She loved to watch him play; he was larger than life. As soon as he stepped onto the field, the fashionable, polished luminary celebrated his truest essence. Not an act, but the ultimate extension of everything he was, minus the baggage of being a role model. He played hard but he wasn’t intense. He didn’t punch or throw things, never mouthed an obscenity or took on an umpire past a polite inquiry. He was carefree and playful, enjoying every moment of being a grown man lost within a boy’s game. It was incredible to witness. Amanda roamed the stadium, finding her way to the bleachers and the upper decks to watch him on the big screen, secure in the knowledge he had no idea where she was. It gave her the opportunity to let her guard down and observe him in his element without any regard to his focus being on her. He always watched her. Whenever they were together, she was always in his sight line, often with the same look he wore the first night at the Cold Creek. But from the cheap seats, she was able to spy on him with thirty thousand other people; only the rest of them had no clue as to what they were seeing.
She was there waiting for him when he came out of the locker room, because she liked the thought of his seducing her most of all and couldn’t wait to clue him in. First, she had to dutifully fade into the background while he met his responsibilities to be accessible to his fan base. She offered to take some of the pictures in the spirit of being a good sport. She ignored the rush of peevishness that accompanied watching him do the familiar arm curl around another woman’s waist. Having to endure the few women who insisted on kissing him presented more of a challenge.
Chase didn’t kiss back, but graciously presented his cheek. Then his eyes met hers and he gave her a little wink, the affectionate reminder that he appreciated her tolerance. It teasingly conveyed that he knew about her jealous streak. It also reminded her that he was thrown temptation on a regular basis, and by the time they finished dinner, she had waffled on the topic again. But after he walked her to her door and gently drew her into his powerful arms it was impossible to think of anything at all. Each kiss was more electrifying than the first had been, since he had started brushing his tongue across her lips and sometimes into her mouth, all smooth and warm and soft. His fingertips traced down her spine and came to rest on the small of her back. Both nights she was dizzy afterward and was left wondering if the entire day had been a dream and her gentle giant nothing more than a mirage. But the text would soon arrive afterward, confirming her reality: “That was fun. Can’t wait to see you again.”
He left that Thursday for a short stint in Boston, and in his absence, Amanda gave herself the “fish or cut bait” lecture. He was who he was, and nothing was going to change that. She couldn’t keep viewing women coming on to him as a roadblock. If they were to have any hope at a relationship, she would have to get used it. He had kept his promise and was willing to abide by her timetable. He couldn’t keep that promise and hit on her at the same time. She was going to have to make it obvious she was ready. Whatever his flaw was, it was becoming less important. On a balmy Sunday evening in June, while he was finishing up game three with the Sox and she was still feeling the afterglow of a particularly romantic phone conversation from the night before, Amanda impulsively referred to Chase as her boyfriend.
The repercussions soon followed.
Luckily the following stormy Monday changed the game again.
She hadn’t answered his call all day or the night before, either. Vexing but not surprising. Amanda often neglected her phone. Still, he wasn’t used to people ignoring his calls and definitely not women. As soon as word came down that the game had been officially rained out, Chase quickly showered. Then he went straight to Amanda’s apartment, knowing the Cold Creek was closed. He would surprise her, offer to take her to dinner. Have her for dessert. Four days with nothing but her occasional voice over the phone only heightened his resolve. And he decided the weeks he spent at the restaurant winning her over counted as time served. He had just about reached the end of his rope when it came to waiting her out. She’d put him through his paces longer than any woman before her. He’d been patient, respectful. She was a good girl, not a tramp, he got it. But even he could tell there was more passion building up when they were together. She had to be convinced by now that he was more than just a muscle-bound overindulged jock. Tonight Chase had every intention of breaking through the cool exterior to what he just knew was a sex goddess underneath. She might even find herself on the receiving end of a hand tattoo. He jumped out of his car and, whistling his way through the building, stopped in front of her door and knocked.
The door opened as far as the chain lock would allow. Round blue eyes widened in surprise as they peeked through the gap in the door.
“Chase!” she gasped, and then failed at the recovery with a stammered, “H-hi.”
“Hi yourself.” His smile was strained. She was still behind a fully chained door and hardly appeared happy to see him. “My game got rained out. I thought maybe you’d like to go have dinner.”
“I-I wasn’t really expecting you.” Amanda continued to stutter, making no move to unchain the door. “I wish you had called.”
He did call. About fifteen times. His face clouded over with the realization. She had no intention of letting him in. Then his eyes flashed with anger. Maybe she was entertaining. He still couldn’t see anything past the crack in the door and her dismayed cobalt blues. For all he knew, she was buck naked behind that door, ready to get busy with someone less “complicated” than a playboy baseball player. That would certainly be a reason to avoid calls and be so distressed by his arrival. He could feel his blood starting to boil.
“You’re right, of course,” he said, stiff and restrained. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. This was a bad move on my part. Good night, Amanda.” Chase turned on his heel to make a hasty exit out of the building before he did something he knew he’d regret.
Amanda quickly unchained the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the hall.
“Chase, wait!”
Chase stopped. He clenched, then unclenched his fists before turning around, determined not to let her see just how furious he was. Damn, he cursed himself, why didn’t he just keep walking? Because he knew even now, there was just no way to deny her.
His jaw went slack as soon as he pivoted and got a decent look at her.
“Holy hell,” he breathed, rushing back toward her. “What happened to you?”
Amanda peered up at him sheepishly, still keeping her head down in the effort to continue hiding the damage. “I committed the cardinal sin of the restaurant business last night. I tried to go in the out door.”
He cradled both sides of her face in his hands and tilted her head upward for a thorough inspection. Her upper lip was swollen and split. It looked raw and painful. He could forget about kissing her any time soon. He whistled through his teeth.
“Wow. Good one. I had no idea your job was so dangerous.”
“It didn’t help that thanks to Freddy’s height, his tray was perfectly level with my face. An inch or two in either direction, I probably would have been okay. Or lost an eye. Amazingly, he didn’t drop the dishes. It was in the middle of the dinner rush, it was just so hectic.” She laughed weakly and flat-out lied about the dinner rush, which had already petered out. She had no intention of telling Chase that she had been watching him turn a double play from the TV over the bar when her lapse in good judgment occurred and she collided with the waiter at full speed. It was bad enough she had to endure the endless teasing of the staff, many of whom were instantly suspicious of any reason she would give for faltering. She blinked up at his concerned face again, whispering, “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
He studied her a minute more before planting a solid kiss on her forehead and proclaiming, “Nope. Still beautiful. Is this the reason for the locked door and the dead phone?”
“Yes,” Amanda admitted bashfully.
“Don’t ever hide from me again,” he said sternly before releasing her. “
Do you still want me to go?”
Amanda was all at sixes and sevens. She had been having trouble thinking of anything besides him. Now he was here, in the flesh. Barking orders and being generally domineering. It was a departure from his seemingly limitless tolerance and definitely hot. But she didn’t want their first time to be like this. It was going to be extraordinary. She was supposed to look like a temptress, not a platypus. Whisper words of love, not sound like Mushmouth from the Fat Albert cartoon. But he was still as charming and sexy as sin. She must have been crazy to think she could avoid him until she was more presentable once he showed up at her door. His affection had become addictive and impossible to fight. She shook her head. “Of course not.”
There was no mistaking the look of relief that passed over his face. She turned and he followed her back into her apartment.
“Amanda Cole,” he said from behind her after closing the door, his voice full of barely contained delight, “what exactly are you wearing?”
Amanda froze, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She had completely forgotten. He wasn’t talking about her jeans or her bedroom slippers. She waited for the first wave of the flush to pass through to her hairline.
“Angel girl,” she heard him breathe softly from behind her. He had gotten closer. “You’re wearing my number.”
She couldn’t deny it. Figures it would have to be the one with his name stitched in bold letters across her shoulders as well. She certainly wasn’t expecting him to show up unannounced when she bought the jersey from the local Modell’s the day after their first real date. She wasn’t about to admit she had been wearing it exclusively for the better part of a week when home alone, either. She struck an overly casual pose and then turned back around to him.
“This old thing?” she asked breezily in spite of her flaming face.
He was staring at her, eyebrow and head both cocked, grinning from ear to ear.
“Caught,” he mouthed to her.
“Don’t go overboard, Walker. It’s just a shirt,” she scoffed, then added a tsk. “Of all the arrogance.”
In the fractional moment of silence that hung in the air before he could respond, his name was said loudly and clearly. They turned their heads in unison to her high-definition fifty-two-inch flat screen mounted on the wall. For several seconds, they both watched the image of Chase filling the screen, adjusting his gloves, the bat neatly tucked under his arm. He tapped the bat one time against each of his spikes and took several practice swings while masculine voices talked about him in the background using words like impressive and stellar. His batting stats appeared in a box on the bottom of the screen. Chase turned back to Amanda, his eyes wide and bright with wonder.
“This game is from four days ago.” An ecstatic, boyish smile took over his face. “I had a really good night. I think I dove into the stands.”
Amanda hastened around the couch to reach for the remote, her face already feeling the rush of heat making its way up and into her cheeks. Hell’s bells, the television got me again. She internally whined. There was no point in continuing the façade anymore. Any chance of pretending she wasn’t preoccupied with him was dashed. She looked at him a second more on the screen, in the batter’s box, where ten minutes ago she’d been safe to admire him without his knowing it. She pointed the remote at the television and turned it off. She looked back to him timidly, hoping he would go easy on her.
“So caught,” he whispered, his eyes aglow. Then they began to devour her, one blink at a time.
“I DVR them so I can see you up close,” she offered up feebly, her mouth suddenly dry. His gaze was hypnotic. Playing hard to get was no longer an option. Neither was lying to him. Not when he was looking at her like that. And he hadn’t run away when he saw her all banged up, like that jerk did to Marcia when she broke her nose on The Brady Bunch. Chase Walker looked like the only taking off on his mind involved their clothes. “When they show you before you’re getting ready to swing, you get a look I like. I certainly can’t see it from any seat in the stadium.”
Chase casually stroked his chin as he slowly took several long strides to join her near the couch, his eyes never leaving hers. “A look you like? And just what sort of look might that be?”
Amanda felt like melting under the heat of his stare burning into her. It should be illegal for a man to be that handsome. He was going to laugh at her after hearing her silly reasoning. He was going to know he had her hook, line, and sinker. The rain was pounding against the windows. Her heart was pounding in her chest. As if in a trance, she answered him, her voice soft. “The same kind of look you get right before you kiss me.”
But he didn’t laugh at her. Instead, Chase took another step closer, his gaze finally coming off her eyes and drifting down to her puffy upper lip again. He sighed and shook his head. “You’re so clever, Amanda. They both require the same level of focus. You’ve barely begun to see that look. But it almost pains me to say, if you’re intent on getting that look out of me tonight, you’re going to have to get more creative. That shirt is a pretty good start. I’m up to it if you are.”
She swallowed, but it was difficult with the lump that was now fully formed in her throat. She knew if she tried any sort of comeback, it would result in saying the only words that kept repeating in her head: I want you. She had pretty much given him the go-ahead to sweep her up and have his way with her, but he was just standing there, staring at her mouth, his arms casually flung across his chest. He appeared to be thinking. Dear God, if he didn’t touch her soon, she thought she might spontaneously combust.
He looked back up and dropped his arms. He began smiling, the same sort of smile that a cartoon cat gets when it eats the canary with one bite. She fully expected to see him hiccup and a yellow feather fly out of his mouth.
“Amanda, do you touch yourself while you watch me? Do I make you come?”
She dropped her head and began to blush furiously again, refusing to respond. She’d be taking that answer to her grave. The question itself was so personal and he asked it as though he had every right to do so. Chivalry was indeed dead, at least for the moment, and its replacement was oozing pure sexuality. Her skin began to prickle with excitement. He reached out and took her chin, lifting her head to meet his eyes.
“I think I feel cheated.” He grinned wickedly down at her. “I’m doing all the work and some vibrator is getting all the glory.”
With his strong fingers still on her chin, Chase carefully brought his mouth down to brush against her neck, just below her ear.
“No toys needed.” Amanda swooned, her eyelids heavy. His fingertips left her face and began to trace a path down the front of her jersey. Her hands ran up the solid wall of his chest before coming to rest on his granite shoulders.
He grunted in approval, his lips traveling farther down her neck and his hand to her jeans. He unbuttoned them without her even noticing. She barely heard her zipper going down. She was lost in the sensations of his mouth on her skin. It was all she could do to remain standing. Despite the size of his hand, he was able to nimbly and easily dip it inside her panties. Her breath quickened and her grip on him tightened. As soon as he heard her tiny moan of appreciation at his intrusion, he drove his thick middle finger inside her and exhaled a groan of his own.
“Shit, I wish I could kiss you,” he murmured into her neck as he began to move his finger in and out of her slowly, his hand snug within her silk and lace.
“Me, too.” Amanda nearly cried in frustration, squirming into him. Her lip was no longer the only thing throbbing. In fact, it paled by comparison. She tried to bring his head down to her mouth. “I don’t care.”
He pulled his head from her grasp to look down at her.
“But I do, angel,” he told her, carefully kissing the corner of her mouth while his finger continued its torment. It tickled at her soul while his other fingers toyed with the velvet lining that surrounded her. It soon left her witless. With the whispery pant of his name from her, Chase real
ized his wait was over. No ifs, ands, or busted lips, he was going to claim her as his own, once and for all.
His free hand moved to the small of her back, just in time to steady her as her knees started wobbling. They buckled completely when he abruptly withdrew from her. He caught her, lifted her, and raced the short distance to her bedroom, depositing her on the bed. He quickly removed his own shirt and unzipped his pants while kicking off his shoes. With the slacks open and slung low on his hips, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. From inside it, he took out a condom and held it up.
“Amanda,” he said in a rush, “I use one of these every time. I don’t want to use one now. I promise I’m disease-free. Are you protected and safe, and do you trust me?” Chase didn’t actually care if she was protected or not. He couldn’t think of anything he’d like better than holding the shotgun at the wedding. He didn’t really care if she was safe, either; the seed had already been planted in his mind that he’d be willing to die for her. But her trusting him meant everything.
From the middle of her bed, Amanda tried to concentrate on what he was saying because his tone was certainly compelling. But seeing him for the first time without his shirt was fueling her already overloaded senses. She had seen multiple pictures of him shirtless when she did her research; the spread from Fitness magazine instantly crossed her mind, followed by the same lust-producing chill. She saw his abs and pecs in at least one commercial for a well-known sports company. He didn’t need Photoshop to do any of it justice. He was beyond splendid. Hulking and muscular, he was tan and defined and smooth, except for the appealing pattern of light hair that started on his chest. It narrowed down his solid belly in an inviting path to the elastic waistband of his designer boxer briefs. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from them, until she noticed them swell further, fine baby blue cotton straining against the still-half-closed fly of his black, tailor-made Armani trousers, a tidbit of information she obtained courtesy of an extensive article in GQ. When it dawned on her that she was gawking at his arousal, she brought her eyes swiftly back up to his. They were smoldering and serious and waiting with hard-won patience for her answer. What was the question again? Her gaze shifted briefly to his raised hand, then back to his face, and she wordlessly nodded. He tossed the condom and his wallet in the direction of his discarded shirt. He pulled at her jeans, and in one fluid motion, they and her panties were off, like a magician pulling a tablecloth out from under a completely set table. But he wasn’t ready to see her out of his shirt, not yet anyway. She wore his brand so well. He joined her on the bed, unbuttoning her jersey without taking it off. He kissed her just above her navel while his hand took full advantage of no longer having to work around her panties. Chase lingered there, the sound of her breathless pleasure music to his ears. Her hands ran along his back, and her nails tickled him. She was sweet and soft; everything he had convinced himself was worth waiting for. But he was finished with waiting. His lips finally moved upward only to meet up with her bra. In a quick, efficient motion, the bra was unhooked and he pushed it aside to allow himself access to her generous breasts. He kissed each one and his fingertips toyed with hard, responding nipples. She moaned and his erection raged within his clothing. He stood up, encouraged by her involuntary sigh at his withdrawal and he quickly finished stripping down. The time to get her fully exposed had arrived.
The Sweet Spot Page 7