After crossing the threshold, he closed the door behind him. “Don’t stop.” He took her in his arms, and her feet left the floor. “Man, you smell good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the side of her neck. “I loved seeing you in the stands watching me play.”
“I loved watching you. It felt like the old days.”
“Yeah?” He drew back, regarding her with one raised brow as he set her on the floor. “I didn’t know you came to the games.”
“I tried not to be obvious. You jocks were our mortal enemies don’t forget.”
“Ah, I must not have gotten that memo.” He fingered a loopy tendril of hair that had succumbed to the Tulsa humidity, gazing intently down at her. He looked away for a moment, took a deep breath and on the exhale turned back to her, his expression determined and hopeful. “I have something for you.”
Elizabeth tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. Yeah, she just bet he did. She’d felt it hard and heavy nudging her belly a second ago. “What’s that?” she asked, her heart pounding faster.
He reached behind to his back pocket and produced a wad of folded notebook paper, which he passed to her.
She frowned. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
She did just that, and stared at the careful writing that filled the page. There were three more pages, each of them brimming with blue ink and painstaking penmanship. She went back to the first page, her gaze falling on the first line that read, “I’ve always loved baseball.”
“Dylan?”
He’d moved away and was staring at a hotel brochure on the table. “You asked what I would write about myself.” He shrugged. “You can read it now or later. It doesn’t matter.”
“I’d like to read it now.”
“Okay,” he said, not sounding particularly enthused. “Why don’t I go get us something to drink while you do that?”
“The fridge is pretty well stocked.”
“I was thinking a beer sounded good.”
“I believe there are two kinds in there.”
His expression fell, making it clear that he’d been hoping for a reprieve, but he stooped to check out the small refrigerator.
“You could give me a summary of what this says, and I could read it later.”
“Then what was the point of writing it all out?”
It had to have been therapeutic somehow or he wouldn’t have done it, but she chose not to voice the observation. “Come.” She sat at the edge of the bed and then patted the spot next to her. “Sit with me.”
He took out a beer, held it up, and when she shook her head, he twisted it open, taking a long pull before sitting beside her.
“When did you do this?” she asked him, aware that he sat close enough that their thighs touched. But it was a different kind of awareness than she’d felt minutes ago when she’d first opened the door. Probably because he seemed so vulnerable right now, his uncertain gaze drawn intermittently to the words he’d written, that it brought out her protective instinct.
“Mostly last night… I finished it this morning.” Squinting at the pages, he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s really kind of boring. More information than you want or need, I’m sure.”
She was a fast reader and she’d already skimmed the first page. It was chiefly about his difficult school years—how he’d assumed he was stupid because he had trouble reading—and already a lump had formed in her throat. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for her to read it now.
“This is some very personal stuff,” she said quietly. “Not necessarily what you might want included in the article.”
He snorted. “No article at all would be my first preference, but you’ll see why it’s pertinent, and—” he touched her cheek “—I trust you to treat the information respectfully.”
Elizabeth swallowed, feeling both honored and nervous. She quickly read the second page and then looked up to find him watching her. Dyslexia. How had he gone untreated for so long? In a small high school like theirs, shouldn’t it have been easy to catch? “That’s why you went to college instead of going pro out of high school, isn’t it?”
“Hell, you’re one of those people who go straight for the last chapter in a mystery novel,” he said blandly.
“Never.” She smiled, then laid her hand on his arm. “Tell me.”
He seemed uncomfortable at first, then slowly nodded. “I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t that dumb kid who had to study harder than everyone else and yet still came up short. Even after I was diagnosed, I was convinced it was a personal failing. It took a really excellent tutor that summer before college to really get my head straight and catch me up, and I got my degree. But I have to confess, even now, watching how fast you can read—” He shook his head. “I’m envious as hell.”
“I can’t catch a baseball or swing a bat to save my life. And the salary you made playing overseas for three years is more than I’ll make in the next thirty years.”
“It’s not always about money.”
“I know.” She squeezed his arm. “How did it go on for so long without someone seeing you were in trouble?”
“I was stubborn and had too much ego. Even as a kid, I’d never admit I was falling so far behind. My parents assumed I was one of those kids who was good at athletics but a lousy student. They felt bad when they finally figured out the problem. It was never said, but they felt guilty that they saw what they wanted to see.”
“No, I get that. It must have been difficult for all of you.” She met his concerned eyes and something inside her shifted. For an instant she felt like that hapless sixteen-year-old girl who’d spent too many hours fantasizing that Dylan Andrews actually smiled at her. But the boy she’d dreamed of was more of an ideal than a real person. It was so much better to get a smile from the man. Vulnerable, determined. Sexy as hell.
“Keep going,” he said. “You’ll see how my inflated ego got me in trouble again.”
Elizabeth went back to reading, overly conscious of how quickly her gaze skimmed the pages until she heard him laughing.
“I’m a big boy, Beth. Don’t hold back.”
She sniffed, sent him a withering look and then spoiled it by laughing with him. But her good humor didn’t last long as she finished his essay. He could’ve gone from a high-school senior to a pro athlete making big bucks, but instead he not only went after his degree, he stayed to get his Masters. Juggling his studies with college baseball had hurt his game and by the time he was ready to play pro, the only spot for him was in the Minors. Pride had driven him to Japan when he was offered a contract. Humility had brought him home.
He admitted his arrogance, the loneliness and isolation he’d felt the years he’d played abroad, how much he’d missed his family. The fear he’d harbored that the fans would never welcome him back. He’d really poured his heart out; she couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been for him to write this.
“You were incredibly brave to stick with school,” she said, staring down at the paper, afraid that if she looked at him, he’d see too much emotion in her eyes.
“Brave? My agent would gladly tell you what a bonehead move it was not to sign with the Milwaukee Mavericks when they drafted me.” In a mimicking voice Dylan added, “Make the big money while you can, son, you can always go to school later.”
“What did your parents think?”
“That I should’ve stuck with baseball. But I think it was because they wanted me to have everything that baseball could offer.” He took a slow, thoughtful sip of his beer, then smiled wryly. “Ironic, isn’t it? Now I’m back at twenty-seven, stuck in the Minors, having to prove myself along with all these kids only two or three years out of high school. Half the guys on the team aren’t even old enough to buy cigarettes.”
“May I?” She indicated his beer, and he handed it to her. The small amount that was left wasn’t very cold but it helped soothe her dry mouth.
“Man, when I used to watch you debate, you totally blew m
e away,” he said, and she turned to find him smiling at her. “You were so damn quick, you’d stomp the other team.”
“You saw me?” Startled, she used the back of her wrist to wipe her mouth. “How? When?”
“A couple of times I sneaked into the school auditorium and watched. I couldn’t believe anybody could know that much stuff.”
He’d watched her debate? “Wow,” she murmured in awe, then laughed at herself. “See, I’m still quick.”
He took the beer away from her and set it on the table. His eyes gleaming with mischief, he slid an arm around her shoulders. “I had a major crush on you, Beth. Seems like I’ve come full circle with that, too.”
She studied his face, so close and so open. He’d given her his story, a gift from a very private man, and she had the feeling it wasn’t to appease his agent or win over the fans. Dylan wanted her to know him. “Do you mean that?”
He nodded slowly as he leaned in. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips met hers, light, teasing but only for a moment. As her heart sped up and her breathing grew shallow, he got more serious, slanting his mouth and using his tongue to slip inside.
She welcomed him, kissing him back, forgetting about the pages she held in her hand until she felt them slip through her fingers and flutter to the floor.
Elizabeth drew back and looked at him, knowing she had a decision to make.
His eyes dark and searching, he cupped her face with one hand. “I want to make love to you,” he whispered.
“I want that, too.” She tugged at the front of his shirt until she’d freed a button, or maybe she’d ripped it open. She didn’t care.
He took over and was out of his shirt in seconds, then found the hem of her blouse and yanked it up over her head. He lingered over the front clasp of her bra, then traced his finger over the lacy scallop trim, his featherlike touch on her skin driving her insane.
“I thought you’d have freckles,” he murmured, his gaze riveted to the tops of her breasts where the pale flesh plumped over the lacy cups.
“Bad eyes, curly hair and freckles? That would’ve been plain cruel.”
“I don’t know,” he said, smiling as he unfastened the clasp. “It might’ve been a nice road map.”
She had a feeling he didn’t need one, which he confirmed by shoving aside the cups and exposing her breasts and her very aroused nipples. He gazed at her, his hunger evident in his eyes, in the way he licked his lips, in the bulge straining his fly.
She reached for his belt and fumbled with the buckle. He didn’t stop her, nor did he help her. He kept on watching, as if he’d never imagined the two of them together. She understood all too well, but dammit, he’d better do something more than stare. “Are you going to just sit there?” she asked finally.
He smiled and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Not a chance,” he said and pushed the straps down her arms and tossed her bra aside. He stood up, and taking her by the shoulders, he pushed her back to the bed before sliding his hands down to cover her breasts, pausing until she shivered and then dragging his palms to the waistband of her jeans.
It took little effort for him to unsnap, unzip and get rid of them, leaving her lying there in only her skimpy red panties. She thought he would take them down, too, but he leaned over her and pressed his open mouth against hers, in a deep, thorough kiss…
8
ELIZABETH KISSED HIM BACK, while using his position over her to finish unfastening his jeans. He broke away long enough to kick them off, and then pulled down her panties.
“I didn’t bolt the door,” she said, when she heard a maid’s cart being pushed down the hall.
He took care of that, while she yanked down the comforter. She unabashedly stared at his perfect naked ass, her pulse racing in anticipation of that second he turned around and she would see him hard and ready for her. An instant later she noticed the notebook pages scattered on the carpet and carefully picked them up before they were trampled and torn.
Just seeing them again—knowing what an amazing gift he’d given her by sharing that part of himself—tightened her chest. It wasn’t about the interview; in fact, she had no idea how she would handle writing the piece, although she’d give it all she had. But right now? She wasn’t interested in her job or his. She wanted him. Not the high-school jock. Him. The one who’d fought so hard for his dignity and his passion. She may have had a crush on the boy, but she admired the hell out of the man.
She watched Dylan retrieve a foil packet from his jeans pocket, her breath catching at the sight of his thick, hard penis. Every part of him was beautiful, beyond perfect, especially what lay deep inside.
He came to her, his gaze taking in the pages she still clutched, and he put a hand on her waist. “Second thoughts?”
“Not a one.” She set the papers on the table then slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He slipped his tongue into her mouth, his penis hot and heavy against her belly as he walked her backward until her legs met the mattress. Gently he guided her down and they inched up toward the headboard; the whole time he nipped at her lips, laved her tongue, explored every inch of her mouth. She was nearly breathless by the time her head found the pillow, and he hadn’t even tried to come up for air.
Elizabeth finally gave in and broke free, laughing and out of breath. “I need air.”
“Why?” he murmured against her neck, continuing to use his teeth and tongue along the sensitive skin below her ear.
“The usual reasons.” She gasped when he touched her nipple and took it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Get used to it. I like kissing.” He lifted his head and leisurely smiled at her. “And this.” Lowering his head again, he rolled his tongue over her beaded nipple, then swirled it in a circular pattern that made her ache with such greediness it made her quiver.
She shoved her fingers through his short wavy hair and was pleased when he transferred his attention to her other needy breast. The only thing she wanted more was to touch him, run her palm along his hard, silky length. But when she reached for him he grabbed her wrist and held her hand above her head while he went back to kissing her, using his tongue to sweep the inside of her mouth and ruining any hope of her ever finding a better kisser.
When he slid his free hand between her thighs and immediately found that sweet spot, heaven help her she knew she was doomed. Her body involuntarily arched, and he deepened the kiss, but only for a few moments before he dragged his mouth to the side of her neck, nibbled at her ear, then laved her breast as he moved down her body.
He coaxed her legs apart, and used his hot, eager mouth to make her writhe and moan with sheer unadulterated pleasure. Fire raged low in her belly and raced through her veins, threatening to make her come too soon. But when she tried to get away, his efforts doubled and it didn’t matter how much she squirmed or shoved at his shoulder or gasped for her next breath. He stayed with her until the pressure was so great she came apart in an explosion so intense that her nails dug into his scalp and it took every ounce of control not to scream into the gathering darkness.
“Dylan…” Her voice broke on a moan when an aftershock shimmered through her.
He came up beside her, bit softly at her quivering shoulder, then trailed his tongue to her ear. He tried to put his hand where his mouth had been but she clamped her thighs shut before he could get his way. “I want to come inside you,” he said, his voice a hoarse rasp against her skin.
“But—”
He kissed her, cutting her off, the musky taste of her on his tongue incredibly erotic. She wanted to please him just as he’d pleased her, and though he didn’t interfere when she slid her palm up the underside of his cock, she sensed his desperation to be inside of her and the heady thought made her wet and hot for him all over again.
When she tried to pump him, he stopped her then and drew back to rip the foil packet open with his teeth. He made no offer to let her do the honors, but quickly sheathed himself and then maneuve
red into position between her legs. He stroked the inside of her thighs, letting his fingers graze the trimmed triangle of hair pointing to her sex.
The room had grown too dim for her to see his face clearly, and she wasn’t sure that was a good idea anyway. If he gave her one more tender look she didn’t know if she could keep this brief encounter in perspective.
He slid a finger inside of her, and she was still so wet it was almost ridiculous. “After this I want the light on,” he said huskily. “I want to see you, Elizabeth. I want to watch your face when you come.”
That he was already thinking about the next time made her giddy, even if he only meant an hour from now. She didn’t care. “I want to see you, too. Dylan, I want you to come inside me. Now.”
His sharp intake of breath rang in her ears as he pulled her hips up and slid deep inside her. So deep that she bucked and covered her mouth to keep from crying out. He withdrew a little and then pushed into her again. She wrapped her legs around him and he started moving faster, faster, his rhythm gaining momentum until she thought she would burst.
“God, Elizabeth, I can’t hold back any—” He threw his head back, tensing for a second, before a low growl rumbled from his throat and his entire body shook.
His struggle for control was such a turn-on that she came again. Warmth flooded her belly and chest, and relentless waves of shimmering sensation rolled over her, threatening to pull her under, to tear her apart. She fisted the sheets, afraid to touch him, afraid that she would shatter and never be whole again.
Dazed and confused, she gave a startled jerk when Dylan collapsed beside her.
He kissed her lips, her chin, the side of her jaw and then fell heavily on his back. “Holy… You’re amazing.”
“Me? You are,” she gasped.
Sliding an arm around her waist, he tucked her against his warm body. She turned on her side and laid a hand on his chest.
“Mind if I stay here tonight?” he asked and kissed her forehead.
“Only if you let me get some sleep.”
Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams Page 6
