by Kathy Lyons
Jake’s eyes widened with surprise. “You’re a lifesaver.”
No. It was clear Jake was the real lifesaver. He’d saved mine during the hotel fire, and now he was making sure his father arrived at the hotel in one piece. Because there was no way Pops would survive on his own, not without someone watching him. The burden seemed to be split with his brother, but right now, he was Jake’s problem. And mine, too. It was a long, awful trek to where Pops had parked his truck. By the time we found it, Jake was almost carrying his father.
I had to dig the keys out of Pops’s pocket, and his drunken comments were now embarrassing rather than funny. At least the lots were mostly empty by the time we got Pops settled. Although it was a tight fit, I managed to squeeze in beside him, and Jake drove me to where my car was parked in another lot.
Then we both drove back to the hotel. By the time we’d arrived, though, Pops had completely passed out. Getting him into a hotel room was excruciatingly difficult, and I worried that the man was so drunk, he would need someone to watch him all night. I suggested an ER, but Jake shook his head.
“Do you know how many nights I’ve spent in an ER during the All-Star Game?” he asked. “I’ll stay with him for a few hours here, but the danger is over.”
I smiled. “I’m a nurse. I can—”
“Not a chance. This is supposed to be your vacation.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Please. Go get some rest.”
There was no arguing with him. He was determined, and so I nodded and went up to our room. He’d gotten us a beautiful suite on a very high floor. I could see so much of the city right outside the window. But it wasn’t as nice without him. And the shower felt cold, because I knew he wouldn’t be waiting for me when I got out. And that was nothing compared with how lonely it felt climbing into the large, empty bed by myself.
It was official. I’d fallen head over heels in love with Jake.
Chapter Nineteen
Jake
I tried to be quiet as I finally got into our hotel room. My head was pounding, and my ribs ached more than they should by now. It was nearly three in the morning, and I was done with babysitting my father. Not just tonight, but forever.
Then again, I’d sworn that before.
I just wanted a bed and Ellie, and not in that order. She didn’t stir as I cleaned up in the bathroom, but by the time I climbed in beside her, she turned and mumbled something unintelligible.
I smiled, wondering how a woman’s muffled sounds could make me feel lighter inside. Not happy—not after Pops had ruined this weekend with Ellie. But quieter inside. More settled.
I crawled in close and faced her, then stroked her shoulder. I couldn’t resist touching the soft whisper of her skin. I wanted to kiss down her side. I wanted to settle myself between her legs. And I wanted to hear her cry out my name, as if I were the only thing in her world.
But I didn’t. She was sleeping, and I didn’t want to disturb her. So I simply stroked all the way down her arm to her wrist, then settled my palm over her hand. Finally, I closed my eyes and tried to rest.
“Is Pops okay?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
Pops was the last person I wanted to talk about, but I answered, because she’d asked. “He’s responsive to pain. And I even managed to get some Gatorade in him. He’ll be fine.” Assuming he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night and decide to go for more beer. He’d done that before. But since I had the keys to his truck, he wouldn’t get far.
“Are you okay?”
No. Not since I was fifteen and my mother had left for good. “I’m great.”
She didn’t answer at first, but then she lifted her head to peer at me. “Liar,” she said, propping her cheek on her fist. Her hair fell every which way, but I thought it was adorable. “How are you really?”
“Furious. Tired.” I sighed. “Don’t make me think about it.”
“Why not? Because you’ll explode?”
“Yes.”
She chuckled and snuggled closer. Her knees hit mine as she rested her head on the edge of her pillow. And her lips were a few heated inches from mine.
“Guys need to learn that talking is what prevents explosions.”
I stroked my hand up her arm, across her shoulder, and to the curve of her neck. “Girls need to learn that sometimes a guy is beyond talking.” I blew out a breath, refusing to acknowledge the seething emotions that burned just below the surface. At this moment, I hated my father. And it wasn’t just that he’d destroyed this weekend, although that was part of it. Ellie had fought for time off and now I had to spend the rest of our vacation together making sure my father didn’t drink himself into a coma. Or wander into traffic in search of a six-pack.
“You were supposed to come here with him,” she said.
“He’s been going to the All-Star Game every year for as long as I can remember. First with Mom. Then later on with us. It didn’t matter where the game was being held, we were there. And every year he drank himself into a stupor.”
“And you didn’t want that to happen this year,” she said.
“I wanted to be with you.” I wanted not to have to worry about what he would do, what he would say. Bad enough to fear that he’d hurt himself or someone else while he was drunk. But this year, I was in the majors. If he did something stupid, it would be national news. And bad press like that could get me fired.
But I didn’t want to say any of that. So instead, I simply gripped her arm and pulled her close. She came willingly, snuggling tight against my chest. I felt her breath, hot and moist against my neck. And I adjusted our bodies so that she could lie on my shoulder, if she wanted to. I needed her, and thankfully, she came easily into my arms.
I tried to be grateful. I worked to hold her in stillness rather than give in to the emotions that coiled inside me. But then she spoke, stirring the pot of fury inside me.
“You know he’s an alcoholic, right?”
I gritted my teeth but managed to force out a single word. “Yes.”
She must have sensed my anger, because she rose up to look more directly at me. “I don’t mean to push. I just…I don’t know how to help. Talk to me.”
I stared at her. The last thing I wanted was to talk about the thoughts that had me ready to explode. And yet they started coming out. “I’m so tired of his shit. I don’t worry about him anymore. I’m terrified he’s going to kill someone driving home from the bar, or that he’ll cause an accident at work, when he’s at a fire. God, people depend on him.”
“The other firefighters don’t let him go out when he’s drunk, do they?”
I looked up at the dark ceiling. “Sometimes a trained drunk is better than no one.”
“And sometimes it’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Especially if he’s only a little buzzed.”
She set her head down on my shoulder, and I curled her tight against my body. I held her there, trying to think of something else—of her heat against my side, the silky caress of her skin, and the sweet way she smelled. But then she kept pushing.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Mom left when I was fifteen. She said she couldn’t take it anymore.”
“You didn’t go with her?”
I shook my head. “She asked, but…” I swallowed. “I still had hope he’d get better. Besides, I was already doing my own walk on the wild side.”
She pressed a kiss to my jaw. “How far did you go?”
“Far enough to nearly kill some kids on their bikes. Far enough that I risked my baseball career every night.” I choked off my words. I didn’t want to revisit my idiotic youth. But even as I tried to clamp my jaw shut, I let words slip through. Good words. Important words. “My high school coach was an alcoholic, three years sober. He became my sponsor.”
“You were in AA?”
“Yeah.” Having started, I couldn’t stop confessing. “It didn’t take.”
She lifted her head off my chest, so I pulled her more fully on
top of me. “I don’t understand. How did you get sober?” Then before she finished speaking, her expression lightened. “The naltrexone. I saw it in your bathroom. When did you start with it?”
God, she was so observant. “In college. I don’t know that it saved my life, but it certainly saved my baseball career.” The thing about naltrexone is that it prevented the brain from becoming addicted to alcohol. As long as I took a pill before drinking, I barely felt the effects and I never had the urge to binge. In truth, I rarely drank now, and I never had the craving for alcohol. Not like I’d had in high school.
“How often do you drink?”
I shrugged. “Almost never now. And only after taking the naltrexone. It took a year on the pills, but eventually I just didn’t want it anymore.”
“I didn’t see you take any of the beer people were offering you.”
I snorted. “I took all of them. I just didn’t drink any.”
She grinned. “Yeah. That I saw.”
Of course she did. “I’d forgotten to take the medicine, so I didn’t risk it.” I doubted I would go on a binge from one drink, but with my family history, I wasn’t taking any chances. No way would I risk my career just for a single beer.
“But you can’t get Pops to stop drinking. Or Larry, either. And you’re worried all the time. About them. About who they’ll hurt. I get it.” She paused, then said in a lower voice, “And then he followed you here.”
“He always drinks at the All-Star Game. But we usually have fun, too. It was always our best time together, even better than Christmas. And he loves that I’m a baseball player. He loves everything about it.”
How did I explain about the good times? How did I tell her that as much as I hated him, I loved him, too? There wasn’t a hint of jealousy in my father—about my life, about my career. Only pride and joy. Except he always mixed it with booze. And that always led to the rest. As charming as he could be, I couldn’t risk him saying something wild that might get caught on camera. I hated the way he flirted with women of all ages, and knew he often crossed the line between being a funny old guy and a creepy perv. When we were together, I watched him constantly and couldn’t relax. And when I wasn’t with him, I lived in fear of getting a phone call telling me he’d not only destroyed his life, but someone else’s as well.
It was killing me, and I couldn’t think of any way out. I didn’t have the words to express the exhaustion that came with the constant sense of dread I felt. I just had her, pressed against me, idly threading her fingers through my hair as she listened.
“Ellie…” I said, though I didn’t know what I was going to say.
“I’ll help,” she responded. “I can help.”
Of course she could, but I didn’t want that. The last thing I wanted was to rope her into my nightmare.
“Don’t you shake your head at me. I’m your girlfriend, at least until the season ends. This is what girlfriends do. They help with the hard stuff. And as a nurse, I know a few things about this, too. ”
My cauldron of emotions boiled over. Right there. Too many things pissed me off about what she’d just said. About the temporary nature of our relationship, about the fact that she felt obligated to help because she was a nurse. Fuck that. I didn’t want someone simply doing their job around me.
I wanted a woman who cared, one who could really “see” me, even when I was doing my best not to show what was going on in my head. One who pushed me when I didn’t want to talk and held me through it all. But most of all, I wanted Ellie beneath me, her legs spread while I thrust into her.
It was the only emotion inside me that was simple. There was no confusion—I wanted her. Now.
And so I took her.
I rolled her over and pressed my mouth to hers. She opened to the press of my tongue, but it wasn’t enough for me. I dominated her mouth, subdued her tongue, and bent her body to my will. I held her face pinned between my arms, and my legs quickly captured hers.
She shifted to accommodate me. Or perhaps having my knees between hers worked her open. She wore a negligee that I should have appreciated. And I did appreciate it, but that didn’t stop me from growling when the fabric prevented me from doing what I so desperately needed to do.
I’d worn shorts to bed, so it wasn’t just her nightgown that was to blame here. But I wouldn’t release her mouth long enough to fix the problem. So I just kissed her. And when that wasn’t enough, I broke off to lave her cheek, her jaw, and her neck. Her hands burrowed through my hair, and she was trying to say something, but I didn’t hear it. Not really. The tone was soft, trying to soothe, but it was like flinging a single bucket of water onto an inferno.
I was not going to stop. I wasn’t even going to slow down. So when I found that the silky fabric kept me from her breasts, I jerked it down off her body. It didn’t rip, but held stubborn on her shoulder. I brushed the straps aside impatiently and tugged the fabric lower, pinning her arms to her sides as I finally revealed her breasts to my seeking mouth.
I sucked on every inch, biting down when I wanted and licking when I didn’t. I felt her gasping breaths, knew it when her body trembled and her heart starting beating in rhythm with mine. I had control of this. In a world where nothing was going right, this moment was completely mine. And so I sucked her nipples until I felt her body clench. I nibbled at the flesh underneath her breasts, loving the feeling of being surrounded by her mounds. And when I felt like it, I shoved her negligee up to her waist.
Her arms were still pinned, and I didn’t release her. But I did push her knees wide with my body. And I held her open with my hand on her thighs while I licked through her musky wetness. I didn’t want her to come yet, so I kept her on the edge, letting my thumbs stroke her open, then leaving her wanting.
I did it for a very long time. I loved taking her to the brink. Her legs would tense, drawing me close, but I had more leverage. She wasn’t close to being strong enough. Then she’d start to keen, begging with wordless sound to let her come. And with her hands still caught in her negligee, she tried to reach for me, but I stayed just beyond her reach. I decided what was going to happen. I controlled her body completely.
But she surprised me. I didn’t think she had the breath, much less the strength, but she abruptly ripped her arms free of the nightgown and shoved herself upright, then grabbed me by the ears.
“We’re done with playtime,” she panted.
“What?” That’s all I could manage to say before she turned my head toward the bedside table…and pointed at the line of condoms illuminated by the moonlight.
I understood her demand, but I was still trying to decide if I would give in to it. I had wanted to be in control, but now, suddenly, she was the one making the demands. Part of me strongly objected to it. Another part was hard and aching for exactly what she wanted.
And yet still I held myself back.
“I pick the position,” I ordered.
She hesitated a moment, then lifted her chin. “Yes,” she answered.
I grinned. She was telling me that whatever I wanted, she would do. Perfect.
“Off the bed. Legs spread. Lean forward.”
She scrambled to obey. And when she wasn’t exactly at the angle I wanted, I adjusted her. Legs spread. Pussy weeping for me. And breasts dangling just within reach.
“You’ll keep your hands right there,” I said as I pressed her palms flat on the bed.
She nodded and took up the position I’d demanded.
Then I took my time. She was bent over and open to me. I sauntered slowly to the condoms, then stripped out of my shorts. I stood in the moonlight, knowing how I looked. I was an elite athlete, and every inch of my body was strong and hard.
Her eyes stayed on me as I stood there.
“Do you want me?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Every inch of me? As hard and fast as I want?”
“Yes.”
I needed her breathless agreement.
“Would you suck me
right now if I asked you to?”
She lifted her chin and slowly licked her lips.
“Say it!” I ordered. I needed to hear that tonight, I was in complete control.
“Yes!”
Good. Very good.
I ripped open a condom and slid it on. And then I stood there, outlined in the moonlight as I considered my options.
She didn’t speak, but she did quirk an eyebrow at me. A single arch look that challenged me, that said, “Bring it. Right now.”
And so I did.
I stalked behind her and positioned myself. But I didn’t go in. Not yet. Instead, I stroked my hand down her spine and watched her arch in response. Then I let my hands slide around to her breasts, where I twisted and tugged on her nipples.
Sliding my hands down to her hips, I held her exactly where I wanted to. She was trembling, or was it me? Didn’t matter. We were both about to get what we wanted.
“Ellie,” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“You’re going to come exactly when I tell you.” And then I slammed inside her.
She cried out in surprise, even though she’d been so wet that I slid in easily. I waited a moment, prolonging the feel of her perfect grip on my dick. The heat. The wetness. And the slowly contracting vise.
It took me a moment to realize she was doing that. She was consciously milking me with a slow deliberate grip.
My God, it was incredible.
“Do that again,” I ordered.
She did, and stars appeared behind my eyelids.
“Once more.”
Yes.
And then I lost control. I started moving even though I didn’t want to. I slammed into her again and again, grinding my pelvis against her backside and gripping her hips so I could pull her down onto me. I felt the burn in my spine. The heat seconds before the rush.
It was time.
Now. But I couldn’t stop. I gripped her hips hard, trying to help us both. But I’d totally lost control. Everything I had was pounding into her.
“Now!” I bellowed. “Right now!”
Then I slammed my hand forward and down. I had to stroke her. I had to—