s eyes.

  “He’s just the most amazingly sensitive and caring man in the world.” I think my heart stops for a second or two.

  Natalie’s voice registers surprise. “Sean Kelly? We’re talking about the Sean Kelly, right? Mr. ‘I Don’t Give A Fuck’ himself?”

  There is a great intake of air from the crowd. I nearly give myself away, barely stifling a guffaw.

  Natalie says, “Don’t worry, we’re on a seven second delay. Live isn’t really live any more.”

  Theresa says, “It turns out, he really does, though. He gives a fuck about a lot.”

  I take that as my cue. I raise my voice, roughen up my brogue just a bit. “Hey, you’ll have everyone thinkin’ I’ve gone soft with that kind of talk!” I walk out onstage and am rewarded, first, with another indrawn breath from the audience. Theresa’s mouth drops open and she half stands.

  “Sean, what are you—”

  While Natalie turns around in her chair. She has to twist quite a lot to see past the great mass of her own curly blond hair. When she sees me she first looks a confused, then irritated, and then, as recognition settles in, delighted. She directs a wide grin in my direction.

  “And here is the man, himself, ladies and gentlemen!”

  And the crowd goes nuts again.

  I smile at them and wave, because Theresa has been teaching me that I’m supposed to do that kind of thing. I might not care much, still, about what the world thinks, but I care a lot about what she thinks.

  Some lady in the middle of the audience yells, “I love you, Sean!”

  I yell back, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait in line!”

  A tech runs across the stage, hunched over to be as unobtrusive as possible, and clips a small mic to my shirt. I lean down and give Natalie a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll have to ask you to indulge me for just one moment.”

  She looks stunned. “Absolutely, I—” she turns to the audience. “This is one hundred percent unexpected, everybody. I’d love to say we had this planned, but—” she turns back to me. “It’s great to have you on, Sean. Why…why are you here?”

  I cross over to Theresa, stand in front of her. A camera to my left moves while someone off stage to the left motions me down with a frantic hand, and I realize I’m looming over her. What the hell? I was going to do this anyway. I lower myself to one knee. Theresa mouths, “Oh my God,” while behind me, Natalie says, “Oh, my God.” Everyone else is silent, breath held.

  Myself included. My mouth has gone dry and I am suddenly dizzy. My mouth is open.

  Theresa whispers, “Sean?”

  And I come unlocked. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a small, velvet box. I don’t show it to her yet, just palm it.

  “Theresa, I…” and then I pause. I turn to the crowd. “She’s fuckin’ beautiful, isn’t she?” and they go, “Awww.”

  She looks at me as if I’m crazy. Which is possibly true.

  “Theresa, I spent half my life not feeling anything. I ran away from who I was and became the Sean Kelly that everyone knows. The man who doesn’t give a fuck about anything except winning another fight. I was a big man in the ring, but outside it I was small and scared.” I take her hand and she gives my fingers a squeeze. “You found me, and you helped me heal old wounds. You took a broken man and made him whole.” I didn’t like that wording. “You made me whole. You made me care again. Without you, my life is a shell. Please, please Theresa Vaughan,” and I open the box in front of her.

  Now the thing is, Theresa has talked to me about jewelry. Not engagement rings, but just jewelry in general, and how she hates big, clunky things and ostentation in general.

  So she’s probably going to hate this ring.

  Because it is the clunkiest, most ostentatious rock I was able to find and trust me, I looked far and wide for this particular ring.

  “Please be my wife.”

  Please say yes.

  Her eyes are locked on the ring. I see them well up with tears.

  You could hear a pin drop.

  She looks at me, her dark eyes almost black and I could fall again for her, right then, right into her eyes, and only feel good about it.

  Theresa nods, just slightly, as tears trail down her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispers.

  I kiss her hand.

  Natalie says, “I don’t think anyone could hear you, Theresa.”

  Louder, Theresa says, “YES!” More loud cheering from the crowd, almost loud enough to hear over the thumping of my own heart. It’s hammering along as if I’ve just won the biggest fight of my life.

  Perhaps I have.

  I slip the ring onto her slim finger. Natalie says, “My word, dear, you’re not going to be able to lift your hand.”<
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  Theresa stands, and then I do. And I lift her up and kiss her in front of the cameras, in front of the world. She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles against my lips. It looks, at least to the cameras and the studio audience, as if I’ve let the world in at last. I don’t know if that’s true or not. But I’ve let her in, and that’s all that matters for now.

  One step at a time.

  If that’s not fast enough for everybody, well…

  I really don’t give a fuck.

  Bonus Chapter

  Hey, Reader! You might have reached the end of the story, but the story’s not over! If you loved Theresa and Sean as much as I did, you don’t want to miss the chance to hang out with them for another chapter. So if you’re sitting there in your bed, or easy chair, or (better yet!) your bathtub, thinking, Dear God I want more of those two, then pray no more and just click right here to get your free bonus chapter!

  Also by Ellie Bradshaw

  The Next Thing: Ryan is a bare-knuckle fighter with a quick wit and a quicker temper. Miriam’s name isn’t really Miriam, but she can’t tell anybody because she’s on the run from the mob. Bad news for the bad guys; Ryan Calder isn’t ready to let his girl go, no matter what her name is. Even if she’s not really his girl.

  Click here to read The Next Thing