Extra Innings

by Michelle Lynn

  Ainsley stands up, and Crosby takes the drink he just refilled from her hand. Without a glance my way, she rounds the staircase and walks up them at a fast enough pace, wanting to escape but not wanting to cause a scene.

  “Sorry, I gotta go.” This time, I cut Crystal off when she tries to sidestep me.

  I don’t look at Ella and Crosby. I don’t pay attention to the guys trying to stop me. I have one goal, and that is to reach Ainsley.

  The door is already shut when I reach it, so I lightly knock.

  Nothing.

  Over my shoulder, I hear Ainsley’s voice talking to Olivia. A gripping pain tightens in my chest as I assume that Cade is awake and ready to go home.

  I turn at the same time Ainsley is coming out of Saucedo’s room. Our eyes lock, and if a genie were to pop out of a bottle right now, my first wish would be to kiss Ainsley. To break the small distance, to hold her body in mine, and to kiss her until my lips went numb. So, that’s probably more than one wish.

  “He’s still unable to function.”

  “If you want to go home, I’ll take him. We can leave right away,” I offer what I should have to begin with.

  “It’s fine. He’ll sleep it off, and Olivia loves him, so I know he’s in good hands. Please, Brax, go enjoy your night.”

  She steps closer, and I realize I’m blocking her way into the room I told her was hers for the night.

  I open my door and wait for her to enter first, pushing back the memory of us in the exact same position with different expectations months ago.

  “Good night, Brax,” she whispers as she passes by.

  Like a dipshit, I wait outside my room, looking for…what? I have no idea.

  “Did you need something?” she asks.

  I step into my room, kicking my door shut.

  Her eyes widen as my feet trudge toward her with determination. I bypass her and go to my dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out a T-shirt and boxers.

  “Here.” I place them on the edge of the bed and head toward the door. “You’ll be more comfortable.”

  “Won’t your girlfriend be upset that I’m wearing your clothes?”

  My feet stop, and I take a breath before I respond. She’s baiting me, like I did to her.

  I slowly circle back to face her. “You show up here with a guy, and then you ask me about a girlfriend?”

  She steps back and bites her lip. “He’s not my boyfriend, and you know it.” Her eyes turn to narrow slits.

  “You didn’t defuse it. Actually, you encouraged it.” I cross my arms over my chest, and my stance widens.

  “He didn’t have his hands on me. What’s her name? Oh, yeah, Crystal.” The way she says her name, you’d think she was trying to swallow spoiled milk.

  “If I wanted Crystal, I wouldn’t be up here.”

  Her face reddens, and she fiddles with her fingers.

  “And I’m assuming, if you were his girl, you wouldn’t have agreed to stay at my house, let alone in my room.”

  Her eyes focus down, and a small fighting huff leaves her lips.

  “So?” I bait her further, not letting her divert the topic.

  “So what?” she asks, her hands at her sides now, her back straight.

  I step closer.

  Don’t withdraw.

  “Say it,” I say.

  Her eyes close for a brief second. “Say what?”

  “Say you’re not his.” I’m almost chest-to-chest with her, and I watch her breasts rise and fall with each heavy breath.

  Her eyes look up, and those grey hues continue to tell me the truth. She feels it—the pull between us. I have no idea what I’m expecting from us, but I know I need her.

  “I’m not his,” she admits.

  “And I’m not hers. Never have been, and never will be.”

  I smash my lips to hers, and she immediately meets my pace, opening her mouth for my greedy tongue that didn’t ask permission. Her arms link around my neck, and I step us back until we fall onto the bed.

  My hands find the hem of her shirt, urging it off her body. She wiggles on the bed and then reaches behind herself and unclasps her bra, letting it fall down on my mattress.

  “Hold this thought,” I say. I jump off the bed, locking both the bedroom and bathroom doors because the hell if we’re going to be interrupted.

  On the way to the bed, I strip off my shirt, and Ainsley licks her lips, watching me come toward her. I toe out of my shoes and take off my socks at the end of the bed while she does the same.

  I’d like nothing more than for her to be naked on my bed, but my want to unclothe her is greater.

  I crawl on top of her, my fingers fiddling with the button of her jeans, and my lips trail kisses up her stomach. “I’ve missed you,” I mumble into her soft skin.

  Her fingers thread through my short hair, and her warmth on my scalp feels nice and familiar.

  I unzip her pants and snake my hand down. Her panties are soaked, and she squirms when my finger slides back and forth, coating her in her own wetness.

  “Brax.” This time, when she says my name, it isn’t with a sound of annoyance.

  I take her breast in my mouth, swirl my tongue around her nipple, and bite lightly as I suck it. She bucks from the mattress, her fingers tightening around my shoulders.

  My tongue slides along her smooth skin, moving up to her neck, past her chin, and to her lips. I nibble on her bottom lip until she opens for me. I don’t wait to dive my tongue into her awaiting mouth.

  Our moans echo in my room, bouncing off the walls, and it’s like the months apart never happened. Her body still responds to every one of my touches.

  My hands move down, and I nudge her jeans off her body. She shimmies them off for me, and my urge to taste her is way too great. She could leave me tomorrow, and I’d regret not tasting every inch of her.

  I lie down and crook my finger for her to come up. She knows what I want, yet she’s hesitant.

  Her hands fiddle with the button of my jeans, and she slowly glides down the zipper, careful not to catch my dick in it since it’s so hard and erect that it’s bulging out. I allow her to pull my pants off my body as I admire her body in only a pair of purple satin and lace panties. Her tits are a dream, her nipples like Hershey kisses ready for me to devour.

  Once I’m in only my boxer briefs, she lies on top of me, but I encourage her to keep going until she’s straddling my face. I slide the side of her panties over, and my tongue licks her from back to front. She clenches and grinds, grabbing ahold of my headboard. Needing something for my free hand, I reach up and squeeze her breast, manipulating her nipple with my thumb.

  “Brax.” She draws out my name.

  Nothing gets me more worked up than her saying my name. My only wish is that the house was empty, so she could scream it. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about people being around to overhear, but Ainsley cares.

  Leaving her tits to sway as she grinds along my mouth and tongue, my hands hold her hips, doing the motions for her. When she tries to squirm away, I know her orgasm is on the edge.

  I always envision this barometer, and I light up another level until it’s blinking red, and she can’t hold it back any longer. Right now, she’s probably in the red, but I want her flashing and squirming and unable to clench hard enough to keep that bliss at bay.

  I grip her hips and pull her off my mouth.

  A small whimper escapes her lips.

  “Not yet.”

  She falls to the mattress, and I dig into my drawer for a condom. While I’m fiddling with the wrapper, she pulls down my boxer briefs, and her hand wraps around my cock, squeezing up and down, her thumb spreading the pre-cum along my tip.

  Every muscle in my body, including my cock, tightens from the feel of her hand on me. I’ve beaten off daily since our summer fling, imagining this exact scenario.

  “Are you in the red zone yet?” she coyly asks, her tongue licking the underside of my dick.

  My fingers
tighten around her head, and I fight the urge to fuck her mouth—something to do for another time.

  At this angle, I drop my one hand, and my finger slides along the entire length of her core.

  She moans and I grab the condom from the bed.

  She reaches up and holds her hand out for me. I slip the condom in her hand, and her mouth pops off my dick.

  She gets the condom started at my tip, and I suck in a breath, seeing her get me ready. Her eyes peer up to me while she rolls it down and bites her lower lip.

  I straighten her out on the bed, wedging myself between her legs. The tip of my dick is at her center, and she inhales one last breath as her hands reach up to my face, her thumbs rubbing my lips.

  I slow my pace and gradually move inside her, inch by inch, until I’m buried deep, and her fingers are clutching my biceps.

  “Brax,” she sighs.

  I fall to my elbows, my arms caging her. “Oh, baby,” I say before smashing my lips to hers.

  Her hands rub up and down my back, and she pulls her legs up to her sides, allowing me better access.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispers as I nibble on her ear.

  All my movements halt for a moment before she squeezes her thighs together.

  “Say it again,” I say.

  “I’ve missed you.” She doesn’t miss a beat, and I wonder how we’ve let months go by without contact.

  “Again.” I grind into her a little harder.

  “I. Missed. You.” Her body tightens around me.

  Knowing she’s rounding the I’m-about-to-combust level, I bend down and take one of her nipples into my mouth.

  Her hands fly to the back of my head, and her hips pick up speed to match mine.

  “Now, Brax,” she whimpers.

  I pick up my pace, hammering in and out of her with abandon.

  “Harder.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “Yes!” she screams.

  Her now-wet nipple leaves my mouth, and I flip her over. She rises to all fours, and I enter her again. My hands on her hips, I drill into her over and over again.

  Her head cocks back, and her body falls forward onto my mattress.

  “Jesus,” she says. Then, she rises back onto her hands, grinding her ass into my crotch.

  My fingers clench onto her hips, and I pump in and out of her until my back straightens, and my hands are numb.

  I slowly pull out of her, and she turns around to face me, her back on the mattress.

  I’d like to say I see the love that I swear filled those gray eyes once, but confusion swims in the crystal hues now. I hope it’s not regret flashing back at me.

  “Don’t move,” I remark. I stand up and head to the bathroom.

  “Brax,” she sighs.

  And there’s that tone I hate coming from her mouth.

  So, I shut the bathroom door to clean myself up because, this time, I’m going to fight for her.

  11

  Ainsley

  “Stupid, Ainsley,” I murmur to myself as I climb out of the bed and scrounge up my clothes.

  I pluck up my jeans from the floor and then my shirt, and then I search for my underwear and bra.

  “Bingo.” I tiptoe over to his nightstand on the other side of the room where I grab my bra that’s lying over his phone.

  Underwear next.

  The bed is still practically made, which is odd since Brax doesn’t seem to be the neat-freak type. They aren’t there, and I replay our movements to when he took them off.

  I was on the bed, so he must have flung them somewhere.

  With my jeans, shirt, and bra in my arms, pressed to my chest, I look over at his dresser and then the floor, but I’ve got nothing.

  “Looking for these?” Brax is against the bathroom door, holding my underwear up in the air.

  I walk over and reach out, but he balls them in his fist and holds them behind his back.

  “It will cost you,” he says, that devilish look in his eye.

  “Brax.”

  A low, annoyed breath leaks out of him, like an overinflated tire stabbed by a knife.

  “Don’t say my name like that.” He walks further into his room, bypassing my outreached, open palm.

  “Brax, baby”—I use my sugary Southern drawl accent—“can I please have my panties back?”

  He’s in the middle of the room, sitting on the edge of his bed. A look of exhaustion on his face tells me this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. I’ve put myself in the position I’ve feared for the last few months.

  He pats the bed. “Sit down.”

  His eyes zero in on me, and I walk over, sitting on his bed with my clothes in my lap. Brax has a pull on me that many don’t, and the love burning inside my heart lets him get away with bossing me around.

  Oddly uncomfortable, I sit and lock my clothes to my body. I’m one minute away from rocking back and forth like a child.

  “Is your intention to fuck and chuck?” He doesn’t look at me, his eyes focused on the ground.

  “I’m not sure what I should be doing.”

  “I thought that, after what just happened, maybe you wouldn’t be able to deny us, but I see, I’m no better than a clingy chick after a one-night stand.” He rises to his feet and drops my panties on the bed. “Stay in here for the night. I’ll be on the couch.”

  He walks to his dresser, pulls out a pair of shorts, and slides them on without so much as a glance in my direction. Then, he’s gone, and I’m alone in a room smelling of sex. Smelling the mixture of us together. A smell that used to make me aroused two seconds after we finished.

  I pick up the boxers and T-shirt he laid out for me, drowning myself in his clothes and scent. All the memories come flooding back to me. His strong arms around me the night of the big storm. His soft kisses sending shivers up my spine. The coffee and breakfast in bed. The Netflix nights where we were more attentive to each other’s bodies than the latest releases.

  My fist slams on the mattress. Fuck the bastard who ruined me for someone good.

  Without my mind to stop me, I open the door and trudge down the stairs. It isn’t until I’m standing at the bottom that I remember there’s a party going on. There are less people than before, but I catch eyes on me. Girls sneer, and guys smile. I must look like one of his usual hook-up chicks.

  “Ainsley?” Ella approaches me like I’m a skittish stray cat.

  I shoot my eyes to her. She seems nice. Sweet actually.

  “Have you seen Brax?” I ask, focusing on the crowd.

  He’s here somewhere. I can feel him.

  “I saw him go into the kitchen, but—”

  “Thank you.” I head through the crowd, sliding along sweaty bodies.

  My feet halt at the edge where the dancing has stopped, and the heavy drinking has commenced. A Solo cup pyramid is along one wall, and shot glasses are lined up on the counter. Ollie is pouring into them without actually lifting the bottle between each glass, resulting in alcohol coating the counter.

  There, in the corner between the fridge and the sink, Brax is leaning with a brunette at his side. The anger jolts my blood flow to get me moving, but I stay in place, like a scared dog standing before the edge of its electric fence. I’m practically tiptoeing the line, afraid I’m going to be zapped if I cross.

  “Ainsley? I didn’t know you were here,” Ollie remarks, the bottle still moving from one glass to the other. “Is that Brax’s shirt?”

  I look over to him, and a smirk crosses his lips. Yep, Ollie sees more than he leads on. He knew what was going on last summer.

  “Hi, Ollie,” I say.

  I take a deep breath, and my eyes veer to Brax. He’s staring at me, his hands gripping the counter behind him. I hold his gaze, and the moment he notices why I’m standing in the middle of his kitchen with his clothes on minutes after he left me, a smirk forms on his lips. He straightens his back and locks our eyes, but he still doesn’t move.

  I step forward, and he mimics my movements. Step
by step, we meet halfway through the room, and without a word from either of us, he plants a kiss on me that literally has me struggling for strength to stand.

  He lifts me up by my ass, carrying me out of the room, without our lips leaving one another.

  “Brax,” the girl says behind us.

  But he pays her no attention, his tongue only diving deeper into my mouth.

  Hoots and hollers ring out through the living room, and I feel Brax’s one hand lift off my ass for a second before it’s placed back on. He climbs the stairs, and my back hits his bedroom door before he opens it, kicks it shut with his foot, and disposes of me onto the bed.

  I lie there, missing his lips already. He’s shirtless with only track shorts on, and damn if he’s not the hottest guy on Ridgemont’s campus.

  “You finally ready to talk?” he asks.

  I should have known that he wouldn’t let sex get in the way like it did moments ago. A small part of me likes that he wants to talk because it means he cares. He shouldn’t be tormented for those who came before him.

  He positions us against the headboard, my hand in between his larger ones as he weaves our fingers in and out, concentrating on our connection.

  “Tell me,” he says.

  “What?”

  A stream of air floats out of his mouth.

  “This scares me.”

  He stays silent, and I wish I knew what he was thinking.

  “The idea of us. The feeling I get when you’re around. The way I want to spend every second with you.”

  “Usually, those are good things.”

  My eyes veer to our hands and then to his face. “I was hurt not that long ago. I thought he cared for me, but he really didn’t.”

  He nods like he knows, and my heart stops for a second as I think that maybe he does. Has he known this entire time?

  “I thought so, but I’m not him.”

  “But you’re like him,” I snap back. It takes a different kind of girl to date Braxton Brentwood. “Let me ask you a question.”

  “Anything.”

  “Were you prepared to be exclusive after the summer?”

  His eyes focus over my shoulder.

  That should tell me the answer, but I press further, “For me to be your only girl? How many girlfriends have you ever had?”