Her eyes fluttered shut and she turned her face to the side as I plunged in deeper, her mouth dropping open.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Just keep going slow for a minute, okay?”
“Okay.” I did as she asked, watching her discomfort subside and her desire take over. Her back began to arch. Her gasps turned to sighs. Her hands traveled down my back and over my ass, pulling me in deeper. When her hips began to rock beneath mine, I knew she was getting close.
“Tell me how you want me to fuck you.” I spoke low in her ear, my voice ragged with the fight for control. “Do you like it deep? Hard?”
“Yes,” she said, holding out the s in a long hiss. “Yes, I like it deep and hard. Just like that,” she rasped as I started to move with more muscle, more aggression. She cried out with every savage thrust, and I couldn’t get enough—of her tight, wet pussy, of the smell of sex, of the sound of the headboard banging against the wall.
Take that, asshole! I have stamina too!
God, it felt so fucking good to command my body and have it obey. To experience that surge of power and pleasure that came from peak physical performance. To work up this agonizing tension and know the release was right fucking there, and it was going to deliver the way it was supposed to—for both of us. I hadn’t been in this place for so long, so long.
But I had to take her with me. “Come for me,” I growled, or maybe begged, as I dangled from the edge, losing my grip. “Come for me. Now, now, now—”
“Yes!” she cried out, her body contracting around my cock as it throbbed inside her.
I kept moving until I couldn’t anymore, until my muscles gave out, until I collapsed on top of her in complete and utter bliss. Her hands came up to my head and threaded into my hair, and we stayed just like that for a moment, our skin slick with sweat, our breath coming hard and fast, our bodies still connected.
But after a minute, I realized I must be crushing her, and I lifted my chest from her upper body. “Sorry. You okay?”
“Um, I just had two orgasms in like twenty minutes. I’m amazing. Well, you’re amazing.”
I grinned down at her. “Thanks. Want a third? Because I think I could do it.”
She laughed and swatted at my chest. “Whoa there, cowboy. This pony needs a little rest. I think you might have bruised my spleen or something.”
“Sorry.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Liar.”
“You’re right.” Rolling off her, I carefully extracted myself, kissed her shoulder, and stood up. “Be right back.”
When I returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, she was lying exactly where I left her, on her back on top of the covers, one arm across her stomach, the other above her head. Her forehead was wrinkled, like she was fretting about something. I got back on the bed and lay on my side, my head propped in my hand.
“Hey.” I tugged a strand of her hair.
“Hey.”
“That’s a serious face you’re wearing for someone who just had two orgasms in twenty minutes.”
She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t do that.”
She rolled to her side and faced me. “Do you think this is crazy?”
“No.”
“Not even kind of crazy? I mean, given our history?”
“I mean, maybe a little. But I don’t think it’s bad—unless one of us has strange expectations about what it is. Wait—we don’t, do we?” Suddenly I was nervous that we hadn’t laid out the parameters before we jumped into bed.
She laughed. “You should see how scared your face is. Don’t worry, no strange expectations here. I know what this is, and it’s okay. We’re still friends.”
“Okay.” I paused. “So what don’t you know?”
“I guess I was just lying here wondering why this feels so good with you.”
“It’s supposed to feel good.”
“I know. But for me, it hasn’t always. And I’ve been working through some stuff for the last few months—well, really, if I’m honest, it’s been a lot longer than that—so I’m trying to sort of fit us into that bigger picture.”
“What do you mean?”
She reached out and brushed her fingertip over a small scar on my chest. “My therapist believes I’ve kept people, especially men, at a distance, because I don’t want to reveal my past. I’m scared of being judged for my decisions.”
“All of your decisions? Or one in particular?”
“One in particular.” She kept her eyes on my chest.
“Meaning . . . the baby?”
“Yes. Because I felt a lot of guilt about giving it up, I never let anyone get close enough to tell them about it. I purposely put up a wall—this thing that prevents me from really letting someone in. But with you, it isn’t there.”
I brushed a piece of hair off her face. “No. It isn’t.”
“I guess—I guess it’s a relief to feel like I have nothing to hide. No reason to put up the wall. You already know the deepest, darkest piece of me, the part I’ve kept concealed from everyone else, so I have nothing to feel anxious about. It freed me up to just feel . . . good.”
“So what you’re saying is, my dick isn’t just big, it’s therapeutic.”
Laughing, she gave my chest a push. “God, your ego really never quits.”
“I can’t help it. I’m around you, and I’m eighteen again.”
“But smarter. And safer.”
“Don’t forget slower and more skilled.”
She giggled. “Definitely slower and more skilled. No more rifle.”
I took her hand, and automatically, our fingers interlocked. “So I decided to go over to baseball practice tomorrow morning.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? What made you decide that?”
“I ran into Coach Dean’s son David this afternoon. Virgil had already told him I was around for the weekend, so he was making the hard sell too. He told me about this kid, a new kid—a lefty pitcher like me—who’s got a great arm but struggles with control. I thought I might go over and watch him throw a little bit. See if I can help him out.”
“I think that’s awesome. Those kids are going to love having you there.”
“Maybe. But it’s not really the kids I’m concerned about. It’s the asshole parents, the ones who’ll ask why a fuckup like me is coaching their kids.” I shrugged. “Guess you were right about me being afraid of something.”
“You can ignore them.”
I grimaced. “I can try.”
She sat up and got feisty with me. “Listen, you are not a fuckup, and you don’t have anything to be ashamed or afraid of. You made it. You left here and did exactly what you said you were going to do—pitch in the major league. How many people can say that? You were a superstar for, what, like ten years? That’s a long time. And you probably made a bazillion dollars doing it, so you have plenty of money and can do anything you want with your second act. You just have to decide what it’s going to be.”
“It won’t be anything as great as the first, that’s for sure.”
She poked my shoulder. “You don’t know that. It could be even better. Ten years ago, I was living in Manhattan planning super ritzy parties for ridiculously wealthy clients, and I thought it was the epitome of success in my career. But you know what? I got bored. It was the same kind of people, and they weren’t always good people, and I started to feel like my life didn’t have the kind of purpose I wanted. When my parents offered the job here, I said no way at first. I’d worked really hard to make it in the big city—why would I come back to this little town? For a pay cut, no less. And dealing with brides all the time? No, thanks.”
“Why did you?” I wondered.
“Because I had the opportunity to build something of my own here. To grow it and watch it take off. I also realized how much I missed my family—and even this little town, where everyone wants to know your business
and no one is shy about poking into it. Because they can also be really generous and loyal. I like that so many people around me know my name, know my family, care enough to ask about my dad’s health or compliment my mom’s hospitality or tell me how beautiful they heard so-and-so’s wedding was at the farm.”
I shook my head. “You’re a much better person than I am.”
She laughed and tried to push me again, but this time I flipped her onto her back. “You are. Just admit it.”
“I’m only trying to show you that your second act might not look like you thought it would, but it can still make you happy. I mean, you weren’t going to play forever, were you? What was the plan?”
“I didn’t have one,” I told her, settling my hips over hers. “I was going to die on the field.”
“Of what?” She wrapped her arms and legs around me.
“Heart attack? Lightning strike?” I planted kisses on her shoulder, her collarbone, her breast. “I don’t really know. Never gave that part much thought.”
“Well, I’m glad you had to retire before that happened. I would’ve been very sad at your funeral.”
I picked up my head and grinned at her. “You’d miss my big therapeutic dick?”
“I wouldn’t even know about that. If your pitching career hadn’t ended, I bet you wouldn’t even be here. You’d be on the field in some random city tonight, you’d fly here tomorrow to see Sadie get married, and fly right back out again.”
“St. Louis,” I told her, lowering my lips to her other breast. “I’d be in St. Louis right now.”
And it shocked me to realize that I was actually glad I wasn’t.
We made good use of the remaining condom, then fell asleep almost immediately. That was another surprise—normally I didn’t like sharing a bed. I preferred sleeping toward the center of the mattress, I tended to hog the blankets, and I really didn’t like to be touched while I was sleeping. And since I was a light sleeper, other people always seemed noisy to me during the night. Back when I’d had a sex life, I’d had a strict no-sleepover rule.
But I didn’t mind having April next to me at all. For one, she stuck to one side of the bed. Two, the only sound I heard was her breathing, and I liked it. Three, she smelled so good, it was like aromatherapy or some shit. I found myself snuggling up behind her just to get more of the scent. And I slept hard, even better than I had the night before.
When I woke up, I was alone in the bed. The room was still dark, but I could see a slash of light coming from under the bathroom door. I checked my phone and discovered it was just after seven. Then I lay back, hands behind my head.
The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and a moment later, she came out of the bathroom, leaving the light on. She stood at the foot of the bed, looking mussed and adorable and a little apprehensive.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“You shared the covers.”
“I did.”
“Was it terrible?”
I shook my head. “Just the opposite, actually. So why don’t you come back to bed and I’ll work on sharing some more.”
She laughed. “I wish I could, but I should probably get home. I have a big day ahead.”
“Me too. And I promise I’ll take you home in a minute. But first, come here.” I reached for her with one hand.
Smiling, she took my hand and let me tug her back into bed. Pulling up the covers, I wrapped my arms around her and tucked her head beneath my chin.
She rested her cheek on my chest and tossed an arm and a leg across me. “That’s what you said to me that night, you know.”
“What night?”
“In your truck. On the detour. You said ‘come here’ right before you kissed me.”
I laughed. “Did I? That was my big line?”
“Mmhm. And it worked.”
“I thought it was something with your hair.”
“Well, it was that too. You put your hand in my hair and then you said it.”
“That was all it took, huh?”
“That was it.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I have better game now.”
“You know what? I liked it. It didn’t feel like game. It felt real.”
“It was.” I held her a little tighter. “It was real.”
After a quick room service breakfast—fruit and coffee for April; eggs, bacon, fruit, waffles, and coffee for me—I dropped her off at Cloverleigh Farms to get her car and told her I’d see her tonight. The weather was beautiful already—sunny, mild, cloudless—and the temperature was supposed to reach the low seventies by later afternoon. She was thrilled because Sadie was going to be happy.
Afterward, I went back to the hotel, worked out at the gym, grabbed a shower, and headed over to the high school field.
A thousand memories flooded my brain as soon as I got out of the car and looked up at the lights, the stands, the dugouts, the mound. It was just after ten, and the team was warming up by running sprints.
David saw me approaching and lifted a hand. I waved back and walked over to where he stood along the fence. “Morning,” I said.
“Morning.” He shook my hand and smiled. “Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” I stuck my hands in my pockets, watching as the team finished up the sprints and another coach yelled instructions at them. They scattered, grabbing their gloves and spreading out on the field.
“The kid I wanted you to see is the last one down on the right,” he said. “Come on, let’s mosey in that direction so you can take a look.”
“Sure.” We ambled slowly along the fence, and a nice, familiar feeling settled over me as I watched the team playing catch in the morning sun. I’d missed being around baseball.
As we walked, David pointed out different players, told me about the team’s record, what the remainder of the season looked like, which guys might have a shot at college ball. “No one is like you, of course—never has been and never will be another Tyler Shaw—but we’ve got some talent. Chip there, the lefty, has been talking to a few schools.”
I watched the kid throw—he did have a good arm. “Oh yeah? Which ones?”
“Clemson, LSU, Florida State.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, he’s got talent.” David squinted at the field. “Got kind of a tough family situation though. I think it’s messing with his mental game.”
Nobody knew better than I did how critical the mental game was. “How so?”
“Well, his dad died suddenly a year or so ago. Mom moved them up here to be closer to her family. But I think he worries about leaving her alone. There’s a little sister too.”
Immediately, I felt sympathy for the kid. “That’s hard.”
“Yeah. He’s talking about sticking around here, but his mom really wants him to go away to college. She’s trying to talk him into it.”
“An education is a good thing,” I said. “Since all this happened with my arm, I’ve wondered a few times if I should have gone that route.”
David nodded, and I braced myself for the usual barrage of hindsight advice. But it didn’t come. “Nah, I think you did the right thing for you. But I agree with his mom, and I hope he gets a good enough offer from one of those schools. I think he will, if he can gain a little more control before the season finishes up.” He looked at me. “Want to watch him pitch?”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Chip!” he hollered.
The kid turned around. “Yeah, Coach?”
David waved him over. “Come here. I want to introduce you to someone.”
The kid, tall and trim with long limbs, came jogging over. He wore a cap over his shaggy brown hair, but tipped up the bill a little to meet my eyes.
“Chip, the man standing before you is none other than—”
“Tyler Shaw.” The kid grinned. “I recognize you.”
I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand.
He
shook it, looking a little awestruck. “You too.”
“This is your lucky day, Chip. Tyler is only in town for today, but he says he’s got a little time to watch your motion and give you some feedback.”
The kid’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“Oh, man.” He adjusted his cap, his expression anxious.
David clapped him on the back. “Don’t be nervous, son. Just listen and try to do what he says.”
“Okay.” Chip’s voice cracked.
“I hear you’ve got great power and speed,” I told him. “But you’re struggling a little with command?”
“Yeah.”
“I had the same issue, and my coach was able to help me by breaking down the mechanics and making sure I understood every step. You have to focus on the process, not the result. Because if you can’t control your body, you can’t control the ball, right?”
He considered that. “Right.”
I nodded, getting kind of excited to watch this kid pitch and help him out. Maybe I couldn’t fix myself, but I knew this game—especially from the pitcher’s mound. “Let’s do it.”
Twelve
April
After Tyler dropped me off at Cloverleigh, I drove home to shower and change for work. The previous night replayed in my head like a dream, and I must have stood in the shower for an extra fifteen minutes just recalling the way he’d used his mouth on me. And his big, strong hands. And his massive, therapeutic erection.
Giggling, I rinsed my conditioner out and realized how much we’d laughed all night long. I’d never had a sexual experience that was both really intense and really fun at the same time. Was it because we knew each other so well? And how was that even possible? We hadn’t seen each other for years and had only reunited three days ago. It was incredible how you just felt a connection to some people—and it never went away, no matter how much time or distance came between you.
I dressed in jeans, a comfortable top, and sneakers, but I packed a garment bag with a little black dress and heels for Sadie’s wedding later on so I wouldn’t have to come home.
Unforgettable: A Small Town Second Chance Sports Romance Page 12