Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3)

by Rachelle Ayala

  She was going way too fast, but life was a series of nows, and who knew what the next minute would bring?

  Tugging him, she led him down the hallway to the master bedroom which was located on the other side of the house.

  As soon as she locked the door behind them, she grabbed Ryan around the waist and pulled him down onto the bed with her.

  His weight covered her, and his lips joined with hers, and Jamie felt the awakening of something she’d suppressed for so very long.

  She kissed him, pouring out her heart and soul. Her lips sucked greedily at his, as her hands wrapped around his neck and massaged his strong shoulders.

  Arching against him, she pressed her needy breasts against his hard, muscular chest. Heat flared between them, and when he brushed against her breast, she moaned with a want so desperate, it ached clear to the inner reaches of her heart.

  “You want me, don’t you?” Ryan muttered, nibbling and kissing the shell of her ear, sending strokes of delight down her spine.

  “I do, Ryan. Please don’t think I’m fast. We don’t have much time before Drew wakes up.”

  “We have all the time in the world.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers as he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “If he wakes up, we wait for him to go back to sleep, and if not, there’s tomorrow, and the day after.”

  “You’re serious?” She traced the outline of his angular face. He had the most beautiful eyelashes, and when he looked at her like that, all open and full of feeling, the key that she’d locked her heart with turned and hope slipped in.

  Maybe, this could be the real thing. Maybe, he was the one meant for her. Maybe, he was the answer to her every question.

  “Yes. I’m in with all of me.” He pointed at his heart. “You’re an amazing person.”

  “You’re pretty amazing yourself, the way you handled Drew and Ben.”

  “I’ll handle you even better.” He fondled her breasts and leaned down, pressing his lips to her neck.

  Waves of pleasure thrummed through her body, as all thoughts and worries fled her mind. She closed her eyes and let long buried passion overtake her. She deserved this, the feeling of being wanted and cherished.

  Inch by tender inch, Ryan kissed and caressed her. She savored every moment, as if in slow motion, and when it was time, they made love as if they’d been together their entire lives.

  Everything felt easy and natural, and as she cried out in pleasure, he covered her mouth with kisses, holding her as the ripples of their lovemaking hummed through her body and soul, raining a world of maybes into her thirsty heart.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ryan lay still on Jamie’s bed with her cradled in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and a pretty pink blush highlighted her cheeks as her breathing slowed while a smile played on her lips.

  “That was wonderful,” she murmured, her fingers dancing lightly over his overly sensitized skin.

  He jerked away from her and rubbed his arms, trying to smooth out the goosebumps. “Sorry. I’m ticklish after, um …”

  Which was why he usually got straight out of bed, deposited his condom, and stayed in the bathroom while the sparks and zaps lighting up his nerves died down.

  “Oh, okay.” Jamie withdrew her touch, and her eyes turned wary. “Are you okay with what just happened?”

  “I enjoyed it.” He hadn’t wanted his words to sound so stiff. “It was great.”

  “But, you’re acting all twitchy right now.” She pulled the sheets over her body. “Is it time for you to leave?”

  “No, I need to get cleaned up.” He placed a hand over his cock. “Is it okay if I use the shower?”

  “Uh, sure. It’s fine.” She sat up with the sheet pulled to her neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not now,” he said, grabbing his clothes. Even though every patch of skin burned with fire, he leaned over and gave her a kiss. One day, if he could calm his nerves, maybe he could stay in bed long enough to hold her. If she hadn’t touched him so lightly, he could have held out longer, maybe even had her fall asleep in his arms.

  “You have goosebumps. Are you allergic to something we ate?” She rubbed his arm, this time harder.

  “I’ll be fine. Just feel hot. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” She withdrew under the sheet covering her. “You probably think I’m too fast.”

  “You’re okay, trust me.” He made his escape as fast as he could to her en-suite bathroom.

  She was disappointed and second-guessing herself, but this wasn’t her fault. He was the one whose skin was on fire, overstimulated, and unable to take being close to another human body after he got off. He’d never analyzed it before—never cared, but now, he was making her feel bad, and that made him feel bad.

  Leaving the light off, he turned on the cold water in the shower.

  Water calmed him, especially cold water which soothed the prickling of his skin and the avalanche of thorns collapsing around him. He let the sound of the shower drown out the cacophony of inputs bombarding his brain.

  Lightly tapping his forehead against the tile enclosure, he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, waiting for the calm to return.

  He was blowing it big time with her. She wouldn’t understand his quirks, and she’d put it down as him being weird.

  Being in her arms was like being wrapped in a comfy, soothing blanket—a warm, living blanket. Her heartbeat, her breathing, her scent, and the small noises she made gave him both goosebumps and a languid feeling of wanting to stay forever.

  The problem was his climax. It always set off a storm of sensations, so overwhelming that he usually left the scene immediately. Except with Jamie, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and cuddle and whisper sweet words and tease and play and do all the things normal people did after making love.

  The storm passed gradually, and Ryan shut off the water. He grabbed a towel and dried himself vigorously, rubbing his skin almost raw. It was okay now, whereas earlier, he couldn’t sustain the lightest touch.

  Now came the hard part. Facing her.

  Ryan dressed himself and hung the towel back on the rack. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and stepped from the bathroom.

  The bed was made, looking undisturbed, and Jamie was gone.

  “Jamie?” He found her dressed and sitting alone in the living room, hugging her knees on the sofa.

  She didn’t look up when he stepped in front of her. “I’ll understand if you have to go. I’m sorry I attacked you.”

  The easy thing to do would be to leave, to walk out, and pretend nothing had happened. But she was hurting, that much he knew, and he couldn’t leave a woman to hurt on her own—especially one who put up such a brave front.

  He sat down next to her, but she wouldn’t look at him, so he clasped his hands, leaned over his knees, and stared at the floor. “I’m ready to talk.”

  From the side of his eye, he saw her shaking her head. “It’s my fault. I jumped you. You must think so badly of me.”

  “Nothing like that. I swear, it was great. I wanted to hold you after. I needed to hold onto you, but my body gets jumpy. I hope you understand.”

  “I do understand.” She wiped her eyes. “I want things I can’t have. I wish for what can never be, and I dream of impossible things. I wanted you to be someone you’re not, because in my life, I have nothing. I know you’re trying to let me down gently, and I appreciate you for it—more than you know, but still, I took what wasn’t mine, and I forced a situation. If I’ve ruined our friendship, ruined it for Drew and Ben—”

  She hiccupped and caught a sob. Her shoulders shuddered and she covered her face with her forearm.

  “Oh, Jamie. Don’t cry.” Ryan drew in a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her. Even though crying women were like the squeak of whiteboard markers on his eardrums, and he cringed from a million pinpricks vibrating through his body, he held onto her. The cold water should hav
e done the trick to numb him, and besides, she needed him.

  Rocking her back and forth, he calmed himself, back and forth, back and forth, holding her firmly, not too tight and not too light, keeping a constant pressure against his body.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Jamie said. “I wish I could take back what I did.”

  “I wish we could do it again.” He said the first thing that came into his mind. “You didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done.”

  “But I’m not that kind of woman. I haven’t had a man since I was separated. I don’t go cruising bars. I don’t do much of anything but care for Ben and Drew.”

  “I respect you.” His mind went through half a dozen scripts and explanations from his mother about what women wanted. The truth. He did respect Jamie. “You’re brave, kind, giving, and very attractive.”

  “I come with so much baggage.”

  “Hey, don’t call those precious boys baggage.”

  “You know what I mean.” Now she sounded stubborn. “Autism isn’t a picnic.”

  “Speaking of picnics, let’s do it again, especially the nightcap part.” He snuck in a kiss on her cheek, but she pushed him away.

  “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.” She turned to face him, her eyes hard and penetrating. “I might have given out the party favors too soon, but I need to know whether you’re going to stick around or not, because I can’t have the not knowing, and the disruption to Drew’s routine and Ben’s feelings hanging in the air.”

  That closed-in feeling invaded around the edges and cut off his breathing. His stomach ground in on itself and his heart chilled. He couldn’t lie to her, but she shouldn’t put these demands and conditions on him—not so soon.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, except I like you, Ben, and Drew.” He ran his fingers through her mussed up hair. “I enjoyed what we did, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do it again.”

  “Of course you can’t make promises.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m scared. I want to take it a day at a time, and tell myself I can enjoy being with you without worrying about the future, but I’m afraid to hurt my sons if things don’t work out. Their father already left them, and he was here from the beginning. They like you so much, I’m afraid they'll get hurt.”

  He tipped her chin up and took in the haunted look in her eyes, the creased brow, the warring of hope with worry, and he understood exactly how she felt. It was why his mother drilled him on manners, acting normal, and excelling in sports. She always had one eye on his father, who’d kept his distance from Ryan, even though they’d stayed together as a family. He’d been embarrassed at the meltdowns, the odd behaviors, the slowness in development. If it weren’t for baseball …

  “I want to try, one day at a time. I got Drew to play catch, didn’t I?”

  She blinked, not understanding. “What does playing catch have to do with us.”

  The perfect setup.

  “You said I could live with Drew’s autism twenty-four seven if I got him to play catch.”

  “But, I was joking,” she sputtered, her cheeks reddening. “I didn’t think you could.”

  “You challenged me, so no reneging.” He stroked her cheek and touched her forehead with his. “Tonight was the beginning of twenty-four seven.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Her large brown eyes were luminous in the dim light, watery.

  “Then let’s go back to bed before he wakes up. I’ll move in tomorrow.”

  Her mouth opened in shock. “You’re joking.”

  He cut off her air supply by latching onto her lips with his. She was like a well of sweet water, a balm to his soul, and he drank of her bounty, loving the way she mewed and moaned in tune with his yearning heart.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ryan was still in her bed the next morning. They’d slept together, in more ways than one. Even though he was a no-touch zone after climaxing, he was soon back in the bed and able to cuddle and play with her. Everyone had their quirks, and as long as she understood, she could deal with it.

  “How are we going to explain to Ben that you stayed over?” Jamie drew heart shapes on Ryan’s chest.

  “We had a sleepover.”

  “Yes, but what about tomorrow, and the day after?”

  “He’s seven, right?” Ryan captured her hand and pressed it against his heated skin. “He won’t know exactly what we did while we slept.”

  “True, but he knows you were in the hospital. Maybe we tell him I’m helping you get well. Don’t you have to take your temperature every morning?”

  “Actually, you’re right, I do.” He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. “I left my thermometer at home.”

  “Then, I’d better go find one,” Jamie said. “Drew’s already up, but sitting on the toilet. Ben’s watching cartoons, so be ready for an invasion once they know you’re here.”

  “Can’t I sleep in?” He pulled a pillow over his head.

  “Not when there are kids in the house.” She thumped the top of the pillow and went out of her room.

  Ryan was acting like a big boy, but he was in for a rude awakening if Drew were to do one of his thirty-six hours without sleep acts. Last night was uncharacteristic and the first time Drew slept through the night. It was so freaky, she had gotten up in the middle of the night and snuck into his room to make sure he was still breathing.

  She had to smile to herself at how he hugged his ball and glove, even in sleep. She also checked on Ben and he was sleeping with his bat and baseball cap.

  Both boys were clearly living in a Ryan-induced dream full of hits, strikes, and home runs. Was she being selfish in letting Ryan indulge them?

  Maybe she should have thrown him out last night and told her sons this was another one-time deal. Who was she fooling? Ryan saw Drew’s condition as a challenge and thought he could do something about it.

  But the problem with autism was it never went away, and it was oftentimes two steps forward, one step backward, or one step forward, two steps backward. One day, when Ryan figured it out, it wouldn’t be shiny and new and fun anymore.

  Jamie’s stomach soured as she rummaged through the kitchen drawer for a digital thermometer. Ryan would be gone sooner than later, even if he thought he could help. Once he recovered his health, he’d be back in playing condition and traveling with the team.

  She should nip this in the bud before her boys got hurt. But then, hadn’t they always said it was better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all?

  Right. Then what about Andrew? She’d loved him once, but he couldn’t handle Drew’s issues. He’d grown frustrated when their once happy, responsive baby turned sullen and withdrawn. He’d fought against seeing specialists or getting a diagnosis—insisted that Drew was in a phase, that he’d grow out of it, or that he was slow, but he’d no doubt catch up.

  It had gotten so bad that when they finally got a diagnosis, Andrew had blamed Jamie for seeking the wrong expert. Putting a name to Drew’s condition had been a relief to Jamie, because it had meant they could get help for him.

  But in Andrew’s eyes, it had been a condemnation to a lifetime of suffering—for Drew and the entire family.

  Jamie found the thermometer and checked in with Drew. He was still sitting on the toilet turning his baseball over and around.

  “Don’t sit there too long,” Jamie said. “We’re having breakfast in fifteen minutes and I want you to wash your hands.”

  “Can we call Ryan and ask him to come over?” Ben asked, looking up from the TV.

  “In a little while,” she muttered, not wanting to relinquish what little alone time she had with Ryan.

  She slipped into her bedroom. Ryan was still lying in bed with his hands behind his head, a satisfied grin on his face. “You brought me breakfast?”

  “Not yet, silly.” She wiped the thermometer with an alcohol wipe. “Open up.”

  “By the way, your phone buzzed, but I didn’t pick it up.”<
br />
  A chill froze her insides. It could be Andrew checking in with her. At least Ryan’s car wasn’t parked in her driveway because it was totaled and he’d taken a taxi, but her ex still had a freaky sixth sense concerning her whereabouts—even if he was out of town.

  She stuck the thermometer in Ryan’s mouth and woke up her phone to see who called.

  It was only her mother. Jamie called her back.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

  “I should ask you who’s up?” her mother said. “I drove by several times and your shades were still drawn. Don’t tell me he spent the night.”

  “Mom! Why are you spying on me?” Jamie hissed as she stepped into her en-suite bathroom.

  “I got worried when you didn’t call to tell me how your picnic went, so I came over and saw all of you inside watching TV.”

  “Why didn’t you knock?”

  “And bust in on your big day? I didn’t think the boys wanted to see me,” her mother said. “So, tell me, is he still there?”

  “Mom, can you let me have some privacy?”

  “He’s there. I knew it!” her mother exclaimed as if she’d scored a point on a game show.

  Jamie heard the bedroom door open with a loud bang and little footsteps prancing into her room.

  “Mom, I have to go. Please, don’t discuss my social life with everyone, okay?” She swiped off the call and put her phone down.

  “Ryan!” little voices squealed as Jamie exited the bathroom.

  Ben and Drew jumped onto the bed. Ben was still wearing pajamas and Drew was buck naked. Hopefully, he’d wiped.

  “Careful there,” Jamie said. “Don’t jump on Ryan’s stitches.”

  “Can I see them?” Ben asked.

  “He sick.” Drew pointed at the thermometer in Ryan’s mouth.

  “Boys, boys. Stop bouncing on the bed.” Jamie cautioned. “Ryan just had surgery.”

  “Surgery? Is that where they cut you open?” Ben shouted and grabbed the covers, exposing Ryan in nothing but his boxers.