We’re parked by a tree, but other than that, there isn’t much privacy.
“Please, El. I need to feel you.” He places his hand on my cheek, and those light brown eyes plead with mine.
All that heartbreak he retold to a stranger is slowly breaking him, and I am his fixer. How can I ever say no?
I climb on top of him, and he positions himself to immediately enter me.
“So wet,” he mumbles.
I move up and down, his hands on my ass.
Crosby’s eyes evade mine and remain closed the majority of the time. I sprinkle kisses along his face as my body bobs up and down on him.
“I love you,” I say softly, harassing his body to let him know he’s perfect and wonderful and not at all responsible for what happened two years ago.
His touches slowly go from demanding and gripping to gentle and sweet. He slows our pace, placing his hands on my hips, guiding me up and down. My lips find his, and I slip my tongue in first. Needing his taste, the security of his smell on me. That he won’t leave me again. Needing the reassurance that, even though the hurricane is approaching, this time, we’ll face it hand in hand, not apart.
“Don’t leave me,” slips out of my mouth.
His eyes pop open.
He stills, and then his hands abandon my hips and move to my cheeks, demanding I stare into his eyes.
“Never. I’ll never leave you again. You have my word.”
His eyes bear nothing but love, and I wish my heart didn’t doubt him. He’s spoken those words to me before, only to let me go.
The guilt and heartbreak Crosby bears isn’t easily understood by most. It brings fear to him, which makes him run. This charity ballgame is a make-it-or-break-it test for us.
“Believe me.” He grips me harder, my insecurity waning.
“I do,” I half-lie.
I shatter my own heart because this man loves me more than he could express. But am I enough for him to stay and live through the nightmare of two years ago?
He circles and raises his hips, and I grip his neck for leverage.
He whispers sweet nothings into my ear, “I love you,” and, “You’re mine,” and, “Our future is forever.”
With each word, I melt further into his arms, handing him the control to bring me to the edge of that cliff he expertly hangs me over.
His hand ventures down between our bodies, and he circles my clit with this thumb.
My body tenses, and my thighs grip his legs harder.
“Come,” he says.
I smash my lips to his, falling over that cliff, as he requested.
I swallow his groan as he stills inside me. I collapse into his arms, and he holds me on top of him, brushing the loose strands of my hair from my face so that he can look into my eyes.
“Spend the night,” he says, that devilish look indicating he knows I won’t deny him.
We both need the comfort of each other’s arms tonight.
“Yes.”
The smile that emerges from his lips is enough to get me to do anything he requested. This boy turned man in front of me doesn’t only own my body; he owns all of me. I’m his until the end.
The next morning, I leave a snoring Crosby, so I can get to my apartment and out my door in time for class. The sleepover was impromptu, and I never grabbed a change of clothes. I tiptoe down the stairs, not to disturb the sleeping baseball boys on their one day off from early practice.
Something crashes to the floor in the kitchen, and I freeze into a stance that says, Try it, big guy. I’m a black belt in karate.
In strolls Brax with a breakfast burrito in his hand. No shirt, his shorts low on his hips. He winks, and I roll my eyes. The usual nonverbal conversation between us.
“Hey, princess, you waited too long.” His lips turn down, and his eyes widen. “Your carriage turned back in to a pumpkin.”
He points to the pumpkin a girl dropped off for Ollie last night. A cute brunette wearing about an inch of clothes from top to bottom stopped by yesterday, asking us to give it to him. The note said, Pump this pumpkin, asshole, and the pumpkin had a small hole carved out of the middle.
“That would be Ollie’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you use it.” I point to the hole. “About your size.”
“Princess, quadruple that, and maybe I’ll fit. Not to mention, I