Crazy Sexy Notion

by Sarah Darlington

  “Fine,” I breathed.

  “See you tomorrow, Mick. Stay off it tonight.” He patted me on the shoulder, standing, giving me a look that told me he genuinely cared about my wellbeing, and then he let himself out.

  Prior to Raven’s arrival I’d been pitching better than ever before. I really felt like this was going to be my year—the year I finally got called up to the majors. There were whispers that the Red Socks were considering taking on another starting pitcher soon. Fat chance in the hell that would be me now. Between this setback and the crap way I’d been playing the last couple games I knew now that this year most definitely would not be ‘the year.’ Groaning, I tipped my beer back and chugged. Since I wasn’t going to be pitching in tomorrow’s game now, I figured what the hell. Finishing off the beer with a deep breath, I said to Samantha, “Go grab me another one, okay kid?”

  “Sure.” She took off once more.

  Four beers later, plus one glass of whiskey, and things didn’t seem so bad. Two weeks. I could handle two weeks. Raven had gone upstairs with Samantha, it was her bedtime, and I sat in the living room alone, watching baseball on TV, wondering if Raven would come back downstairs after she got her daughter to bed.

  For as angry as she’d been at me about the sex and the car dent thing, she’d surprised me by remaining in the same proximity to me all evening. Was it my foot that made the difference? Was she worried about me?

  A few minutes later she surprised me once again by returning to the living room. She’d changed out of her wet clothes from earlier, wearing what I believed was one of my long-sleeved Sea Dogs shirts. Did she enjoying digging through my closet? I had so many clothes that it didn’t really matter. Actually, I kind of liked her in my clothes. So she could do whatever she wanted.

  She sat down on the opposite couch, saying nothing, watching whatever I was watching. She’d mentioned she hated baseball—so was she seriously into the game on right now?

  I was semi-drunk and fully turned on. The feeling hit me like a foul ball, straight out of nowhere. A crazy amount of butterflies stirred in my stomach. An ache formed in my chest. And mix of adrenaline and anticipation ran through my veins. I longed for something with Raven, something I’d never longed for with any woman before. Everyone else before her had been a fucking mindless, meaningless way to pass the time. She was different. Embedded deep within my soul somehow. Turns out—my whole life it had always been her and only her. I’d felt something so powerful we’d she kissed me during sex two weeks ago. So powerful that when I’d believe it was fake I’d completely stopped talking to her.

  I needed to know that feeling again. I needed it desperately and suddenly. Nothing else seemed to matter.

  I stood up. Fuck my foot. It didn’t hurt that bad, actually. And I walked through the darkened living room, across the space to where she sat, legs crossed on the couch. Not giving her much of an opportunity to process what was happening, to deny me, or start yelling at me over it—I bent down, cupping her face in my hands, her skin soft against my fingers, and I pressed my lips to her lips.

  The kiss was gentle and slow. Much like the kiss we’d already shared. But this time there was no outside distractions—i.e. my cock buried deep inside her—to take away from the moment. Initially she sat there ridged and tense, but after a small second she breathed into me and relaxed into the kiss. Fuck, yes. I knew kissing her would be everything at once all over again. And it was. My heart literally exploded in my chest.

  I took my time, holding her close to me, savoring the hell out of the moment.

  I believed in morning workouts, game day rituals, the slice of a perfect curve ball, in Sunday dinners with my family, in snow tires, long winters, in a good Irish whiskey, in the feel of a hot fire on a cold day—and that kissing Raven was the epitome of life on this planet.

  Only when the pain in my foot started to nag me did I break my connection with her. With my heart thudding right out of my chest, I collapsed onto the couch beside her.

  “What was that?” she whispered, her voice raspy and shaky. I could hear the fear there, and the curiosity.

  “I wasn’t finished,” I answered. I was far from finished. I only needed to get off my foot.

  CHAPTER 13:

  RAVEN

  Mickey kissed me, and I’d never been kissed quite like that before. Savored—soft and slow. Worshiped—sweetly and gently. I felt the kiss deep in my toes, stirring my insides, shaking up everything I ever thought I knew about men.

  He broke away and collapsed beside me on the couch.

  “What was that?” I whispered. God, I was shaking. And, frankly, freaking the fuck out. I hadn’t been the one drinking this evening, but I sure as shit felt drunk.

  “I wasn’t finished.” He breathed in and out a few times. “I only had to get off my foot.”

  Turning toward me, he placed his palm on my chest and pushed me down into the couch cushions. I gasped but let him. I was at his mercy. He covered my body with his body, and he pressed his lips to my lips once more. I moaned into his mouth, really unsure what to think or how long I should let this go on. All I really knew that I couldn’t think far past the exquisite torture happening between my legs. I was achy, and throbbing, and wanting Mickey so badly it physically hurt.

  He was a damn good kisser. And I’d deprived myself from kissing for so long, I could barely take the soft, tender feel of his tongue connecting with my tongue. Or the feel of his hands gripping my neck. Or the glorious weight of his large body and his hard erection pressing, almost painfully against me.

  And then his pants vibrated. Fucking hell, his phone was ringing. What’s worse? He sat up and answered it. I groaned, in no way hiding my annoyance.

  “Yeah,” he said into the phone, his eyes on me. His voice had a definite rasp to it. It was most certainly his tell. The more turned on he was, or angry, or emotional—the more gritty his voice became. I remembered it being the exact same way when we were kids, minus the turned on part. I remembered this one small memory of an older kid picking on me. The details of the memory were foggy. But Mickey stood up to the kid, a kid much bigger than him, and he’d been so brave when he did it. And the grittiness of his voice stuck out in my mind—the grit told me that for as brave as Mickey had seemed in that moment, he’d also been terrified. He really was my protector when we were little. I only wished he would have stuck around for the years I needed him most.

  I sighed, listening to his side of the conversation. Whoever he was talking to—it was baseball related.

  “I know,” he told the person on the other line. “Yeah…yeah. Okay then, see you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone, a little less relaxed than he’d been a moment ago. Immediately his phone buzzed in his hand once more. This call he ignored. “Where were we…” he started to say, but the fucking thing rang for a third time. And with a groan, he answered.

  “What!” he demanded into the phone. He was a whole lot less nice to this person calling. “No fucking way, Tony. You can tell her that I won’t ever give her the damn vase. We’ve already been over this. She can pry it from my cold dead fingers if she wants, otherwise I’m never giving it to her.” He instantly sounded heated. “I don’t care if I’m being irrational…I don’t care if she’s your girlfriend now…oh, hell no. You’re not buying it off me. And you tell her that if she wants her shit she can come get it herself. I’m not giving it to you.”

  I knew then that the topic of conversation was Sandra. I didn’t feel like listening to any of it. It wasn’t my business, and I certainly didn’t want to make it my business by listening. I left the couch.

  “I gotta go, Tony. No…no…bye.” He hung up.

  “I’m going to bed,” I told him, gesturing for the door.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

  I was already halfway out of the room. He made a move like he wanted to stand but didn’t. I guess his foot held him back. “Okay, goodnight,” he said instead.

 
I don’t know why, but I felt disappointment.

  “Goodnight,” I answered.

  “Hey—” he said before I had a chance to leave the room. “We go to Connecticut tomorrow. I’ve got to ride the bus with the team, fun times, but if you wanted you could take one of the cars and drive to Connecticut, too.”

  “What?” I didn’t quite understand what he was asking of me.

  “You and Samantha could stay in the hotel with me. It’s not going to be anything special, but they’ll be a pool and room service. I’m there for three days. You can come to the games each night. Or not. Explore some of Hartford; it’s a nice town. Or do whatever. Samantha might enjoy it.”

  I stood there, dumbfounded by his request. Really…I felt like my feet were stuck in fly paper. My heart raced harder now than when he’d been kissing me. “Okay,” I answered slowly.

  I’d called the library after we got back from our little hail adventure, while he’d been distracted by his foot bleeding, and the lady had let me reschedule my interview. It was tomorrow. But after, maybe I would take Mickey up on this offer.

  “You don’t care if I drive your car now?” I questioned.

  “No.”

  “What changed?”

  “Everything changed. I want you with me.”

  I swallowed. I had rocks in my stomach. The way he stared at me was unnerving. The way he’d kissed me had been equally unnerving. His request was especially unnerving. “Are you drunk?” I asked him. That had to be the only explanation behind this, right?

  “No.”

  “High off paid meds?”

  “No.”

  “I just don’t understand then.”

  Now he stood up. He needed to stop doing that. The team doctor person specifically told him to stay off his foot. He walked over to where I stood, flinching only slightly with each step.

  He took my face in this hands.

  I gasped at his touch, surprised by it even though I knew it was coming.

  “Raven,” he said. “You’re so goddamn intriguing it’s driving me absolutely insane. I want more time with you. I want to get to know you better. I’m sorry for falsely accusing you with the car dent thing. I’m pissed at myself for the time I spent being angry over it. It feels like wasted time. Come with me to Connecticut.”

  Even if I wanted to deny him, his intensity was hard to resist. I gave in and gave him a small nod, wondering if all women fell under his spell so easily. Probably. No chance I was his first or his last victim.

  He rewarded me with a small kiss. One that made my clit scream and my head foggy.

  “Come with me upstairs,” he said next. We’d already slept together, but I was such an ooey gooey mess at the moment that I was super terrified by what it might mean to have sex with him again, what it might do to my heart. Still...I kind of wanted to follow him.

  “Fine. I’m not fucking you this time though.” Would that be enough to guard my heart? Because I needed to start doing something here. “Or kissing you again,” I added, despite the fact that I’d literally just been kissing him.

  “Fine,” he answered.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  We kept saying ‘fine’ like we were eight year olds. When that was over, he grabbed his crutches, and we went upstairs—both of us to his room and to his bed.

  There was no touching. I laid on the edge of his king sized bed, practically miles apart, and didn’t dare move any closer to him all night.

  ***

  Mickey’s alarm went off before the sun had barely even begun to come out. The annoying beeping noise screeched through his still grey room, hurting my eardrums, startling me from a peaceful sleep. “God, Mickey,” I groaned, nestling into my pillow, keeping my eyes firmly closed. “Turn it off.”

  I’d kept true to my word. I hadn’t kissed or touched the man all night. And he hadn’t tried anything on me either. Not even so much an attempt at snuggling or an accidental foot graze.

  The alarm stopped. Mickey said nothing. A couple seconds passed, and I nearly fell back to sleep, but then I felt the gentle touch of his fingertips against my hair. “Why the black?” he asked.

  “Um.” I didn’t want to answer him. “I like black—it’s black like my soul.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  I peaked at him through one eye. He was on his side, watching me, and shirtless. When the hell had he lost his shirt? His dark hair was disheveled, almost touching his eyelashes. His eyes were sleepy, yet strikingly honest somehow. Seeing him in the morning like this was…real. Entirely too real. And sexy as fuck.

  Like it was my safety net, I snuggled a little deeper into my pillow. “Fine.” I mumbled into the fabric. “I switched from blonde to black in high school. I always felt like the blonde was too pure. Like I wasn’t good enough for it. Or innocent enough for it. I don’t know. Which was why I dyed it in the first place. But then I got used to it, and now I like having dark hair better. It’s empowering. Freeing. I grew up in Pecan. You know I wasn’t going to stay that good little girl forever.”

  “You’re still that good little girl.”

  I laughed out loud. “Bullshit.”

  “I’m serious. You’re a good mom to Samantha. Maybe you’ve had to do some bad things to get by, endure some bad things, but that doesn’t change who you are deep down. Deep down you’re good.”

  “Still bullshit.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about it. I know what I know.” I kind of wanted to argue, but he didn’t give me much of a chance. He rolled over, grabbed his crutches that were propped up by his nightstand, and stood up. Damn—he’d only slept in his boxer briefs. I practically started drooling over the ‘fine-as-hell, buns-of-steel, he-should-be-an-underwear-model’ curve of his ass. I bit down hard on my lip, shifting in the bed. Um…why hadn’t I fucked the brains out of this man last night? Oh yeah, because I didn’t want to get emotionally attached. That seemed like an irrelevant consequence at the moment.

  “I have to get going,” he told me as he started getting dressed. He sat back down to pull on a pair of kakis. “Can you drive a stick shift?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I want you to take the truck today—it’s safest. I’m going to go program the truck’s GPS with the address to the hotel in Connecticut. I’ll beat you to the hotel, so I’ll leave tickets to the game tonight with the front desk people. I mean, if you’re interested in that. So just give them your name when you get there. They’ll give you a room key, too.”

  I breathed out. “Okay.”

  “You’re still coming, right?”

  “Yes, I’m coming.”

  “Good. Stop looking at me like that then.”

  I hadn’t meant to stare, but he still hadn’t put his shirt on and he had a hell of a lot of abs and pectorals and muscles I didn’t know the names of happening. “Like what?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know what he meant.

  “Like you want me to pull down my pants and put my cock in your mouth.”

  Heat spread across my skin. I couldn’t believe he’d said that—though, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. He approached me. For a nanosecond I thought he might just spring mini-Mickey free, and do as he’d so crudely threatened. He didn’t. He bent down and instead tenderly kissed me—just a light brush of lips against lips.

  “You have to stop doing that,” I warned as he pulled away. “No kissing, remember.”

  “Sure. No kissing.” He winked at me like he in no way was going to abide by my rule.

  What’s worse? I didn’t even argue or try better to reinforce the rule. I’d gotten to the point now where the only thing that really mattered was waiting for his next kiss to come. Because kisses from Mickey were like a drug, and I was an instant addict.

  CHAPTER 14:

  RAVEN

  “My last job was at the Quick-Stop Diner—it’s outside of Templeton, Kansas. Up until a few weeks ago, I’d been working there for almost four years. It
was hard work, late hours, and terrible tips. I have a daughter to support though so I didn’t have much of a choice. The area I’m from is pretty remote. We didn’t even have a library close. So I’m super excited for this opportunity to even apply here.”

  The old woman interviewing me nodded. She had a grey bun and kind eyes. Overall, I think I was doing decently. I’d dressed today in Sandra’s clothes. As much as I felt like a phony in her clothes, I’d never had a sit-down interview in my life, and once again I’d needed something more appropriate to wear for the situation at hand.

  “How soon could you start?” she asked.

  “I’m available immediately.” Samantha and I we’re supposed to leave for Connecticut following this interview. But hell, I’d stay home if it meant getting this job.

  “Okay. Well, you can start next Monday then.”

  “Really?” My jaw dropped and my heart expanded in my chest. I couldn’t believe this. I’d never gotten a job on my own like this before. My mother had always been the one to get me waitressing jobs. When you lived in such a rural area like I did, with limited restaurants for miles, and a mother who’d been bouncing around among them her whole life, you always took what she could get for you.

  This was a first, and I’d never been so proud of myself.

  I stood up, shaking the old woman’s hand—Maggie’s hand, her name was Maggie—and I very nearly hugged her. “Thank you,” I told her. “I’m so excited, thank you.”

  “It pays minimum wage.”

  “Yes, I know. That’s okay with me.”

  Shit, as long as I didn’t have to let some stranger fuck me in ways that made me want to vomit then minimum wage was more than okay.