Double Play

by Grace, Hazel

  “I have a meeting with the dean tomorrow,” she gripes. “I just...Gavin called me and—”

  “For what?” I snap. I swear that stupid ass wants to die by my hands. Seeing him again was a flare, warning us that he wasn’t there to save but to ruin. He wasn’t fooling anyone, and he wasn’t trying to be sneaky about it. I know what he wants, it’s plain as day, his eyes give him away, and he wasn’t going to get it.

  Not this time.

  She pulls out of my grasp and walks toward my fridge. “Do you have anything to drink here?”

  “Yeah.” I rake my hand through my hair. “Beers in the fridge.” I watch her open the fridge, bending over to grab a Bud Light and straighten, turning around to toss me one. She makes her way through my drawers, quickly opening and closing them until she finds a bottle opener.

  “Bases,” I finally say. “Do you need me to—”

  “I just want you to get rid of Gavin,” she seethes, tossing her cap in the trash. “I don’t want him here. He’s fucking with my career—” she takes a long swig of her beer. “—next it’ll be my dad’s business. I’m not...I won’t let him back here.”

  I slowly walk toward her. “He’s not going to mess with you while I’m here.” A line appears between her brows.

  “He already has,” she retorts. “He’s already making moves to mess with me again. God, if high school wasn’t bad enough, let’s just keep adding to the years.”

  “And that’ll be the last time,” I counter. “Now that I know he’s back to stir shit up and become a family with Jace’s mom.” Sawyer scoffs and shakes her head, taking another sip of beer.

  “He’s not with her anymore.” I slam my beer on the countertop, irritated that she’s here because of him, irate because she’s upset mixed with content that’s she’s here.

  Lifting her onto the countertop, I spread her legs so I can stand in between them. I want her to listen to everything I’m about to say because I don’t want there to be anymore miscommunication that could destroy us later.

  “Listen to me,” I profess, looking into her eyes. “No motherfucker is allowed to fuck with you. Not Sheston, not anyone else. I’ll take care of it, okay?” She ducks her head, but I quickly tip her chin up with my index finger. “Bases.”

  “Why would you do that?” she queries. “You haven’t texted or called. I haven’t seen you around town or acting annoying with showing up at random places.”

  My mouth twitches. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.”

  “Slayed my pride a little bit,” she confesses. “I practically—” she frowns. “—threw myself...at you.”

  My fingertips roam her upper thighs. “Who’s complaining about that?”

  “You’re lack of...why didn’t you text me?”

  “I wanted to give you space,” I allude, soaking in her soft skin. “And I didn’t want to push you into anything you didn’t want to do.” She makes a grunting sound and rolls her eyes, bringing her beer back up to her lips.

  “Since when?”

  “Because I care, remember?” She searches my face for the truth or a lie. She’ll only find my honesty though, but I can’t give her anymore than what I just said right now.

  I reach for her beer, clasping my fingers around hers and slipping the bottle out of her hands.

  “What are you doing?” she protests softly.

  “I’m thirsty.” She follows her beer with her eyes, landing on the marble countertop.

  “Then drink the—” I lean closer to her, my lips hovering over hers. A faint scent of tropical something hits my nose, and I inhale deeply.

  I imagine us on a beach, on an island with a secluded beach front so I can watch her walk around naked for days or in a skimpy two piece so I can fuck her with my cock and eyes.

  “I want to taste you,” I hedge, bearing my lips down on hers.

  She opens her mouth to me, immediately and urgently. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer to her chest. The tips of my fingers brush her cotton panties, and I groan in her mouth.

  It reminds me of a decade ago. Innocent and sweet Sawyer who wanted me just as much as I wanted her but put up a good ass fight to keep me away. The girl who held me in the palm of her hands and bowed me down to her will.

  I could stay like this forever, just not in this house. Not with the looming and stagnant ghosts that live within these walls. I don’t want an ounce of any of this to touch Sawyer or my old feelings to sink into whatever the hell this was.

  She had a way of making me forget and move forward. To look toward a brighter future even though it wasn’t this. Sawyer makes me want to...just do better.

  “Hey, Colson, I’m back for round two,” a female voice breaches through the house.

  Sawyer separates from me, her hand landing on my chest to make space between us. Her eyes follow over my shoulder, stiffening in my hold.

  “Not a game, huh?” she storms quietly. She jumps off the kitchen island, pushing me back, as she lands on her feet, rounding me toward the front door.

  I clasp onto her forearm. “Sawyer, that isn’t who and what you’re—” She yanks her arms so hard out of my hold that I think she hurt herself.

  “Save the bullshit,” she leers. “Let’s keep the commun—”

  “Oh,” Savannah gasps in the doorway of the kitchen. “I didn’t know we were having company.”

  I watch Sawyer slowly access her. Long legs, ebony skin, large oval brown eyes, and a skin-tight royal blue dress. A soft scoff leaves her lips in disbelief or predictability, I’m not sure which. But it alludes bitterness that hits my gut to its core.

  “You’re not,” Sawyer censures, sourness dripping from her tone. “I was just leaving.”

  “Bases,” I rebuff. “Hold on one—” She turns on me, green eyes slamming into me with such animosity that it almost makes me take a step back.

  “Don’t bother, Hayes. I’ll see you in a few days for the closing.”

  Then we’re done.

  She doesn’t have to speak the words, it’s written as clear as day on her face.

  Present day

  I can’t keep up, I won’t let myself. Every hour I’m doing something that will keep my mind from drifting off the deep end into a pool of shit that I don’t want to delve into right now.

  This isn’t a game.

  Yep. Colson can currently kiss my entire ass right now because that line is more played out than my Backstreet Boy CD.

  Today, I met with Dean McHenry and, since he couldn’t prove who the paper belongs to and I had my copy all typed out on my laptop, he put me on probation.

  Probation for a “crime” he couldn’t attest or make out to be true.

  Let’s just say, I’m beyond the words irritated, pissed, and over it.

  I shoot off a text to Bobbie to make sure she remembers to grab the finger foods for tomorrow. We have an open house, two viewings, and I have to run to class in the evening. I just got back from tutoring Jace and Mrs. Benalu, and I had a long talk about how he shouldn't be suspended from a game. She confused him for another student, which sent my annoyance to an even higher tier.

  Currently, I’m home surrounded by highlighters, post-it notes of various colors and sizes, a carryout box of fettuccine alfredo, and all my notes for the essay I have to write. One that I’m not motivated to compile due to my current status at school.

  My phone buzzes on my small desk, and I pick it up just to smile.

  Taylor: So, I pulled that book of tricks out tonight. Wanna go fuck up Gavin’s trophies hanging up in Freemont?

  Me: You got bail money for when the alarms go off?

  Taylor: Don’t you have keys and the alarm code for that school?

  Me: I’m a student teacher.

  Taylor: You need to make more connections.

  Me: Keep looking through your little book of whatever it is and we’ll come up with something else.

  A soft knock on my apartment door raps through my silence, and I
freeze. It’s after ten at night, and I obviously didn’t invite anyone here. I stride toward my door, picking up my baseball bat that I have sitting around for protection, and look through the peephole.

  It’s Colson.

  “What do you want?” I snap, clutching the handle of my bat harder.

  “Open the door, Bases,” he replies. “We have to talk.”

  “We did talk.”

  “And we’re not going to continue to do so through a door,” he laments. “So open up or the big bad wolf is going to blow the house down.” I tsk but open it because I don’t want him waking up my sixty-year-old neighbor across the hall with his big ass mouth.

  “Make it quick,” I complain, turning my back on him and making my way back to my desk. “I have shit to do.”

  “I need help with paint colors.” My face twists in annoyance.

  “Seriously?” He follows me to the desk and drops paint samples on my keyboard. They scatter all over, shades of blues and teals littering my desk as I stare at them.

  “That was my interior designer that walked in,” Colson stresses, his eyes searing into me. “She went to go grab lunch.”

  I frown. Fantastic, the cherry on top of my shitty ass day.

  I’m a complete moron.

  But at the same time…

  “What interior designer wears things like that?” I hedge, casting a glower in his direction.

  He perks a brow. “A dress?”

  “A stripper dress,” I retort. Colson guffaws, his index finger gliding across the top of my desk as he loops around to my side.

  “I’m not her fashion designer, Bases, but it sounds like someone is getting a tad bit jealous.”

  I give him a bitter chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  Colson stands behind my dining room chair, the one I pull up to use at my desk, and slides his body behind mine. My ass slips off the edge, but his forearm wraps around my waist, pulling me into his chest.

  “I don’t have to flatter myself,” he says in my hair. “You do that all for me.”

  Goosebumps prickle at my skin. His warmth covers my whole body, and I feel like I’m having a hot flash. A bead of sweat forms on my forehead, and I quickly wipe it off, focusing on steady, easy breaths.

  “Your ass is too big for my chair,” I scold, slithering forward so that my butt isn’t pressed up against his groin. Colson yanks me back, his hands coming to rest on my upper thighs.

  “Do you remember this?” I shake my head, but of course, I freaking remember. There wasn’t a moment or memory with him in it that I didn’t recall or play out in my head over the last decade.

  Removing one of his hands, he laces his fingers through my hair and drags it aside to expose one side of my neck.

  “I don’t mind jogging your memory, Bases,” he muses. “Except this time, I’m ready.”

  My eyes flash to the paint samples. “We didn’t pick out a color,” I state, my voice barely a croak escaping my lips.

  “I’m not sure if I like the blues anymore, I’m thinking green.” His fingers pull back the rest of my hair. “It’d match your eyes.”

  “Green is too dark,” I mutter.

  “Your eyes aren’t naturally dark,” he breathes. “Unless you’re pissed off.” His voice is closer to my ear, I can feel every exhale brush along the nape of my neck.

  “What room is this for?”

  “My bedroom.” My next inhale doesn’t make it to my lungs, and I’m suspended in between my desk and a wall of man behind me.

  And not just any man.

  Colson fucking Hayes.

  His lips plant a firm kiss to the hallow of the sensitive part of my body, and I involuntarily shutter against him.

  “I told you this wasn’t a game,” he growls into my flesh. “And you left anyways.”

  “You’ve done worse,” I rebuke, fighting with my eyes to stay open while his tongue laps my skin.

  “Much worse,” he agrees. “And I’ll continue to do so until I get my point across.” His hand on my thigh moves toward my panties, and I jolt in response.

  “This isn’t what you came for. Let’s—”

  “Are you fighting me again over this, Bases?” he rasps. “I thought you were done.”

  “I am,” I quip. “It’s just that—” His hand pulls my chin toward his face.

  “I’m done talking about paint colors and the stupid designer that walked into my mother’s house. Unless you want to talk about what color walls you want to look at while I’m fucking you in my new house, shut up, Bases, and fucking kiss me.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to make a move or to even respond, his mouth instantly latches on to mine. I exhale a short puff of air as his tongue glides along mine, the pad of his thumb caressing my cheek in one stroke.

  His other hand strokes my core through my panties, urging me to do more than just kiss him. To lose my entire self-control over his purely portrayed innocent actions of just letting me decide what I want to do.

  Which poses that question of flipping this entire “relationship” into something more complicated or together.

  I break our kiss, looking into his eyes for any sign of what I should do. His cognac eyes only glisten in lust and want for me, converting me into letting us have this.

  Us.

  Something we should’ve had so long ago.

  “What do you say, Bases?” Colson exhorts, still stroking my pussy with his fingers. “I’ve wanted you forever. And I think you always have to.”

  I’m jaded from the constant back and forth with myself on what I should or shouldn’t do with him. My decisions have only led to being without, and I didn’t want that anymore.

  I clasp the hem of my shirt, pulling it up my torso and over my head. My bare back brushes against his chest, and I reach around to unhook my black laced bra. Colson removes his hand from my panties but doesn’t let it stop touching my body, landing over my leg again.

  I slowly stand, the sweep of his fingers leaving my body. Slowly, I turn around, letting him flick his gaze over me.

  All of me.

  I’ve never wanted to belong to someone so much in my entire life and, even if this never worked, I’d have this. This one night together to look back on.

  Unlatching the hooks, I remove the straps one at a time, taking this slow on purpose. If we have sex, it isn’t going to last long for either of us, so I might as well up the foreplay a little. He flicks his attention to my whole body, not settling on one spot but everywhere, and I revel in his attention. The way his eyes burn with desire and his body rigid in my chair.

  I let the whole bra fall to the ground and start to work at the button of my ripped shorts until he abruptly stands, kicking the chair back with his foot and crashing it to the floor.

  His hands catch my face and tugs me to his lips. Our lips fuse together immediately, meshing, tasting, and relishing into each other. It’s never felt like this with anyone else. My body burns and shatters in his arms, propelling me to take more. Everything in this kiss obliterates the pain I’ve felt with the loss of him in my life. I want to erase everything for him, tell him it was always him for me, and I fucked up royally.

  That I was still in love with him.

  Colson palms my ass and lifts me to wrap my legs around his waist. “Where’s your room?”

  “First room down the hallway on the right,” I relay, pulling him back to my lips, to the side of his face, and down his neck.

  He strides through my one-bedroom apartment in long steps, while I work his skin with my teeth and tongue.

  “Fuck,” he growls. “I might need to buy you a new bed.” A giggle leaves my lips, and before I can finish, he’s on top of me. His weight comfortably drapes over me, nustling his head in between my neck and shoulder, giving me what I just did to him.

  “Hmm..Colson, stop teasing me,” I growl.

  “This isn’t teasing, baby,” he retorts in my skin, working my button. “My cock barely entering your wet pussy is a te
ase.”

  My body clenches at the thought as his fingertips graze my hips and pull the rest of my bottoms off. His lips continue their assault on my neck, lapping, sampling my skin. My inhales are struggling to become fluid and constant as Colson reminds me with his mouth and fingers why I only responded to him.

  How he owned me for over a decade and stole my heart in the process.

  “God, Bases, you are fucking everything,” he mutters behind my ear. I start at his jeans, undoing the button and zipper, pulling them down his hips until I can’t reach any further.

  He helps me kick them off, still keeping his weight on me, caging me into him and the bed. I could stay a prisoner like this forever.

  “I hate to fucking ask this, but do you have a condom?”

  “You didn’t bring one?”

  “I didn’t think you’d let me in,” he concedes.

  “Nightstand.” He gives me a long lapse of his tongue then pushes off the bed, opening the nightstand drawer.

  I inhale deeply. This is happening.

  This is finally happening. After ten years of wondering and waiting, hoping and fearing, Colson Hayes is here with me.

  “How the fuck some guy hasn’t locked this down,” Colson recites, roaming my body with his eyes. “Is so fucking beyond me. Not that it would matter anyways.”

  I watch him remove his gray boxers, his cock springing to life, ready and deliciously hard.

  “Men have tried,” I reply. “But they were missing something.”

  Colson rolls the condom down his length and smirks. “What’s that?” I try to tear my gaze off his cock, I’ve felt it, had it in my mouth even, but it’s about to...holy fuck.

  “They weren’t you,” I quake. His lips quirk higher as he removes his shirt and crawls over me again, completely satisfied, of course, with my answer.

  His mouth hovers over mine as he spreads my legs open with his knees. “Wouldn’t have mattered, Bases,” he mutters, taking my bottom lip in between his and sucking on it gently. “You were always mine to begin with.”

  His hardness finds my core, but he doesn’t enter just continues speaking.