Moonshot (18 page)

It felt like everything was moving too fast, yet time was also standing still. It’d been three weeks and six cities since that night we broke apart and then fell back together. Only 24 days, yet … when every evening was spent with him … it felt like a year. There were just over sixty games left in the season. Then, I would have a decision-filled offseason. The biggest question that weighed me down? Whether to tell my father about Chase.

“We don’t have to do this.” He gasped into my mouth as his hand yanked at my zipper.

“Shut up,” I pulled at his shirt, my nails skidding across his back in my haste to get it off, to expose that torso, the perfect lines surrounding each muscle, his abs a ripple of beauty.

“Are you sure?” he asked as his fingers dug under the waist of my jeans, pulling them over my hips, his mouth on mine as soon as the question left it.

“Third base,” I shot out, in between frantic kisses. “Stop arguing with me and do it.”

He gripped my waist and pushed, then I was on his bed, my jeans skinned off, flip-flops tossed somewhere, and he was pushing me back, crawling on top of me, his weight gently on mine, the press of him hard and hot, in between my legs.

It was strange how so many points of our body could touch, from foot to shoulder, the length of him atop me, his weight supported by his hands, his mouth on my neck, marking his territory, and yet the only thing I felt, right then, was his cock. It was hard, in his boxer briefs, between my legs, his cotton underwear against mine, my legs wrapping around his hips, and when he gently ground against me, I almost lost my mind. Suddenly, I didn’t want his mouth on me; I didn’t want to go down on him. I only wanted him to pull it out and push it inside of me. I wanted him to own that part of my body, to replace any memory I ever had of Tobey, to thrust inside and teach me how it was done. This time would not be a rushed affair, with no phone calls, total silence afterward, both of us running back to our normal lives. This time, with Chase, would be done right, sex filled with love and passion and the promise of a million more times. I begged him for it, and he silenced me with his kiss.

“Don’t ask me for that, Ty. Please.” His voice rasped on the beg, his hips shifting, dragging his arousal over me, each pump of his hips sending me to a new level of delirium. He pushed up on his hands, looking down between our bodies, my panties sticking to me, his bulge extended, and he slid one last painful time across me, my back arching off the bed with the need of it all. “You have no idea how badly I want that,” he groaned. “But right now, I want something even more.” He sat up, pulling at my legs, unwrapping them from his waist, and pushed at my knees, spreading them apart, his body sliding down the bed before I realized what was happening.

“Wait!” I called out, reaching for him, propping up on my elbows and trying to stop him, my hand on his shoulder, pushing him off. “I changed my mind. We can just skip this base.”

He pulled at my thighs, dragging me to the edge of the bed, his head lifting to look at me. “Skip it?” I felt the stretch of my panties and then they were gone, pulled down and off my legs, the last barrier between his mouth and me, and I’d never felt so exposed in my life. Thank God the lamps were off in the room, the only light coming from the bathroom. Thank God he couldn’t see my blush in the dark.

“Skip it,” I whispered, suddenly too shy to take this step, to have his mouth on my most private place, a flood of doubts and insecurities taking over.

He didn’t skip it. He ignored me, leaning forward, and then his mouth was on me, and it was different than a kiss, different than his touch, different than anything I had experimented with on my own. I pushed against his head, resisting, scared and insecure … then he moved his tongue, a soft flick of it across my clit, and I groaned, my hand twisting in the short length of his hair, the sound from my mouth one that I had never made. My toes dug into the bed, my knees pointed at the ceiling, and I lost everything. Every conscious thought, every worry, every understanding of what was pleasure and what was right. I watched his eyes close, felt the slow, beautiful movement of his tongue, and finally understood what the giant fuss about sex was all about.

His hands gripped my legs, his mouth gently made love to my clit, and my heart, after two months of struggle and a few minutes of ecstasy, finally stopped its fight.

There was no stopping this. There was no more resisting. Damn any of the consequences, damn any future heartbreak. I clenched my legs, I gripped at the bed, and I cried out his name in the moment that my soul broke open.

I was his.

54

“I love you.” He said the words so softly I almost missed them, my groggy mind too sluggish to comprehend. I was tucked under his arm, lying next to him in bed, my hand playing over his stomach, my lazy mind trying to work up the courage to drag my fingers lower, down the lines of his abs and toward the edge of his underwear.

My mind repeated the words, trying to sort them from background noise, trying to understand if I really heard them or just imagined it. “What?” I finally said, rolling toward him and propping myself up on his stomach.

“I love you.” There were pillows underneath his head, angled toward me, his eyes clear, his face strong and confident. He should be confident. I’d all but worshipped him in the last hour, my voice running wild, comparing him to God All-Mighty as I had bucked underneath his mouth, two orgasms stolen from my body before he finally stopped.

“Why?”

“Why do I love you?” There was a smile in his voice, as if it was a dumb question.

“Yes.”

“That’s a hard question.”

I made a face. “Ugh.” I pushed off him. “You fail.”

“Wait.” He stopped me, his arms strong as he held me in place. The same arms that had held down my legs as he had tasted between them. The same arms that swung a bat and brought millions of Americans to their feet. I lifted my eyes from those arms and to his face. “It’s not easy to answer. I love you because you look at me and see more than just a baseball player.” I went to speak, and he stopped me. “I love you because your smile does something to my heart. I love you because when I see you, I can’t stop staring at you. And when you’re away from me, I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you because right now, there’s nothing more tempting in life than to pull you on top of me and push inside of you. And I love you because you’re the first woman on Earth who I’ve wanted to wait for. Who I’ve treasured enough to be patient. I could wait a hundred years for you because the thought of doing anything that brings you pain makes my heart break. You are the most complex woman I have ever met.” I made a face, and he shushed me. “I’m serious. You are like a guy in so many ways—the way you call me out, the things you know, the way you swear, the arm on you that would put a hundred recruits to shame … you’re my best friend, Ty. And I haven’t had a best friend in a really long time. But…” He shook his head. “You’re also the most feminine creature on Earth.” He ran his fingers slowly down my side, over my hip, his fingers spreading as he placed a warm palm against my skin. “Your face, your body—the way you laugh, how you smell—hell, just the way you
walk
. It’s intoxicating.”

I held my breath, watching his eyes search mine, his hand soft as it ran through my hair.

“The end,” he finally said, and I smiled, his mouth turning up in response, his hand moving from my hair and gently rubbing over my mouth. “That smile right there,” he murmured. “You have no idea what it does to me.”

I crawled up his stomach, my bra dragging along his chest until we were face to face, my hair a curtain around our faces, his chin lifting up as he met my eyes. “I love you too,” I said softly, and even through the veil of my hair, I could see his smile.

“I’m going to marry you one day, Ty Rollins,” he said softly, gently tucking my hair behind one ear, and my heart stopped.

“One thing at a time,” I said, leaning down and pressing my lips to his, a soft brush that became a fire, his hands tangling in my hair, his lips turning desperate on mine.

I stayed by his side until the sun rose, pink sunlight tentatively pushing through the open curtains, my name a beg off his lips when I finally rolled out of his bed, pulling on my jeans, sneaking barefoot down the hotel hall and back to my room.

I undressed in the dark of my own room, crawling into my bed, my phone plugged in, and fell asleep quickly, my heart soaring, a smile stretched over my face.

It was perfect.

More than I’d ever dreamed of.

55

New York

Wish u were coming home with me. You still need to see my place.

I stretched in the hall, my bag at my feet, eyes on my phone, halfway through a response, when the hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, lifting my eyes off my cell, and stuffing it in my back pocket, the text from Chase still open on it. “Mr. Grant,” I said with a smile. “Good game.”

“
Great
game.” He beamed. “I can smell the playoffs now.”

“Me too.”

“What are your plans this week? Tobey’s at the house, and we’d love to have you over for dinner. Maybe Tuesday?”

The door to the locker room opened, and the owner of my heart stepped out. I kept my eyes on the man before me, the act heroic in its struggle. “I’ll check my schedule. Dad keeps me pretty busy when we’re home.”

The soft smack of shoes on wood, Chase slowly wandered closer, the hall too thin, my control too weak, and I met his eyes despite myself, my mouth curving into a smile. Mr. Grant followed my eyes, his mouth breaking into a smile, and he clapped Chase on the shoulder. “There’s our star! Man, am I glad that we got you in pinstripes, boy.”

“I just score the runs, sir.” Chase nodded to me. “Her dad’s the one keeping them off the board.” And Dad had done a great job of it, closing the last eight games without a single hit.

“While you’re here,” Grant said, gripping Chase’s shoulder and turning to me. “Convince Ty here to take a few days off. I’m trying to get her over to our house for some home cooking that will fatten up those bones of hers.”

Chase smiled at me, and I could read everything he was thinking in those eyes. My return smile was less enthusiastic, a hard pit forming in my stomach, as I hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t take this conversation any further, wouldn’t mention—

“Is she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen or what?” Grant peered at me alongside Chase, and I shifted, reaching down and picking up my backpack, my stomach tighter.

“I won’t argue with that.” There was too much feeling in his voice, and I looked up in warning, my eyes sharp, Grant catching the inflection and turning to him with a laugh.

“Now easy there. Don’t go getting any designs on her. You may not know it, but you’re looking at my future daughter-in-law.” My stomach dropped even further and I felt suddenly hot, stars appearing in my vision, and I didn’t realize that stress could make you physically sick.

“Is that so?” Chase’s voice was low and steel, and all I wanted to do was escape.

Instead, I tried a laugh, the sound almost strangled. I reached out, patting the older man’s arm. “Did you see the Marlins’ highlights?” I babbled. “Grio batted 4 for 5.”

The man brushed me off, turning back to Chase. “Have you met my son yet? Tobey’s at Harvard. He’s smart as a whip and has had eyes for Ty here since she first joined us.”

“I was twelve,” I interjected. “I don’t think Tobey liked me then.”

“Well,” he conceded, “maybe not then. But those two…” He smiled big, turning to me with a wink. “They’re destined to be together. I just know it. So, what do you say Ty? Dinner with us Tuesday night?”

I almost swayed, the need to vomit growing stronger with each shade darker that Chase’s face grew. “Let me check with Dad,” I promised Grant. Then, gripping my backpack tightly, I turned tightly on my heel and all but sprinted down the hall, hitting the bathroom and bending over the toilet.