by Tara Wyatt
Not cool.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. That’s not fair of me.” He sighed and glanced out the window. “The truth is, impulse control has never been my strong suit, but it’s something I’m working on, or trying to, at least. It’s not who I want to be.”
“So if…if I wanted to try, actually try this thing with us, no more wild?”
He held his hand over his heart, ready to promise her the moon. “No more wild. If something makes you uncomfortable, I won’t do it. I swear. If it means you’ll give us a chance, a real, honest chance, I’ll do pretty much anything.”
“So if I wanted to have a threesome with another guy?”
He chuckled. “I don’t share.”
A tiny smile pulled up the corner of her mouth and she opened it to speak when the car pulled up to the curb and came to a stop. Without waiting for the driver, she unlocked the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Still running, but not as fast and not as far. Now if he could just hit the damn ball and get this one-thousandth hit over with, he’d really be golden.
“And we’re back,” said Faye Foster, the host of Manhattan Morning. She smiled warmly into the camera. “If you follow celebrity gossip at all, I’m sure you’re familiar with this next story—it’s the one where baseball’s bad boy marries country music’s good girl in a Vegas ceremony, taking the media—and their fans—by surprise. Now, here to share their story with us live and in person are award-winning country music star Marlowe Story and two-time All-Star with the Dallas Longhorns, Hunter Blake.”
Marlowe smiled as the camera panned back to include her and Hunter in the shot. They were seated side by side on a love seat across from Faye’s chair. The lights shining down on them were hot, like glowing coals, and her legs felt itchy. She was used to interviews and being on television, but she usually didn’t have to go on the air live after an earth shattering conversation in the back of a Town Car. After all, she was pretty sure she’d just agreed to date her husband, and if that didn’t count as earth shattering, she wasn’t sure what did.
She blinked, forcing herself to focus on the interview and not the words they’d exchanged on the way here. The promises, the hope, inching closer together. Having such huge amounts of fear and panic live beside hope and maybe even love inside her was completely discombobulating. Those emotions—not warring, just tensely facing off against each other—made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to focus. Looking for an anchor, she reached out and slipped her fingers between Hunter’s. Without looking at her, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Faye started with easy questions—how did you two meet? How long have you been together? What made you decide on a Vegas wedding? Hunter did most of the talking, his easy charm clearly winning Faye over. Marlowe was happy to let him take the lead, not only because she wasn’t sure her mouth would work properly right now, but because he was the one trying to do the most image rehab, so viewers needed to see this side of him.
But, not letting Marlowe off the hook, Faye turned to her. “So, Marlowe, I have to ask. The obvious aside,” she said, gesturing at Hunter and winking, “how did you know he was the one?”
Marlowe bit her lip and smiled softly, her chest feeling all warm and melty. “Well, as Hunter said, we’d been seeing each other for a while and just kind of took a chance. But…I do think he’s the one.” She turned to look at him, holding his intense blue gaze. “Because he’s my best friend. We have fun together, and I know he’d do anything for me. I’ve never met anyone else I just like as much as I like him.” She turned back to Faye. “I’m a pretty guarded person—I think you have to be to survive in this industry with your soul intact—but I’ve always felt like I could be myself around him. I trust him, and I admire who he is, deep down inside. He’s sweet, and caring, and funny, and a really hard worker. Smart, too,” she added with a smile. “And we…we have chemistry.” She blushed a little at that last admission.
Faye smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Sounds like the complete package. What woman could resist that?”
Marlowe glanced at Hunter, sending him a little smile. “Not me.” He squeezed her hand again, his heart in his eyes.
And just like that, Marlowe gave up, and let every single brick around her heart fall at Hunter’s feet.
“Top of the fifth and up steps Hunter Blake to the plate. The Yankees pitcher, Will Bryson, is hot tonight, retiring six in a row, which I’m sure is the last thing Blake wants to hear with his one thousandth hit still looming. Here’s the first pitch, and it’s outside for ball one,” says Wayne Hopkins.
“He walked in the second, so he’s already been on base tonight, which might take some of the pressure off,” says Ron Whittaker.
“He does look good up there tonight. More relaxed than we’ve seen him in a while. And the second pitch is just inside for ball two.”
“He’s not chasing pitches tonight, and his patience is paying off.”
“Here’s the wind up and the pitch…Blake swings and drives it up the alley to right-center field. Rodriguez looks up, goes back to the track and it…is…gone! Good golly Miss Molly, that ball is outta here! Hunter Blake with a home run for career hit number one thousand!”
From her spot in the seats, surrounded by a few other wives and girlfriends who’d made the trip to New York, Marlowe surged to her feet as the ball went arcing into the night sky, almost losing sight of it in the bright stadium lights flooding the field.
“Come on, come on!” she yelled, every muscle in her body tense as she willed Hunter’s hit to disappear over the wall, or land between the outfielders, or hit the barrier for a ground rule double. She wanted this milestone so badly for him it almost felt like it belonged to her, too.
The ball sailed into the second row of seats, landing in a lucky—or unlucky, depending on your view point—fan’s beer.
“YES!” She jumped up and down, punching her fist in the air, celebrating Hunter’s career milestone. Pride and happiness lit her from within, like a buzzing glow. Even though they were at Yankee Stadium, on enemy turf, many fans cheered as Hunter circled the bases. The fan who’d caught the ball grudgingly threw it back onto the field, and she could already picture it on their mantel back at home. It was then that she realized that she’d started thinking of Hunter’s house as home. As theirs, something they shared. It didn’t feel completely natural yet, but it also felt wrong and inaccurate to think of herself as a guest there.
Hunter finished his lap around the bases and headed back into the dugout, where the entire team greeted him with cheers and slaps on the back, followed by Dylan McCormick dumping a cooler full of Gatorade over Hunter’s head. Marlowe laughed as Hunter shook himself like a wet dog and then pulled Dylan in for a hug.
She’d wanted to talk to him some more after their interview, to pick up where they’d left off in the back of the Town Car, but he’d had to head to the field for stretching and batting practice, and she’d had other interviews and press to do, including taping an appearance on The Tonight Show, which had gone really well. All in all, it had been a fantastic day, but all she wanted to do now was head back to the hotel and celebrate with Hunter.
As she watched the rest of the game, she felt as though something was shifting inside her, expanding and making room for something new. Something exciting and maybe a little scary, but something worth the risk. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. Maybe she never had. With Dirk, she’d thought she’d felt like this at first, but it had all been an illusion before everything shrank until there was no room for anything but fear and doubt and self-loathing. It was like stepping into the sunshine after living in the darkness for so long. Warm and comforting, but almost blinding. Confusing and exciting, all at once.
But she had a feeling Hunter would be worth it.
Eleven
After the game, Marlowe had gone back to the hotel alone, as the team had insisted on taking Hunter out to celebrate. About an hour later, the door opened, and Hunter
stepped inside. How was it that after all this time, her heart still did a somersault in her chest every time she saw him? She turned off the TV and pushed up off of the bed, moving toward him. His eyes locked on hers, and for a second, they just stared, heat and anticipation building between them. Then he took a few steps toward her and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and kissing her. All of the lingering tension inside her dissolved and she melted into him, kissing him back with everything she had. Trying to convey everything she was feeling through the melding of their mouths. She slid her tongue against his and he moaned gruffly, his hands slipping down to her ass and giving her a firm squeeze. Through his jeans, she could feel the bulge of his erection pressing against her belly.
“I need you,” she whispered, her fingers working to undo his belt buckle.
“I always need you. I’ll always need you,” he said, pulling her T-shirt up over her head. He made quick work of her bra as she undid the fly of his jeans and slipped her hand into his pants, cupping him through his boxers. He wove his hand into her hair and gently tugged her head to the side, burying his face in her neck and kissing a path from her collarbone to her jawline.
“God, Hunter. You feel so good.” She curled her fingers around the hem of his T-shirt and started moving it up. He broke contact just long enough to yank it up over his head in a swift, masculine movement. They made quick work of the rest of their clothes, shedding them in record time. She let out a sigh as her nipples rubbed against his chest, savoring the feel of being skin to skin with him.
“So, how does it feel to be Mr. One Thousand?” she asked, nipping at his ear and lightly trailing her nails down his back.
He slipped a hand under her chin and kissed her, a long, lingering kiss that made her weak in the knees and wet between her legs. “Not as good as it feels to be yours.”
She smiled, emotion clogging her throat. “Hmm, I know what you mean.”
His eyes were bright as he kissed her again, his hands exploring her body, tracing over her skin until she was warm and ready and throbbing. “Do you mean it?” he asked, and she almost wanted to cry at the hope and need in his expression. Cry with joy, but also cry with frustration over how hard she’d tried to run from this.
“I do.” She took a shaky breath, biting her lip, their naked bodies still pressed together. She felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to dive into the waves below. Exhilarated but also scared. Taking another breath, she forced herself to say the words that she knew were etched onto her heart. The words he deserved to hear. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, Hunter.”
“Christ,” he ground out before crushing his mouth to hers and lifting her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked them to the bed. He laid her down gently and then eased himself down on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows. His eyes held hers. “I love you, Marlowe. I fucking love you.”
She hooked her legs around his hips, rubbing herself against his impossibly hard cock, needing to connect with him. To be one. To be complete. “I love you, too.”
He moaned and pushed into her, slow and gentle, and once he was fully seated deep inside her, he stilled, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Say it again.” He pulled out slowly and then thrust back in, even deeper than before, and she cried out, clinging to him. Somehow, he still wasn’t close enough, this gorgeous man who’d do anything for her. Who loved her. Who she trusted not to hurt her.
“I love you.”
He let out a strangled groan and buried his face in her neck, pumping into her with hard, steady strokes. He murmured her name, saying it with such reverence that she felt like she was floating. Glowing. Surrounded with Hunter and his love—a love she’d been so scared of.
She owed him the truth.
He slowed his thrusts and wove his fingers through hers, pinning her hands above her head. He kissed her, a slow, tender, never ending kiss, as though he needed more connection, too. Pleasure built through her, slow and steady, mounting with each leisurely stroke of Hunter’s cock inside her. As though they had all the time in the world. And for the first time in their complicated relationship, they actually did.
She tilted her hips, changing the angle so that her clit rubbed against him with each slow thrust, and a warm, tingling sensation enveloped her entire body. Her skin flushed, her nipples tightened, her heart throbbed in her chest. Her legs started to shake as the first wave of her orgasm pulsed through her, her toes curling as she clung to Hunter, needing him to anchor her against the onslaught of pleasure churning through her. Her body clenched and then her orgasm exploded through her, stealing her breath and narrowing her existence to her and Hunter in this bed, right here, right now. It was all that mattered. Everything she needed was right here.
Her body pulled him deeper inside with each throb of her orgasm until she didn’t know where she ended and he began. He thrust faster, harder, deeper, prolonging her pleasure, until he let out a deep, growling groan and she felt his cock pulse inside her as he came. After a moment, he pressed his forehead to hers, not saying anything, just looking at her with sheer adoration.
This. This was what it felt like to be loved. To be safe.
Hunter stroked his hand up and down Marlowe’s bare back, savoring the feel of her soft, smooth skin under his fingertips. She shifted against him, pressing her cheek against his chest, right over his heart. Yeah, he’d gotten his one thousandth career hit tonight—well, technically the hit had happened yesterday, as it was well past midnight now—but this, with Marlowe, this felt like the real victory. This was what mattered.
“I have a question for you,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“Mmm. What?” Her voice was sated and gentle, probably thanks to the four orgasms she’d had over the past couple of hours.
“My mom wants to throw us a party to celebrate us getting married.”
“Like a reception?”
“Yeah. Is that okay with you? I get it if that’s too much, a party and meeting my family and—”
She cut him off by lifting her head and kissing him. “Yeah. Let’s have a party. I…I want to meet your family.”
He smiled as she laid back down on his chest. “Okay, good. I’ll let my mom know.”
“Will it be in Dallas?”
“No, Philly. We’ll schedule it for when we’re playing the Phillies in a couple of weeks.”
“Is that where you’re from?” She lifted her head again, her hair falling over his chest. “God, I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”
“Yeah, I was born in Philadelphia, while my dad was playing for the Phillies. My brother was born there too, but my sister was born in Montreal during his time with the Expos.”
“I didn’t realize that we’re both from Pennsylvania.”
“You’re from Pennsylvania? Shit, I guess I never asked where you grew up, did I?” He felt sad, disappointed in himself that he’d never taken the time to get to know her, but also excited that there was still so much of Marlowe to discover.
She shook her head, biting back a smile. “I’m from Scranton. Not nearly as glamorous as Philadelphia.”
“Does your mom still live there?”
“Yeah. I guess she won’t have far to travel for the party.”
“You’re an only child, right?”
“Yeah, just me and my mom. My dad walked out when I was little. I don’t really remember him. Apparently he lives somewhere in Kentucky now.”
“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”
She shrugged. “It does, but if he didn’t want anything to do with us, maybe it was better that he left instead of staying, resenting us, and taking it out on us.”
Something in the tone of her voice had shifted, a hard, bitter edge creeping through. Something that made him hold her a little bit tighter. “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting your mom.”
Marlowe let out a quiet snort. “Brace yourself. She’s…” She sighed. “She means well,
but she has some messed up ideas about men and relationships.”
“Like what?”
“Well…I think she gets a lot of her self-worth from being in a relationship, and she always thought it was better to be with someone—even if that someone was a first-class asshole—than no one. I watched her chase a lot of scumbags, let a lot of losers walk all over her when I was growing up, and so I pretty much swore off relationships. I thought that love was a made up fairy tale, and I didn’t want to turn into some sad, desperate woman like she’d become.” She took a deep breath, and Hunter didn’t say anything, sensing that what she was telling him was important. “But eventually, I knew I needed to get over that. I wasn’t her, and I didn’t need to repeat what she’d done. I could be with someone and not make her same mistakes. I could do better.” She sighed. “Or so I thought. But you know, the stuff that happens to us as kids, it gets into your brain. It’s buried deep, in ways you don’t even realize until it’s too late.”
He tilted her chin up so he could see her face. A haunted look shone out from her eyes, a look that made him want to take on the world. “Marlowe, did something happen?”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “I want to tell you, but I don’t…I’m scared you’ll think less of me.”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you. I promise.”
She bit her lip and then sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging the sheet around her. For a long time, she sat silently, and he could see the internal war she was waging with herself. “So, a while ago, before I met you, I dated Dirk Marshall.”