But it's not until he kisses each eyelid that I blink up at him against the final rays of the setting sun and find his blue-green eyes staring down at me. They're no longer darkened by any impending storms, but clear as a newfound day. My heart leaps at seeing the rapturous look on his face. I caress his cheek, tipping my head and drawing him toward my lips. He kisses me long and deep, and my body comes alive. He slides a knee between my legs before fully lowering himself onto me.
I hold on to his shoulders when he runs a hand up the inside of my leg, shuddering at the sensation. A slight breeze flows down from above, urging me on. I open my legs to him until he's resting between them. He pauses, drawing out the moment of anticipation. Just as the sun completely sets behind the mountain, he enters me, and I inhale sharply, taking him in, ready to give him whatever he needs from me.
"Eva…" he whispers, sighing deeply into my hair.
From hearing him say my name like it's a promise he intends to keep, I let go of everything that was holding me back and give myself to him completely.
Even if, for now, it's just for this one glorious night…
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Drake
Step Seven
Remove my shortcomings.
She's stretched like a contented cat against me, her eyes fluttering against the rays of the morning sun. I watch her stir to life, her body well ahead of her mind when I tickle her stomach and she firmly presses her backside between my legs. She yawns, a languid smile spreading across her face when I respond with a sensual roll of my hips, positioning myself exactly where I need to be to wake her up properly.
But I don't want to disappoint her.
Last night, I was somehow able to maintain my stamina throughout the course of the evening, but I'm nervous as all hell about whether I'm going to be able to repeat that performance over the long haul. It's been a while since I've been able to truly be with a woman like that, and I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. What if I can't please her that way again? What if it was just a one-time thing?
But right now, my body's telling me otherwise, my morning hard-on straining up against her.
I've been doubting myself for so long that maybe I should quit thinking about it and just—
She lets out a low, sexy moan when I take her from behind, and a series of beautiful expressions crosses her face when she realizes that this isn't a dream. She props herself up on one hand and starts to move along with me, taking me deeper inside her. I smile, pushing against our mattress of pine branches, flipping her hair over her shoulder to nuzzle her neck. She responds, melting into me when I draw her leg back over my hip, and I hold on to her knee while letting my thumb lightly graze her thigh.
So far so good, so I keep going.
She throws her head back, drowning me in a cloud of raven curls. Her whole body tenses at the increased pace of my movements, her ribs straining to keep up.
I know I'm rushing things, but I want to hold out for her and not lose it too early.
She's as taut as a bowstring, arching her soft curves into me. I thrum her body like a skilled archer, doubling my efforts by fondling that pivotal spot between her legs with my fingers, getting her to let go and release her tenuous grip on her self-control, until she collapses into me with a sigh of pure pleasure.
I draw myself up on my knees, giving her everything I have, feeling like a man again for the first time in a long time. I have a hot woman I connect with on so many different levels in my arms, which makes what's happening between us now even more mind blowing. She's exciting me with her body and drawing me in with her eyes. All it takes is watching her part her lips and moan up at me in abandon, and I lose myself deep inside her sweet folds. My pulse is racing furiously through my veins, and I struggle to catch my breath. I'm still seeing flashes of light behind my eyes when I drop down onto her, letting her cradle my head against her chest.
That just happened, and I'm pretty darn excited about it.
I draw in a ragged breath, nudging her with my nose. I did it. I took the both us there…just in time.
She strokes my hair, and it's the only thing that's grounding me until she bends her head and kisses my forehead.
"I wish every morning could start like that," she whispers.
A grin emerges on my lips. I've never been able to satisfy a woman like this, and it feels damn good.
She pokes me. "Why are you smiling?"
"I'm glad you're pleased," I respond, lifting my head when I see the red scratch marks my beard left on her skin.
She raises an eyebrow, leaning back to appraise me. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because I haven't been that great in the bedroom since I started taking the HGH," I admit, sitting up. "Impotence is one of the major side effects."
"But what about…?" She looks up at me, confused.
"All the women?" I smirk. "They tried, but it's like trying to rub two wet sticks together to start a fire. It just wasn't happening."
"Then how do you explain Coco?" she asks with a laugh, running her finger down my arm.
"Karolina is a woman who doesn't take no for an answer. She wanted a second child, and she was going to get a second child. Let's just say it was a very long night until she got what she wanted from me." I cringe at the memory. "After that, we were never intimate again. I guess it was the real death blow to our marriage. At first, I thought it was just her…affecting me, and I wanted to prove to myself that she didn't have me by the balls. But it wasn't just her."
Eva's eyes go wide. "So, this is the first time…?"
"That I've had my manhood restored? Yeah, you could say that." I cup her face in my hand and give her a gentle kiss. "Thank you for making me feel alive again."
A hint of red enters her cheeks, making me chuckle.
"What?" I ask her.
"That's why I hope I made the right decision." She pulls my shirt from underneath her, quickly slipping it over her shoulders.
God, she can't think this was a mistake. Not when it felt so right.
I kneel before her. "About not being my sober companion anymore?"
"I'm scared," she whispers. "I don't want to fail you, and if, for some reason, this doesn't work out between us, I don't want to be the cause of you reverting back to your old ways."
"Well, I intend on this working out," I grumble, sometimes wishing she wouldn't be so honest with me. "And I intend on remaining clean. You're what I need, not the coke."
A sort of panic seems to steal across her features at that remark, like hearing me compare her to cocaine is freaking her out. But I didn't mean it like that.
"Eva, I've lied all my life," I go on. "I'm just now learning how to tell the truth, and I'm not going to start playing games again, especially not with you. Besides, you're not breaking any rules. I'm not your client anymore." I bury my face in her hair. "I'm your lover."
She can't resist giggling when I tickle her neck with my stubble.
"So, who's going to be my new therapist?" I ask her. "Because I know you've already given it a lot of thought."
"I certainly put all those hours on the back of your bike to good use," she teases.
"And?" I hold my breath, hoping I like what she has to say.
"How about my dad?"
For a second, I'm momentarily speechless.
She gives my arm a playful shove. "Don't look so shocked."
"But how's he going to feel about it when he knows that I—"
"Slept with his daughter?"
"Exactly."
"He'll be a lot less angry with me than if I tried to hide it and remain your sober companion." She tucks her hands under her arms. "He'd never forgive me for putting your sobriety in jeopardy."
"How very thoughtful of him," I mumble under my breath.
"You don't need me in that role anymore, and I wanted to give you something more." She stares at me with such sincerity in her eyes that I don't know how to handle it.
"Women like you have always treated me w
ith revulsion." I look down at my hands. "But you don't. You never did. For some reason, you understand me."
"What do you mean, 'women like me'?" she presses, nudging my leg with her toe.
"Successful women, educated women, women who don't take any crap from anybody," I say with a smile. "Especially from a guy like me."
"I don't know. Maybe you've never met the right one until now." She tilts her head until her hair falls over her shoulder—the hair I'd always look for up in the stands. And now, she's sitting beside me, wearing nothing but my shirt.
"And you really want to get stuck with me?" I bust her.
"Drake," she says softly, taking my hand. "I wish my birth mom had had the strength to change for me, but she didn't." She takes a deep breath before squeezing my fingers. "But you do. And that's all I could ever want."
I'm floored by her words, but I still have to ask, "You really want to get involved with an addict?"
"Recovering addict," she corrects me. "And I wouldn't be here now with you if I didn't."
Her admission touches me deep in my heart. I look at her, holding her gaze. "Eva Sloane, I swear on my life to stay sober for you…and for myself."
She raises my hand to her lips, kissing it. "And I swear to do everything I can to help you. I know it's not going to be easy once you start playing again. The pressure, the expectations—it's all going to be there, waiting for you."
"It won't be any worse than what I've already gone through," I mutter.
"How can you even say that?" she asks, slapping our clasped hands against her leg.
"Because I was batting below .200 during Scott Harper's record-breaking hit streak. Because I tend to choke in the playoffs year after year after year. Yet I still make the most amount of money out of any guy on the Kings." I shrug. "I'm used to being in the cross hairs. But this time, it's different."
"Why?"
"Because I know what I've done wrong, and I know how to fix it," I reply, feeling a surge of hope flow through me just from looking in her eyes. "It's all going to come down to hard work and dedication…and one more thing."
She leans toward me. "What?"
"You." I capture her mouth, savoring the exquisite softness of her lips before forcing myself to pull away.
She looks up at me, wondering why I'm not continuing what I started, but I'm not done speaking yet.
"You…and your dad."
She smiles, tipping her head, and drawing me in close. "Now I know I did my job." She positions herself on my lap. "And I'm really looking forward to expanding my knowledge." She slides her legs around my hips, bringing her mouth down on top of mine, letting me know exactly what she wants and how she wants me to give it to her.
Gently, I place her down among the pines, ready and willing to further her education.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Drake
Step Eight
Make a list of amends to all the people I've harmed.
Eva and I are on the street above the outfield of Baltimore's stadium. It's the standing-room-only section the city leaves open to the public, free of charge. If the fans we're mingling with only knew that a hated member of the New York Kings was in their midst, they'd probably castrate me on site.
I'm on edge enough without having them go crazy every time a home run comes flying out, and thanks to my teammates, they've had plenty of opportunities to fight over a goddamned ball. Jackson Riggs and Colton Fisk hit back-to-back solo shots in the first, and Bryce Sanders just clubbed a grand slam in the top half of the seventh.
They're all guys who've taken PEDs—and could still be taking them, for all I know. Jackson and Colt even had the nerve to talk to the press after my suspension, stressing the importance of keeping illegal substances out of the game when they were the ones who used to come to me, begging me to hook them up with HGH. What a load of bull. At least Sanders had enough sense to keep his mouth shut.
But it seems like his bat is doing all the talking for him. I'm still seething over his mammoth shot while the crowd breaks into the opening lines of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." I pull my grungy baseball cap down and slink behind one of the flagpoles, waiting for it to be over. I can't stand listening to this song, not after I've heard it a gazillion times throughout my career, and the off-key drunks belting it out in front of me aren't making it sound any better.
I carefully scan the crowd. I can't prove it, but I have the feeling that we're being watched. What if one of Mama's thugs was able to track us down? Several times since we left Gander Hollow, the number 000-000-0000 has lit my phone up. I don't know if it's Mama trying to pinpoint our exact location by fooling me into picking up or if it's a relentless reporter who's out to nab a quote from me on my impending return. Either way, it's a risk to show myself in such a public venue just days away from the end of my suspension.
I should've changed my number after I got busted for PEDs. It would've been the smart thing to do, but I've been so caught up in this rehab process with Eva that I never had a chance. I never used it to get in touch with Mama directly, but several of her guys have it—the ones I'd meet up with at Rosewood to pick up the drop-offs. One of them could've easily given it to her, and they could be hunting us down right now.
Because no one walks away from Mama—nobody.
And this is the first place she would look for me—a baseball stadium where the Kings are playing. She knows I can't stay away. It was a stupid move on my part, but I had an itching desire to see how the team was doing. As much as I enjoy Eva's company, I still miss being around the guys.
Eva tugs on my shirt, pulling me down until her mouth is even with my ear. "Are you okay? You look like you want to kill somebody."
I bend my knees, keeping my face even with hers, only ready to tell her one of the many things that are bothering me because I don't want to scare her with all the terrible fears that are running through my head.
"It's just…fucking Sanders."
"Don't let him get to you," she says, massaging my shoulder. "Besides, don't you think it's time to call off the dogs?"
Since I'm already annoyed, my temper is quick to flare. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean," she replies, easing the tension in my body with her fingers, "that he has to be playing well on his own since he hasn't gotten anymore HGH from you."
I smirk. "Yeah, because he's probably getting it from someone else."
"And how likely is that?" she argues. "He doesn't have the connections. He's a rookie filling in for you—the big name who got busted. I don't think he'd take the chance of asking around, looking for someone else to hook him up."
I glance around, making sure no one is listening to our whispered conversation. "Eva, you've watched baseball all your life. Do you really think a kid who was sent down to the minors last year would be hitting tape-measure-worthy home runs without juicing up?"
"You don't know that for sure," she huffs, giving me a tiny shove with her hand. "If you want your job back, stop feeling threatened by him and start working on your own swing."
The game must have resumed, because a murmur runs through the crowd and a guy standing nearby yells, "That motherfucker Sanders!" as all the Baltimore faithful start to moan and groan about something else the rookie did.
I lean over to get a good look at the field and see Sanders getting up with the ball in his glove. He must've made a fully extended dive to nab a screaming liner—a play I haven't made in years.
"Let's get out of here," I mutter to Eva, rising to my full height and peering above her head for the quickest escape route.
I hold my hand out behind me, and the second I feel her fingers wrap around mine, I make a mad dash through the mob—because I see someone in camouflage standing against the rail. I pull her along after me, not stopping for strollers, wheelchairs, or any other inconvenience that gets in my way. I don't slow down until a nearby crack of the bat catches my ear.
How am I still able to hear the game? We're blocks away from the sta
dium now.
When I look up, I'm surprised to find that we're standing in front of some kind of fun park, a conglomeration of mini golf, bumper boats, and batting cages. Everyone's out enjoying the summer evening. A family of four is encouraging a little girl to putt through a clown's mouth. Teenagers are screaming as they splash each other in the lagoon. But what I can't stop staring at is a father showing his son how to bat, lining his stance up, getting it just right.
"Do you want to go in there?" Eva asks, coming up beside me.
Her forehead is glistening, and she's all out of breath. I wasn't even thinking when I tore out of there. I just had to get away from any more reminders about how great Sanders is…and from whomever may be following us. I wasn't even thinking about her, and I have to stop being so selfish.
"I'm sorry," I say, turning to face her. "I didn't mean to drag you all the way over here. I didn't even know where I was going."
"It's all right." She glances up at me. "Just as long as you know you can't keep running forever. You've already faced one of your biggest fears, and pretty soon, you're going to have to face another."
I stare into the carnival-like atmosphere, pop songs blaring, bright lights overhead, everyone laughing and having fun. And here I am, once again on the outside looking in, with too many problems to count.
"Drake, something brought you out of your mad dash, and I think I know what it is." She nods her head in the direction of the batting cages. "You haven't taken any hacks since we left the island. Maybe it's time."
I give a noncommittal shrug.
Because no matter how tough life gets, baseball has always been my comfort zone.
She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. "I think it'd be good for you."
"I'm just afraid," I mumble into her hair.
"Of what?" she asks like she can't believe I'd be scared of anything.
"That I just can't cut it anymore without the HGH—"
"Without the HGH," she repeats, putting a halt to my negativity, "you're going to find out exactly what kind of player you really are."
"And you don't think that terrifies me?" I step away from her in order to see her face.
Inside Game Page 20