The Sweet Spot

by Stephanie Evanovich

  Amanda sighed again, but this time in full appreciation. Any further comparisons to him resembling a Ken doll were permanently put to rest; Chase Walker was completely in proportion. She reached out, hungry for him to return and resume all the amazing ways he made her feel when he touched her most intimate places. He rejoined her and began peeling off her jersey.

  “Ouch,” she whimpered when she couldn’t resist and her lips made contact with his jawline.

  He instantly stopped and pulled back briefly, admonishing her with look.

  “Boy, are you stubborn,” he said, his voice raspy with passion. “Not on my watch.” He finished removing her shirt and lingerie, gently turned her over onto her stomach, and took a moment to feel the rush.

  He thought he had seen the best backsides the world had to offer. But he wasn’t prepared for the sight. Her cheeks were smooth and plump, feeding into curvaceous legs. He stared, captivated, his neurons firing full throttle as he envisioned all the sounds they and she would make as he ministered to them.

  Amanda had turned into one raw nerve ending. She wanted him—no, needed him. It was as intense as the desire to kiss him was. The ache to feel his hands on her again, the ache to experience everything he had and everything he was. She needed all of him. It began to wane as seconds dragged on while he denied her and was then followed by a moment of gut-wrenching clarity. She peered over her shoulder at him from the pillows, suddenly wishing she could cover up. He was no longer turned on.

  “You think I’m fat, don’t you?”

  Chase wasted no time lying alongside her, covering half her body with half of his own, pinning her beneath him. She didn’t fight it; instead lowering her head back onto the pillow and facing the wall, his warm, hard muscles against her back and shoulder acting like a blanket. He ran his large strong hand from her leg and over her bottom, slowly dipping into the indentation at her waist, along her rib cage and under her breast, then down her arm before settling possessively on top of hers, separating her fingers with his own. With his mouth less than an inch from her ear, he meaningfully whispered.

  “Please listen carefully, Amanda, because I intend to explain this only once. You take my breath away, as much right now as the first time I saw you. And now I’m seeing all of you, so you can imagine how hard it is for me breathe. I am almost six and a half feet tall. On a good day, I’m pushing two hundred and sixty pounds. My ego does not require I have a girlfriend half my size to make me a bigger man. I am already a monster. I do not want or need a woman I can bench-press. I prefer a woman of substance, with softness and curves. One I know is able to handle my passion, one that can nurture my babies. I have no desire to bang into your bones when I take you, which I am most certainly going to do, and soon.” He shifted, deliberately maneuvering his long, hard length down the crack of her behind to settle at the triangular juncture of where her treasures met. She spread her legs slightly to ensure him a better fit, and he was satisfied with the chill he felt blow through her. After her confirming shiver, he continued to breathe into her ear. “Do you feel that, Amanda? Do you think I want to worry about whether or not you can handle me? I was caught up in thinking how you were made for me. You’re so perfect I was taking a moment to give thanks for it. You should be spanked for even thinking anything else.”

  It would have been right there that she would’ve given him the go-ahead. An insolent comeback, a coy giggle, an issuance of a dare; but there was nothing. Not even the feigned indignation that cleverly disguised encouragement for him to take the leap. It didn’t make any difference anyway—overruling everything else was the burning need to be inside her.

  But she had stopped hearing his words long before then. Combined with the feel of him pressed against her, they had blended into one long buzz of yearning.

  “If you promise not to try to kiss me again, I’ll turn you back over. I would much rather look into your beautiful face than the back of your head, but I’m serious, you have to let that lip heal.”

  His voice was husky and authoritative, replacing all his prior crooning. She would’ve agreed to anything to be wrapped within his steel arms. She murmured in pledge while turning back over, and unable to wait a moment longer, he entered, then filled her, and they stilled. The tidal wave of sensation it caused left them both momentarily stunned. They stared at each other for a moment in awe, and then both blinked in mutual recognition. No words would do the feeling justice and neither of them bothered trying to say any. He began to worship at her altar slowly, but they both knew it couldn’t last. They had held back too long, teased each other beyond what either of them could tolerate. His movement within her rapidly increased and she clung to him, praying for him to release her and at the same time for it never to end. Her climax exploded into a kaleidoscope of uncontrollable tremors and her back arched in an effort to keep him securely inside her as they overtook her. As she repeatedly cried out his name, it was more than he could bear, and he began to stiffen above her. While continuing to hold her tight within his grasp, he joined her.

  CHAPTER 7

  CHASE HAD STARTED listening to love songs. Sappy, saccharine bona fide love songs. His iPod became one long playlist of Barry White, Drake, Bruno Mars, and the like. And of course he could never get enough of Earth, Wind & Fire. There was always a team grumble when it was his turn to choose the locker room music and he tried to slip in a few too many. But Amanda crying out his name in ecstasy was by far his favorite song. He had that one on repeat.

  A picture he took of her with his own phone became his screensaver. It had been taken nearly a week after the first time they’d been together, taken at one of those tucked-away twenty-four-hour diners he sometimes found his way to in the middle of the night. Her lip had healed to his satisfaction and she immediately took advantage, leading to fiery results. She was still slightly flushed and her hair was an array of still-damp curls from hours of sweat-producing passion. Her smile was shy yet beguiling, her blue eyes containing a different kind of sparkle, and he took the credit for creating both. He looked at it a hundred times a day when he wasn’t with her, the memory of her mouth being added to their sexual equation as vivid as the day he hit his first home run. A single moment in time, captured in the same way she had captured his heart. And as soon as he saw her in person, the only thing he could think of was getting her to look that way again. The urgency of their first time was gone, replaced with a bottomless pit of exploratory lust. They wouldn’t rest until they were completely exhausted from touching and tasting and sexing.

  But something was missing, and as much as he tried to ignore the thought, there was no denying it. Amanda Cole was a good girl, in every sense of the word. Her lovemaking was as wholesome as she was. Even as her mere touch set him ablaze, she was temperate. She never talked dirty. She didn’t bite or scratch him. She was warm and giving, taking as much care with him as he did with her. And when they were actually together, it really didn’t matter. But when Chase was alone and he had nothing but her picture, his mind would venture to a different place. A place where she cried out because of him, but more from pain than pleasure, although he knew they could be synonymous. He couldn’t be sure, but all indicators pointed to the fact that he had fallen for a vanilla.

  She continued to send out mixed signals, and he was having trouble reading them. Shades of bratty were recalled in a hurry, as soon as he took on a dominant tone, often with an apology on her part. He had tried to introduce it once playfully, a sharp swat with an accompanying threat after she made them run late one evening, but his timing was off. He had been too concerned with the outcome and hadn’t realized how seriously she took punctuality. Her wide-eyed look of shock had stopped him cold.

  It was clear that nobody had ever laid an assertive hand on Amanda Cole. She spoke little that night at the function they attended and on the way home apologized for not being on time like it was really important to him, and he ended up feeling like a heel. If she had been receptive, he would’ve blown off the event
altogether and sated his lust for it. He didn’t know how to tell her without jeopardizing the illusion he had worked so hard maintaining to impress her.

  The funny thing was, the longer he was with her, in her actual presence, he hardly thought about it at all. While he was going to meet her, it consumed all his thoughts. But once he was with her, Amanda wove a web of sensuality around him that made it impossible to concentrate on anything besides her, and his desire faded into the background. Making love was truly about turning her on and reaping the rewards of the end result. He was completely enchanted with everything about her. He juggled all his responsibilities effortlessly until Amanda wanted his attention and then he was willing to abandon them all. And it was something she didn’t take advantage of. She never pouted while he met his obligations, always the first to make things as easy for him as possible.

  The solution in Chase’s mind was a simple one: just never be without her. He already knew he wanted to marry her. He had all the means. She would never have to work a day in her life. They could play all day, every day, and he could introduce it to her slowly. And it seemed like the natural progression, at least to his way of thinking.

  The suggestion came up the first time he brought her to his penthouse apartment, figuring it gave him the home-field advantage. Her place was nice, but didn’t possess the same luxurious opulence his did. He would woo her with amenities and then present her with an offer she couldn’t refuse.

  As he showed her around, all Amanda noticed was how big everything was. She fleetingly wondered if the elevator they took to get there was secretly located inside a beanstalk. From his bulky square furniture to his eighty-inch-screen television to his choice of artwork, everything appeared oversized. Even the clocks were huge. She noted she would likely need a tugboat to get her in and out of his bed.

  “I want you come on the road with me,” he told her once they settled back in the living room.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been to Arizona,” she replied after sinking into his enormous couch, then struggling to sit back up and perch herself on the edge. She tried to make it look smooth by toying with what appeared to be a ten-pound remote that was sitting on the football-field-sized coffee table in front of her.

  “I’m not talking about this trip,” he said. “I mean all of them.”

  She stopped what she was doing as she looked up at him. She didn’t know if he was still standing to be daunting, but in response to it, she stood back up as well.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Some things you don’t kid about,” he told her.

  Amanda walked past him to the windows looking out onto Central Park. Here it comes, she thought. The slow disintegration of everything that was important in her life to accommodate every notion of his. He didn’t even ask if this was something she’d be interested in; it was issued, more like a mandate. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him.

  “I already have a career,” she told him, unable to keep the disdain out of her voice. “Looking after yours isn’t what I had in mind. I didn’t spend four years in college to carry your bags.”

  “I can look after my own career, thank you very much,” he replied defensively. “And I haven’t touched my own bags in years.”

  “Thanks for the clarification. You have the nerve to sound surprised. I realize that most women would jump at the chance to be your kept little plaything, but I think I’m going to have to pass.”

  She was annoyed with him, and he struggled between the disappointment of her refusal and wanting to tell her he was trying to find a solution to his real issue, which he now felt the urge to reveal in a very real and disciplinary way. He loved that she had a mind of her own and that she didn’t look at him as some sort of gravy train. But he wanted her to bend to his will on this, which he hardly considered a sacrifice. He knew he couldn’t have it both ways. Chase held up his hands. “Whoa. Back up. Let’s start this over. Yes, I do want you with me, Amanda, but not because of the reasons you’re thinking. It’s not about keeping you. I want you there because I never want to be without you. I want to be able to see you in the stands when I’m playing ball, because it’s the closest we can get to you being able to play with me. I want you to be the last thing I see every night and the first thing I see every morning. Yeah, I guess it is selfish, but it’s not because I want you to cater to me.”

  He had returned to being disarming and noble, but for the first time Amanda felt like it was contrived.

  “Those sound like wonderfully romantic intentions,” she said.

  “Most women would think they are.”

  “Then why do I suddenly feel like we’re in the middle of a showdown?”

  “Because stubborn is your middle name,” he grumbled, looking away and asking himself when exactly coward had become his.

  Amanda felt his tension. It had to be hard for him, being shot down in such a fashion, especially when he was offering her something that would appear to be the ultimate in spoiling to anyone else. She approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his chest until he returned the embrace and relaxed.

  “It’s moving too fast,” she told him honestly.

  Chase wanted to yell that her excuse was lame, they had been moving at a snail’s pace since they met. He wanted to bellow until the walls came down how dare she refuse him and the real reason he made the offer was because she was too genteel to give him what he wanted, and it seemed like the only viable solution. He wanted to follow that up by forcefully taking it, with her kicking and screaming until she submitted to him. He wished he had the strength to go and seek what she withheld from another avenue. But he was caught within her web of beauty and desire. He took her head in his hands and tilted it up toward his, praying that none of his thoughts was conveyed through his eyes.

  “I understand,” he told her before lowering his lips to hers and taking her right there on his couch, without bothering to remove her clothes.

  He left for Arizona the next day without her and embarked on the worst play of his baseball career. He made several errors, lost all focus and timing at the plate. The ball seemed to be in the catcher’s mitt before he even started to swing. His all-star average started dropping rapidly and there was a real danger of losing his spot in the batting order.

  It didn’t take long before the conundrum began overshadowing his every waking thought. Overcautious soon turned into temperamental. There was nowhere for him to find release. He didn’t want to blame her, so instead became moody whenever they were alone. He was aggressive and demanding when they made love. Amada felt guilty although she wasn’t sure why. There was something wrong between them that she could reach out and touch, but he wouldn’t let her in or share it.

  After two weeks of his increasing alienation and an agonizing Tuesday night of watching him struggle at the plate, Amanda had had enough. They went back to his apartment and his sulking continued.

  “Chase, I’m tired of playing this game. Trying to figure out what’s wrong with you. You’ve been checked out for, like, a week now. Your strained politeness is starting to get on my nerves. If I’ve done something wrong, just tell me.”

  The only thing she had done wrong was become his obsession. And she had just caught him obsessing how because of her, his life was now out of control.

  “I’m not always in front of a camera, Amanda. I don’t always have to be on, do I? I’m in a slump; it puts me in a bad mood.” Slump. Shit. He said it. It had just slipped out. He wasn’t ready to give voice to it yet. Once he acknowledged it, it was free to run roughshod over him until he confronted what it was that caused it. But if he had that confrontation and it played out wrong, he could end up losing it all. He didn’t want to confront it, even though it was standing right in front of him. But stripping it naked and making love to it wasn’t going to solve the problem, either. He wanted to share his deepest, darkest secrets with her, but he had waited too long to take the risk. He was so far be
yond that now. He needed her, ached for her above all else. And he didn’t want to tell her like this, with hostility the motivating undercurrent.