by Sierra Dean
“I’ve never seen Toad in a Hole made with cheese before,” she remarked.
“Then you haven’t seen it made right before. And it’s called eggs in a basket.”
She had another big gulp of coffee, the green-gray tone of her skin becoming rosier and more healthy by the minute. Balancing the plate on her knees rather than turning her back to him, she used the side of the fork he’d given her to break apart the bread, letting the gooey yellow center of the egg yolk seep out onto her plate. She proceeded to drag her toast bite through the yolk before popping it in her mouth.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman make such a big show of eating before, and it made him sad for all the women he’d shared meals with in the past. Emmy made a satisfied groan, and the sound went straight from his ears to his groin, bringing to mind a dozen other ways he might get her to make that sound again.
“This is perfection,” she said between mouthfuls. “I didn’t think I could eat anything, but this is amazing.”
“Now you’re overselling it. I make it okay, but you should try my sister’s. Damn. You only think this is good because your stomach is loving you for all the butter and bread.”
“I don’t care why I think it’s good. It’s delicious. End of story.”
He laughed. “Far be it for me to argue. If you think it’s the best thing since sliced bread, I will take the compliment and run with it.”
“As you should.” She popped another bite into her mouth and smiled at him, all the self-doubting shyness of earlier gone, replaced with the smart-mouthed woman he knew.
Tucker poured his own coffee and waited for her to finish what was on her plate before he said the words that would doubtlessly make her attitude darken again.
“So…last night.”
“Ah.” She set her mug on the counter and steeled herself for his answer. “What happened?”
“Alex texted me while you two were at the bar.”
“You were who he couldn’t stop sending messages to? I was sure there was some hot booty call he couldn’t wait to ditch me for.”
“Nope, this time it was only me. On a non-work day you might have caught him hitting up the little black book, but he has a strict self-imposed curfew on game nights. He’ll drink himself silly, but he always goes home to his own bed.”
“Well…I guess that’s something.”
“It’s the best you’ll get from Alex.”
“I’m just the trainer, I’m not going to judge what he does in his spare time.” She traced her finger on the lip of the coffee mug. “That still doesn’t explain how I ended up here.”
“A little before one he texted to say you had maybe tried to match him for one too many shots and he wasn’t in shape to take you home, nor did you have a firm grasp on where you lived.”
“Oh.”
“So I came, dropped him off and tried to get you to tell me where your apartment was. I know you live in the Mission, but you kept saying The big stupid Full House one on the street where hope goes to die. And while I’m sure there are a lot of places in San Fran matching that particular description, I wasn’t about to go to all of them and hope I let you out at the right one.”
“How considerate of you. And explains why you brought me here. But it doesn’t explain why I wound up in your bedroom and not on the couch or in the guestroom.” She looked embarrassed with herself for saying it, and Tucker wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping to hear. Did she want something to have happened between them, or was she hoping he hadn’t touched her?
“You asked for the grand tour when we got here, and I obliged. When you got to my bedroom, you announced it was the prettiest bedroom on the face of the planet and promptly passed out on my bed.”
“Jesus.” Emmy nestled her head in her open palms.
“You were very ladylike about it.”
“I’m sure.”
“So I covered you with the blanket and left you there. That’s it, end of sordid tale. Everything after that you know.”
“Did I, uh…” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips then looked at him directly. “Did I do anything to really, really humiliate myself?”
“Like try to take off my pants in the car, or offer to show me how you can do a backflip?”
Emmy’s whole face went slack with horror, and Tucker managed to maintain a straight face long enough he was sure she might die of shame before he laughed. “Only the latter, I swear.”
“Did I actually try to do a backflip?”
“No, you got distracted by my neighbor’s corgi. Can you do a backflip?”
“I was in gymnastics in high school, but it’s been easily that long since I’ve tried.”
“Impressive. Next time you get tanked, I’ll need to let you show me how bendy you can get.”
“Not very anymore.”
“I bet you’re plenty bendy where it counts.”
She sputtered into her coffee mug, but when she didn’t respond with outrage or by immediately scolding him, he put his own coffee down and moved to clear the space between them. The kitchen was a good size for a condo, but there still wasn’t a hell of a lot of distance for him to cross.
Before he had time to reconsider the move, he had eliminated the gap and his thighs were up against her knees. She stared up at him, hazel eyes wide with wonder, her lips parted slightly.
“Hi,” he said softly.
“Hi.”
“You can tell me to stop.”
“I know. I’ve done it before.”
“Are you going to now?”
“I don’t know.”
It wasn’t exactly an invitation. “What are you worried about?”
“Right now? My breath, mainly.”
Tucker laughed. “And otherwise?”
“I worry about a lot of things.”
“I’ve learned that about you. But now there’s no other man in your way. Now you can be with who you want to be with. So what are you worried about?”
“Is it too soon?”
“Emmy…” He cupped her chin in his palm so she couldn’t look away. “As far as I’m concerned, it couldn’t be soon enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
What was she doing?
Tucker’s fingers caressed the sensitive skin along her jaw and followed the upward curve of her face until he was holding the back of her head, his hand buried in her hair.
He’d told her she could say stop whenever she wanted, but she didn’t want him to stop. She never wanted him to stop, and finally she could let him follow through without the guilt.
Tucker kissed her cheek softly, and she let out a little sigh. He paused for a moment, but when she made no other sound aside from the exhalation, he continued the task at hand.
His delicate kisses moved with practiced slowness from her cheek to the dip where her jaw met her neck, and there he gently licked her skin. The shocking warmth of his tongue on her made a thrill shoot through her, piercing her groin and taking her from mildly aroused to downright horny.
Emmy no longer wondered what she was doing. She wondered instead how she had gone this long without doing it.
She raised her palms to the front of his shirt and clasped two handfuls of the cotton into her fists, tugging him closer. Since he couldn’t physically come nearer to her with her legs in the way, she parted them and made room for his body between her thighs.
The heat of his skin was evident even through their two layers of clothes, and once his body was flush against hers, his kiss moved from her neck to her lips. He seized her mouth in such a way she momentarily questioned if he really was the nice guy he seemed, because no nice man should kiss with the owning, demanding power Tucker was using. The way his lips parted hers and his fingers clawed at her hair was needy and insistent, full of something far more primal than she’d expected from her mild-mannered pitcher.
She was intoxicated by it. Wanting her had made him this crazy, and she wanted to know how wild he could be.
/> Her mouth yielded to his kiss, lips opening so his tongue could meet hers, teasing, playfully nipping with his teeth, deepening the kiss each time she hesitated until she was sure she might melt into a puddle on his floor. He had a robust taste of dark coffee and something else that was masculine and entirely Tucker. She’d kissed him before, but never so much and so deeply. It was as though this embrace were an abyss and he was willing her to fall into it with him.
Releasing her hair, he braced one hand on either side of her against the counter and leaned into her so she was forced to bend backwards, the countertop meeting the small of her back.
“Tucker,” she mumbled when he pulled away briefly. She had no other intention, nothing specific to say, she just wanted to hear how his name sounded now that she had the taste of him all over her lips. Delicious. It all sounded delicious.
This time she closed the gap. Her hands still fisted in his shirt, she dragged him back down to her, reclaiming his mouth and returning the fevered passion with which he’d kissed her. He pushed closer, his crotch seated against hers and the rigid presence of his cock unmistakable along her inner thigh.
Emmy wanted to say his name again, as an invitation or a call to arms, but her tongue was too tied up with his to make time for words. He growled into her mouth when she arched her hips towards him, and in response she let a moan rumble in her throat.
She wasn’t going to say no, and if he was waiting for her to stop this, he had another thing coming. It had been months since she’d last had sex—yet another sign things with her and Simon had shifted gears into the platonic—and she’d been denying herself Tucker all that time.
To let him know what she was thinking, she pulled back abruptly from the kiss and looked him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and the skin around his mouth was red from their rough kisses. She was willing to bet his morning stubble had done a number on her skin, but she didn’t care. None of it mattered except for getting him out of his stupid pajama pants and getting them both back into those beautiful cotton sheets.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, trying to remember the last time a kiss had made her dizzy with need. To drive home her words, she let go of his shirt and grabbed his ass with both hands, tugging him so close they both gasped. “Yes.” This time there was a growl to the word.
“Okay.” He stepped back and pulled her to her feet so quickly she stumbled. But he was there, strong and sure, holding her to him. He smelled fabulous for someone who’d just woken up. Maybe they were a good pheromone match, but to Emmy he smelled like fresh pepper and cotton, and it was a glorious combination. He made her head swim with desire, and her usually too-busy brain was, for once, quiet and focused.
Tucker explored her body, running his hands over her T-shirt until he found the hem, then the first shock of real skin-to-skin contact sent Emmy reeling. His big hands were warm, and though his fingertips were rough and calloused from years of pitching, his touch was light and sensitive. Everywhere his fingers traveled a spark of electricity followed, igniting a desire within in her that had long lain dormant. When he lifted her shirt, she didn’t protest, although she’d never been disrobed in a kitchen before.
When her top was off, she didn’t feel any of the painful awareness of her body she had with other lovers. She’d often felt like she was being assessed and catalogued by other men. Great body, decent boobs. Or, short legs, too much ass.
With Tucker it was different. The way he gazed at her with her top off was so worshipful and adoring she didn’t think he was comparing her to anyone else. He was seeing her for who she was.
In that moment, any thoughts of might disappeared, and Emmy knew she loved him. She’d known, really, since the trip to Chicago. But seeing him look at her in the harsh morning light—with no makeup and terrible hair—and still be impressed…well, he must be crazy about her.
He touched her again, tentative at first, then greedy, exploring her exposed skin with his palms fanned wide. He tucked his fingertips into the waistband of her jeans, grazing the top of her ass and making her shudder with unrestrained excitement. With each new area he traversed, Emmy’s brain became cloudier, wondering how she’d resisted him for so long and how stupid she’d been to live without this in her life.
Withdrawing, he shifted his attention to her breasts, cupping each mound with a hand so large even her C cups looked small being held by them. He rubbed her peaked nipples through the sheer lace fabric of her bra, sending another shock wave directly to her core. No one had ever managed to get her so wet, so quickly, with most of her clothes still on. It was as if Tucker’s every ministration was attuned to her, and he knew the wants of her body better than she did.
The work they did together on the field had proven she understood the mechanics of his body, and she’d used that knowledge to make him a better pitcher. What could he do to her once he’d learned the finer details of her form? She was eager for him to know her that well, and yearned to know him better than she already did.
Tucker dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor, his tousled brown hair all she could see when his head settled between her breasts. He hugged her waist possessively with one arm, locking her to him, and with his other hand he lowered the cup of her bra. He teased her nipple with short, hot licks, drawing it into a tight, almost painful nub, and latched his mouth on to it.
Emmy shivered as he worked her with his lips and tongue, burying her hands in his soft, messy hair. When her knees buckled, he kept her upright with his arm, and she ended up kneeling on his thighs. Never once did he stop teasing her nipple, and Emmy hadn’t known she could feel so much pleasure from the most basic foreplay.
It wasn’t enough, though.
Her whole body pulsed with a need so demanding it throbbed in her ears and blotted out all sound except for their twin heartbeats.
“Bedroom,” she rasped.
Tucker released her bra and pulled his mouth away, only to return to her lips for another searing kiss, his stubble making her sensitive mouth hurt, but in a thrilling way she didn’t want to stop. His kiss made it clear he was willing to take her right there, and Emmy had never wanted to give herself up so willingly.
He scooped her into his arms, supporting her weight easily, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands kneaded her bottom, and the kiss lost any precision when she ground her pelvis against his erection. He sucked in a breath, and his lips and tongue were frenzied then, devouring her own mouth like he was starving and she was the only food that could sate him.
Emmy barely registered their transition from the kitchen to the bedroom until his weight came down on top of her and the softness of his sheets met her bare back. His body covering hers felt comfortable, like a human blanket wrapping her in its warmth.
As Tucker no longer needed to support her weight, he trailed kisses down her chest, sneaking fingers under her to unclasp her bra so he could lavish attention on both breasts in equal turn. Her nipples hardened into sensitive peaks, and she squirmed under him, begging for relief from the exquisite agony he had put her in.
The way he lingered over every inch of her skin drew the moment out, making his exploration last forever. It was equal parts joy and torture, because Emmy reveled in his enjoyment of her, but she needed more.
He undid her pants and pulled her jeans off easily, leaving her in nothing but her cotton panties—a last-minute choice from the previous morning she was now regretting.
If Tucker noticed her boring underwear, he didn’t stop to comment. Instead he hooked long fingers on the side bands over her hips and removed the panties as skillfully as he’d disposed of her pants. Now Emmy was naked, and Tucker was still fully dressed.
“You,” she said, pointing to him with a wobbly finger. If he continued on the course he was going with his heated kisses, she’d soon be completely unable to form words, and getting him naked seemed to be a reasonable last request.
Without hesitating, Tucker shucked off the hoodie and kicked his long legs fr
ee of the pajama pants he’d been wearing. This time Emmy didn’t avert her gaze. She drank in Tucker’s lean, muscled body. His skin was a sun-kissed California gold from all the running he did. The results of that running showed in his hard legs and a firm, tight ass, judging by the handful she’d grabbed earlier and the way he filled out his uniform.
She liked not having to look away, because looking at him was a beautiful goddamn thing. His abs weren’t as harshly defined as some athletes she’d worked on, but too much muscle would have been awkward on him. Emmy propped herself up on her elbows so she could drink him in, and Tucker didn’t seem to mind as he was busy staring back at her.
He smiled at her, and her heart skipped. As beautiful as his body was, that smile would prove to be her undoing. It plucked at parts of her his tongue and fingers could never reach, and made her want to give him everything. One smile was all it took for her to want Tucker to possess her, mind, body and soul.
Right then, though, her body was what needed him most.
When her wandering gaze finally landed on his cock, her breath caught in her throat. She knew tall men tended to have length to match, but Tucker had length and thickness. Emmy’s mouth watered slightly at the sight of his hard cock standing at attention. She fixated on it, imagining sliding her lips over the head, and when she raised her eyes to look at Tucker, she suspected he must have been imagining the same thing.
“Come here,” she said, barely croaking the words.
Tucker obliged, moving up the bed so he straddled her chest. Emmy wrapped her fingers around his shaft, thinking again about how the large parts of Tucker managed to make her seem much smaller by comparison. She worked him with firm strokes, then brought his head to her lips as she’d imagined doing, slipping his hot, hard cock into her mouth and teasing his soft, tight skin with slow laps.
