What I’m not even sure Brax was ready for are two players from the Cubs riding on a float. Brax’s arms loosen around me, and he whistles to the Cub players who are with their wives and children.
See? People can do it. They can have a family.
“Those players retired this year,” he says in my ear. “If I could be half the catcher he is…”
The crowd loves these guys more than Brax. With the hoots and hollers, you’d think George Clooney and Brad Pitt were on that float, waving.
“Man, the people love them.”
Brax laughs, and his arms wrap around me once again. “They gave this town something to be proud of. They gave them a championship. They are kings.”
My stomach rumbles at the word king. Being a king comes with expectations. A king is a man who thinks he owns everything. I swallow down the bile rising up my throat.
“Well, their kids are cute.”
The kids are either being held by a Cubs player or are on a wife’s lap. The wives with the perfect smiles and perfect waves to go with their perfect lives.
Brax doesn’t say much else, and the float disappears to our left, the roar of the crowd moving down like the wave during a football game.
Soon, it’s over, and the street cleaners are the only ones left to see.
I turn in Brax’s arms, and he smiles down at me.
“Why don’t you look happy? I just stood through an entire parade and didn’t even cop a feel.”
I wrap my arms around his stomach and bury my face into his chest.
His hands move to my head, and I push away all the tears that want to tumble out. All the emotions of how scared I am that I might just lose the one thing I’ve been looking for my whole life. A man whom I’ve fallen in love with, who treats me well, and whom I can see having a future with. But that fear is underneath, that I’m not enough for someone like him. That, once he gets a taste of the majors, he’ll see there’s bigger and better out there.
“Ainsley,” he says, his hand rubbing the back of my head, “what’s wrong?”
I shake my head back and forth, my forehead resting on his chest. “I just want to remember this.”
He steps back, and his hands cup my cheeks, bringing my face to meet his. “In a couple of years, it will be us on that float.” He smiles that winning we’ll-live-the-dream grin.
I want to believe him, I do, but I’m not so sure our dream is feasible.
I leave the bathroom wearing my trusty black dress that Brax insisted I pack. I couldn’t afford a new dress, but I did buy a new bra with matching panties before we left. It’s red to contrast with the black, and I know Brax loves the color red.
My phone dings on the night table. Slipping my heels on, I make my way over to see Brax’s name on the screen.
Brax: The sooner we eat, the sooner I eat you.
I laugh, grabbing my clutch.
Me: Maybe I was looking forward to another Anatomy lesson.
The three dots appear immediately.
Brax: Who am I to deny you quality study time?
Me: I’m leaving now.
Brax: Take off your panties, and meet me in the bar.
Ignoring his comment regarding my panties, I stuff my phone inside my clutch and glance in the mirror above the dresser.
Lipstick, check. Curled hair, check. Pretty dress, check.
I leave the hotel room that I kicked Brax out of an hour ago. While I was in the shower, he dressed and left, so he would be a surprise to me, too.
I enter the elevator, and two men are standing inside, each one dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. They’re probably a year or two older than me. I stand in the back corner, my ankles crossed and my clutch in my hands, with butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
The two guys each take turns looking me up and down before we reach the lobby floor, and the door dings open. I step out, searching for the bar.
“Can we direct you?” the one asks.
I look over my shoulder to find him very close to me. The smell of alcohol is clear on his breath.
I shake my head, spotting the bar. “No, I’m meeting my boyfriend.”
He huffs. “Lucky bastard,” he says under his breath.
Boy, is that the self-confidence boost I need tonight. With a new spring in my step, my heels click on the marble floor, heading toward the bar.
Brax’s eyes are focused on the television, and he has a beer in his hand. My breath hitches in my throat when I see his suit jacket open, revealing his tie, along with his slacks. The suit is tailored to his body like a glove, outlining the muscles I love to feel.
I’m not sure what catches his attention as he glances at the opening of the bar, but he finds me in the archway and pauses all movement.
Those flutters intensify when he stands and buttons up his jacket, like he’s some high executive who wears suits every day. He walks through the room with the arrogance of a man who has it all, stopping in front of me.
He’s gorgeous and sexy and hot, and I could take him upstairs for the night.
“Hi,” I say.
He stands still, his eyes moving up and down the length of my body.
“Hi.” His teeth bite down on his lip right before his tongue licks where he was just biting. “No wonder you wanted to meet me down here.”
I smile, my ankles crossing. He steps closer, his hand moving around the back of my waist.
“Why is that?”
“Because we wouldn’t have left the room.” His lips press to my cheek, and he pulls me into the safest and warmest spot I’ve ever known—his embrace.
“Where are we off to?” I try to tell my hormones to calm down, that this is a date. And it’s not to the coffee house or bagel shop; we’re going to a real restaurant.
Brax is taking me out on a real date where we are dressed up like grown-ups and act like we have everything we desire. The act isn’t hard when I’m on Braxton Brentwood’s arm.
“It’s a surprise,” he whispers, his hand leaving the small of my back, skimming down my arm until my hand is secure in his.
He guides us out of the bar and through the revolving door. He tips the doorman, and a cab immediately pulls up for us to climb into.
For a while, I forget I’m the orphan, Ainsley Winslow, who has a hundred dollars in her bank account and a million I-owe-you loans.
The restaurant is dark and romantic. We’re tucked away at a table along the windows that overlook the city of Chicago. I can see Feinberg below us from the ninety-fifth floor of the John Hancock Center.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, placing the napkin on my lap, admiring the city I hope to live in with Brax one day.
“You are,” he says.
A rush of heat rises to my cheeks.
Brax makes me feel loved, but he doesn’t overly compliment me. Sure, I get the, You’re beautiful, and if I had to go on nonverbal communication, from the way he can’t keep his hands off me, I feel like I’m a Victoria’s Secret’s model. But, tonight, something feels different. More intimate, more invested.
“Thank you. You clean up well.”
His eyes cast down to his suit. He chuckles lightly and straightens his back. “Not as well as you.”
“If you go pro, you might have to get used to the suits,” I say.
It was meant to be an innocent comment, but Brax’s eyes shoot out the window.
He turns back my way, his face unreadable, but the usual smile isn’t there. “Let’s not talk about the future tonight, okay?” he asks.
I nod, swallowing back the threat of tears in my eyes.
The waiter comes by and takes our order.
“Have you heard from Cade?” he asks, a sly grin on his lips.
He knows something.
“No. Have you?”
He shrugs. I’ll take that as a yes.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. I called him to make sure Delaney stayed home. He said that she’d been home all weekend, but Olivia was in the backgr
ound.”
I blow out a stream of air through my foreign lipsticked lips.
“Of course she is. Her dad will eventually put a stop to them.” I shake my head at their need to be together all the time.
“Young love,” Brax says.
“Young love that will break their hearts,” I retort.
He tilts his head, staring at me like he’s worried. “You know, there is something I want to talk to you about,” he says, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair.
I bring my wine glass up to my lips. “What?”
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
I’m a little thrown off by his question. “Of course.”
His lips purse. “No, Ainsley. If I were in a roomful of girls, would you trust me?”
“I trust you, not them.” I cross my legs under the table. I take another sip of wine, looking for anything to do with my hands.
“Let’s say, none of them were coming on to me. It was just me and a group of girls. Would you trust that I wouldn’t cheat on you?”
My stomach churns. I knot the napkin in my hands. His question makes me uneasier than being this high up in the sky.
“I want to.”
He nods, his lips turning straight. He’s not mad but maybe disappointed.
“You will. One day, you’ll trust me to turn down a naked-centerfold woman standing right in front of me.” His usual smile emerges.
I hope so because, without trust, a relationship can’t exist. But how many hoops will I make Brax jump through until my scars are healed?
23
Ainsley
Brax didn’t miss a beat after the trust comment and dinner. He still entertained me with stories of Crosby and Ella when they were younger along with some of the baseball player antics nowadays. I talked about my dad, my mom, and my grandma, touching only on the good memories and not the bad.
His arm wraps around my waist as the elevator ascends to our room. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks.
“Yes, I did. Thank you for dinner,” I say again for the fifth time.
The elevator dings, and the doors open. Brax lightly taps my ass for me to step out first.
When we get to the hallway, he takes my hand in his. “Good. Save your thank you for our hotel room.” He laughs, showing he’s not serious.
A minute later, we’re in our room with the skyline of Chicago outside the window. I step out of my heels and rub my feet. Brax takes off his sports coat and neatly places it on the back of the upholstered chair in the corner. He sits down in the desk chair to remove his shoes. I place my clutch on the table and look up to find Brax leaning back, staring over at me.
His expression is serious and not at all the joking one I’ve grown used to. Our eyes lock, and the lust I’ve felt all day intensifies.
He holds his hand out in the air to me. “Come here,” he softly says.
Without thinking, I move my feet, and my hand reaches out and meets his. He bends his wrist, pressing our palms together and locking our fingers.
“Will you do me a favor?” he whispers, guiding me down onto his lap.
I sit down, my legs falling to the sides, and the bulge in his slacks presses against my center.
My arms wrap around his neck, and his hands slide around my waist, lifting the skirt of my dress. His fingers push my panties over, leaving his hands on my bare ass.
He presses me forward against him, and I arch my back, pushing my tits in his face.
“What?” I finally ask.
His head dips, and his mouth covers my neck, sucking on my skin. My head falls between my shoulder blades, and his hand moves up to the front of my dress, dipping between my breasts. My hair cascades down, touching his knees.
“Strip for me,” he says, looking up from right above the crevice of my breasts.
My heart stops, and I straighten my back.
A smile now teases his lips, his hands conservatively on my hips.
You can do this, Ainsley.
There’s a security pouring from his eyes. A look that says, Trust me.
The one thing about Brax is, he pulls out a sexual side of myself that I hadn’t known existed until I met him.
I slide off his lap, backstepping until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. I lock my eyes with his as he slouches down the chair, swinging one arm onto the desk, granting me all of his attention.
He nods even though he’s the one who wanted me to start stripping. I move my shaking hand to the back of my dress, finding the start of the zipper. I bite my lower lip as I turn around and slowly slide it down.
“Damn,” he softly says, watching the zipper dip lower and lower.
Once it stops, he gets an eyeful of my bra and the top of my red lace panties.
I glance over my shoulder, and he’s stroking his dick through his slacks, his eyes glued on me. That’s all the encouragement I need. I push the dress off my right shoulder and tug my arm through the opening.
Looking over my other shoulder, I do the same move before holding my dress up with my hands over my breasts. I circle around, and he’s still slowly rubbing his dick up and down over his pants.
My fingers grab the top of my dress, and I slowly lower the fabric until it hits my waist. I let it fall, and it puddles on the floor.
“Fuck.” His breathing staggers, and his hand rubs faster over his dick.
I stand in front of him in a red pair of lace panties and a see-through bra with my nipples poking out. His eyes take in the scene, scorching every inch of my skin.
“Come here,” he says, his hand leaving his dick and reaching out for me to take.
I shake my head, my hair swinging back and forth along my bare skin.
“Open your pants,” I say, turning the tables on him.
He leans back, unbuckles his belt, and fiddles with his button and zipper.
His black boxer briefs are tented and stretched now, and my mouth waters, wanting to taste him.
“Come on, baby. Come here,” he urges.
I giggle like a schoolgirl, my teeth biting my bottom lip, as I shake my head.
“You wanted me to strip,” I say.
A groan rises up his throat. “Hurry up,” he says.
I reach behind me and undo the clasp of my strapless bra. It comes down, and I hold it by my side, dropping it to the floor.
Brax reaches his hand inside his boxers, palming his dick up and down.
I keep my eyes focused on his as I step forward. I hook my fingers under the sides of my panties and teasingly shimmy them down my legs.
“Is this what you wanted, Mr. Brentwood?” I ask.
His eyes zero in on my nakedness, and again, my skin heats.
I fall to my knees. “I think it’s your turn,” I say, pulling down his pants and boxers until his dick pops out.
My hand runs over it.
He inhales a deep breath.
“I need you,” he says.
He stands up, and I fall to the ground.
He holds his hand out, and I grab it. He raises me to my feet.
I unbutton his shirt while his lips cast kisses along my shoulder and neck.
“You’re so fucking hot. I’m going to buy you a truckload of lingerie when we get home. Then, I’m going to strip you down and fuck you until you’re hoarse from screaming my name every night for the rest of my life.”
Since I’ve been with Brax, there have been moments we were urgent for one another. A time in the library when we couldn’t wait the five minutes to get home and ended up in the restroom. Another time at Covington’s, in his truck outside. But never has he ever talked to me like this. Never has he made promises of the future.
I push his dress shirt over his shoulders, and it joins my dress on the floor. His hands leave my body, and he swings his hips to free his pants. They fall to the floor with the thud of his belt.
“Tell me you want me,” he says, grabbing my ass and pulling me flush against his body.
I wrap my legs around his
torso. His dick is so hard, it teases my clit.
“I want you,” I softly say.
“How bad?” He lays me down on the bed.
“Brax, I ache for you.”
He digs into his night bag on top of the desk, comes to the edge of the bed, pulls down his boxers, and then climbs up the bed.
“God, Ainsley, I’m never going to be finished with you,” he says.
The tip of his dick pierces my opening, and I squirm, needing him to soothe the ache he’s built.
“Brax,” I sigh, the foil condom packet poking my hip.
He’s teasing me and waiting to put the condom on until the last minute. How nice it would feel without one. Nothing between us.
Let him use the condom.
“What is it, baby?” His lips suck my nipple into his mouth and then trail upward to my lips.
I widen my legs, giving him space. “Have you been tested?”
Moron, Ainsley. Use the condom.
His eyes peer up, looking at me with wrinkled brows. “Yeah, I was just tested for my physical during winter break. Why?”
“I’m on the pill.” I release a breath.
He smiles but then quickly grows serious. “Are you sure?”
No, I’m not.
“I was tested last year, and I’ve had no other partners.”
“Ainsley?” he questions again.
I stare him directly in the eye and nod. “I want this with you.”
A stream of his breath tickles my skin, but he presses on.
His thighs nudge my legs further apart, and he positions himself at my center.
I want this. I want him and me with nothing between us.
Do I trust him?
The question from dinner continues to plague me.
I want to trust him. I want to love him with no underlying insecurities. I want to trust what’s between us, what we’re building.
He slowly moves inside me, as though it’s his first time being there. Once he’s completely in, I gasp from how right it feels.
Brax must feel the same euphoria because a rumble of a growl escapes his lips, and his head falls to my neck. “You feel so good.”
Extra Innings Page 16
