Winning Streak

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Winning Streak Page 42

by Alice Ward


  I didn’t shake him off. I didn’t raise my voice. I only looked at her.

  “From the moment I spoke to you on the phone, there’s been no one but you. I have proof, if you’re interested in seeing it. And if you aren’t…” I swallowed hard, knowing these next words were going to be the hardest I ever had to say, “then I hope you have a happy life and that you find someone you can trust and grow old with. Someone who loves you the way I love you, but who treats you as you deserve.”

  She just sat there, not moving, not blinking. A stone would have been more animated. My heart sank into my toes.

  I nodded and swallowed again. “Goodbye.”

  As I turned, Ace’s arm fell off my shoulder, and I walked from the room, past a crying Holly. Past half my teammates. Past fucking Caroline, who blew me a kiss.

  Ace stopped me at the door, grabbing my arm and whipping me around. “So that’s it?” he asked with his patented smirk.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes you just have to let fate play out her hand.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Caroline stand and take a step toward us. Still looking at Ace, I asked, “Why is she here?”

  He followed my gaze and lifted a shoulder. “We’re friends, we fuck. Why do you care?”

  I waited until he met my eyes again. “How much did the tabloids pay?”

  His face turned into a mask of confusion, then his eyes widened. “Did she…?”

  “Yeah.” I clapped him on the shoulder and tossed his words back to him. “Beware, Ace. She’s a man eater. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re next.”

  I heard him mutter, “Fuck,” as I walked out the door.

  I didn’t make it very far. On legs too weary to make it another step, I sank down on Ace’s little porch. Dropping my face in my hands, I pressed my fingers into my scalp, almost to the point of pain.

  The door behind me clicked, then someone sat beside me. It was her.

  Whitney nudged me with her shoulder. “Hey.”

  I nudged her back, lifting my head so I could see her. “Hey.”

  My face burned and my throat clogged as she linked her fingers through mine.

  “So… I heard you wanted to talk to me,” she deadpanned, causing me to laugh.

  I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her fingers. “Who in the world told you that?”

  Her smile was tender and so very beautiful. “Let’s call it women’s intuition.”

  “I’m sorry, Whit,” I told her.

  The smile faded. “I know. Me too.”

  I frowned at her. “Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong.”

  That got a laugh out of her. “I wish that was true. I was such a bitch to you, almost from the moment I arrived in New York. I didn’t even know that girl was inside of me, but…” she hissed like a cat, pretend clawing at me. We both laughed, and I kissed her hand again.

  “It was a big lifestyle jump for both of us, and I let it go to my head,” I confessed.

  “And I let those awful tabloids get to me.” She laughed and made a cha-ching sound. “And your credit card.”

  “So we both made mistakes,” I said, leaning into her.

  Her head rested on my shoulder and sighed with that soft little squeak I loved so much. “Yeah, we did. Must be a rookie thing.”

  I kissed her hair. “Yeah, it must be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Whitney

  Over the next several days, we completely cleared the air between us. I attended his games even though he was in the dugout waiting for his rotation to pitch. After the games, we’d come home and talk some more. Even though Calvin usually hated this kind of stuff, he never once complained or seemed irritated by my need to talk all of this through. At night, I slept in my own room, not wanting sex to rush things between us.

  I told him of the three men I’d slept with since our separation, and he told me about his… uh, more than three.

  It was painful to hear, but it was good at the same time. Soul cleansing in many ways.

  No, I never slept with Rhett. He was very flirty and attentive, but I realized he was like that with everyone. And I told him about Todd, how he’d fallen in love with me and wanted me back.

  “Well, most couples find each other in their twenties, after they’d already sowed some wild oats,” I told him after we’d asked each other all our questions. “You and I were practically children when we met, so…”

  “So we’ll call this our wild oats rookie season?” Calvin added helpfully.

  I laughed, then pointed at his crotch, giving him the stink eye. “You better keep those oats in there from now on.”

  He kissed me then, long and deep. Desire curled in my lower belly. “These oats are only for you,” he whispered against my lips.

  “They better be.” I pinched his side and he yelped. The war was on.

  In an instant, we were tickling each other and rolling around on the floor like children. We were back. Through the hell of his rookie season, we’d found each other again. Better, more grown up versions of the people we had loved so much only a few months ago.

  As he was tickling me, his hand accidently covered my breast, and we both froze, staring into each other’s eyes. It had been so long since he’d touched me like that. Since before I left him the first time. In those short few days we’d had together before the tabloid ripped our world apart again, we had slept together, but hadn’t made love.

  I was nervous, I realized as I pushed his shirt up to feel his skin. He was warm and solid, the muscles rippling beneath my fingers.

  “I’d like some of those oats now,” I whispered and watched his eyes dilate.

  He pushed my hair out of my face, trying to read me. “You’re sure?”

  I nodded and licked my bottom lip. “Absolutely certain.”

  He continued to look down at me and pain flickered across his face. I ran my hand through his hair, then my thumb over his forehead, smoothing away the wrinkles that had formed there. “What’s wrong?”

  “Uh, well…” he swallowed hard. “I used condoms every time I…” Shame filled his features.

  I blew out a breath at the reminder. “I did too,” I told him, meeting his eyes. “So we should both be clean. And we’ll both go to the doctor this week to make sure.”

  He grinned. “That sounds like a very grown up thing to do.”

  I grinned back, running my fingers through his shaggy hair again, pushing stray strands back from his forehead. “I’m going to act better, Calvin. I promise. If I ever start turning into that bitchy person again, you have to let me know. I want to be my best self with you. Give you the good that’s inside me.”

  He searched my face, his eyes going from my hair to my nose, then to my mouth and back to my eyes. “You know, if I tell you that you’re acting bitchy one day… that, um, won’t end well for me.”

  I laughed. He was right. I kissed his nose. “Then let’s make a pact to do our best every day, and if we notice the other not laughing at least five times a day, we work harder to make them happy.”

  “I like that. A five-laughs-a-day rule.” He rolled on top of me, pressing me into the thick rug in front of his fireplace. “And how many orgasms a day?” he asked, his voice growing deeper, sexier, and my breathing began to quicken.

  “There can be no limits on that, Mr. Hot Shot Baseball Star,” I said, wrapping my legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

  Our lips touched, then his mouth invaded mine, exploring until I couldn’t breathe. When he broke our kiss and skimmed my jaw with his teeth, I sighed in pleasure. God, I’d missed this. Him. No other man could ever make me feel like this.

  My skin was on fire, and his lips were making it worse, causing the ache deep in my belly to verge on painful. I needed him to soothe it, take the pain away.

  I moaned as his mouth met the skin of my throat. I worked at his pants while he licked his way down my neck to my cleavage.

  I was frantic now, wanting nothing more than to fin
d oblivion in his arms. I didn’t want to think, or worry. I just wanted this. To feel good. To feel powerful and needed and wanted… and wanting.

  He pulled down the top of the sundress I was wearing, then the cup of my bra to expose my breast to his greedy mouth. I cried out as he consumed my puckered flesh, biting and sucking as though he was starving and I was his only source of nourishment.

  Hiking my dress to my waist, his hand roamed my heated skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. I cried out, running my fingers through his thick hair, wrapping my legs around him, arching up, searching for friction to sooth the heat between my thighs.

  “Please,” I begged, and he moaned, the vibration of the sound against my nipple going straight to my core as I pleaded for him to be inside me. Warmth spread from between my legs through my entire body. I whimpered, undone by him.

  He stood up and pulled his shirt over his head, then his pants and boxers were kicked into a pile. He was back, pulling me until I was sitting. In one quick movement, my dress was over my head, then my bra gone. Our eyes never left each other as he undressed me.

  “So beautiful.”

  I flushed under the intensity of his gaze, believing his words.

  “What do you want, Whitney?” he asked, a familiar question between us.

  What did I want?

  I smiled. “I want everything.”

  He growled low in his chest, then was on me again.

  I writhed beneath him, clawing at his shoulders as he explored every bit of me, re-familiarizing the terrain of my body. He kissed and caressed my legs, my stomach, my hips. When he tongued my naval, I was lost in pleasure, every touch of his lips bringing me closer to my peak.

  “Yes…” I moaned, encouraging him. He skimmed my skin with his teeth, just at the curve above my upper thigh, and I nearly screamed in pleasure.

  “You’re killing me,” I cried when he spread my legs wide, settling between them, his hands moving under my ass to lift me up to his waiting mouth.

  The first touch of his tongue was a jolt, an electric fire that turned heavenly.

  I gripped his head and pulled him closer, grinding myself into his mouth, but he pulled back, intent on pleasuring me at his own pace, licking up and down my slit, going no deeper.

  I begged and he relented, sliding his tongue deep inside, his eyes meeting mine over the length of my body. He pulled my lips into his mouth, sucking the sensitive flesh. When his teeth scraped my clit, I exploded, shaking, screaming softly. The speed and force of my orgasm surprised us both.

  He didn’t give me time to recover, sliding his fingers into my waiting depths. I arched into his hand, moving my hips in rhythm with his fingers. When he found that place inside me, he pressed his tongue against my clit, and his fingers and tongue moved as one until I shattered.

  It hit me like a train, almost painful with its intensity. Strangely enough, I wanted more.

  When he climbed up my body, his thick cock nudging my entrance, I clung to him, pulling him close.

  “Open your eyes.”

  When I did, his were only inches from my own and I nearly wept from the love I saw in them.

  “I love you,” he said, and pushed his hips forward, barely entering me, spreading me wide.

  I lifted my hips, taking him deeper. “I love you too.”

  It was so good, being filled by him again. He had me pressed into the rug, and I was unable to do anything but take what he was giving me. He moved slow at first, giving my body time to accept and stretch around him. Then he quickened the pace as our lips and tongues clashed together, my cries captured by his mouth.

  I dug my fingers into his shoulders as he made love to me slow and easy, then hard and fast, changing the angle until his pubic bone pressed against my clit.

  I pulled my mouth from his, needing to breathe, needing to scream. He moved faster, harder, holding me in place as our bodies’ pounded together, the music of our joining echoing through the room. I nearly wept when the orgasm hit me. I screamed into his shoulder, my nails biting his skin.

  He waited, kissing my forehead, my temple, holding me until I’d stopped shaking, stopped crying. When I was still gasping for air, he drove into me again. This time, he was focused on his own pleasure, using my body for what he needed. I gladly gave it to him. I wrapped my legs around him tighter as he went faster, harder, deeper.

  His head dipped to mine again, our mouths warring in time to our bodies. He growled, grunting something I couldn’t understand against my lips, slamming over and over and over… until he came, his head thrown back as his warmth flooded inside of me.

  The room was silent for a while, the only sound our heavy breathing as he nestled onto me, our bodies still connected.

  As soon as I caught my breath, a soft laugh escaped me. He pushed himself up onto his elbows to look down at me.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, his chest still heaving from his exertions.

  I looked up into his beautiful eyes. “You. Me. Us. The crazy path that led us back to each other.”

  He kissed me, long and deep, then raised his head, waiting until I opened my eyes again. “Our path is solid now, Whitney. Sometimes you might walk a little ahead of me, or a little behind me, but I’ll never leave it again.”

  I lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “I’ll never leave it either. I swear it.”

  Whitney and Calvin.

  We were back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Calvin

  My eyes wouldn’t open yet, they wanted more sleep, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate as thoughts continued to patrol my mind. My hand was on something soft, warm, and round. I squeezed, and Whitney grumbled in her sleep.

  It wasn’t a dream; she was really here.

  I rolled towards her body, curling myself around her, my hand sliding back to the ass cheek that had kept it so nice and warm just moments earlier. I kissed her shoulder, blew her hair gently from her skin, leaving more kisses up her throat.

  “Gud moorig,” she grumbled, her face in the pillow. I laughed, my eyes finally cooperating, opening so I could watch her in amusement. Her head rolled, and she turned towards me, her eyes still closed, her mouth smiling.

  “Gud moorig,” I mocked her playfully. There were those beautiful green eyes. It always amazed me how bright her eyes were, even first thing in the morning when most peoples’ were glazed or reddened. She was absolutely beautiful.

  I lifted my hand from her ass cheek and then dropped it again, creating a small smacking noise on impact. She squealed as if she were in pain and then laughed because she wasn’t. “I’m making coffee. Keep my side of the bed warm,” I instructed.

  “Then my side will get cold,” she mumbled and lifted her head from the pillow to watch me back out of the room. We smiled at each other like fools.

  “Why’s that my problem?” I teased and rolled my eyes at her like she was being impossible and left her to rest while I made coffee. Our game was early today, and I’d need to leave soon for our pre-game routine. She could sleep a while longer, and I needed to remember to give her my credit card so she could catch a cab to the game. I’d need to buy her a car of her own soon.

  I scooped the coffee into the filter and filled the pot with water. Soon, the scent was filling the air around me. I propped my elbows on the counter, my chin resting on my fists. Whitney used to tease me about this stance. She said I looked like The Thinker, the sculpture by Auguste Rodin. Now, nude with my dick shriveled into itself, I thought she would really find a resemblance if she could see me now.

  The only reason I knew that Auguste Rodin was a French sculptor was because of Whitney. She had a thirst for knowledge and loved the arts. Her tastes were broad and her mind open. I loved that about her, more than she probably knew. I skated through school only doing what I had to and never developed an interest in culture or history. Whitney always told me I should broaden my mind, expand my horizons.

  “What if you don’t make it to the big l
eagues?” she’d ask. That was high school, before college. Once I made it into my short stint in the minors she’d hadn’t asked that question again. Instead, she would ask, “What if, once you make it, you decide you don’t like it?” That question always made me laugh.

  Until now.

  Now, I knew there was more than the love of the game. I’d learned the hard way about the sinister part of being in the limelight, the fame that went to my head so quickly. The undercurrents of jealousy that hid beneath the surface.

  I still loved the game. Now I had to learn to live with the bad side of it. I wondered if I could.

  The coffee machine beeped three times to let me know it was done. I grabbed two cups and poured them full before dumping French Vanilla creamer into both. Upstairs, Whitney was still curled onto the bed but sat up when she smelled the coffee.

  “Gimme, gimme,” she pleaded, her arms outstretched, lust shining in her eyes.

  I laughed and gave her the warm mug. “You don’t want to sleep a little longer?” I asked. “You don’t need to leave for another five hours or so.”

  Whitney took a long sip of the coffee, her eyes rolling back in her head. “That’s good,” she said. “Did you use a new creamer?”

  “Nope, same one,” I said and then chuckled. “Maybe I dipped my finger into it to make it extra sweet.”

  She wrinkled her nose again and laughed, taking another sip. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes turning serious.

  I sat down on the bed next to her. “Thank you, Whit.” I pushed her hair back from her face. “I’ve never been happier than I am right now. Or grateful.”

  As we gazed at each other, the alarm on my phone went off, reminding me I didn’t have much time to make it to the field. “I better hit the shower, then head out. I’ll see you there?”

  Her smile was gorgeous. “Yes. I’ll be there, cheering you on.”

  Leaning in, I gave her a quick kiss, not letting it linger into something longer. Groaning, I headed to the bathroom and turned the shower on hot.

 

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