Playing Without Rules: A Baseball Romance

by Rachelle Ayala

  Brock’s grayish-green eyes darkened and he snorted. “Now, don’t go all off on me. Your sister barged out of her room and demanded a slice of pizza. We couldn’t very well say ‘no.’”

  “No, I guess you couldn’t.” Something thawed inside of her and she reached over and grabbed ahold of Brock’s shoulders, tucking her face into the crock of his neck. “I was wrong to make a big deal of it. What else did you guys do?”

  “We played with her Ninja Turtle action figures. No dolls for her. Reminds me of someone I know.” He kissed the side of her head.

  Marcia closed her eyes and hugged him. He felt safe, and no matter how violent his background was, she realized she’d been foolish to think of him like his father. “I’m glad you got along.”

  “She’s smart, like you and not only that, I’m going to make her a treehouse.” Brock’s voice danced with excitement. “You should have seen how excited she was when I promised.”

  Tell him. Tell him now. Her inner voice nagged her.

  Marcia cleared her throat and pushed away so she could observe his face. “Uh, Bianca, she’s a lot like me.”

  And you. She’s stubborn like you, and a charmer.

  “You’re almost like a mother to her, aren’t you?” Brock thumbed Marcia’s chin. “You did a great job after your mother passed. I wish I could have been with you and helped.”

  “I wish the same thing.” The words were at the edge of her tongue. “We could have made it work.”

  His lips twisted and he shook his head. “Nah, Bianca has her father, and no matter how old he is, he’s the best kind of dad anyone can have. You’re both lucky.”

  “And you too. I mean, not your father, but you with my father.”

  “I know, your dad was the one who went to school for me when I got into trouble. He took me to the doctor’s and he was the one who got me into baseball. You know something? We should have asked them to come today.”

  “Maybe next time?”

  “Yep, next time.” Brock let her go and threw the hotdog slices overboard. “We didn’t need to catch anything today. We still have the sandwiches. Let’s go up on the roof and watch the sunset.”

  Ahhh … She was losing the opportunity to tell him. The mood was too good right now to ruin. He’d be furious if he knew she’d kept this big secret from him. Next time, when her father was around to buffer his reaction, maybe that would be the ideal time.

  Marcia allowed Brock to guide her up the spiral staircase, his hand on her lower back. His body heat warmed her as he wrapped her in his arms to protect her from the evening chill.

  He turned her around for a kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

  “Since you broke one of my rules, it’s time for me to make another one,” she teased.

  He held up his hands. “Penalty accepted. What do you want now?”

  “No boundary lines and no fouls.” She took a deep breath, hoping he’d accept her gambit.

  “Okay, fine by me.” His eyebrows creased and he shrugged. “What does it mean?”

  “These past five years we were apart? Wiped clean. You said you had a few girlfriends, right?”

  “Uh, yes, but none serious. I was just passing the—”

  “Stop.” She held up her hand. “None of it matters. I won’t blame you for anything you did and in return you won’t hold anything against me, no matter what you hear.”

  “Well, sure.” His scowl deepened and one of his eyebrows lowered. “You’re not an ax murderer, are you?”

  “Are you?” she countered. Obviously if she expected him to forgive her mistakes, she had to offer him the exact same grace.

  “No, not at all. But I can’t understand this new rule.” He made air quotes while saying ‘rule.’ “It seems to be an anti-rule, like anything goes. What if I want to know exactly what you’ve been up to? I might want the opportunity to break a few heads.”

  Marcia’s blood froze. Break a few heads. Had he done that before? Would he break hers the way his father had broken his mother’s?

  Hate me for keeping Bianca from him or hate me for having her in the first place? What should I do? Tell him now and he’ll hate me now or tell him later when he’ll hate me more?

  “Hey, I was just joking,” Brock said, jogging her from her worries. “Before the rule takes effect, I want to know what your relationship with Conrad is. After that, I promise everything will be water under the bridge.”

  # # #

  Brock glanced at the rays of the setting sun over Marcia’s shoulders. He shouldn’t have brought up the Conrad business amidst all this natural beauty. But there would be other sunsets, and time was running out. If Marcia wanted to institute this grace rule, he had to ask now.

  “Well? Conrad? Is he someone you’re planning on marrying? Having children with?”

  “Pfft.” Marcia’s lips quirked into a half-smile, seemingly more relaxed. “Nothing like that. He’s an old standby, a friend.”

  “I don’t think he thinks of himself as just a friend. One of the ballplayers says he considers you his woman.”

  “Doesn’t matter now.” Marcia rolled her eyes and glanced upward. “I already told him in no uncertain terms that I didn’t want to lead him on, and that we shouldn’t play chess anymore at his penthouse. He wasn’t happy when I said we could continue by email.”

  “Is he going to cause trouble?”

  Marcia shuddered and let out a hard breath. “No, he’s too passive to do anything. He might bluster and threaten, but at the end, he’s not the type to get into a barroom brawl.”

  “I’m not worried.” Brock cracked his knuckles. “But I’m glad you set him straight.”

  “Sure, so you got your one question.” She tapped his chest and winked. “Do I get mine?”

  “Okay, shoot.” He braced himself. Although she’d asked lightly, almost casually, he could feel the tension behind her wink.

  “Who was the last woman you made love to?”

  A choked laugh forced its way from his throat. Chess champ Marcia had made a blunder. He tilted her face up and dotted a kiss on her lips. “You, of course.”

  “Wait, I meant before me.”

  “Nuh uh, that was your one question.” He smothered her with another kiss and deepened it before she could protest.

  She settled into his arms with a suppressed chuckle, as if to say, fine, you got me, before pursing her lips and devouring his mouth with hungry passion.

  His body tightened and all the blood rushed south to his crotch. Damn. He’d been on edge all day, but now, with the air cleared between them, his body was primed to brand her—to make her truly his—with no secrets between them.

  Flinging her into his arms, he spun around and around with her on the top deck, deliriously happy, more alive than he’d ever been, even more than when they’d been younger.

  Everything he wanted was within his grasp—playing baseball in his hometown, reclaiming the only woman who made his heart sing, and settling down, yes, and possibly having a family. One that started with Marcia, her father and sister, and maybe, just maybe, if he’d truly extinguished his demons, if he had her support and encouragement, maybe he would take that next step and bring a child into this world.

  Encouraged by her hungry caresses and the lustful moans in her throat, Brock sank with Marcia onto a double-sized chaise lounge. The sun had set and the sky was a brilliant painting of impressionistic orange, crimson, and violet hues.

  His heart pounding with pent up desire, he slipped her shirt off and lifted her tank top.

  Marcia slapped his hand. “Not out here. Someone might see us.”

  “I don’t see anybody around. We’re in a remote section of the lake.”

  “One with no fish.” She bit her lips and rolled her eyes.

  “Apparently. That’s why all the other boats are somewhere else.” Brock fondled her breasts and swirled his thumbs over her taut nipples.

  The pupils dilated in her light blue eyes and her cheeks r
eddened. She tugged his hand. “Let’s go down below.”

  “No, ma’am. I believe you said we’re both sleeping up here tonight. Besides, I want you to see stars when I bury myself deep into you, when my soul touches yours, and when my name is moaned on your lips. I want you to feel the cool rush of the night in contrast to the blazing heat of my love speared inside of you, stoking your flames until you cry out and quake with love.”

  “You’ve changed.” Her voice breathed out in a whisper. “But I love it.”

  I love you, Marcia. But he’d no longer say it. It was her turn, and he’d wait for her for as long as it took.

  In the meantime, he’d have her screaming in ecstasy, until she was thoroughly and completely his.

  Chapter Twelve

  The gentle swaying of the boat, coupled with the stillness of the growing dusk, calmed Marcia. No one with peering binoculars would spy on her and Brock, and truth to tell, she’d never made love outside of a bedroom.

  Here, out on the open lake, rocking with the gently lapping waves, it was as if she and Brock were the only people on the planet.

  She allowed him to divest her of her clothes. The chilly evening air raised goose bumps over her arms, but Brock’s hot lips on her breast and his large warm hands heated her from the inside with wicked desire.

  This man, this tough, wounded man was the only one who could melt her guard. Honeyed throbs thundered through her veins at his every caress. Yet his touch was tender and loving, alternating between raw naked hunger and deep loving appreciation.

  Marcia slipped Brock’s shirt from his shoulders and rubbed her nose on his chest. His scent, natural and sun-kissed, evoked long buried memories of hot summer nights bathed in sweat and passion. But tonight was different, more exposed and emotional. Somehow, in the past five years, Brock had learned to express himself, to lay his feelings in her lap, to truly communicate his love, not solely by physical means, but by touching her most inner longings.

  This hard, strong, and awesome man was hers. And for once in her life, she’d throw off all caution and receive him completely. Her fingers busy, she unzipped his khakis and released his cock. She wanted him now. Naked, without a scrap between them. Without any barriers.

  “Make love to me, Brock. Fill me deep. Please.” Bringing his hips between her legs, she pressed him to her entrance.

  His entire body tensed as he held himself above her, his eyes intent on her, holding back, as if trying to decide how to get to his pocket and slip on the condom he always carried.

  “Please,” Marcia whispered. “Nothing between us. I want to feel you gliding inside me, skin on skin, just you inside of me.”

  Slowly he lowered his lips over hers and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Marcia gasped and moaned at the same time he plunged into her. The feeling was so smooth and slick without the harsh friction of the condom that she cried out in a long, drawn out purr.

  Brock groaned and shuddered, stilling his movement when he was all the way in. The love and wonder in his eyes thrilled straight to her heart, and words bubbled from her throat.

  “I love you, Brock. I’ve always loved you.”

  “You know I love you.” He breathed into her mouth, kissing and caressing her as his powerful strokes sent streaks of pleasure screaming through her body, singing songs of love to her heart, and raising her to the heights of earthly bliss.

  He slid in and out faster and more urgently, slamming her with jolts of lightning until the lounge chair creaked and rocked along with the entire boat. His body, joined to hers in the most intimate way, seemed to take on a wildness she’d never known before. Unable to hold back her guttural moans, she clamped her thighs and dug her fingers into his flesh, raking him as her orgasm burned through her, singeing her hair and curling her toes with a tremendous explosion of stars.

  Brock drilled deep as he exhaled and groaned his pleasure. Calling her name, he pulled out leaving a trail of wetness over her abdomen. The gentle slap of the water on the hull was the only sound beside their frenzied breathing and racing heartbeat, as they held each other in the afterglow.

  “Open your eyes,” he whispered some time later. “See the shooting stars?”

  Marcia stared into Brock’s luminous eyes, dark with passion. “The only stars I see are in your eyes. You’re my every wish come true.”

  # # #

  “Marcia, we have to go.”

  A blast of cold air hit Marcia’s face. She groaned and flailed to remove the irritating hand. She was warm and snug inside a down sleeping bag with Brock. Why was he unzipping it?

  “Sorry, but I have to get to training camp by nine.” Brock nuzzled her face, his beard scratching her.

  Marcia snapped her eyes open. The sky was still dark with a rim of orange glowing in the east. “Uhhhh … you didn’t tell me I had to wake up early.”

  “I would have let you sleep a little longer, but I wanted to watch the sunrise with you.”

  Marcia raised her hand and palmed his face, stroking his stubble. Since when had Brock, the kid with the anger problem, become so romantic?

  “I’ve never seen the sun rise from the middle of a lake. I should get my camera.”

  “No, let’s etch it in our memory.” His breath misted in the morning chill.

  “I’m too cold to get out of the bag.”

  “No need. Sit up.” He maneuvered her between his legs and pulled her back against his chest. “You’re lucky we’ve been having a warm spell.”

  “It’s still freezing on the lake.” She tilted her head back, her lips begging for a kiss.

  “Mmm … Marcia, we’re going to miss the sunrise,” he mumbled into her mouth, but his lips and tongue tormented her, tangling with hers and twisting spires of delight from her belly.

  His hands wandered to her breasts, rolling them in his palms. Sparks shot up and down her spine and tingles feathered her exposed shoulders as she rubbed herself against him.

  His desire was hot and evident. She tried to turn in his arms, to move herself to a better angle to assault him, but he growled and pinned her back to him, tightening his thighs around her hips. “The sunrise …”

  What man cared about a stupid sunrise when he was about to get laid? Marcia swiped her hands from his body and crossed her arms over the large hands driving her crazy with want.

  “Look, it’s there.” Brock nipped at her earlobe.

  A point of light peeked from the rim of the dark, mountains across the lake. Moments later, the haze above the water took on an orange tint and a ghostly crimson fan spread into the sky while the waters below reflected the orange-purple patterns from above.

  Marcia’s breath drew at the beauty—the dawning of a new day and she was draped with contentment and happiness. Brock turned her head and kissed her deep and long, eliciting memories of hot summer evenings and cold winter nights, snuggling and cuddling on hayrides and at bonfires, and fantasies of future holidays and birthdays. Her emotions spiraled and took flight over the morning lake. Everything was perfect, almost.

  Today was a new dawn, and when they arrived back home, she’d rope her father into helping her tell Brock. He’d fall in love with Bianca and the four of them could live happily ever after. Perhaps there would be more little Brocks until this houseboat was stuffed with their burgeoning family.

  Brock lay down with her, still entangled in the sleeping bag. His breathing was hot and heavy, tantalizing her, as his mouth made slick, hot trails down her neck. Each patch of skin cooled as soon as he moved to another patch, but the combination of hot and cold made her tingle, and she quivered and rolled in the bag.

  “You’re making me feel like a randy teen,” he said, his mouth widening in a grin. “I can’t believe you’re ready for more.”

  “As long as you are.” Marcia wiggled her bottom against his hard-as-a-rock erection while guiding his hand to the hot spot between her legs.

  His breath hissed as he caressed her and eased between her folds. He’d always been like that, cons
iderate, not grabbing and intruding, but now that her appetite had been whetted, she wanted more. Faster.

  “Batter up.” She wiggled around and lowered his sweatpants, feeling him pop up into her hands.

  “I don’t know if I’ll have energy left to hit a ball.”

  She fisted his cock. “Stop complaining. And let me warm you up.”

  He groaned and positioned himself between her thighs. “I really should get a condom. We haven’t been careful. Where are you on your cycle?”

  An instant chill froze the blood in Marcia’s body. His rejection was like a backhand over her face. Last night, when he ejaculated on her belly, she hadn’t thought much, figured he’d been so excited he’d popped out. Not that she was trying to get pregnant.

  Liar.

  She didn’t answer his question because she was exactly in the middle of her cycle, fertile and horny. And even though her mind rebelled against what she was about to do, her body was out of control, and she slipped on top of him, enveloping him inside of her.

  “I like it better this way. It doesn’t hurt and rub me raw. It feels so good. Slick, and moist. Hot.” She tightened her canal and rocked him inside of her.

  Brock’s eyes rolled back and he moaned in surrender, his hips arching below her as she rode and rode. Her climax blazed through her with a spike of pure ecstasy, and Brock’s arms tensed, lifting her to push her off. But pleasure overwhelmed him and he brought her down hard. His hips jackhammering, he exhaled and tightened his arms around her, his fingers digging into her as he emptied himself into the depths of her love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brock was covered with goose bumps, a combination of the morning chill and the implications of what he’d just allowed.

  Marcia, however, had seemed nonchalant, going indoors with a cat-in-the-cream smile on her face to take a shower and get dressed.

  Brock gathered the sleeping bag and went to the cabin to wait his turn. He plopped himself on the queen-sized bed and palmed his face. This was happening too fast. Him. Marcia. The possibility of her getting pregnant.

  She loved him, or so she’d said, and she was definitely the best thing that happened to him. But she’d also driven him away five years ago and refused to communicate with him.