“All right.” His gaze drifted to her breasts, and she was happy to see he didn’t seem all that together himself.
Taking his hand, she led him down the short hall. The house was old and small, with only three bedrooms, the last one hardly bigger than a walk-in closet, which was exactly how she used it. She didn’t mind because it was perfect for her, with its cozy window seats and arched doorways.
Last summer she’d painted the master bedroom a pale blue with white trim and splurged on curtains that matched her cream-and-navy floral comforter. The place was definitely homey, and she couldn’t imagine how vastly different it might be from Eric’s taste.
He looked around as she pulled down the thick quilt. “This is nice,” he said. “Very you.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to think about that one.”
“Did you not hear the ‘nice’ part?” He pulled off his shirt, and toed off his leather loafers.
Too busy eyeing his chest, it took her a second to pick up the conversation. Wow, talk about nice. More than nice. Not overly muscled, but just enough to make her mouth go dry.
“Hey.” He circled his arms around her waist, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You need help getting undressed?”
“I can do it.”
She’d barely uttered the last word before he’d unzipped her skirt and pushed it down her thighs. His lightning reflexes threw her momentarily off balance, made her step back.
Part of her wanted him to keep going. Pull up her shirt, unsnap her bra and rid both of them of everything that separated their bodies. But slow was exciting, too, she decided as he unhurriedly unbuckled his belt while taking in her red bikini panties. He slid his heated gaze over her bare thighs as though he wanted to rip off the rest of her clothes.
“Come here,” he ordered quietly, and she didn’t argue.
He met her halfway and slipped his hands under her shirt. She’d started to lift her arms then realized he’d gone for her bra clasp. When he couldn’t find it in the back, he smiled and moved to the front of the bra. With practiced ease, he gave one flick and the cups separated. He closed a hand over each breast, his nostrils flaring as he lowered his head to kiss her mouth. His tongue taunted the seam of her lips but as soon as she opened for him he withdrew.
Startled, she stared up at him. Her wariness turned to fascination at his rapt expression as he molded her shirt over her unbound breasts. He teased her nipples through the soft clingy fabric, plucking lightly at them with his fingers until she involuntarily arched her back. With obvious reluctance, he dragged his gaze away from her breasts, and finally met her eyes.
“I was trying to slow myself down,” he murmured.
“How’s that working for you?” she asked.
He gave her a warning glare, then gave in and pulled off her shirt. She straightened her arms at her sides, then gave a slight shimmy so that the bra fell to her forearms. She grabbed the wispy silk and tossed it toward her oak dresser.
Eric stared at her bared breasts, cupping the weight of them, his hands so tanned against her pale skin. He bowed his head and swirled his warm, damp tongue over each of the tight, sensitive nipples.
A shiver raced down her spine and both legs. She had to sit down, that was all there was to it. She sank to the edge of the bed and urged him to take off his khakis. In seconds he was down to blue boxers strained by an extremely impressive hard-on. When he didn’t make a move to lose the boxers, she grabbed hold of the waistband and pulled them down, faltering when she’d exposed his erection.
Eric did the rest because all she could seem to do was stare. He was beautiful. Smooth and tanned, his belly and thighs defined by lean, taut muscle. And his erection…good thing she was already sitting.
“You should be modeling underwear,” she murmured, then realizing her thought had been voiced aloud, raised her gaze to his.
He gave a short startled laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His gaze moved from her face to her breasts, then lower. He touched her through the red silk panties, traced the strip of fabric that clung high on her hip. “You’re so beautiful.”
She smiled, easily accepting the words this time, because she did know him. He didn’t have to give her a speech about where he’d grown up or what he studied in college…those were all nice tidbits, but she’d begun to understand the heart of the man. He was funny, smart, caring, and amazingly uncomplicated for someone so talented and popular.
All such thought scattered when he lowered his head and buried his face between her breasts. With his tongue he forged a moist path down to her belly, while pulling her panties down her thighs, her calves, then freeing the silk from around her ankles.
He sat back on his heels, cupped a hand behind her right calf and brought her leg to his mouth. He kissed the top of her ankle, then the inside of her knee, trailed his tongue up the inside of her quivering thigh. Pausing, he gazed hotly at the slick core of her. She tensed a little, dazedly watching his damp lips part, the need blaze in his eyes. She felt a fine tremor in his hand.
Tess clutched his shoulder, willing him to join her on the bed. She wanted to touch him, too, wanted to be able to look at him, all of him. He met her gaze, and came up off his heels. Still he was in no hurry, stopping to trace the sensitive skin low on her belly, up to her navel, then taking light nips between her rib cage.
He stopped when he got to her breasts and clasped her by the waist, then urged her to lie back on the bed. She wiggled her way up closer to the headboard, and he stretched out beside her, casually laying his hand across her ribs, the tips of his fingers a featherlike rasp under her breasts.
Her breath caught, and she looked into his eyes, searching for a teasing glint, suspicious he was purposely trying to drive her crazy. Then he dipped his head and laved the skin his fingers abandoned. He circled her nipples with his tongue, careful not to actually make contact with the puckered flesh.
“You are trying to make me insane,” she murmured, and unable to keep from arching toward him.
His head leisurely came up, and with a sly lift of one side of his mouth, he said, “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re bad,” she whispered, and rolled halfway onto her side, reached for him and found exactly what she wanted.
Hissing, he jerked as she closed her hand around him. So hard yet soft, silky smooth, the male body always amazed her.
She slowly slid her hand down to the base afraid she wouldn’t be able to show the same restraint he’d demonstrated. Retracing the path back up was cut short. With a half-swallowed groan, he caught her wrist and pulled her hand away from his penis.
Ah, so maybe his self-control was no better. Tess smiled.
“Pleased with yourself, huh?” Challenge gleamed in his eyes.
No matter, she’d gotten to him. He wasn’t nearly as…
He wedged a hand between her thighs, caught a nipple between his teeth, and she gasped, instinctively started to struggle. He wasn’t biting hard but he’d gotten her attention. He moved his hand higher, using his tongue, his teeth, his warm, moist breath melting any residual resistance.
Not that she’d consciously resisted. She wanted him to touch her, use his mouth, bury himself inside her. Like him, part of her wanted all of these exquisite sensations to last. The other part of her wanted to hurry him, beg him to satisfy the ache deep within her.
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he brushed his lips over her ear and whispered, “We have all night. There are lots of ways we can do this.”
A fiery warmth flooded her belly. “Now, Eric. I want you inside of me now.”
His chest heaved, and he jerked his head. It might have been a nod, and then he got up, digging into his khaki pockets. She realized he was getting a condom, and she winced for having been so turned on she’d forgotten to be prepared.
He brought the packet with him, leaned over and kissed her while he tore the foil open. He drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked, distracting her until he’d sheathed himself. She was tre
mbling again by the time he gently forced her thighs wider apart, and stroked her with his fingers before guiding his penis into her opening.
Their gazes locked. He whispered her name, then pushed himself inside of her. Three more thrusts and she came off the mattress. He caught her ankles and hooked them over his shoulders. The angle of her hips allowed her to receive him so deeply that she bit off a scream. He pushed in again, hard, deeper still, and rubbed his thumb over her slick clit.
She couldn’t breathe. She could barely move. It wasn’t possible to come that quickly. And yet…
Oh, God. Her vision blurred. The fiery warmth that had started in her belly surged to that unbearably sensitive spot between her legs. Tess covered her mouth to stifle the primal cry rising in her throat.
Eric shoved her hand aside and kissed her, moaning into her mouth, swallowing her helpless whimpers. Wave after wave of warm, shimmering pleasure engulfed her body. She started to shake uncontrollably. Eric murmured something inside her mouth, tensed and then let loose a guttural cry that had to have awoken the entire neighborhood.
ERIC THRUST A COUPLE more halfhearted times, and then collapsed on top of her. He tried to shift his weight to keep from crushing her but he was so weak he finally figured it best to roll off. She shrieked with surprise when he took her with him.
She laughed, still trying to catch her breath. “That was—”
“Amazing,” he finished. “Friggin’ fantastic.”
“Ridiculously fantastic.”
He pushed the hair away from her flushed, damp cheeks. “You’re amazing,” he said, gazing into her dazed eyes. Hell, he felt a bit drunk himself.
Tess smiled. “I was just thinking that about you.”
He skimmed his hand down her spine, over the swell of her buttocks. “Next time we do it all.” He chuckled when her smile vanished and her eyes widened. “I meant, we go to dinner at a nice restaurant, share a bottle of wine…talk…”
“You mean like a real date?” she said, her face happy.
“Exactly.” He couldn’t stop stroking her smooth, soft skin. “Who knows, maybe it’ll even be a celebratory dinner.”
She blinked, wariness dulling her eyes. “Are you saying— I thought you didn’t like talking about—you know.”
“It’s okay. You can say it. The Call.” He hugged her tightly against his chest and kissed her hair. “I’m feeling pretty lucky.” When he looked at her again, he had the weirdest goddamn thought. It came on so sudden, out of nowhere.
Eric wanted to be that guy who gave Tess flowers. Roses. He’d bring her pink roses. A dozen of them. No, two or three dozen.
He rubbed her back. “So…either way…no matter what happens…is it a date?”
She smiled and nodded happily. “As long as you keep hitting homers like you did tonight, slugger.”
They both laughed.
Then got back to the kissing.
A Girlfriend’s Guide to Baseball
It’s September 1 and we’re sliding Home…
By #1 FanGirl
Well, ladies, do I know how to pick them, or what? Remember my late-August picks for the September Calls? Wel, here’s me patting myself on the back. Seriously hot Dylan Andrews is now officially a Milwaukee Maverick, hunky Rob Perry has returned to his (and my) beloved Texas Talons and drop-dead-gorgeous Eric Lessing will be covering first base for the Jackson Jaguars.
That’s the good news.
The totally crappy news is that all three of them have been seen in the company of special ladies. Rumor has it these gals aren’t passing fancies and they’ll all be there cheering for the guys’ first Major League game. Well, it’s not Rob Perry’s first game, and come to think of it, his new squeeze is the stunning Tori Gallagher, daughter of the Talons’ owner, so no telling how long that tête-à-tête has been going on. Can’t give you a scoop on the other two ladies, but my sources say they aren’t famous and it looks SERIOUS.
Ah, well, guess we should give our sisters-in-arms a couple of atta girls.
Anyway, have any of you been checking out that smokin’ new pitcher Sean Langdon? Do it. Immediately. Yeah, he’s kind of young, but OH MY…
Let me know what you all think.
IN HIS WILDEST DREAMS
1
“BULL. HE’S NOT on a conference call. He’s watching the Lakers game. Tell him it’s Nick Ryder and to get his butt on the line.” Nick adjusted the phone between his jaw and shoulder, leaned back in his sister’s office chair and got comfortable.
On the other end of the line, the temp hemmed and hawed for a moment. Nick sighed, taking pity on her. If she’d been his financial planner’s regular secretary, she would’ve laughed, told him the latest dirty joke she’d heard and then patched him through to Marshall.
“Just tell him I’m on the line, okay?”
“All right, Mr. Ryder, one moment, please.”
He squinted out the apartment window, hoping he’d see Brenda coming down the street. When he saw no sign of her, he cleared a spot between the two stacks of student papers she was grading and swung his feet onto her desk.
“What the devil are you doing calling me in the middle of the game?”
Nick chuckled at his friend’s gruffness. They went way back to prep-school days, followed by Yale. After graduation, Marshall had stayed for another two years of graduate studies, but Nick couldn’t wait to get the hell out, and he had. Not because school was hard, but because it was too easy. The curriculum bored him silly.
“By your pleasant tone I take it I’m winning our bet?”
“One of these days, Ryder, you’re going to fall on your ass.”
Nick snorted. “Tell you what, without even asking the score, I’ll give you another four points.”
“Smug bastard.”
“Man, that’s what I get for practically giving you your money back?”
Marshall’s laugh was interrupted by a cough, and Nick winced. He wished the guy would quit smoking like the doctors had advised. “What do you want, Nick?”
“I got a tip on a new restaurant chain. Their stock is about to go up and I want five hundred shares before it does.”
“You know restaurants are risky.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got this hunch.”
Marshall sighed. “Far be it from me to underestimate one of your hunches. No matter what, you always manage to land on your feet.”
“What’s life without a few risks?”
Marshall muttered something Nick didn’t hear. Just as well. He was sick of the “Golden Boy” cracks, even though he knew Marshall didn’t begrudge him his good fortune. Not like some of the other guys they’d gone to school with.
Was it Nick’s fault that he’d never had to study for exams, that he was lucky at the track, that at twenty-nine he’d invested well enough to have made close to a million, or that he didn’t have two kids and a nine-to-five job?
He wasn’t foolish. When it really counted he believed only in calculated risks that bred success, and once he’d thrown in, he stayed committed to the end. Not understanding the odds ended in failure. Nick made it a point not to fail. Not professionally, or personally.
He passed on the restaurant-stock info and was hanging up when he heard a key in the door.
As soon as his sister stepped inside, her gaze flew to his booted feet. “Off the desk. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Look.” He raised his boots a couple of inches. “I’m using a coaster.”
Brenda shook her head, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. “What are you doing here anyway?”
He got up and took the pair of bulky brown grocery sacks from her arms. “I need to talk to you.”
“I gave you a key for emergencies.”
“This definitely qualifies as an emergency.” He carried the sacks into the kitchen, and then pulled out a package of chicken. “The freezer, or the fridge?”
“The fridge.” She started unloading the second sack. “You could have calle
d.”
“It’s easier to invite myself for dinner this way.”
“What?” Brenda slid him one of her amused glances that annoyed the hell out of him. “No date?”
“Tiffany has to work late.”
“You’re actually dating someone who has a job, and takes it seriously?”
“Pathetic, isn’t it? I keep telling her there’s more to life than sticking her knees under a desk eight hours a day.” He yanked out a bag of salad greens and made a face. It was a funky mix of wild greens—weeds if you asked him—that Brenda favored but made him gag. “Disposal?”
“Try it, Buster.”
He tossed it in the vegetable tray, and then took out a beer. “So what’s for dinner?”
“How do you know I don’t have a date?”
“Yeah, right.” He uncapped the bottle. “Want one of these?”
She sighed. “That hurt.”
Nick stared at his sister, puzzled by her sullen expression. “Come on, Bren, you know what I meant. You’re always working or studying. It’s not that you can’t find a date.”
She gave him the silent treatment for almost a minute, long enough for him to start feeling like a heel, and then she grinned. “Gotcha!”
“Brat.” She was two years younger but definitely more mature, or at least more serious about life, mostly because he refused to grow up. No fun in that.
“We’re having chicken and pasta—” she ducked around him to get to the spice rack “—if you’ll get out of the way and put some water on to boil.”
“Yes, ma’am. Oh, before I forget, you had a call…someone named Emma. She had to cancel lunch tomorrow. Her last subject bailed out on her. She said you’d know what that meant.”
“Oh, no.” Brenda set aside a jar of garlic salt, her expression crestfallen. “I can’t believe this. Did she sound really upset?”
“Kind of matter-of-fact, I guess.” He rooted around a lower cabinet until he found a large pot. When he stood, Brenda hadn’t moved, her expression still troubled. “Who is this woman?”
Extra Innings and In His Wildest Dreams Page 19
