I made a face. “Ugh.” I pushed off him. “You fail.”
“Wait.” He stopped me, his arms strong as he held me in place. The same arms that had held down my legs as he had tasted between them. The same arms that swung a bat and brought millions of Americans to their feet. I lifted my eyes from those arms and to his face. “It’s not easy to answer. I love you because you look at me and see more than just a baseball player.” I went to speak, and he stopped me. “I love you because your smile does something to my heart. I love you because when I see you, I can’t stop staring at you. And when you’re away from me, I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you because right now, there’s nothing more tempting in life than to pull you on top of me and push inside of you. And I love you because you’re the first woman on Earth who I’ve wanted to wait for. Who I’ve treasured enough to be patient. I could wait a hundred years for you because the thought of doing anything that brings you pain makes my heart break. You are the most complex woman I have ever met.” I made a face, and he shushed me. “I’m serious. You are like a guy in so many ways—the way you call me out, the things you know, the way you swear, the arm on you that would put a hundred recruits to shame … you’re my best friend, Ty. And I haven’t had a best friend in a really long time. But…” He shook his head. “You’re also the most feminine creature on Earth.” He ran his fingers slowly down my side, over my hip, his fingers spreading as he placed a warm palm against my skin. “Your face, your body—the way you laugh, how you smell—hell, just the way you walk. It’s intoxicating.”
I held my breath, watching his eyes search mine, his hand soft as it ran through my hair.
“The end,” he finally said, and I smiled, his mouth turning up in response, his hand moving from my hair and gently rubbing over my mouth. “That smile right there,” he murmured. “You have no idea what it does to me.”
I crawled up his stomach, my bra dragging along his chest until we were face to face, my hair a curtain around our faces, his chin lifting up as he met my eyes. “I love you too,” I said softly, and even through the veil of my hair, I could see his smile.
“I’m going to marry you one day, Ty Rollins,” he said softly, gently tucking my hair behind one ear, and my heart stopped.
“One thing at a time,” I said, leaning down and pressing my lips to his, a soft brush that became a fire, his hands tangling in my hair, his lips turning desperate on mine.
I stayed by his side until the sun rose, pink sunlight tentatively pushing through the open curtains, my name a beg off his lips when I finally rolled out of his bed, pulling on my jeans, sneaking barefoot down the hotel hall and back to my room.
I undressed in the dark of my own room, crawling into my bed, my phone plugged in, and fell asleep quickly, my heart soaring, a smile stretched over my face.
It was perfect.
More than I’d ever dreamed of.
55
New York
Wish u were coming home with me. You still need to see my place.
I stretched in the hall, my bag at my feet, eyes on my phone, halfway through a response, when the hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, lifting my eyes off my cell, and stuffing it in my back pocket, the text from Chase still open on it. “Mr. Grant,” I said with a smile. “Good game.”
“Great game.” He beamed. “I can smell the playoffs now.”
“Me too.”
“What are your plans this week? Tobey’s at the house, and we’d love to have you over for dinner. Maybe Tuesday?”
The door to the locker room opened, and the owner of my heart stepped out. I kept my eyes on the man before me, the act heroic in its struggle. “I’ll check my schedule. Dad keeps me pretty busy when we’re home.”
The soft smack of shoes on wood, Chase slowly wandered closer, the hall too thin, my control too weak, and I met his eyes despite myself, my mouth curving into a smile. Mr. Grant followed my eyes, his mouth breaking into a smile, and he clapped Chase on the shoulder. “There’s our star! Man, am I glad that we got you in pinstripes, boy.”
“I just score the runs, sir.” Chase nodded to me. “Her dad’s the one keeping them off the board.” And Dad had done a great job of it, closing the last eight games without a single hit.
“While you’re here,” Grant said, gripping Chase’s shoulder and turning to me. “Convince Ty here to take a few days off. I’m trying to get her over to our house for some home cooking that will fatten up those bones of hers.”
Chase smiled at me, and I could read everything he was thinking in those eyes. My return smile was less enthusiastic, a hard pit forming in my stomach, as I hoped, prayed, that he wouldn’t take this conversation any further, wouldn’t mention—