by Beth Bolden
“Making you moan,” he murmured into the sensitive skin over her collarbone. “I couldn’t wait one more minute.”
“We didn’t wait too long,” she exhaled in relief, more to herself than to him. And they hadn’t. All the weirdness she’d expected to feel, expected they couldn’t avoid, had never happened at all. She felt flawless and perfect and sexy, and as her fingers wove into his dark-blond hair, encouraging his lips to move lower, Izzy knew she couldn’t possibly ever feel like this with anyone else.
Not this strong. Not this wild. Never this desperate.
And he had to feel the same, she thought with fervor as they stumbled through the hallway to the bed.
The instant she fell back onto the soft mattress, he was there beside her, nearly on top of her, kissing her hard and fast, nipping her swollen lips with his teeth. She couldn’t help but moan again when he slid a muscular thigh in between her legs—and she couldn’t help but move against him, restlessly needing more than what he was giving her.
“Wait,” he said, breathlessly, his voice ragged and low and so fucking sexy she thrilled with it, “you look good and all, Red, but I want you to look like you. I want to look into your eyes and feel your hair brush my skin. Your real hair.”
He didn’t need to ask her twice. Like they’d rehearsed the movement, he leaned back and she sat up, all in the same breath, and she lifted her hands to the wig. In a few tugs it was off and for half a moment, she was actually afraid again, scared at how ridiculous her balled and wadded-up hair looked, but she shouldn’t have worried. He’d never given her a single moment of doubt when it came to him, and he didn’t now. He only raised his fingers to her head, and after gently smoothing back a wisp of hair that had pulled loose, went to work on the bobby pins holding her hair in place. Slowly, he drew each one out, and her hair rippled free.
When he’d plucked the last pin from her hair, he smoothed down the waves with both hands and whispered, “You’re so beautiful.” Her heart practically fell from her chest and skidded across the bed to land in his lap.
Izzy couldn’t trust her own voice, and did the only thing she could to express how much he meant to her—she kissed him, pouring every ounce of passion and love and faith she had into it. They fell back on the bed together, their limbs tangled until she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began.
She reached behind him and jerked on the hem of his shirt, their lips only parting so she could pull it the rest of the way off. Hands met bare flesh and she couldn’t help but glory in the feel of his muscles barely restrained by skin. Then her robe was gone and she knew only a second of fear—a mere twinge that disappeared as soon as she saw him gazing at her naked body.
“Beautiful,” he repeated, smoothing a hand down one bare leg. “So beautiful, Izzy.”
She’d never thought of sex as a particularly romantic activity, but somehow, the passion and the lust growing between them seemed to not only touch her body but her heart.
But even romance seemed to take a back seat when he finally slid his fingers down and cupped her through her black lace panties. An electric shock of pleasure shot through her and she couldn’t help but arch her back as he stroked her. She was sure she looked like a wild woman, unapologetically reveling in her pleasure, but with him, she discovered she didn’t care—in fact, she rather liked it.
“Izzy,” he breathed out raggedly, and she knew he couldn’t wait, and she didn’t want him to; she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
At her nod, he pushed himself back off the bed, and seemed to pull a condom out of his wallet at the same moment he managed to shed his pants and boxers.
Izzy couldn’t help the little jolt of awareness she felt as he stood there, completely naked, bare cock curving up toward his belly. She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes devouring him as she was sure his were doing with her, and all she could feel was a single long exhale of relief that they hadn’t waited too long after all.
Maybe they had waited just long enough.
Finally, he began to tear open the wrapper, but she scooted to the edge of the bed, a cascade of hair pins hitting the floor. “Let me,” she said, reaching over and taking the package from his hand, and with something she almost felt was reverence, rolled the condom over the length of his cock.
He hissed a little at the sensation of her hand on him, and when she glanced up, his blue eyes lit with an unearthly light, she knew she’d pleased him.
“More time for that later,” he said, smoothing his hand down the skin of her leg to her ankle. “No more games.” Izzy swallowed hard and felt her skin nearly sizzle with the expression on his face. Had anybody ever wanted her this much? She didn’t really think so.
He joined her back on the bed and she pulled his head down for a kiss right as he began to push inside her. Her vision went a little blurry at the edges as he gave a single experimental stroke. “God, you feel so amazing,” he exhaled shakily. “I love you so much.”
Her heart hiccupped at his words and she wanted to say them back, she really did, but then he was moving again, hitting the most incredible spot deep inside her, and his lips were on hers, kissing her like he was dying of thirst and she was water. Then everything went blank as he shifted a little and hit an even better spot, and she was crying out, screeching really, and gripping his shoulders as he carried them both past the point of no return.
It wasn’t until she was in the bathroom, ostensibly to clean up and put the damn wig back on, that Izzy realized she’d never told him she loved him back.
Whoops.
Tugging the wig back into place, Izzy made a little grimace at her image in the mirror. The wig definitely looked worse for the wear after her romp with Jack—just-been-fucked hair was usually more a rhetorical statement, but in this particular case, it was totally factual.
“You good?” Jack popped his head around the door jamb, a hopeful grin on his face. She nodded and he leaned back against the doorway, wearing only boxers. She tried not to stare at his bare chest, and failed. Wasn’t there supposed to be some unwritten rule that once she’d seen a guy naked and had sex with him, she didn’t immediately want to do it again?
“Do you mind if I take a shower? Foxy just texted me, wondering where we’d gotten to.”
Izzy valiantly tried not to blush, but between Noah’s insinuation and Jack’s nearly naked body, she couldn’t quite help the faint pink that stained her cheeks. She turned to the makeup case on the counter and busied her hands in it, pulling out pots of foundation and powder.
“Of course not,” she mumbled. “Whatever you need to do.”
He smiled again, the force of it so nearly devastating that Izzy almost grabbed him by the hem of his boxer shorts and dragged him back to the bed.
“Great.” He turned and slid behind her to the shower, and turned the water on. Glancing up, he caught her staring at his really cute butt.
Izzy froze, even though she was fairly certain that once one had sex, all butt-staring was now fair and legal. Apparently Jack agreed, because his own cheeks turned a seriously adorable shade of pink and he only said, “could you get the fan?”
She flicked the switch and she only had the briefest glance in the mirror of his naked ass before he disappeared behind the shower curtain.
Taking a deep breath, Izzy tried to refocus on her makeup, but even knowing they were running behind didn’t help. All she seemed to want to do was stare giddily in the mirror with the most ridiculous smile on her face. All her life she’d heard the expression “stars in her eyes” but she’d never actually believed it could really happen, or that she’d be the one embodying it. It would be pathetic, she thought, except you’re really happy.
Jack was happy, too. She could see it in every line of his body, and in his own sappy smile. He seemed…lighter somehow, as if he’d had fears of his own and their mat
tress adventure had cleared them up for good.
She swiped long, lazy strokes of powder over her cheeks with her makeup brush and had just leaned back to gauge the effect when the whistling started. Starting a little, Izzy couldn’t help but glance over again at the shower curtain and the easy domesticity made the warmth in her chest swell. She already knew she’d want this—and the passion they’d experienced earlier—not just today, but every single day—for the foreseeable future.
She wanted more. She deserved more. Izzy gazed in the mirror at her own reflection, at the bright-red hair shining under the fluorescent light, and she promised herself that she’d get it all, eventually, but tonight she was at least sampling a taste of what was to come.
Jack had never been more grateful to his best friend than he was in this moment. He and Izzy were actually outside, in public. She was at his side, and miracle of all miracles, she was also completely relaxed. There was no tense inevitability that it would all end. In this moment, he thought expansively, happy and relaxed more than just by the sex he’d denied himself for months now, everything is perfect.
From their vantage point at the front of the line, the club was everything Noah had promised—loud and noisy and fun. It was kind of ironic that now that he’d gotten the thing he wanted most, all he really wanted to do was drag Izzy back to the hotel and make love to her again and again until he woke up and this all stopped feeling like some kind of gloriously hazy dream.
The bouncer was the size of a small mountain and they both had to crane their necks to meet his eyes, though Jack couldn’t help but notice, with a definitely smug satisfaction, that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Izzy’s legs in her short skirt. He was feeling so unlike himself that he almost mentioned it offhandedly.
Like, she’s fucking incredible, isn’t she, man?
But Jack pulled himself back at the last moment, merely giving the man a nod as he flashed his ID and their names got ticked off the VIP list.
They passed through the door, the music pulsing so insistently that after a minute it felt like his heart was beating in tandem. Reaching down, he found her hand and wrapped his fingers through hers. They crossed through the dark foyer, crowded with people drinking and dancing, and through the huge arch to the main club floor.
Izzy came to an abrupt halt, and he could feel her eyes taking it all in—the mass of moving, beautiful people who only cared about pleasure and fun, the midnight blue sky dotted with stars, and the smoky purple enclaves that surrounded the dance floor.
Jack leaned down. “Foxy’s over on the left.” Izzy gave a nod, and fingers still entwined, she led the way around the edge of the dance floor, skirting knots of people, most of whom he had a feeling knew exactly who he was. The club was full of baseball players tonight, and even though he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about actors or why they were so famous, he’d seen them, too, tucked into dark corners like they didn’t actually want to be seen. Miami was partying, and though he’d never really understood the pull of a hot, crowded club with music designed to make him deaf, tonight felt different.
He wanted to let loose, and he wanted to do it with the woman he loved.
Foxy must have seen the glint in his eye because they had just approached the VIP cabana when Noah stood and gave the two of them his best head-to-toe perusal.
Okay, Noah gave Izzy his best head-to-toe perusal.
The music was a little quieter off to the side like this, thank God. “You look like a treat, lady,” he crowed, reaching for Izzy’s free hand and lifting it to his lips, much to her obvious embarrassment.
But he could also see the pleasure in her eyes at Foxy’s awe and how she stood a little straighter. It took a concerted effort to not cuss out Toby Palmer for making the most beautiful woman he knew self conscious, but he wasn’t going to let the jerk ruin his night.
“Thank you,” Izzy said. “And thank you for…everything.” She smiled then, the freedom lighting up her face.
“It suits you. I knew it would.”
“Stop flirting with my girlfriend.” Jack stepped up and gloried in the flush that grew across Izzy’s cheeks. He squeezed her fingers to make sure that she knew he’d enjoyed saying it as much as she’d enjoyed hearing it.
Even Noah chuckled, and the glance that passed between them was all the gratitude that Jack needed to share. “You’re breaking my heart,” Foxy proclaimed dramatically, clutching his chest. “Beautiful and heartless.”
Izzy positively sparkled at that, and Jack didn’t think she’d ever looked more stunning, confidence brimming from every single pore. He would bring her here every single night if he could, if only to see her glow like this.
“Not entirely heartless,” she smirked, pouring herself a generous glass of vodka and adding a splash of juice and a squeeze of lime from the open bottles littering the surface of the glass-topped table. “I’ve got plenty of heart where it counts.” She sipped her drink and gave him a look from under her lashes that spoke volumes about what else she had that counted.
“Clever, too. I can see why she’s your lucky charm,” Noah said with only the slightest slur to his words. “Whiskey?”
Jack’s heart dropped in a pulpy, bruised mass on the floor and he hoped that the music, pounding away, had been loud enough that Izzy had missed Noah’s comment, but he could see her eyes narrow with interest.
“Whiskey’s fine,” Jack said, reaching for the glass as Noah poured. “Let’s sit.” Shamelessly resting his hand on the perfect curve of her ass, he guided her to one of the low couches, upholstered in the same violet tones as the lights pulsing over their heads.
“Lucky charm?” Izzy asked, her voice deceptively light. “I hadn’t heard that one before.”
Jack tried to keep his shrug as casual as possible but panic was pumping through his veins. “Superstitions. Unfortunately you can’t avoid them in baseball.”
“Perhaps.” Izzy ran her tongue along the rim of her glass and nearly had him panting at the glimmer in her eyes. “But it’s not baseball in general that we’re talking about, it’s you.”
He let his hand fall to the expanse of bare thigh she’d exposed in her skirt and felt her skin tremble under his touch. “I’m only a baseball player, sweetheart. Simple, straightforward.”
“But not superstitious?” she asked archly, sliding just far enough toward him that his hand was suddenly perilously close to making her moan.
“Can you blame me for thinking I’m lucky? I’m here, aren’t I?” He paused, lowering his voice until he was sure that only she could hear, even over the heavy pulse of the music. “And I’ve got you.”
The smoldering look she sent him could have set him on fire before, but now he knew what her skin tasted like, what she felt like, the brush of her hair on his chest. And suddenly, he had to believe it would all be okay. She’ll forget you ever said it.
“Children, let’s try not to get arrested for indecent exposure.” Noah’s voice broke into the spell that had held them both, and Jack bit his tongue, and wished the jeans he’d worn didn’t feel so tight right now.
“Nobody invited you,” Izzy laughed and tossed the bright-red hair, a temptress in every single way.
Jack gulped down whiskey and tried not to choke at the burning in his throat. He almost never drank anything stronger than beer, but he wasn’t going to embarrass himself in front of the players that had just started to trickle into the cabana. These were his teammates, the very best of the American League, and while he freely admitted the All Star voting system was bullshit, it meant everything that they all looked at him with respect.
Of course, then they all glanced over to the woman at his side, and he saw envy, too.
“Red, darling, someday you’re going to beg me,” Noah said, coming over with the whole bunch of them in tow.
“Red?” she asked with
an arched brow.
Foxy just shrugged. “I hate to be cliché, but if the shoe fits. . .”
Jack could only glance helplessly down her long, smooth legs, to the shiny black stilettos she wore. She was suddenly so incandescent he was afraid he’d be burned if he touched her.
Izzy turned and gave him a little sulky pout, and he knew he’d be paying for that one later. In every way, good and bad. “I want to dance,” she said, draining the rest of her drink in one long swallow. “Shall we?”
The rest of his whiskey burned down his throat, and Jack let her pull him up from the couch. If she hadn’t figured out that he’d do pretty much anything she wanted, whenever she wanted to, she hadn’t been paying attention.
But the long, speculative glance she gave him from beneath her lashes told him she had, and that tonight she was about to cash in on every single chip she’d collected.
Objectively, Izzy knew she wasn’t drunk. At least not very. Maybe mildly tipsy, she thought, but not drunk.
The last time she’d been drunk she’d been in college, and that noxious, horrifying incident had nothing in common with the dreamy elation spiraling through her veins now. She felt hot and relaxed; calm but electrified. And everything seemed to have taken on a rose-tinted hue of perfection that even imperfect sights like Jack’s fairly awful dancing and Noah’s knowing smirks couldn’t dislodge.
And really, that was fine by her. She’d never really gotten to enjoy Jack before, free and clear from all the fear and anxiety that clawed at her, and God, she really loved him.
Once she’d realized it, she couldn’t stop thinking it. All the time. Especially when he was gazing at her like he was now, all soulful eyes and hands that never seemed to leave her body.
