Big Dick Energy - Cindi Madsen Page 0,22
to the fridge, swung it open, and—fuck me—bent to grab a bottle of water. Her skirt stretched tight over that luscious ass of hers, the same way her shirt had hugged her breasts as pulled up her hair. The instant she’d secured it in that ponytail, I’d wanted to yank out the rubber band, and I’d be lying if I claimed it was solely because she’d used the move against me. “What were you thinking, Mr. York, when you constantly interrupted and went off-book, pitching an idea to them without having an ounce of courtesy for me?”
I strode closer to her, blowing air out my nose, feeling very much like a charging bull. “How is presenting my idea to them discourteous?”
“Because you sprang it on me with an audience instead of giving me a heads up beforehand. There’s no I in team, or did you miss that speech during every sports movie ever? Hell, I bet you were a ball hog, and your own coaches also gave you the big speech.”
Nope and nope. On more than one occasion, Dad asked why I’d passed the ball when I would’ve looked better to scouts if I’d scored myself. He’d been the one to think I’d qualify for the big leagues and play out the dreams he hadn’t been able to when he’d knocked up Mom in college, whereas I’d never held those delusions. More, it hadn’t been the life I’d wanted. I’d wanted secure and steady.
Funny enough, I thought this would help calm the ugly side of me that reared its head during close competitions. It left me feeling too much like my father and how he’d yelled at my mother over every mistake. I wanted to win, but I didn’t want to do it because others cowered in fear.
“Let me guess,” Penelope continued, still all fired up and trotting around on her high horse. “You were the big star, and now you relive your glory days in the boardroom. I’m surprised we didn’t all hear a retelling about how you scored the final goal in an important state championship game.”
Again, she’d missed the mark. As my way of saying goodbye to the sport of soccer, I’d scored two important goals during regionals. We’d still lost in overtime, and I shoved away that memory since the fight with Dad afterward had been one of our worsts. I’d come damn close to punching him after he’d gotten physical—shoving and words that’d cut deep. I was over it; I avoided that particular memory lane.
“If you’re asking if I like to win,” I said, taking another step in her direction, “then yeah, I do, which is why I always win. Trust me, Miss Jones, you don’t want to go head-to-head with me.”
A gasp came out, and her mouth hung open as she searched for a comeback. I thought of cutting her off again, just to be the ass she’d accused me of being, but Izzie’s words from last night popped into my mind, and if I wasn’t careful, my little sister was going to turn me into a softie. I wished the stats about men and women’s salaries were different, but I wasn’t going to pussyfoot around and lose my job and the chance to design the soccer complex for the cause.
Penelope curled her hands into claws. “I thought the last guy was bad, but you men are all the same, and I’ve been dealing with this BS since high school. Every group project ends with me doing the majority of the work, all so you can throw a curve ball in my face during the presentation and then take credit if I manage to save it. Or catch it or whatever—you get my point.”
For some reason, my survival instincts went on vacation, my brain choosing to replay the way she’d repeatedly dragged her fingers through her hair. My fingers twitched with longing to do the same. I’d bet the strands smelled amazing and were so silky they’d slip right through my fingers.
Unless I wound them round and round and gave the ends a yank. And we’re avoiding having those type of thoughts about the woman purposely driving you crazy.
Back to the point I’d been trying to make before she’d fogged up the room with her anger. “What I meant was that giving them time alone alleviates the pressure and allows them to come up with three other answers instead of the two we presented them with. It’s like doing a stupid poll with a