Last Fall: A Storm Inside Novel (The Wild Pitch Series Book 3)

by Alexis Anne

“I know,” he mumbled somewhere between my collarbone and my breasts.

  “A really long time.” I kind of shouted that. It wasn’t the smoothest I’d ever been but things were getting critical fast. I wanted this, god how I wanted this, but I needed Erik to understand first.

  He heard my warning and stopped. He stood up straight and tall in front of me, waiting. “I’m listening.”

  And now I felt really exposed so I looked away. “I haven’t been with anyone since I moved to Tampa.”

  “I had a feeling.”

  I guess it was pretty obvious that if I wasn’t dating I probably wasn’t banging, either. “What I’m trying to say is, I haven’t been with anyone since . . . ” I really didn’t want to say this out loud, but I had to, right? To clear the air and move on?

  “Zoe, look at me? Please?”

  I forced myself to look up into his dark eyes. The ones that were pleading with me to trust him. And I did. I trusted Erik in ways I’d never trusted anyone before.

  But this was different.

  “The last man you were with, he hurt you.” Erik didn’t mince any words.

  “Yes.”

  “And so this,” he caressed my cheek, “isn’t just a kiss or a touch. It’s trust and power.”

  How did he understand all of this so well? “Yes.”

  “Zoe, you have all the power here.”

  It didn’t feel that way. “I want this. You.” My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. My skin tingled from the heat of my own blood.

  He smiled. “I know.” Then he placed his hands on my hips and repositioned himself so that he was directly in front of me. “I have a small confession to make. I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want for you to take it the wrong way.”

  Well that didn’t sound ominous or anything. “I’m listening.”

  And, honestly, freaking out a little.

  Erik was patient. So incredibly patient. He was also honest and pretty straightforward. So whatever he was going to say was going to cut straight to the bone.

  “I’m a jealous man,” he practically whispered. The words came out rough and forced. Almost as emotional as his eyes that were currently turning my knees to jelly. “I don’t ever want another man in your head when I’m kissing you and right now, when I touch you, he’s still there.”

  Oh my god he was right.

  Will he hurt me like Tony?

  I feel good. Is that right or wrong?

  “Which means if we keep going,” he said, cupping my face, “and do what we both want to do, we’ll have a good time, but it will be with his shadow between us.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “It won’t be nearly as good as it should be.”

  My knees nearly gave out. My head definitely spun. The barely restrained desire and frustration pulsing off of Erik consumed me.

  “What do I do? What if I can’t get him out of my head any other way?” It made sense, didn’t it? Erase the old with the new? Replace the bad memories with good ones?

  “Oh, I’ll get him out of there and when I do?” Erik leaned closer, his lips brushing over my ear, my cheek, my lips, “It will be so, so good.”

  Then he whipped off his shirt and handed it to me. “Bed. Now.”

  I knew he said something but I didn’t hear any of it. I’d gone lust-deaf because standing in front of me was a very real, very shirtless Erik Cassidy.

  It’s possible I audibly sighed instead of the internal shriek of joy I was going for. I’d seen him shirtless from across the pool several times. I always, and I do mean always kept my distance at pool parties. I wasn’t stupid. If being near him was too much then being near shirtless, happy Erik was definitely way too much.

  And now, I had full confirmation.

  My brain did not, in fact, work when he was half naked.

  “Zoe?”

  How could it? His skin was so smooth, so supple. It demanded I imagine five different ways to touch and taste it. He had magnificent abs and shoulders. His arms, when fully exposed, were a thing of beauty. And that way his happy trail disappeared into his jeans? It was like a neon sign directing my hands where to go next.

  Unbutton jeans.

  Slide zipper down.

  Reach inside.

  “Whoa! Zo,” he panted, looking up at the ceiling. “Your hands are warm and soft and . . . ”

  Holy crap on a cracker. I was actually doing all the things I was thinking.

  I jumped back. “I’m sorry.”

  He lunged for me, grabbing my hands. “Don’t you dare be sorry.” Then placed my hands on his shoulders, eyes locked on mine as he stripped off his jeans, then started on mine. “You can touch me anywhere, anytime, in any way you want, Darlin’. I just wanted to warn you that you were about to get a very aroused man even more aroused.”

  My cheeks burned. “What are we doing?”

  “Getting ready for bed.” My jeans slid free and hit the floor. “I like being here with you and the last time I checked, sex wasn’t required to spend time together. Or sleep in the same bed.”

  Sleep together. Did I want this? I scanned my body and . . . yes. Yes I wanted this very much. “You’re going to sleep over. And then what?”

  He sighed. “Do you always think ahead?”

  “I’m a plotter.”

  He cocked his head to the side, adorably confused by my writer-lingo. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a writer thing. Some write by the seat of their pants. They have no idea what will happen in the book until they write it. They’re called Pansters. But the rest of us plot our books. We think the whole thing through. Some are more thorough than others.” I pointed at myself. “I’m a plotter.”

  He shook his head, laughing. “So you’re saying you’re always thinking about the endgame?”

  He was so handsome. I ran my fingers through his stubble, cupping his face as my heart pounded in my chest. I was falling in love with Erik. After tonight there was no denying it. “Always.”

  He grew very still. “And what’s our endgame, Zoe?”

  Dancing. I couldn’t stop thinking about how natural it was to dance with Erik. How happy I was the whole time. I felt more like myself than ever. “I think, for you, I am going to attempt being a panster for a change.”

  Let go. Stop thinking. Let the music of life work it’s way through me.

  He nodded slowly, as if he understood the magnitude of what I’d just said. “I won’t let you fall.”

  My heart beat faster.

  He got it. He really, truly understood.

  “Do you want to brush your teeth?” Because, yes, he was staying the night even if I had to put up with all the questions in the morning.

  “Yes.”

  “There are spare toothbrushes in the drawer on the left of the sink.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Then I’ll be right back.”

  The minute he left I stripped off my shirt and bra, trading it for a clean shirt and underwear. I even folded his jeans and shirt over my desk chair for the morning. After we switched places I brushed my teeth and hair and replenished my deodorant.

  Then I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it, taking in the sight of Erik stretched out on my bed.

  Holy moly.

  I’d caught sight of his erection through his boxers before he left, felt it several times while dancing, but now he was back to normal. Or at least what I assumed was normal.

  How many times had I described the male appendage in excruciating detail? And yet it had been so long since I’d seen one up close, felt one in my hand or moving inside me. Hadn’t wanted anything but the completely imaginary ones I made up in my mind.

  Until now.

  Now I had a very real one in my bed and I couldn’t stop thinking about how desperately I wanted to see and feel this one.

  And as if it knew it was the focus of my thoughts, it twitched to life again. My eyes snapped to Erik’s and I realized he was watching me.

  “I can’t help it when you look a
t me like that,” he whispered.

  He grew long and hard beneath the fabric while I remained plastered to my door. I couldn’t move. Then he adjusted so it lay against his happy trail, the tip peeking out above his waistband, and all I could do was lick my lips and sigh.

  I knew this was all very natural. We were attracted to each other and arousal was going to happen. Especially because we were new to each other.

  All that scientific knowledge didn’t stop my body from becoming just as aroused at the idea, though. I didn’t care if it was biology. There was a very sexy man lying in my bed with an erection caused by being near me.

  “Come to bed.”

  I still didn’t move. “I just need a second. You’re both looking at me and I can’t move.”

  He chuckled soft and deep. “Both? Me and my dick?”

  “Yep.”

  He grabbed the quilt and threw it over his waist. “Better?”

  The penis was covered, but not his dark, hungry eyes. “Not really. Are you sure sex is off the table?” Because I really didn’t know how I was going to sleep with this much blood pumping through my veins.

  He frowned. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  Everything. Everything was going on. “I can’t think straight. I’m hot, I’m turned on, and I don’t think I can sleep.”

  He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Come here.”

  Yes. I moved like an Olympic track star to stand between his knees. I sighed when his hand slid under my shirt to rest on my left hip. He lifted the fabric and placed a soft kiss on my belly, then let it drop back down. “You like this?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you like about it?”

  “The way you touch me. It’s nice. Soft. Exciting.”

  “Exciting?” he chuckled, running his other hand up my thigh and under my shirt to rest on my other hip. “I like that. Touch me, Zo. Feel me. Get to know me.”

  All that soft supple skin was every bit as soft and supple as I imagined when he whipped his shirt off. I touched him carefully at first, running my hands up his pecks and over his shoulders, then down his arms.

  “I like this,” he whispered. “You’re not hesitating anymore. You didn’t jerk away when I touched you.”

  Cold water.

  But he was right. For the first time I was touching Erik. It was different but wonderful. “Touch me again.”

  He looked up, locking eyes with me as he ran his hands up the outside of my shirt to cup my breasts. I froze at the intimacy of the gesture. Had a man ever touched me there and just . . . enjoyed it? Tony was always rough, manhandling them for his pleasure, not mine.

  Erik massaged until I stopped thinking about how Tony did me wrong and instead enjoyed what Erik was doing oh, so right.

  “There. Whatever you’re thinking right now, I like it.”

  I ran my hands down his strong arms. “I’m thinking about how good you make me feel.”

  He groaned, his left hand grabbing my hip again while his right explored. “And what do you think when I touch you here?”

  He slid his hand over my clit and pressed firmly.

  I felt two completely different things in that moment. One was a burst of lovely pleasure, the other the instinctive need to flee. “Fuck.”

  His fingers moved in a circle. “It’s okay, Zo. I told you I’d erase him and I will.”

  “Yes . . . ” If he kept doing that I’d forget everything, including my own name. “I’m going to touch you, make you feel things, and you’re going to touch me. Then we’ll go to sleep and have sweet dreams. And we’ll keep doing this until it’s just you and me doing what we want, together.”

  I gripped his shoulders, ground against his hand. “Yes.”

  “Touch me, Zoe.” He took his hand away and stood up.

  I had to take a half step back to make room for him. His hard body moved against me, his erection pressed between us. There. He wants me to touch him there.

  I reached between us and cupped him in the palm of my hand. A million doubts flew threw my head.

  I’m doing it wrong.

  Too slow.

  Too hard.

  Too soft.

  Too fast.

  He wants you on your knees, in the back of your throat, once before bed every night.

  Erik tilted my chin up. “That’s why we can’t have sex tonight. Whatever those thoughts are, they need to go before we can be together.”

  I slid his boxers down enough to pull his cock free. “How often do you like sex?” I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked up and down once.

  He was so hard.

  “The obvious answer is that I like sex as often as humanly possible but the real answer,” he hissed as I stroked him again, learning how far to pull up, how tight to hold my fingers, “the real answer is that I want it whenever and however we’re both up for it.”

  “You don’t have a number in your head? A schedule you like to keep?”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and separated us. “Fuck, Zo. No.” He tucked his cock away. “That’s idiotic. We’ll have sex when we have sex. When I’m on the road I have memories of kissing you, a hot shower, and my hand.” He held it up for emphasis. “When we’re together we’ll . . . for fuck’s sake . . . there are two of us with needs and wants. I’m assuming as two smart adults we’ll learn what that means for us. Both of us.”

  He looked like he wanted to strangle someone. Probably Tony. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be fucking sorry.”

  I noticed he swore more when he was frustrated. “I’m just learning how you think.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “You know me, Zoe. I’m not demanding. I like to have fun. I’m boring and serious and I care about you more than I care about me.” He stepped closer and kissed me until I saw stars. “You want to know the fastest way to erase that dickwad and move on with me? Forget everything you know. Your life with him was not real. It wasn’t. Pretend it was one of your books. Close it up and throw it away. The things you write? Those are a thousand times more real than the shit you actually lived through.” He suddenly let me go and went to my overstuffed bookcase. He started pulling books off. “These people, these made up fictional people? They are based on what you see everyday. This one,” he held up my second Mayhem book. “That’s Jake and Eve. And this one?” He held up the fifth book. “It’s Jenny and Andrew. These?” He held up The Butterfly Rebellion. “These are what you know you deserve.”

  My pulse thundered.

  He shoved the books back where they belonged. “Now get in bed, let me hold you until you fall asleep, and tomorrow night we’ll do this all over again. And again, and again, until we don’t have to do this anymore.”

  He was right. The characters in my books weren’t real, but they were very much based on the things I observed in real life. The struggles Jake and Eve overcame to be together, the way they respected and cared for each other even when they wanted to scream. The love I saw in all our friends as they carefully found a way to be together.

  But I liked to torture myself with the past. Even though I could see healthy relationships all around me I latched on to the one bad relationship I let define me. I used my books to work my way through that concept, but was still refusing to live it.

  Nothing about this was easy, but Erik made me want to finally try.

  So I got in bed and enjoyed the way it felt to have him wrap his body around mine, believed that I deserved to be in a relationship with someone who was decent and kind, and decided that Erik had a brilliant idea.

  Tony was just a character in a book that I’d just thrown in a fire.

  18

  Zoe

  Even the Sexy Parts

  I slept so hard that I considered becoming one with my bed. I hadn’t slept so well in forever. Between the hockey game, dinner, dancing, and going to bed later than usual it was no wonder I was down for the count.

  Or maybe it was the hot guy currently rub
bing my head and lulling me back to sleep for the third time this morning.

  Definitely never leaving.

  “Good morning,” he whispered.

  I ignored him.

  He tucked my hair behind my ear and caressed my cheek.

  I refused to sigh.

  He massaged my neck.

  I groaned.

  “I knew you were awake,” he laughed, sliding down so that we were nose to nose. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  He looked exhausted but happy and I wondered if he slept. “I don’t want to move.”

  His eyes lit up and almost erased the exhaustion. “I don’t either but I have a game tonight and I need to start moving.”

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  He seemed surprised by my question. “A little.”

  “How little?” It didn’t seem wise to play a game on no sleep.

  “I’m going to take a nap when I get home. I’ll be okay. Promise.” He ran his thumb over my lower lip. “But thank you for caring.”

  “Was the bed uncomfortable? Did I snore?” Oh no. What if he was up all night because I was snoring and weird and he didn’t have the heart to sneak out? But then again, he didn’t have a car, so if he snuck out he’d also have to call for a ride.

  “You are the quietest sleeper. I actually checked once to make sure you were alive.” He ran his fingers over my arm then threaded them between mine. “I just couldn’t sleep. My mind wouldn’t turn off.”

  “Weird place.”

  “No, I sleep in hotel rooms half the year. I’m used to sleeping in new places and don’t usually have any trouble falling asleep when I’m tired. But I never have a gorgeous woman beside me. Last night was different.”

  Based on the way his eyes seemed to focus and unfocus it wasn’t just sleeping beside me that threw him off.

  “So what does a day look like for you?” Did I need to rush him home so he’d have enough time to nap?

  “Game tonight is at seven. For night games I usually sleep in as late as I can stand it, go for a run, eat a light breakfast, shower, and relax. I eat dinner before I head to the stadium. After the game I’m usually wired so I eat a big meal, watch some television and chill until I nod off.”