by Meghan Quinn
“Yeah, you’re fucking special, Kate.” I kiss the top of her head.
She snuggles in closer and says, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“You don’t know a lot,” I answer.
“I know enough that I want to know more.” She kisses my chin, and fuck, it’s such a simple thing but it means everything to me. The small, intimate acts that I haven’t experienced in well . . . ever. I’ve had a few girlfriends here and there, but they haven’t even come close to touching the uninhibited depth that Kate and I have. We’ve connected on a much deeper level and I’m pretty sure I’ll never find anything else like it.
“Did you know I’m on the board of The Lineup?”
She lifts up to look at me, a crinkle to her brow. “Jason Orson on the Rebels? His charity?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re on the board?”
I nod. “Yeah, he approached me last year, and since the charity is near and dear to my heart, I joined him.”
“Does anyone else know that?” she asks.
“Just Jason and Roark.”
“Why don’t you say anything?”
I caress her cheek. “You should know the answer to that by now.”
“But Walker, that could help your case.”
I shrug. “No need to brag about it when I can do other things with you.”
“What else don’t I know?”
I give it some thought. “My tattoo—I got it after my sister passed away. It represents her and the things she loved, including baseball.”
Kate reaches down and strokes the ink on my rib cage. “I love that. I never got a tattoo in honor of my brother. I thought about it, but I think in the back of my mind, if I did get a tattoo, then it finally meant it was true. Real. Losing him. And I know it’s real, I’m not delusional, thinking Jordy will come back at some point. I know he won’t. But I guess I’m just not ready to shut the door on it, you know?”
“Makes sense. It felt final when I got this tattoo. Still don’t think I’ll ever get over what happened.”
“Me neither. You just grow to live with it.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the truth.” I lost my baby sister, my parents—eventually—and my soul. I had never known true loneliness until everyone was just . . . gone. I kiss the top of her head. “What about your family? You have your parents and older brothers, right? Are you still close to them?”
She smiles. “Yeah. I guess, we’re lucky in our loss. We grieved together. But it wasn’t a sudden death, Walker. We knew it was coming, so I guess we rallied around each other from the very start of his illness until the end. We try to celebrate his birthday together each year to make the memory of Jordy a fun one.”
I smile. I’m glad she has that. Has her family. Maybe that’s why she’s so confident. Strong. I want to know so much about her. What makes her who she is. “Tell me something about you I don’t know.”
“Do you want some dirt?”
I chuckle. “As if you have any.”
“Oh, I have dirt.”
“Lay it on me.”
She shifts, propping herself on her side and across my stomach, staring down at me. I prop one hand behind my head and place my other hand on her hip. I slip my fingers under her borrowed shirt so I can maintain skin-on-skin contact.
Smiling, she asks, “Did you know I’m the only girl in the office who doesn’t wear slippers around the halls?”
I stare at her for a few seconds and then let out a loud, raspy laugh. “That’s your dirt?”
“Uh, yeah. Everyone else is unprofessional besides me.”
“Or everyone else is smart besides you.”
She chuckles. “Maybe that. But I don’t know, I just feel more powerful, sexier in heels, and I would rather wear them around the halls of the offices just in case I run into anyone . . . you know?”
“Just anyone?” I ask, raising my brow.
She rolls her eyes. “Or, you know, ran into you. I mean, where would the sex appeal be if you ran into me and I was wearing a pencil skirt and slippers?”
“I would think you were fucking adorable.”
“Adorable or sexy, hmm . . . I’m pretty sure I would rather be sexy.”
“You’re sexy all the time. Being adorable every once in a while, only ups your charm.”
She smiles. “Who knew you were such a flirt, Walker Rockwell?”
“Only with you.”
She sighs. “I wish it could always just be with me.” She looks off to the side and says, “This all really sucks, you know?”
“I know.” I rub her side.
“This is the first job that I’ve actually enjoyed, that I don’t get sick to my stomach doing. When I was working at the hospital, I was reminded of the loss of my brother every day. I grew so ill every time I walked those halls. But here, working for the Bobbies, it feels like a fresh start. And I’m good at my job, better than I expected.”
“You are good at your job.” I let out a heavy sigh. “And I would never ask you to change that, to sacrifice your job for me.”
“I would never ask you to do that either,” she says softly, her fingers dancing over my chest. “It’s a really stupid rule, if you ask me. I mean, what does it hurt if we like each other?”
“Who fucking knows? They probably want people focusing on their jobs, not flirting with the players or staff.”
“You can have it both ways,” she groans. “Now I feel like pouting, and I don’t want to pout.”
“How about you tell me something strange about you? And make it more enthralling than the slippers.”
“Hey,” she says with a smirk, “that was enthralling.”
I just wait for her to continue.
“But if you must be entertained . . .” She taps her chin. “Something strange about me, umm . . . oh, I love putting ketchup on my chicken—I’ve heard that’s weird.”
“Ketchup on your chicken?” I grimace. “Why would you do that?”
She shrugs. “Why not? And sometimes, if I’m feeling really spicy, I take ranch dressing and ketchup, mix it together, and make Kranch.”
“Kranch?” I ask.
“Yup, it’s so freaking good. But that’s only on a special day.” She taps my chest. “Want to win me over? Buy me some ketchup and ranch, and I’m all yours.”
“If I knew it was going to be that easy, I would’ve done that a while ago.”
“No way. You would’ve denied your feelings to the very end.”
“I wish I could say that’s the truth,” I reply. “But you’d have worn me down. If it wasn’t for your beautiful heart, it would’ve been with those damn pencil skirts and heels clicking around the stadium that would’ve gotten to me.”
“Are you trying to make me emotional?”
“Nah.” I take her hand in mine and link our fingers together. “Just telling the truth.” I let out a deep sigh. “This has gotten heavy.”
“Yeah, and we shouldn’t be doing heavy right now. Not when—well, when this isn’t forever.”
My heart sinks just hearing the words, but I know they’re true. She said it herself—she loves her job. And I’m not ready to give up on mine.
Chapter Fifty-Four
KATE
“Fuck, Kate,” Walker says, holding on to my hair as my body presses up against the glass of the windows in his living room. “You close?”
“Yes,” I moan as I shift a little lower, giving him a better angle. “Right there, Walker. Harder, please, harder.”
He grunts and pulses his hips into me with more force, sending me against the window with more power. My tits slap against the cold surface and my legs start to tingle as my orgasm climbs up to my core.
“Shit, Kate, you’re so fucking good.” He smooths his hand over my ass and squeezes it tightly. That’s all it takes—my arousal spikes and I’m pushed over the edge, my body convulsing against Walker and the glass of the window.
Walker comes right along with me, his groans
filling the quiet apartment as he pumps a few more times and then stills, gripping my ass so tightly that I know he’ll leave a mark, a mark that I’ll marvel at later on.
“Fuck,” he groans against my neck, kissing his way to my jaw. He turns my head and presses his lips to mine. “I’ll never get enough of your pussy . . . never. Or your ass.”
I chuckle and turn toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’ve never done it against a window. That was a first for me.”
“Did you like it?”
I nod. “Mmm, I did.”
“Good.” He kisses my nose and then slaps my ass. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll order us some dinner.”
“Burgers?” I ask with hope.
“Is that what you want?”
I nod. “I need something hearty. I’m pretty sure we’ve burned three thousand calories just from sex.”
“Best kind of exercise there is. Burger and fries, you got it.” He winks, and my heart trips in my chest as he walks toward the kitchen, naked and beautiful. I take a second to stare at his backside, thick and taut, a catcher’s ass. And his corded back—the way his muscles flex when he moves, he’s easily the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, especially when he looks over his shoulder like he does right now, eating me up with those dark eyes of his. “Get moving, or I might have to own that pussy again.”
“As if that’s a punishment,” I say, walking to the bathroom. I clean myself up and put on another one of his shirts. I stare at myself in the mirror and take in my appearance. My lips are swollen, my hair is a fluffy mess, and my cheeks are rosy from the exertion of being fucked hard.
And I look happy. Truly happy.
But hidden in my eyes, there’s a touch of darkness. Because I know what’s around the corner, I know what’s waiting for me tomorrow, and I’m dreading it. I’m dreading leaving him, cutting things off with him, moving on without his strong arms wrapped around me. Moving on with someone else.
God, the thought never crossed my mind until just now. He’s a public figure, so if he starts seeing someone, it’s going to be splashed all over. I can practically see the pictures scattered on Instagram right now. “The Bobbies Quiet Catcher Finally Makes a Catch of His Own.” Lame headline, but you know what I mean. It’s going to be painful to watch it unfold.
My anxiety starts to heighten, my chest grows tight, and I find it a little harder to breathe than before. Walker dating . . . God, it feels like my worst nightmare.
“Hey, everything okay?” Walker asks as he peeks into the bathroom.
“Yeah,” I gasp in response and then try to steady my breathing. “Yup.” I tack on a smile, but nothing gets past him, because he comes up to me, now with sweatpants on, and pulls me into a hug.
“I can’t stop thinking about tomorrow either.” He kisses the top of my head. “Maybe we can make something work.”
I shake my head against his chest. “You and I both know that’s not going to work. Plus, I don’t want to hide my relationship. I want to be able to go on dates. I want to be able to hold your hand in public, claim you as mine. That’s never going to happen if I date you. You’re high profile. People aren’t just going to not notice you.” I take a deep breath. “It is what it is and I need to accept that.” I take a step back. “Actually, maybe it’s best if I just leave now.”
“Are you serious?” Walker asks, his brow turning down. “Just like that, you’re going to leave.”
“What’s the point of me staying?”
“To live in this moment just a touch longer.”
“Knowing that it’s a dead end?” I shake my head, regret starting to fill me by the gallon. “I never should’ve stayed in the first place. This was stupid.”
I try to move past him, but he stops me, hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.” When I keep my eyes turned down, he speaks more firmly. “Look at me, Kate.”
I raise my eyes to his.
“Do not regret a single moment of this day, do you hear me?”
“How can I not?” My eyes well with tears again. Damn it. “I’ve spent the entire day in a dreamlike state, in an alternate reality that can never become true. What was I thinking?”
“I don’t know,” Walker says, growing angry. “Maybe you weren’t thinking, maybe you were letting your heart do the talking.”
He pushes away from the doorframe, and guilt immediately swarms me as he retreats down the hallway toward the kitchen. He settles at the kitchen island, both hands gripping the hard marble, his back muscles tightening from the obvious tension in his shoulders.
Silence falls over the apartment as I stare at him from down the hall, watching him physically start to shut down. I can practically see him building a wall around himself, protecting himself from me.
And I hate that.
I hate everything about this.
But what I hate the most is even though my brain is telling me to do one thing, to walk out his door, my heart is sending my feet toward him. And when I reach him, I run my hands up his tense back and press a light kiss to his heated skin.
“I’m sorry, Walker. I’m just not handling this well.”
“Neither am I,” he says, turning around and taking my hands in his. “But, please, don’t take this day away. Please, Kate.”
His eyes are filled with pain, and I would do just about anything to erase that look, to make him smile again, to hear him laugh. So even though tomorrow will hold one of the most painful things I ever do—walk away from him—I’ll wait until tomorrow, because as long as I’m here, I’m going to soak him up.
“I won’t,” I say. I kiss his chest. “I promise, I won’t.”
“Thank you,” he says in relief. And then he tugs me toward the couch where we both take a seat. He has me sit on his lap once again, straddling his legs so I’m facing him. His hands go to my hips, underneath the shirt. “I don’t know why you keep putting this back on,” he says, tugging on the fabric.
“You can’t possibly expect me to walk around naked.”
“Why not?” he says with a small grin.
“Because then your cock would be inside me every second.”
He chuckles. “Nothing wrong with that, Kate.”
“Says the guy with the most stamina I’ve ever known.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t ever have sex, have some pent-up adrenaline, and a hot girl who lets you take off her shirt.”
I tilt my head to the side. “You haven’t had sex in a while?”
“You can’t tell?”
“I mean, I just thought you were, you know, a horny athlete.”
“I am that.” His hands move up my waist. “But I also don’t have time to meet anyone, nor do I really want to.”
“You don’t have one-night stands?”
“Not in a while.”
“Ohhh,” I tease, “but you have had them. Do you make the girls sign some sort of NDA before you give them the good dick?”
“Jesus, don’t call it that.” He chuckles. “And no, I’ve never had anyone sign anything, even though Roark would want it.”
“So, it’s a real thing, a sex NDA.”
He nods. “Oh yeah, very much a real thing.”
“Maybe I should’ve made you sign a sex NDA,” I say, teasingly. “Avoid all that locker room talk.”
He frowns. “You know that’s not my style.”
“I’m just teasing. I know you’d never say anything to anyone.”
“I wouldn’t, ever.” His hands float higher up my stomach.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask with a grin.
“Working my way up to the goods.” His thumbs graze the underside of my breasts, and somehow, my body heats up all over again. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to have this much sex, but with every flirtatious stroke from him, I’m proven wrong. “Has anyone ever told you that you have fantastic tits?” He strokes me again and my head falls to the side. God, is that really all it takes?
“Just my friend, Dan,
” I say before I can stop myself.
Walker’s fingers pause as he asks, “Who’s Dan?”
Shit.
“Uh, someone I went to college with. He never saw my boobs, just . . . complimented them. I don’t know why I said that.”
I see him bite on his bottom lip and I’m afraid he’s going to stop, but then his fingers move up an inch and stroke, and this time he barely grazes my nipples.
“Walker,” I groan, my body waiting for his next stroke, but he pauses, and longer than I want him to.
“How about this? For everything you tell me about yourself, I’ll stroke these luscious tits of yours. Start with this Dan guy—do you still talk to him?”
His thumbs are poised at my nipples and the air feels electric as I wait for him to pass over my hardened nubs.
“We do,” I answer. “But just as friends. He helped me get this job. He means a lot to me.”
He strokes his thumbs across my nipples.
“Romantically, does he mean anything to you?”
My eyes lazily open. “Jealous?”
“Yes,” he answers.
“Don’t be. It’s not like that between me and him.”
He swipes his thumbs over my sensitive skin again and I start to throb with need. “I know you can’t be mine, and I know this is fucked up, but I don’t want you to be anyone else’s, either.”
I stare at him. “I thought the same thing about you.”
His fingers now grip my nipples and roll them, pulling a hiss from me as my head falls back.
“You know exactly what to say to make me want you even more.” He shifts, and I feel his hard-on between my legs. How this man can get it up so many times in one day, I’ll never know . . . I also will never tire of it. “When you’re with someone else, will you think of me?”
“I won’t be with someone else,” I say, the admission ringing true. He rolls my nipples, and the heat in my body turns up a notch. I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. Then I lift up from his lap, drag his pants down just enough, and then sink down on his cock.
“Fuck . . . yes,” he mumbles, his head falling back. “Jesus, Kate, you’re so goddamn warm and tight.”