Grand Slam: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 3)

by Tracie Delaney

  “Don’t move.” Cash gathered up their pillows and made a mountain out of them. “Lean on those,” he said, his lips brushing her ear.

  She bent over the pillows, using them for support. Cash swept a hand down her leg, coming to rest behind her right knee. His thumb brushed back and forth, and when his lips replaced his thumb, a spike of need hit hard.

  “Cash, please,” she said, her voice muffled in the pillows.

  “Shush.” He rubbed a hand over her backside and nudged her legs apart. His fingers began exploring, and when he slipped one inside her, she groaned loudly.

  “God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

  “Just the beginning, baby,” he murmured. He slipped a second finger inside her, and her hips flexed involuntarily. “More?”

  “Stop teasing me.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t spoil my fun, sweetness.”

  He continued to torture her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. She was close to climax, and it was coming fast. Five months without his touch, and yet her body remembered everything. Like a volcano about to erupt, a wave built inside her, and then she exploded. She squeezed her eyes closed. Stars flashed behind her lids.

  “Shit,” she muttered as her climax went on and on. Her arms gave out, and she collapsed onto the pillows.

  Cash crawled up her body, keeping his weight completely off her, and yet, she was still cocooned by him, could feel the warmth of his body along her back. He brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck, and she trembled as he ran the tip of his tongue over her damp skin.

  “I love how you taste,” he murmured as he fastened his lips to the space between her neck and shoulder.

  Her body cooled as he lifted himself away from her. He ran the palm of his hand from the top of her spine to her bottom, and she shuddered. His hands gripped her hips, and he eased her onto her knees, leaving her chest on top of the mountain of pillows and her backside in the air. She turned her face to the side, her breath coming in gasps.

  Cash pushed himself inside, just an inch, gradually stretching, letting her body familiarise and adapt to him as he moved in deeper.

  “Okay?”

  The single word came out strangled, and she knew he was struggling to hold himself together.

  “I won’t break, Cash,” she said, pushing herself backwards onto him, encouraging him to drive farther in.

  He groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he thrust once. “I don’t want to hurt you or the baby.”

  “You won’t. Go for it, ace. Lose yourself, and take me with you.”

  Her words broke the last of his resolve, and he let go, his thrusts coming faster and faster, their connected bodies slapping together.

  He changed positions, leaning over her again, his palms flat on either side of her head, but he didn’t relent on pace. She pushed back as he thrust in, and when she clenched her inner muscles, he groaned.

  “Shit, you’re killing me.” He lifted her so she was virtually sitting on his lap, her thighs spread at either side of his. With his hands firmly on her hips, he lifted and lowered her, his timing perfect, and when his fingers teased the tight bundle of nerves at her core, she knew a second climax was mere seconds away.

  “Holy fuck,” he muttered, and as he came, he clasped a hand over her stomach. The protective move set her off once more, her body trembling with the physical effort of another momentous orgasm.

  Neither moved as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Cash’s body was slick with sweat that mingled with the dampness of her skin. His hand remained on her belly, and he rubbed in a circular motion. After a minute or so, he pulled out of her and tossed the pillows back in place.

  She took hold of his arm and nestled it around her waist as a soft sigh fell from her lips. “Cash?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I knew you’d never hurt us. Time to start trusting your recovery, babe.”

  23

  Cash paused. With his hand resting on her hip, he couldn’t stop the involuntary squeeze. He’d struggled to keep himself in check, more than he wanted her to know. He’d had to constantly remind himself to think of her throughout their lovemaking. His desperate need to be inside her after such a long absence had almost brought back his previous selfishness. With his own needs and desires hard to ignore, he’d been terrified of simply fucking her. You didn’t fuck the woman you loved. You cherished her, looked after her, put her needs before your own.

  “Cash?” Her voice sounded tentative, even a little afraid. She twisted in his arms until their faces were inches apart. Her deep-blue eyes locked onto his. “Ace?”

  “Are you okay?” he said, lifting his palm to her face. He caressed her cheek. Her skin was so soft beneath his hand.

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I wasn’t too rough?”

  “Would I sound like a slut if I said not rough enough?” she said with a giggle.

  He arched an eyebrow. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  His stomach tightened, and his cock twitched. “Careful. Not only you to think about.” He rested a hand on her stomach. “Did you hang on like I told you, buddy?”

  Natalia laughed. “By her fingernails.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Her?”

  “Oh, I don’t know what we’re having. But it’s better than it.”

  “Do you want to know?”

  She shook her head. “Got to be something to look forward to after God knows how many hours of labour followed by all that pushing.”

  Cash flinched. He was apprehensive about the birth already. His knowledge about childbirth was zero, but he did know it was fucking painful.

  “Hey,” she said, gently nudging his chin upwards. “Don’t worry. Millions of women do it every day, and they go back for more.”

  “Since when did you become an expert on reading me?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Oh, ace,” she said with the special smile she kept only for him. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

  He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ll let me be there? At the birth?”

  “Who else’s balls am I going to be able to squeeze when I’m in agony?”

  He laughed then. It felt good. It had been a long time since he’d properly laughed, and a lightness spread through his chest. “Remind me to dig out my old rugby jock strap.”

  She nodded sagely. “I’ll make sure it’s packed.”

  He folded his arms around her, holding her close to his body. “When the fuck did I get so lucky?”

  She rested her chin on his chest, her eyes searching his. “When are you going to play again?”

  He ran a jerky hand through his hair at the abrupt change of subject. He’d known she’d start pressing the discussion soon, although he’d hoped to avoid talking about it for a little while. “I’m not sure.”

  She sat up, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. “We’re having this conversation whether you like it or not.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  He expelled a heavy breath. “I’m not ready.” As she began to interrupt him, he placed his index finger against her lips. “But I am starting physio again.”

  “When?”

  “I called. Last night when you were asleep. I’m booked in for this afternoon.”

  “Good.” She gave him a warm smile. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I hoped you’d say that,” he said, unable to stop his gaze sliding over her nakedness now that they’d got the awkward conversation out of the way. He expected her to cover up, especially with her earlier comment about being fat, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned back on her palms and uncrossed her legs. She parted her thighs, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “Okay, ace, let’s see what else you’ve got in the tank.”

  Cash grimaced as he completed his final exercise. His fingers were stiff, but from what h
e’d learned in Germany, that was a normal reaction to hard work. Natalia was sitting off to the side, an anxious expression on her face as she watched him push through the discomfort.

  “How was that?” Liam, his physio, asked.

  He flexed his right hand. “Difficult but nowhere near as bad as a few weeks ago.”

  “You’re making great strides,” Liam said. “Even in the couple of weeks we’ve been working together, I can see a huge improvement.”

  “Do you think he’s ready to play again?” Natalia asked, earning a sharp glance from Cash. She waved away his annoyance with a flick of her wrist.

  “I think that would be a good idea. A small tournament maybe. Nothing too strenuous. It will give us a good benchmark of where you are.”

  Natalia flashed a triumphant look in his direction. Cash withheld the urge to call her out. Regardless of whether he was ready physically, his reticence had more to do with his mental state. He was terrified of returning to competitive tennis—all those people watching, waiting, expecting him to fail. When he stepped back on court, he had to be certain that he was playing to win, not to simply make up the numbers.

  “We’ll see,” he said.

  “It’s up to you,” Liam said. “But you are physically ready. It depends on whether you’re willing to take a risk.”

  Cash dug his fingernails into his palms as a flare of anger bubbled inside him. He’d decide when. Not Liam, who didn’t have a fucking clue what it was like to live inside Cash’s head. Liam could do his day of work and then go home and forget all about Cash and his problems.

  “Can you give us a minute?” Natalia said.

  Cash’s head snapped up. He wasn’t sure for a second whether Natalia was asking for time alone with Liam. But then he realised she was asking Liam to leave them alone.

  “Of course,” Liam said.

  Cash marched over to the window as the door clicked shut. His chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping himself in check, and he called on Dr Bauer’s mantra. Controlling anger is a skill. The more you do it, the better you become.

  Cash instructed himself to relax, and he took a few deep breaths. He counted to ten, and when he reached the end, he realised Natalia hadn’t spoken a word.

  He looked over his shoulder. She hadn’t moved. Her legs were crossed, and she was fiddling with a paperclip, feeding it through her fingers, her attention utterly focused.

  “What?” he said.

  She ignored him. Instead, she tossed the paperclip back on the desk and stood, stretching out her back. Despite the churning in his abdomen, he began to smile.

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  She met his gaze, an innocent expression on her face. “What’s that, ace?”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “I know you’re not.”

  Taken aback, he frowned. “Then what’s this all about?”

  She sauntered over, coming to a halt right in front of him. “You’re not ready because you’ll never be ready. If you wait for the moment when you feel prepared to take such a huge step, you’ll be sixty and looking back with a head full of regrets. I won’t let you be that person. If I have to forcibly drag you on court with a chain around your neck, I will.”

  He chuckled. “Kinky.”

  She moved into his body and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting on his chest.

  “You have to do this, ace. I love you no matter what, but I know you. Not until you claw your way back to the top will you truly begin to put the anger behind you. Yes, you have coping mechanisms, and they’re working—really well. But the catalyst is always the same. Your one true love. Tennis.”

  He stepped back a little so he could see her better. “You’re my one true love.”

  A trace of a smile left her lips. “Okay, your other significant love.”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, babe.”

  She gripped his upper arms. “I do. What about Houston on the fourth of April? A two-fifty. You like playing in the States.”

  “No. I don’t want you flying long haul, and I can’t do this without you.”

  She scrunched her nose up. “Then it’ll have to be Estoril on the twenty-fifth. I don’t fancy Bucharest the week before.”

  He laughed. “You always did have the tour dates memorised.”

  She tapped her temple. “That’s right, ace. All up here. So?”

  His mouth creased as he thought about it. “That might work. It’ll give me time on the practice court too. Are you going to be okay to fly?”

  “I think I’m fine up to thirty-odd weeks. I’ll check with the doctor.”

  His stomach somersaulted. “Then I guess the decision is made. I’d better get myself a coach.”

  24

  Tally stuck her head down the toilet and heaved. With nothing left in her stomach, all she did was bring up foul-tasting bile. This wasn’t morning sickness—she was well past that. No, her nausea was caused by nerves. Since she’d persuaded Cash to return to tennis after nine months out, she was terrified of what it would do to his re-emerging confidence if things didn’t go well.

  She’d been so happy to see him on court again. Even watching him practice had given her the tingles, and his improvement over the last four weeks had been nothing short of miraculous. When he completed his final practice session the previous night, she almost forgot he’d been out of the game for so long. His ranking might have been low, but that was only because he hadn’t played competitively for so long. It didn’t mean his talent was gone.

  His talent was very much present.

  Tally flushed the toilet and wiped her mouth with some tissue. She dug around in her bag and found a packet of mints. She slipped one in her mouth, fixed her hair, and headed outside.

  She found Brad pacing and rubbing the back of his neck so hard he’d probably taken the skin off. He spun around when the door clicked shut, and gave her a worried smile.

  “Are you okay?” He held out a bottle of water. “You look terribly green. Shall I get Cash?”

  Tally patted his arm. “I’m fine. No need to bother Cash with this, right, Brad?” She twisted the cap off the water and took a sip.

  His eyebrows pinched together. “I don’t know. He’ll bloody kill me if anything happens to you or the baby.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to either of us.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’m nervous for him, that’s all. I puked because I’m shit scared.”

  Brad put his arms around her. His solid frame felt so good, and she leaned on him, absorbing his emotional as much as physical support.

  “He’s going to be fine. I’m so glad I could spare the time to help him back on his feet. He’s playing great, Tally, especially considering how long he’s been out. One step at a time. Agreed?”

  She nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Right, I gotta go get our boy. You okay finding your way courtside?”

  “No problem. I’ll see you shortly.”

  As Brad walked in the direction of the locker room, Tally headed outside and slid into her seat. She dropped her sunglasses in place and glanced around the court. Day one of a two-fifty tournament would usually see the stadium a third full, especially for the early game.

  But not that day. The stadium was packed, the crowd buzzing—an energy driven, no doubt, by Cash’s first appearance at a tournament in almost ten months.

  The crowd began cheering. Tally fixed her eyes on Cash as he walked onto court. She fidgeted in her seat, and nervous tension bit at her insides, but as she watched him go through his familiar set-up routine, a crumb of hope bubbled up inside.

  He had to do well.

  “You okay?” Brad slipped into the seat next to her. “You’re still a bit green.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  “Me too. He’s got this.”

  Tally nodded in direct contradiction to how she felt inside. She didn’t know whether to chew the inside
of her cheek or nibble on her fingernails. The baby was doing cartwheels in her belly, no doubt picking up on her anxiety. She rubbed her bump in an attempt to calm both the baby and herself.

  Cash removed a racket from his bag and glanced up at the players' box. The wink he gave her was brief, but she caught it all the same. It was his way of telling her he was okay. She blew out a heavy breath and steeled herself for what was to come.

  In the first set, Cash made too many unforced errors, and it went to a tiebreak, which he lost seven points to two. Tally’s nervousness increased. She jiggled her knees until Brad laid a hand on them, stilling her.

  “Relax. This isn’t good for you or the baby.”

  “He has to win. He has to win,” she muttered under her breath as Cash got ready for set two. He tossed his racket into his left hand and flexed the fingers on his right.

  “He’s struggling with his hand,” she whispered to Brad. “Maybe this was too soon.”

  “It’s bound to be a bit sore. He’s been on court a lot these past few weeks, and playing a match will be more intense than any practice session. Stop worrying. He’s tough.”

  Cash stepped it up in the second set, and when he won it six–four, Tally leaped to her feet. Their eyes met, and she smiled tentatively. He winked again, more obviously this time. It was exactly what she needed, and a calm settled over her as she retook her seat.

  Cash made no mistakes in the third set, and his confidence grew with every hit of the ball. He trounced his opponent six games to one. He’d won. The crowd went crazy, Cash clearly the favourite. As Tally watched him sign balls and toss them into the crowd, he might never have been away. Relief wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her feelings as Brad led her off court.

  Cash was in a playful mood when they arrived back at the hotel. It appeared she wasn’t the only one relieved at getting that first match out of the way.

  “I thought you were going to be sick when I lost that first set.” He flopped onto the bed.