Long Relief (Hardball Book 1)

by Abigail Barnette

The restaurant was gorgeous, the food was fantastic. The subject matter was making Maggie’s stomach sour.

  Seated across from her, her general manager had his dark head bent over his iPad, frowning. “And he’s just not getting better. Ken doesn’t like revisiting this type of thing so early in the season, but the guy is just not getting better, and now with this tendon… we probably need to prepare him for the reality that when he comes off the DL, he’s not coming back to us.”

  “We’re farming him out,” she stated, taking a sip of water. While many of the young players had dreams of glory, not everyone could go down in the record books. Sending this kid back to the minors would be a blow to his pride and a massive disappointment. Maggie had a long familiarity with the realities of the business, but she’d never built up calluses to watching people’s dreams die.

  “Call it ‘player development’. He’s young. We could always pull him if he improves.” Casey gave her an encouraging smile. “Look, it sounds cold-hearted—”

  “No, not all.” It wasn’t like she had to be the bad guy. “I trust you to do your job.”

  “Good.” Casey looked back down to the tablet, brow furrowed as he moved his finger around the screen. “Because I have my eye on someone for next season. From Nippon. You have to see this guy hit—”

  “Maybe after dessert,” she said, to put him off politely. She’d agreed to a business dinner, but she’d never realized how much business a guy like Casey could pack into a four-course meal. And while she appreciated the enthusiasm and hard work, it was hard to stay focused when she couldn’t keep her mind off Chris.

  “Let’s talk about Thompson, then.”

  If she had been drinking, she would have choked. Every now and then, she got the crazy feeling that people could read her mind. Carefully composing a neutral expression, she took a sip from her wine glass, waiting to set it aside before asking, “What about him?”

  “Well, it’s clearly his last season.” Casey waved off the waiter who came to refill his water glass. “And I don’t think we’re going to have a job to offer him in the organization. Ken is pretty comfortable with the pitching staff we have right now, and he and Chris haven’t always… let’s just say there are things they wouldn’t see eye-to-eye on, working together in that capacity.”

  “Then let’s be realistic with him, too. I’m sure he’s aware that he’s nearly done. It was his idea to pitch relief, wasn’t it?”

  Casey nodded. “We talked to him about his abilities as a closer, and he wasn’t confident in them, either. Hey, the guy has had a hell of a career, but it just gets to the point where all the attitude in the world can’t make up for a bad arm.”

  “Attitude?” Her father had never had a bad word to say about Chris, and he’d hated attitude.

  “You know. He’s kind of cocky, kind of brusque. And that behavior is all well and good when you’re able to pitch competently, but those days are over for him.” Casey slipped his iPad back into its case as the dessert course arrived. “To be honest, I’m not sure another organization would pick him up, either.”

  It was wildly irrational to be angry at Casey for saying what, for all intents and purposes, could be absolutely true of Chris. Maggie hadn’t known him that long, and she really couldn’t count second-hand info from her dad and the lingering vestiges of a brutal teenage crush to form a solid defense. If Chris would clash with the management, he didn’t have a place in the organization once he stopped playing. But she couldn’t help but be a little peeved that Casey had just punched giant holes in her vivid fantasy life.

  The platonic glow of being “just friends” with Chris had worn off in about thirty minutes. Over the past few days, she’d caught herself imagining ways that they could make a relationship work. Not just because sex with him had been amazing, but because, aside from Molly, he was the only person who’d made her genuinely smile in the last six months. She would even have been happy with sneaking around secretively. But if Chris wasn’t going to be in Grand Rapids next season, that really put a crimp in her sneaking plans.

  “He still has some fans, though. We could spin it as a whole retirement thing,” Casey said around a mouthful of chocolate soufflé. “Could get some butts in the seats.”

  “Now you’re sounding like Thorgerson.” She made a face, and they both laughed easily, but her stomach clenched. Chris had seemed genuinely shocked when she’d mentioned the possibility of retirement. “Look… let me talk to Thompson, okay? He had a history with my dad, it might feel better coming from me.”

  Casey dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Sure thing. My lips are sealed. But sooner, better than later, okay?”

  Later, in the cab headed to Chris’s apartment, Maggie was pretty sure that Casey hadn’t meant “tonight” when he’d said “sooner”. But all through dinner, all she’d been able to think of was Chris’s invitation from the night before, and how it would have been way more fun to have dinner with someone she could trash talk and flirt with.

  No, you cannot flirt with Chris. She leaned her head against the window, knowing she should tell the driver to head back to her place. Besides, wasn’t it rude to just drop in on people?

  She was mulling over that particular etiquette quandary even as she pushed the buzzer outside his door.

  He answered with a tentative, “hello?”

  “Hi. It’s… me.” She bounced a little on the balls of her feet and shot a nervous glance to the cab. If the driver left and Chris didn’t let her come up, she might have some walking to do in her increasingly uncomfortable heels.

  After a moment, he replied, “Uh… ‘me’ who?”

  Her cheeks burning, she said, “It’s Maggie.”

  “I’ll buzz you up.”

  When she got to his door, he answered it shirtless, in pajama pants that rode low on hips. He motioned her inside. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.”

  She took a slow survey of the half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, and the beer bottles, as well. “Are we paying you to eat like that?”

  “Hey, I don’t have to run bases. Can I get your coat?” He took her jacket and hung it on a hook next to the door.

  “So…” Maggie walked slowly past the kitchen, trailing one finger along the edge of the island. She couldn’t help herself. “Do you have so many women coming over here that you can’t differentiate between us on the intercom?”

  He laughed. “No, actually. Just the opposite. I have so few women coming over that I’m stunned when I hear a female voice asking to come up.”

  “I didn’t mean to just drop in.” She had to force herself to turn and face him. His hotness was like a solar eclipse, it was better not to look directly at it. The sick thing was, she’d had to watch every bite she’d taken since she’d turned thirty and exercise every spare moment. Here he was, at forty-two, five years older than her, eating pizza and looking amazing. It was so unfair. “I won’t stay if you’d rather—”

  “Were you on a date with Casey?”

  The question was so out of left field and completely absurd, it took Maggie a moment, with her mouth hanging open, to answer. When she did, it was a definitive, “No.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Chris scrubbed both hands down his face.

  That was a little too relieved, for Maggie’s tastes. “I thought we were supposed to be just friends.”

  He raised an eyebrow and took lazy steps toward her. “If we’re just friends, why does it matter if I have other women coming up here?”

  “It doesn’t.” She took a step back, but that didn’t stop him from advancing. It didn’t matter, she’d just been teasing. And a little curious. But if he’d slept with a hundred women, it didn’t matter. Because he was getting a little too close for his intent to be platonic. “Wait. I didn’t come here to do this.”

  “Then what did you come here for?” He cocked his head, challenging her.

  She didn’t think she could tell a lie as big as the one he was daring her to tell. So, it was a good thing he
kissed her before she could attempt it. The moment his mouth covered hers, she knew why she’d come over. With his arms around her, all the tension of the past few weeks melted away. He was like a drug, a crazy, stupid high. And the crazy, stupid part only made it that much more tempting.

  The stubble on his cheek scraped her, and his mouth tasted like beer. Right at that moment, it was the most powerful aphrodisiac she could imagine. She leaned against his hard chest while his hands slowly inched her dress up her thighs. This was what she’d needed, and she was officially going to stop analyzing it and just enjoy the moment, in the moment. She could agonize over her bad choices later.

  “Look, it was rough on the road,” he said, nipping at her bottom lip before he continued. “Maybe we could do this upstairs?”

  If she could make it up the stairs with her knees as weak as they were, it would be a miracle, but at least she had him to lean on as they went. She went up backward, leaning down to kiss him whenever she could trust her balance. “Okay, but I have to take the heels off this time.”

  “I love the heels,” he groaned. Then they gained the loft and she slid her hand under the waistband of his pants, and he groaned for a much different reason. “Fine, no heels. Fair enough.”

  Chris’s bedroom looked completely different than she would have imagined it. An open loft with a half-wall surrounding it, the entire space was painted sleek, stylish black. A low, king-sized bed piled high with fluffy pillows sat between two nightstands of equal height.

  She left him to stroll around the space, pulling one capped sleeve off her shoulder. “I… was expecting something more… a mattress on the floor, ugly striped bedspread… you know. Bachelor.”

  In the muted light from the downstairs fixtures, the shadows sharpened Chris’s features. The intensity of his desire was evident in his expression, and he slowly stalked her like prey, leisurely mimicking her steps on the other side of the room. “I’m a bachelor. Not a college kid. I can afford to hire a decorator.”

  She slid the other shoulder down and pushed the dress to her waist, an arm over the black satin cups of her bra. She plucked at one bra strap idly. “I’m impressed.”

  He came to her, covering her hand with his and slowly pushing the strap down. His hand molded her breast through the satin, then pushed inside. His callused thumb brushed over her nipple, setting off electric charges in a direct path to her cunt. She flooded with wet heat, felt the pull of her satin panties against her as they soaked to her skin. When he dipped his head to take her nipple into his mouth, she fell against him.

  Like a hero out of an old movie, he swept her into his arms and strode to the bed, laying her down gently before covering her body with his. Before bending his head to her breast again, he smirked up at her and said, “You swooned.”

  “I did not swoon.” She hissed as his teeth caught her nipple, grazing it lightly. “I was just caught up.”

  He lifted his head. “You’re still wearing your shoes.”

  He sat back on his knees and ran a hand over the front of her dress, pulling it down to her ankles. Cradling her calf in his palm, he lifted her leg and pulled the dress the rest of the way off, tossing it aside. “No chance of water damage tonight.”

  “Good, because at least tonight, my assistant doesn’t have a clue where I am.” She wriggled her hips and pushed down her panties, but he caught her hand, tugging the fabric down for her. He slipped his fingers between her skin and the fabric, a shattered breath stuttering from his lungs. She gripped his wrist and pulled his hand flush against her pussy. “That’s all for you, baby,” she moaned, rolling her hips against his hand.

  He pulled her shoes off without another thought and tossed them aside, gliding his hand up her calf, under her knee, to her inner thigh, before pushing two fingers inside of her easily. She raised her hips and moaned in the peculiar frustration of getting just what she needed but not enough, at the same time. He pumped his fingers, fluttering them along the top of her cunt, tapping until he found exactly the right spot. He pressed his thumb to her clit and rolled it in wide circles, and she ground against his palm.

  “Tell me when it feels right,” he told her, still stroking back and forth over her sensitive inner flesh.

  “Are you kidding me?” she panted, her hands digging into the thick duvet. Her legs slid over the sheets in a dance of restless joy, and she rocked her hips with every downward stroke of his thumb. “It all feels good.”

  He laughed and leaned over her, his fingers never slowing as he dropped kisses across her stomach, up to her breasts. The tight, hot feeling that sent shivers down her limbs coiled tighter and tighter under Chris’s stroking.

  She was close, incredibly close, when she pushed his hand away. “Wait, I don’t want to come yet. I want you inside of me when I do.”

  He leaned over her to reach into the nightstand drawer and pull out a condom. He tore it open and sheathed himself quickly. Her mouth went a little dry and her cunt went a little wet watching him unroll the latex down his length. When he covered her body again, she pushed his shoulder, rolling with him to sit astride his hips. Slowly, she rubbed herself over the rock-hard length of him, savoring the hitch in his breath at the slick sounds they made. He lifted his pelvis and pushed inside her, just a tantalizing fraction before stilling. She slipped back and his hands were there, holding her ass, keeping her from moving as he barely rested the tip of his cock inside her.

  “What?” he asked when she whimpered and tried futilely to take more of him in. “I thought you said you didn’t want to come yet.”

  She would have to remember to never say that, ever again. Or say it more often, she couldn’t decide. She could barely think with the slippery head of his cock withdrawing to rub against her clit. The last time a man had teased her like this… no, she couldn’t really compare this to any of the other men she’d been with. Chris had learned how to drive her crazy in one night, to make her feel the way she hadn’t felt with guys she’d been in serious relationships with. That was another reason he was so dangerous. He’d studied her body and he was a fast learner; he knew just how much she could take.

  She opened her mouth to beg him, and he released her to twine his hand in her hair, jerking her lips down to his as he thrust up. He caught her moan in his mouth, his tongue sliding over her lips as he pounded into her again and again.

  If he thought he was going to run this show while she sat there doing nothing, he was sorely mistaken. She slapped her palms against his chest and pulled herself up, raking her nails through the short, crisp hair that covered his pecs.

  Grinning, he put his hands behind his head. “Okay, I see. You’ve got to be in control.”

  “Oh no. No, no,” she assured him.“I am going to be anything but in control.”

  That was the secret, she’d always believed, of the female superior position. Because slowly riding Chris’s cock, her hair brushing her back as her head lolled with the lazy pleasure, was the furthest from control she’d ever felt. Free to dictate the pace, free to grind and rock and squeeze on him, she let every thought leave her mind. The sensations of her body on and all around his commanded her sole focus. She panted and gasped right along with him with every agonizingly slow shift of their bodies. She sped up just once, then stopped, the tip of his cock poised against her grasping cunt. Deliberately squeezing her internal muscles, she eased all the way down, and that was when he’d had enough. She squealed in delight as he flipped them both over and jerked her legs to rest against his shoulders. He pounded into her hard and fast, tipping her over that line between “almost there” and “way, way past it,” and she howled and wriggled against him as her orgasm stretched out into two, before he drove home, seemingly paralyzed for a second by his own release.

  He sagged against her and gently lowered her legs, withdrawing with a hoarse laugh. “You know, it’s a good thing I banged all those other intercom women before you got here, otherwise, I might not have lasted.”

  She hit him with the
pillow.

  Chapter Six

  Maggie fit against his body like she was made to be there. Her head tucked against his shoulder, her soft breath tickled his skin as she sighed happily. “I suppose I should go.”

  Her words cut through the fog of contentment that had fallen over Chris’s brain, and he drew back a little. “You don’t have to.”

  She looked up at him, a silky curl flopping into her face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be that weird girl who misses your guy cues.”

  “No guy cues.” He had to really concentrate on not sounding desperate. “Stay. It’s nice to sleep next to someone for a change.”

  “I don’t think ‘friends with benefits’ are supposed to sleep over, are they?” she asked, but she didn’t get up and start getting dressed. At least he had a little leeway to work with.

  He tightened his arm around her back and idly brushed his hand over her skin. She was so soft and warm and naked, it would be a real shame if he ended up sleeping alone. “I really don’t like that term. The ‘with benefits’ part makes it sound like we have to fill out paperwork.”

  “No paperwork, I promise.” She wriggled away, settling onto the pillow next to his.

  “So, ‘fuck buddies’ then?”

  “Ew, no. I hate that word. Buddies.” She made a face. “Why do we even have to label it?”

  He rolled to his side, propping his head on his arm. “You know how you go to the grocery store, and there are labels on everything?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Hear me out.” He traced a fingertip over her shoulder, then caught one curl between his thumb and forefinger and wound it around lazily. “You go to the store, and there are labels on everything, right? So you know what you’re getting. I would appreciate it if we could keep whatever this is more like the grocery store. I like labels. They tell me what to expect. I don’t want to open a can of tuna and find peanut butter.”

  She frowned as he released the curl to bounce against her cheek. “Did you just compare me to a can of tuna?”