Sliding Home

by Kathy Lyons

  “Go ahead. Yell at me. I can take it.”

  “I’m yelling at the asshole in the—”

  “But you’re angry at me.”

  I was about to slam him. Hell, I wanted to call him ugly names, but the truth was that I’d read enough self-help articles in my time to know that he was right. Every time I tried to take a risk, I had to climb the barriers I’d built up first. “I used to be bold as brass as a kid. That’s what my dad called me—bold as brass.”

  “And at some point, life beats us down. Once we fall on our face enough times, we get cautious.”

  “Or we’re told that good girls don’t speak up.”

  “Or that no one ever makes it into the pros.”

  I sighed. “I just stopped trying, except in the things I really cared about.”

  He nodded. “And then keeping quiet becomes a habit.”

  God, how could he know me so well? “I didn’t even notice how many times I swallowed my words, until that thing at work.” At his raised eyebrow, I explained. “I didn’t say anything when I was blamed for something I didn’t do. I didn’t even fight it, and that’s what…”

  “Prompted you to start this whole rejection thing?”

  “Exposure therapy. So I’ll stop acting like a coward.”

  He kept silent for a moment, then touched my elbow. “Or you could just stop mentally checking yourself. You’ve got plenty of fight in you, Ellie. You just have to stop fighting yourself first.”

  Deep stuff. And also true. I leaned forward onto the steering wheel, dropping my elbows along the contours as I stared out at the traffic. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

  “I think it’s damn hard. But look what happened when you took a risk with me.” He flashed me a charming smile.

  “One evening of hot sex. And now we’re saddled with each other for months.”

  His expression became sober. “You don’t have to, Ellie.”

  “You’re doing this to protect my reputation, not yours. It’d be stupid for me to fight it.”

  “I know it’s not easy.”

  I stared at him. Another car zipped in front of me but I didn’t care. “Easy?” I echoed. “It’s the easiest thing in the world. I’m going to date a hot celebrity. For months.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I feel bad for you. No more models on your arm. No more—”

  “Baseball babes are really boring.”

  “Really? Is that why you had four of them in your hotel room in Miami?”

  He winced. “Do not believe everything you read about me.”

  “So you didn’t have four women in a sex party in—”

  “The details don’t matter,” he interrupted, and I knew I’d scored a hit. Plus, his blush was really cute.

  “It’s okay,” I said. I’d known from the beginning that he wasn’t a Boy Scout. Still, I couldn’t resist teasing him. “But if you ask me to put on a bikini and roll around in Jell-O—”

  “Please say yes. Please.”

  I felt my cheeks heat as I considered the possibility. If he asked, I might do it. I…might.

  “Woohoo!” he cheered. “Now I know what I want for Christmas!”

  “Christmas?” I gaped. “We’re staying together through the holidays?”

  “If that’s my present, you bet we are.”

  And then I laughed. Finally, a real laugh, light and happy. Because that’s what he did to me. And bonus, the traffic was starting to thin. I accelerated and settled into the drive, feeling more at ease than I had since first asking him out. He seemed to sense my change, because he relaxed, too. He sank into the seat, though a moment later, he was playing with the controls…which, in my old Camry, meant he tilted the seat back in a lurch.

  “I’m sorry. This car wasn’t really meant for someone over six foot.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, though I could tell he was hurting.

  “What is it? Your ribs?”

  “Yeah. But it’s not too bad.”

  I’d noticed him taking painkillers before he got into the car. And since we’d been on the road now for almost forty-five minutes, he should be feeling better, not wincing with every breath.

  “Why don’t you close your eyes? We’ve got a couple hours more.”

  “And waste this time with you? No way.”

  I snorted. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you rest now, I’ll let you take me out for a real dinner tonight. No press. No hotel fires. Just a simple—”

  “Old-fashioned date?”

  I grinned. “The last one worked out okay, didn’t it?”

  “It did on my end. You?”

  I flashed again on the feeling of having him catch me as I fell. Of the way he’d licked me while I’d tried not to scream. Of his gaze, when it seemed as if he couldn’t take his eyes off me. “Oh yeah,” I murmured, my legs clenching against the wet heat in my belly.

  When he didn’t respond, I turned to look at him. He was staring at me with that same dark focus I’d just been fantasizing about.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

  “Will you do that with me?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Whatever it is you’re thinking about.”

  My cheeks blazed even hotter. “You don’t know what it is. It could be kinky.”

  “Does it involve Jell-O?”

  I snorted. “Absolutely not!”

  “Pity.” He shifted in his seat. “So what was it?”

  I shook my head. It was too embarrassing to say out loud.

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “You can say anything to me.”

  I was beginning to think that was true. And given the sparkling temptation in his eyes, I felt daring enough to try. “I, um, just really enjoyed last night. Before the fire, that is.”

  “Good. Because I was thinking, maybe you’re doing this whole exposure therapy thing wrong.”

  I jolted. That was not what I had expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, last night I told you no.”

  In a backward kind of way.

  “Maybe tonight, you could practice making demands and expecting a yes answer instead.”

  I slowly turned my head, my thoughts a riot of possibilities. But even as very graphic images ricocheted around my brain, I wondered if I was bold enough to say any of them out loud.

  “I’m really not the kind of sex kitten you’re used to.”

  He grinned. “That’s why you need to practice.”

  I bit my lip. Could I? Could we?

  “I am not doing Jell-O,” I said firmly.

  He released a very dramatic sigh. “You don’t have to,” he said. “But you could order me to. If you wanted.” Then he winked at me. “Maybe I’ll just lie back and dream about that for a while as I nap.”

  Lord. Now he’d put those images in my brain. Him stepping out of a pool of cherry Jell-O. Me licking it off. And then…

  I flipped on the air-conditioning. This was going to be a long, hot drive.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake

  I couldn’t sleep. It had nothing to do with the rumble of the car or that every bump shot new pain through my ribs. It was all Ellie. I could tell by the way she shifted in the driver’s seat that she was thinking about tonight. About what she might demand of me and how I would say yes to everything. Hell, knowing that made my jeans uncomfortably tight.

  But there was something else that lingered in my thoughts, as well. Something that made me relax, even as I spun elaborate sex fantasies with her in the starring role.

  I had pointed out a flaw in her thinking—that she started from a place of failure—and she hadn’t bitten my head off. She hadn’t fought what I’d said beyond a cursory glare, and better yet, she seemed to accept my advice. Or at least, to think about it.

  That was huge in my book. A person who listened to advice? Who didn’t spend her days p
ointing out what was wrong with me? My God, she was the rarest creature on the planet. I didn’t even mind that she wasn’t all that interested in baseball. I had plenty of those people in my life. What I needed was something different. Someone different. And Ellie fit the bill in spades. She was simply Ellie—a girl with a career and a level head.

  And I was going to do such wonderful things to her tonight.

  Except I had to wait. Ellie wasn’t someone I could rush. Which meant I had to close my eyes and try to breathe some calm into my raging dick and burning ribs. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to pass the time.

  Once we arrived in Indy, I gave her directions to my favorite Italian place for the dinner I’d promised her. It was a hole in the wall, but they had the best lasagna in town. And the owners—Mr. and Mrs. Garza—were huge baseball fans. They’d seen the news, of course, so they fussed over Ellie and me, giving us the private room in the back, then threw in dessert on the house.

  It was not a meal that led to seduction. We were both going to be too full to do everything I’d been thinking about on the drive here. But I wanted to take her there anyway. It was a warm, homey place, and the Garzas loved me. I’d grown up with their son. Since Ellie had shared her family with me, I wanted to show her a glimpse of my upbringing, without actually letting her meet my real family—who were guaranteed to kill any romantic inclination.

  The evening went perfectly. By the time the tiramisu was gone, she was laughing with Mrs. Garza over that time Manny and I had gotten sick after eating a full pan of it. And I was feeling so warm and happy, I barely noticed the ache in my ribs.

  But then Ellie looked at her watch, and I took that as an excuse to leave. I knew she wasn’t working until tomorrow night, but I was anxious to get her home and into bed…in the most lascivious ways possible.

  We left, and I was already thinking of where I was going to kiss her first when she cut into my thoughts with a low, quiet question.

  “Scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?”

  It took me a minute to process her words, but then I slowed my steps to look at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your ribs. I know they’re hurting.”

  They were. But I didn’t care. “I took a pill—”

  “An hour ago. I saw. But you’re still wincing when you laugh and you couldn’t sit still for the last ten minutes. You need to lie flat and rest. Let yourself heal.”

  “It’s nothing. My ribs are bruised. I have meds. It’ll just take some time to heal.”

  “Which requires rest.”

  She was right, but I wasn’t willing to give up on my plans for tonight. “I’m fine, Ellie. I thought we’d do something else.” I gave her my best sexy look. The one that photographers had caught on camera and labeled me the hottest player in the league.

  She didn’t even blink. “You said I should practice expecting a yes answer. So Jake, may I take you home and put you to bed?”

  I grinned. “Yes.”

  “And then leave you to rest?”

  I winced. “I can rest with you beside me.”

  She snorted, then pulled open her car door. “Get in and give me directions to your place.”

  I did, trying to appear completely docile. But my mind was spinning with all sorts of ways I could change her mind.

  I lived in a condo near the ballpark, but since all my ID and keys had been destroyed in the fire, we had to get security to let us in. Thankfully, the guard on duty knew me and was ready. Five minutes later, I was in my condo and feeling embarrassed by how messy it was. At least the dirty dishes were in the dishwasher. But I hadn’t done laundry in a while and the pile had spilled out of my closet onto the floor.

  I was hastily kicking the clothing back into the closet when Ellie wandered into the bedroom, her eyes looking at everything. But when she spoke, it wasn’t about my simple decor or unwashed laundry. Instead, she smiled as she picked up a picture of me and all the guys at the firehouse.

  “You’ve got a lot of friends,” she said.

  “What? You mean those guys? They’re great, but we’re not close.”

  “Really?” She pointed at a guy at random. “What’s his name? How many kids does he have?”

  “That’s Marv, and he has three. Two boys and a girl. But—”

  She pointed to a Bobcat team picture of everyone. Not just the players, but the staff, too. “What about her?”

  “Sally? Sweet girl. Rough upbringing. No kids.”

  “And how long have you known the security guard?”

  “Not that long. He just came on staff a couple months ago.”

  “But you asked him about his stock portfolio.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah. He wants to make it big as a trader. He’s been studying hard and is trying to convince me to invest with him.”

  “Have you?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. A little.”

  She leaned back against the doorframe. “See. Lots of friends.”

  I nodded, conceding her point. I knew a lot of people. It made me feel safer. If I was in trouble or needed something, there was always someone nearby who might lend a hand. Meanwhile, she kept looking around.

  “But where are your family photos?”

  “My dad and brother are in the one of the firehouse.” I stepped over and pointed them out.

  “It really is a family occupation, huh?”

  “Yeah. For generations.” Then I gestured out into the dining room. “My uncle’s firehouse photo is over there. And my grandfather’s, too.”

  “What about your mom and sister?”

  “Secretaries.”

  She chuckled. “I meant their pictures.”

  “Oh.” I flushed in embarrassment. “I’ve got one of my family over there.” I took her to the bookcase where, tucked between the last Harry Potter book and the first Dresden book, was a picture from the church photo album. All five of us, all cleaned and polished—my sister before she turned bitchy, my brother after he started wrestling, and me before my growth spurt.

  She picked it up and smiled. “Look at you, just a little guy with a cowlick.”

  I brushed down my hair, even though that wild curl had long since disappeared. “Everyone looks stupid as a kid.”

  “No,” she said. “I think you were pretty cute.” She set down the picture, but I could see speculation in her eyes.

  She knew. I didn’t know how, but it was as if I could read her mind. She knew that I was ashamed of my family. That I avoided them as much as I could. I didn’t have more recent pictures of them, because every picture I had was tied to some disaster. The picnic before Dad got drunk and crashed his car. The pizza night celebration where my uncle called my aunt “a stinking whore” before she walked out on him. Then there were all those baseball tournaments or team wins where my parents were so drunk by the end, they couldn’t walk.

  And as I stood there thinking about all the things she might be guessing, she pressed a hand to my chest. It was warm and gentle, and I jerked my eyes to hers in reaction.

  “Is the painkiller kicking in? You’re a thousand miles away.”

  I shook my head and covered her hand with mine. “I’m right here. With you.”

  Her smile softened, and her gaze showed longing. Or maybe I just saw what I wanted in her eyes. Either way, I took my chances. I leaned in and kissed her. Slow and sweet, asking as much as taking when I slipped between her lips.

  She opened up to me. She went slowly, because she never rushed. And I found that I liked adjusting to her tempo. It lengthened the anticipation, drew out the moment until each touch seemed precious, and let me really savor the taste of sugar on her lips and the hum she made at the back of her throat.

  But I made a mistake when I drew her forward. I wrapped my arm around her back and pulled her in, but the motion tugged at my ribs. I tried to hide it, but she noticed everything. And so the moment I flinched, she broke away.

  “You’re hurting.”

  My laugh was a half
groan as I dropped my head to hers. “You’re killing me, Ellie. And for the record, blue balls are painful, too.”

  She chuckled and grabbed my hand. She led me to my bed which was a great idea. Except I knew she meant to leave me alone there.

  “How soft is your mattress? You might do better sleeping on the floor.”

  “It’s as hard as a rock, but quite lonely.” I sat down on the bed and pulled her between my legs. Her breasts were right in front of me, and I ached to take one in my mouth. But first, I had to pull off her clothes. So I slipped my hands beneath her Bobcats jersey and stretched my fingers up the smooth expanse of her back.

  She sighed in delight, and it was the most wonderful sound in the world, because I knew she was giving in. I could persuade her to stay. At least for a bit.

  “Come on, Ellie. Russell knows you’re here. He’ll tell the press if you leave too soon.”

  She stilled. “Russell?”

  “The security guard.”

  “Your security guard tattles to the press?”

  Well, no. In fact, that was one of the conditions of his employment here. He’d get fired if he spoke about any of the residents.

  “I thought not,” she said, even though I hadn’t spoken aloud. Then she dropped her forehead against mine. “I’m trying to think of you,” she said. “How would it look if you made your injuries worse because of something we did?”

  I chuckled. “Like I was enjoying my time on the disabled list.”

  “Jake—” she argued, but then stopped as I unhooked her bra. “This is not a good idea.”

  “Neither was our last one, but I still liked it.” I slid my hands around until I was cupping her breasts. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned forward as her head dropped back. She had really sensitive nipples, and I loved the way she gasped when all I did was roll my thumb across her tight peaks.

  God, she was beautiful. It was the way she looked when she was enjoying herself. Her head was tilted back, her lips were slightly parted and curved into a smile, but best of all was the way her hands gripped my shoulders. Like I was her only support in the world. Like she’d never let me go.