Author: Jaci Burton

She stood, straddling him and looking down at him. He smiled up at her and took a deep breath. She knew what he was looking at. She’d never been shy about her body, but oh, the way he was looking at her made her blush from her toes to the tips of her hair.

“Now, there’s a beautiful sight. Come sit on me.”

She squatted down and sat on his thighs, grasping his cock with both hands. “Actually, this is a beautiful sight. I love touching you, Garrett. All over.”

He laughed. “I like your hands on me.” He thrust his shaft upward. “When you touch me, it makes my cock throb.”

She twisted her hands around, watching his face go dark. When she leaned forward, her hair spilled around him. He fisted it in his hand, forcing her gaze to his.

“Suck me, Alicia.”

Her pussy clenched at his command, exciting her, dampening her as she moved her lips to his cockhead. She licked her lips, then put her mouth on him, her tongue swirling around the wide head.

“Christ,” he said, surging forward to propel his shaft into her waiting mouth.

She took control then, closing her fist around the base of his shaft and sucking him deeply into her throat. His loud groans told her he enjoyed what she did. She wanted him to come hard, like he’d made her come in the car, so she pressed the roof of her mouth tight against her tongue, sucking as she brought his shaft deeper, cupping his balls, and giving them a squeeze.

“That’s going to make me shoot my come in your mouth, babe,” he said, pumping into her mouth with hard, rapid thrusts.

She held tight to him, squeezing him until he let out a harsh groan and came, spilling onto her tongue. She swallowed and held him while he shuddered and called her name. He held tight to her until he dropped to the floor and relaxed his body. She pressed a soft kiss to his shaft then climbed up his body to lay next to him while he recovered.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t even breathe.” His voice was hoarse.

She smiled and swept her hand over his chest, smoothing away the fine sheen of sweat that had gathered there. “I’ll go get us some water.”

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

She got them each a glass of ice water. He had the covers turned down and the fan on, the door to the deck partially open to let the night breeze in. Garrett was on the bed waiting for her, so she handed him the glass, which he downed in about four quick swallows. She climbed onto the bed next to him and cuddled beside him.

“I’m not sure I have the strength to make love to you,” he said.

She grinned. “It’s not necessary. Besides, I think you already did.”

He laid the empty glass on the table and turned to her. “Bullshit. That was foreplay.”

Before she could even blink, he had shifted her under him, his body hot and hard and covering hers. He framed her face in his hands. “I want as much of you as I can get, Alicia.”

There was something he wasn’t saying. Like he wanted her while it was just the two of them, before they headed back to St. Louis, before the season started, before real life intruded and they were torn apart?

She knew what they had was only temporary, and she was living in a fantasy world with him right now. Logically she knew it, anyway. They weren’t going to stay together for so many different reasons, the least of which was both of their careers.

She swept her hand across his jaw, always a turn-on to caress the rough beard there. She shuddered and pushed aside the temporariness of their relationship. For now, he was hers, and she’d have him for as long as she could. And when it came time to walk away, she would. Because her career came first, just like his did. They were both adults, and they could handle this.

She could handle this.

Right now, she only wanted Garrett, only wanted to concentrate on his body moving over hers, inside her, and on the way he made her feel. She sparked so fast with him, and like it or not, she was different when she was with him. He brought out so much passion in her, made her feel so free.

And as he clasped his hand with hers and they went over the edge together, she knew what she’d always known.

He was something amazing. Undeniably special. And he made her feel special.

And she was in love with him.

Which was going to make that whole walking-away-at-the-end-of-all-this thing really damned difficult.

 

 

TWENTY-THREE

GARRETT APPROACHED THE TRIP BACK HOME TO ST. Louis with both excitement and bone-shaking terror.

Spring training had ended, and while he’d gotten in some work with the team and he knew he’d made significant progress, he’d pitched no games. In the back of his mind, he’d thought maybe he’d be strong enough to pitch before the end of spring training.

Alicia had made no promises to him and in fact told him it likely wouldn’t happen, but she’d do her best to get him ready so he could pitch in the regular season.

He’d made a mental note that she hadn’t said she’d have him ready by the start of the season. He refused to remind her that when they very first started working together, she’d told him she’d have him on the mound by the start of the season. He’d considered it a promise at the time.

He’d believed her, and she’d gotten him further along than he’d thought. That was good enough. He considered it a miracle he was this close to pitching again.

But the regular season was about to begin, and that meant it was make-it-or-break-it time for him.

He wanted on the mound in the first series. If he couldn’t be the first game starter, then he wanted in the rotation.

There was no doubt his shoulder was in great shape. His therapy with Alicia had been going well. They’d moved from those small pitching sessions and had begun working him out with the coaches again. He’d started throwing again—regular pitches this time.

Everything felt good. His shoulder was strong, he was getting velocity on his pitches, and every day he felt better and better, like his old self again. Alicia still put him through his grueling therapy sessions, and every day they hurt less and less. Alicia told him it was a day-by-day thing and all a matter of time.

He hoped like hell that wasn’t some standard bullshit spiel she said to all the players in recovery, because he was so goddamn ready to pitch he could taste it.

Today they were on the field working position practice. He was over with the pitchers taking warm-ups, though Alicia was there with him, along with the pitching coach, who was watching his mechanics. As he wound up and threw his curveball into the catcher’s mitt, Bobby Sloane, the pitching coach, frowned.

“Do it again.”

He did. And Bobby frowned. Again.

“One more time,” Bobby said.

After Garrett threw the pitch, Bobby still didn’t look happy. Not that Bobby ever smiled, but if you threw the pitches right, Bobby walked off and terrorized a different pitcher. This time he stayed. “Something’s off with your curve. You’re not hitting the strike zone. Is it your shoulder?”

Garrett rolled his shoulder. “It feels fine.”

“Throw a few sliders.”

He did then some changeups and fastballs, all according to the coach’s directions.

Bobby watched them all, then shook his head. Instead of talking to Garrett, he turned to Alicia. “He’s off, Alicia. I don’t like those pitches just yet. They don’t have the trademark Garrett Scott finesse.”

Alicia stepped beside Bobby and nodded. “I’ll work on him in the treatment room. It’s likely he’s still just a little bit stiff since he hasn’t thrown in so long. Therapy and just working through the pitches will get him back on the mark.”

Bobby walked away and Alicia came over to him. “Are you in any pain?”

“No.”

“You threw a lot of pitches at practice today. How does the arm feel?”

He walked off the mound with her. “Do you have any idea how fucking tired I am of hearing that question? I never want to hear that goddamn question again.”

Her lips lifted. “Well, guess what? It’s not the last time you’re going to hear it. From me or the coaching staff. So deal.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He was grouchy and he knew it. He’d expected to get on the mound and start throwing pitches the same way he had before he got hurt. It wasn’t looking like that was going to happen, and it pissed him off, which was no reason to take it out on Alicia.

“Hey,” he said, pausing just inside the tunnel leading toward the locker room. “I’m sorry.”

She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”

“For snapping at you.”

She laughed and touched his arm. “This is a big deal for you, Garrett. You’re entitled to be tense about it.”

She understood. Of course she did. Right now she knew him and what he was going through better than anyone. He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. “Thanks.”

Except a few of the players took that moment to come in from the dugout.

“Whoa, Garrett.” Tommy Maloney, a fellow pitcher, gave Garrett a shove. “Shouldn’t you two get a room or something?”

“I don’t know, Tommy.” Dedrick Coleman crossed his arms, his glove dangling from his fingers. “I’d say we’ve got a pretty good show going on right here. I might want to stay and watch.”

“Fuck off, Deed,” Garrett said, seemingly unconcerned that they’d just been caught making out in the tunnel.

Dedrick laughed, and he and Tommy headed toward the locker room.

“Sorry about that,” Garrett said, turning back to Alicia.

Her eyes were wide with shock. “Oh, God. That’s the worst thing that could have happened.”

Garrett frowned. “What? Oh, the guys? Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you serious? The last thing I need to have happen is for my boss to find out about the . . . about what’s been going on between the two of us.” She took two giant steps back. “That can’t happen again. I’ll meet you inside the therapy room.”

She hurried away, and he wondered what she meant by “that.” Kissing her in public or being with her at all.

Their time together in Florida had been nearly perfect. They’d had a lot of alone time, especially in the house together. He’d been free to touch her, to taste her, to make love to her without anyone around. Yeah, once they’d gotten to the ballpark, it had been professional and hands-off.

Except in the dugout that night . . .

He smiled remembering the way her body had arched when he’d been inside her, the sounds she’d made when she’d come.

He’d like to do it again. Here in this dugout. Or maybe in the bullpen.

His cock tightened, but he pushed aside his own needs. Alicia was pissed. And scared. And all he was thinking about was having sex with her again, getting close to her, touching her.

He needed to respect her boundaries.

He went into the training room and found her, head down in that damn notebook where she charted—whatever the hell she charted about him. He knew her notes were all about him since right now he was the only one she worked with.

She looked up. “Let me loosen up your shoulder. You had a hard workout today.”

“Sure.” He changed, and she put heat on him then loosened him up with a series of stretches that not that long ago caused agony. Now it felt good to have his muscles and tendons stretched. Plus, having Alicia’s hands on him had a whole different meaning than it did back then. He craved her touch, the way her hands slid over his shoulder and down his arm.

And all the while, she didn’t even make eye contact with him, not even when she bent down to push deep into his muscle, when her face was so close to his, if he lifted up even a little bit, their lips would touch.

“Alicia.”

“Yes.”

“You can look at me, you know.”