Electricity sparks along my neurons as heat builds and builds with each luxurious swivel.
But then she slows her moves and presses her hands harder against my chest, clearing her throat. “Do you have any tips for this position?”
I love that she’s unafraid to ask questions. It does remind me, too, that sometimes I might need to teach her. Don’t mind that at all.
“Go slow when you take me in,” I tell her, running my thumb over her lower lip.
She nips my skin. “Okay, I can do that.”
“Because it’s new to you. That’s all. And if you don’t like it, just tell me. We’ll adjust. I’ll adjust.”
With a relieved nod, she reaches for a condom on the nightstand. She scoots down me, opens the wrapper, then stares at it like it’s a one-thousand-piece puzzle, one of those brain-breaking ones where every piece is the same color.
With a laugh, I take it from her. “We’ll practice condom stuff another time. For now, I’ll take care of wrapping it up,” I say, rolling the protection down my shaft.
“Maybe next time we won’t need it,” she says in a sultry bedroom voice. “I’m going on birth control.”
I jolt with pleasure at the prospect of fucking her bare. But fucking her covered is a gift too.
I hold the base of my dick, offering it to her. She moves over me, gripping my length at the same time then rubbing the head against her center.
Her eyes flutter closed, and a soft groan falls from her lips. “Feels so good,” she whispers as she takes me in the slightest bit.
Then more.
Inch by inch, she lowers onto me, her pussy like a tight glove.
My body shakes as she drops down.
We both gasp at how good this feels, how close we’re connected, how much we want this.
Shuddering, she draws a deep breath, her hands gripping my chest, her fingers playing with my nipples. She’s quiet at first, and still. Adjusting maybe.
Or possibly savoring, judging by how her eyes darken, float closed, then open again. How her breath stutters.
Then, she bends closer.
Moving and swaying, taking and giving.
As my body heats up, I let her set the pace, let her find the rhythm that she needs.
Because I’ve got everything I want right now. I’ve got her, on me, with me.
Soon enough, we’re moving in tandem, gasping and grunting, sweat slicking between us, skin burning up. Her noises intensify, pitching up, lasting longer, her moans like a dirty song, like filthy music to my ears as she rides me.
My hands slide up and down her back, traveling along her soft skin, threading through her hair.
As we tangle together, I’m grateful, so damn grateful, that we’re here tonight, before I leave, enjoying every second of loving and fucking, fucking and loving.
And coming as one. That’s what we do, reaching the edge, blasting off, a blur of heat and pleasure, of sounds and cries. Of bodies and hearts crashing into each other.
After we both gasp and laugh and pant, I let out a long, happy sigh. “Even though we’re not doing the friends-with-benefits thing anymore, I want you to know I have never enjoyed the benefits as much as I do with you.”
Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe that’s because we’re friends and lovers.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s why. And there’s nothing accidental about that.”
A little later, she falls asleep in my arms, something I hope she’ll do every night when I’m in town. That’s how I want this to be with us. This new us. Every day, every night.
In the morning I wake at the crack of dawn, take a quick shower, and pull on my clothes. She’s brushing her teeth as I zip up my jeans.
Seeing me dressed, she spits out the toothpaste. “So, I guess this is it?”
I look at my watch, my heart heavy because I have to go but full because, well, we’re in love and it is fucking awesome. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”
She turns off the faucet, sets down the toothpaste, and walks over to me, sliding her hands up my chest. “So, this is us? We’re, like, a thing now?”
I grin, beyond confident when I tell her, “You’re mine. Don’t even try to get out of it. I’m going to call you and text you from Arizona every day. When I get back here, I am going to be so goddamn horny and wound up that I’m probably going to spend the entire night going down on you, fingering you, fucking you, making love to you.”
She shimmies her hips. “It’ll be more than a month, so I’ll pretty much be like a virgin again.”
I laugh, cup her cheek, and kiss her mouth. “I love you, Wild Woman.”
“I love you too, All-Star.”
Three hours later I’m at the airport, duffel checked. I walk to the gate where the team plane is parked.
Lily Whiting, the reporter from the Sports Network waits, press pass around her neck. She’s here to interview some of the team before we head to spring training.
Good. I’ve got something I need to say on camera. When Lily strides over to me and asks if I’m ready, I say yes.
Her camera guy mics me up, then Lily asks me a few questions about the upcoming season. As Chance and Grant wait a few feet away, arms crossed, watching intently, I tell her the things I want to work on, what the team needs to do to win, what I’m most looking forward to. Then I make good on my promise.
“And mostly what I’m looking forward to, Lily, is working with Chance Ashford and Grant Blackwood,” I say, gesturing to my teammates. “Have I mentioned that those guys are absolutely the most talented players in all of baseball? And so is Holden Kingsley of the San Francisco Dragons. They’re the best. They’re better than me,” I say, since those were the terms of the pact. The one that I broke. The one I’m damn glad I broke.
Lily gives me a curious stare. “Those are things you don’t hear very often from athletes about other players, especially their rivals.”
I meet the eyes of my friends, who are slack-jawed but clearly amused.
“True. But sometimes when you know the truth, you’ve just got to say it aloud. And they are the absolute best.” I grin, grateful to be giving this confession because of what it means. What I have because of it.
She turns to the camera. “And there you have it.”
I thank her and head onto the team plane with my guys. Grant claps me on the back as we walk down the Jetway. “So, we’re the best?”
Chance cuts in. “He said it. He must mean it.”
“Of course I mean it,” I say as we step into the galley.
Grant shoots me a skeptical look. “Or maybe you’re just madly in love.”
I toss a glance at my teammates, shrugging, smiling, owning it. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. I absolutely am.”
Soon the plane takes off. I glance at my feet and tense when I realize I forgot to pick out a pair of lucky socks for today. I’m wearing basic, ordinary dress socks with my suit pants.
But then I relax because that’s okay. Because socks don’t make the luck. You make your own by finding what you love and making sure you’re not too superstitious to let it get away.
I send a text to the woman I adore.
Crosby: Just so you know, I’m not crediting the corgi butts for the way I feel for you. It’s you. I am crazy in love with you. Also, your butt is cuter than any corgi’s.
Epilogue
Nadia
About A Month Later
Here’s the other issue I have with dating sites.
Nowhere do they mention that long-distance love affairs are worse than dental exams.
Okay, fine. There are a few benefits. The first time you have Skype sex is crazy hot.
And okay, the second, third, fourth, and fifth times are incendiary too. I have a family of little darlings and big darlings, and Crosby likes watching me use them all. Maybe I’m shameless, or maybe I just know what I like, but this show-and-tell does the trick for me along with his words as he urges me on, as he talks dirty to me and se
nds me over the bunny-hopping cliff.
Plus, in his hotel room on the other end of the camera, my boyfriend looks smoking hot when he takes his thick cock in his hand, slides his fist up and down, and gets himself all the way off, telling me the things he wants to do to me when he returns to San Francisco.
I haven’t visited him in Arizona. The timing hasn’t lined up. My work schedule prepping for the next season has been insane, but Matthew and I hired the GM we wanted, and Kim is doing a fantastic job.
One evening over a late dinner, my English friend and I toast to how we’re slowly but surely winning new fans before the season even starts, thanks in part to Kim’s masterful chess play with athletes and the deals she’s inked for a new rising star tight end and a fantastic defensive lineman, among others.
“Admit it, we’re brilliant for hiring her,” I say, lifting my wineglass.
“We are the most brilliant,” Matthew quips.
“And we’re going to deliver a Super Bowl win, and then just imagine—you won’t have to take wine-and-painting classes to meet new women,” I say, before taking a drink of the chardonnay. “They’ll fling themselves at the Hawks CEO.”
He cracks up, then sets down his glass of red, his expression suddenly serious. “Maybe I won’t have to wait till then to meet someone new.”
My eyes widen. “So, does that mean Phoebe’s history officially?” I knew it was ending, winding down every day, it seemed. But I hadn’t yet heard that his relationship was on the chopping block.
“Don’t look so happy. But yes. Earlier this week she said she’d had enough, but truth be told, I had too. She hated my job. She wanted me to quit.” He sounds matter-of-fact, but I know it’s not easy.
I narrow my eyes, huffing. “I’ll never let you go.”
“You better not. Because I don’t want to go.”
“Good. I’ll just have to make it my mission to find you a fantastic new woman in this city.”
“You really think I should start dating again?” He sounds skeptical. “I was mostly joking about the wine-and-painting thing. I’d honestly just go for me.”
“I get why you wouldn’t want to date again. But I know you. You like being with someone. When it’s right, that is.”
“And how would I know if it’s right?”
I smile, answering from the heart. “If it feels too good to be true, but it’s completely true.”
“Sounds like a movie.”
“Yes, and sometimes stories like in the movies come true. If you put yourself back out there.”
He takes a beat, perhaps considering it, then nods. “Maybe I will, then.”
I clap once, glad for my friend. “Let’s see. Where do I know a fun, chatty, bighearted single woman?”
He laughs. “Nowhere, because they don’t exist.”
“Hush.” I hum thoughtfully. “Maybe Crosby knows someone.”
Matthew laughs doubtfully, a twinkle in his green eyes. “I’m sure your baseball star beau knows loads of single women.”
He has a fair point. Except wait a second. “I might know someone.” I lean closer and whisper, “I’ll find out if she likes wine and painting.”
“You do that.”
The day that spring training ends and my guy boards a flight back to the Bay Area, I’m a certifiable jackie-in-the-box, ready to spring with desire the second I see him. Just a few more hours now.
It’s a Friday night, and I head out to dinner with my family. Eric and Mariana. Brooke and David. My mom and her new beau, Craig, who loves to chat about ’70s music and is completely adorable.
Over apps and dinner at a restaurant near my place, we catch up on what everyone’s been up to for the last few weeks. During dessert, Eric lifts his fork to take a bite of the tiramisu, then clears his throat, meeting my gaze. “I guess all you’re waiting for is to see my best friend tonight?”
With a delicious grin, I nod. “I am indeed.”
Brooke laughs. “Yeah, she’s only been checking her phone the entire meal.”
I shoot her a stern look. “I have not been doing that.”
My mom purses her lips like she’s holding in a smile. “You kind of have, Nadia.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Do you blame me?”
“No. I completely understand,” Brooke says, sliding her hand down her husband’s arm.
David blushes then drops a kiss onto her cheek. “I don’t blame you for wanting your hands on me.”
My family is full of perverts, apparently.
Including yours truly.
At the end of the meal, I nearly jump out of my seat, that much closer to seeing Crosby. I make my goodbyes and walk the few blocks home, enjoying the night air, the hint of a warm breeze as March nears its end in San Francisco.
I relish being home. I thought I would miss Vegas, but I don’t. This is where I was meant to be.
With family, with new friends, with a job I absolutely stinking love.
And with a guy I’ve known for so many years but am getting to understand in a new and incredibly wonderful way.
Maybe this is what the universe had in mind after all.
Or maybe, just maybe, I made sure I wasn’t fool enough to miss my chance when it came.
An hour later, the blue-eyed, crooked-grin-sporting, steady-handed third baseman and all-around good guy strides through my door, cups my cheeks, and kisses the hell out of me.
I melt into his arms, kissing him back just as hard, just as hungry.
Just as desperately.
It feels so damn good to share this wild, wonderful want with him. I tug on his shirt, drag him to the bedroom, and rip off his clothes.
“I guess I know what you missed the most,” he says, his voice a naughty rasp.
“Find out just how much,” I say, my hands racing over his skin.
And oh, he does find out. He moves over me, sliding into me, and, for the first time ever, filling me with no barriers between us.
We’re even closer like this, even more connected. It’s electric bliss, it’s supercharged lust, and it’s mad, passionate love as we come together.
When we’re done with round one, I drag a hand down his chest. “About your cousin Rachel,” I say.
“What about her?” He tilts his head, curious.
“Well, you said she had a jerk of an ex and liked to keep herself busy by setting other people up.”
“I did say that.”
“I happen to have a very good friend who’s newly single and is a great guy.”
“You don’t say,” he says, catching my meaning.
“Maybe the matchmaker needs us to play matchmaker,” I say, then I tell him more about Matthew and he tells me more about Rachel, and we decide they’d be perfect for each other.
He sends her a text, and I send one to Matthew, and a few minutes later, we’ve arranged a blind date for them.
“Now that we’ve accomplished that, I was thinking we might need some new rules for us,” I say with a smile.
He kisses my shoulder, dragging his lips along my warm skin. “And what would those be?”
“That we have lots of sex,” I say.
“Rule one,” he says with a roll of his eyes.
“That we keep asking for what we want,” I add.
“Rule two.”
“And that maybe I buy your team,” I say.
He cracks up. “You’re joking?”
I laugh too. “I am.”
“Okay, here’s my rule, then,” he says, his tone going serious.
I push up on my elbows, letting him know I’m paying attention. “Hit me up.”
He strokes my hair then grazes his thumb over my jaw. “You let me keep on loving you.”
I kiss his lips, whispering the only possible answer. “Yes.”
Then, I get out of bed and grab a gift from the bureau. Sinking back onto the mattress, I give him a pair of chipmunk socks. “For the season. They’ll be your new lucky socks. Just don’t wear them during sex
.”
He cracks up. “Why would I wear lucky socks when I’m already getting lucky?”
Sounds like we have a deal.
Epilogue
Holden
It's a beautiful night in April when Crosby swings by and picks me up to head to an event at the Legion of Honor. Chance is with him too, so we make our way over to the cocktail party benefitting a number of local charities.
Along the way, my agent calls to let me know the Dragons finally hired a new manager.
“Perfect timing. Opening Day is only . . . tomorrow.”
“Better late than never,” he says, then gives me details on the guy. He has a good resumé, and I met him once. He made quite an impact.
Something that had been weighing on me just turned into something awesome. “Excellent choice,” I say to Josh.
As I head into the Legion of Honor with my buds, I tell them all about the new manager.
“Sounds like the baseball buddha,” Crosby says.
I'm grateful to have made good friends in town, and to be playing for a team that’s looking up. I'm determined to do everything I can to keep up the hard work. Nothing can get in my way.
Except, once I head into the event, a familiar silhouette walks into my line of vision.
Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Full lips that I know so well. Lips I explored late one night nearly two years ago. Is it really her? My what-if woman? The one I haven't been able to stop thinking about. I take a step closer. She turns to me. Eyes lock. Skin tingles. It's her. In the flesh. In person. In the same damn town once again. This feels like the start of a second chance.
The woman I’ve never been able to get out of my head.
Another Epilogue
Crosby
A year later
It’s been a hell of a year, and I can’t complain.
The Virgin Rule Book (Rules of Love 1) Page 21