Both of his palms slide smoothly up my sides, one resting behind my back pulling me to him, the other coming to rest behind my neck, holding me possessively. The kiss deepens, all the while we grind our bodies together until I feel like I could fall apart, but never once does he take his lips off of mine again.
The way his body moves against my own is skilled and fluid. Every motion a masterpiece I want to savor. Rhett never does anything small, he’s all in, and the master of every domain he endeavors to conquer. And this, what we are doing in my bed, is no different. He has me exactly where he wants me and is filling every one of my senses so full that I don’t think I’ll ever find my way out again. Suddenly, nothing feels like enough. His body isn’t close enough, the kiss isn’t deep enough, his hands aren’t holding me tight enough.
My mind starts to crash all around me, and my euphoria at being the only place I’ve ever wanted to be is replaced with my fears from years past that I’ve been using to deny myself this type of relationship with Rhett.
My once frantic lips still, and our intertwined bodies start to slow.
“Hannah?” Rhett whispers against my swollen mouth. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He pulls his head back enough to really give my face a once over.
He knows me too well and I can’t hide my panic from him even if I want to.
Rhett’s massive frame rolls off of me in one quick movement, and even through my fear, I still miss the warmth of him instantly, pulling the blanket up to cover myself.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I never meant—” Rhett pauses in the middle of sitting up, his beautiful lips struggling noticeably with the words. He rubs the back of his neck, worked up, and clearly having a hard time rectifying what just happened. “That’s not true.” He finally finishes his thought, staring away from me and at my bedroom door. “I did mean to, it’s just—” He stops talking again, sending my heart racing, scared for what he will say next. His face is tormented.
Anxiety takes over, and I can’t stop myself from wondering if he’s already realized what a mistake he was about to make. That thought spurns me to start babbling out of nervousness. “Look, I know you probably don’t want me like this. You don’t have to make any excuses. We got caught up in the moment. It’s been a long day. I get it, I do.” I’m not even sure what I’m saying, only that I want this moment—which was just short of heaven a few seconds ago, and that I had wanted to last forever—to now end as soon as possible.
At my words, Rhett turns to me so swiftly I worry he may get whiplash. Under his intense gaze, I pull the blanket up tighter over my chest, wishing I had even the slightest idea where my shirt is.
“Probably don’t want you like this?” he repeats, his anger undeniable. The burning coal has returned behind his stormy eyes.
I don’t even know how to respond. In all of the years we’ve known each other, and everything that we’ve been through, I’ve never seen this look that he’s giving me. It stuns me to silence, and makes me want to take back everything I just said, so he’ll stop staring directly into the depths of my soul.
Rhett’s mouth opens, poised to say something, before he closes it, shuts his eyes sadly, and hangs his head. I know defeat when I see it, and that’s exactly what this is. Why though? I don’t know. I’m so lost in my own head over everything that’s transpired over the last few minutes I don’t even know where to start with questions.
Tongue tied and reeling, I can only watch as he picks his face back up to meet mine. “After everything, that’s what you think?” He shakes his head just once and wraps the towel tighter around his waist, before heaving his body out of my bed. I get the distinct feeling he wants to be alone. Having already eyed his clean uniform that sits folded in a chair next to my bed, he unceremoniously drops his towel, his back to me.
Modest he is not, but he has zero reason to be. I stare in awe of this entire situation as he pulls his pants on over his naked backside, the one that my legs had just been wrapped around. After sitting in the chair to slip his shoes on, Rhett stands before my bed, not even so much as looking at me. His stare is fixated on the hat in his hands.
Rhett’s voice rings out over the hurtful silence, frustrated. “Come to my game tonight,” he implores me. His face is blank, looking lost, as he continues to stare away from me, and in a second I would have agreed to just about anything to make that look disappear.
“If that’s what you want.” My voice breaks with barely contained emotion.
“It’s what I want.” His response is definitive, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll send a car for you.” His hand shoots up to stop my protests at the same time I begin to eek one out. “The driver will have your ticket.”
“Okay,” the word is nothing more than a puff of air as it leaves my mouth. I pull myself up to sit, running my hand through my hair, and tightening the sheet across my chest. I hate being so naked.
As though he can read my thoughts, Rhett picks my shirt up off the floor where it lays next to his feet. Leaning across my bed, he places it in my lap before running his lips across my cheek. They hover over my skin longer than normal and I don’t really know what that means, but with everything that has happened, their feather light touch emphasizes the big gaping hole that I now have in my chest from what we’ve just done.
“Thanks,” I stare shyly away, feeling defenseless to his pull. I know that I’ll replay these last few moments with him in my mind every day for the rest of my life. For a few short seconds, everything in my world felt right. This memory no doubt blows the one of our kiss from years ago, right out of the water.
He nods wordlessly, his emotions so prominent it feels as if they are electrifying the air around us. I hold my breath until he walks out of my bedroom and through my apartment door, locking it on his way out.
I want to sit, stare and wallow, but I can’t. Finn’s plane landed a while ago, and my sister promised to have him call as soon as she got him to her house and he was settled. That call should be coming any minute. Plus, I have to get ready for the game. I told Rhett I would go, so I need to be there.
An hour later, I’ve resigned myself with the fact I can’t take back what Rhett and I have done, so I need to move on and focus on other things. I pull the cutest pair of jeans I own out of my closet. They’re fitted and even I can admit they look good on me. I have several jerseys with Rhett’s last name, Prince, emblazoned on them and I always wear one when I go to his games. Always. I may not be his girl, but I am his best friend, and so proud of him that I usually can’t even talk about his accomplishments without tearing up.
Tonight I pick a red one and partner it with some splashy red polish on my nails. I’m a little down in the dumps, and a lot confused, so this simple act helps me to refocus on something else. Not one to typically wear much makeup, I spend more time on that than usual, too. By the time I’m done with my hair and put on some earrings, the car service calls to say they’re downstairs. I feel good, having taken the time to primp, which is rare for me given my limited time these days. And I look good, too, even if I do say so myself.
The car service takes me to the players’ entrance so I don’t have to fight the crowds. Rhett always puts me with the players’ wives. Most of them are sweet, and I don’t mind. My jean clad legs have an extra sashay as I approach my seat next to Andre Garcia’s wife, Sheila. Andre’s the pitcher for the team, and he and Sheila were high school sweethearts. If I was playing favorites, Sheila would be it. She’s sincere, and funny. She loves the sport of baseball almost as much as her husband, and is always there early for the games. A hardcore fan.
Sheila’s overjoyed to see me here, I can tell. “Hey, you!” She wraps her arms around me, and my face gets swamped by her long blond curls. Her taller frame dwarfs me, but the hug feels good. “How’ve you been, sweetheart?” Grabbing my purse from my shoulder, she guides me to my seat.
“Good,” I return her infectious smile. And I am. The troubles of the day have melted away, and I’m finally able to t
ake my first full deep breath since I woke up this morning. Something about the smell of the stadium and the buzz of excitement that surrounds it ropes me in every time, relaxing me. I love it here just as much as Sheila does.
She and I spend the remainder of the time before the game catching up, and the minutes fall away. As a few of the players begin to mill about, Sheila rises from her seat to look for Andre. I follow her gaze, and find that Rhett has appeared. I wonder if he made his way out to the field just to check on me. His eyes immediately go to the seat he knows I’ll be in.
The smile that lights his face does things to me. Our whole lives a feeling like no other always encompasses me when he looks at me that way. It’s like a jolt right to my emotions. The happy ones. I blow him a kiss, feeling much lighter than I did when he left my apartment earlier. The haze of not knowing what we did, and what to do about it, has lifted. I need to get our friendship back on track and stop this craziness.
Rhett stares at me too long. I can’t deny it. I can’t explain it away. His eyes trail from my own and down to the jersey I’m wearing. His jersey. His eyes heat at seeing his name on me so I stand, turn around and give him a show of pointing to the “Prince” emblazoned across my back. Glancing over my shoulder, I sweep my long blonde hair out of the way, giving him my best mega-watt smile. The intensity and hunger I see in his stare makes my breath stutter. Before I collapse under it, he kisses two of his fingers and holds them out toward me, disappearing back in to the dugout.
I love that man. There’s no way around it.
My bottom isn’t back in my seat before three curvy, vivacious young women, wearing homemade shirts with Rhett’s name all over them make their way to the railing near the dugout, screaming his name. With a last name like “Prince,” it’s easy to come up with catchy sayings. Some fans get super creative, but clearly these girls did not. One of the women has the old, used up, “Be my Prince?” emblazoned right across her huge chest. From their bubble gum pink lips to their shorts that show the whole bottom quarter of their butts, these three are in this thing to land themselves a baseball player. It always irritates me, but today especially so. I can’t take my eyes off of them and their pursuits. Rhett’s the best looking guy on the team, or any team, in my opinion. And that’s saying a lot because baseball does not lack hot men. He’s also extremely talented, and exceedingly smart. A triple threat.
Not able to ignore their chants, a few of Rhett’s teammates wander out to the screaming trio, trying to placate them. No matter their efforts, when they leave, the screams for Rhett always start back up. After an unsuccessful attempt by his teammate, Rousing, to appease them, I watch as he clearly prods Rhett to join them. Timidly, Rhett’s head clears the dugout, heading their way.
The women jump up and down at Rhett’s approach, giggling with excitement. The way their chests bounce is nothing short of pornographic, and Rousing’s eyes bug out of his head. Rhett, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber. Not fazed at all by their display.
It’s funny that I forget how determined girls can be when it comes to Rhett. It never helps to see it in real life, and I can feel Sheila watching my reaction. Besides all the complications a relationship with Rhett would bring to our friendship, this is another downside, the girls. Day after day, night after night, literally throwing themselves at him. I’m not sure I could handle it.
“You know it means nothing, right?” Sheila nudges me. “Don’t let it bother you.” Her hand wraps around my own. Her voice sounds far away even though she’s sitting right next to me. My focus is absolute.
Sheila’s words begin to sink in and I momentarily drop my eyes from the scene of Rhett with the bimbos. “What?” I feign innocence.
Sheila gives me a tight look. “Cut the crap, Hannah.”
“Seriously.” I try to convince her. “It totally doesn’t even matter to me. It’s not like we’re dating. Rhett’s free to do whatever.” I wave my hand in the direction that I know he’s still talking to them, and turn my attention to the opposite side of the field.
“Okay, well, I’ll just let you sit in your own denial then.” Sheila shrugs, laughing at me under her breath. “But a word of advice?”
Reluctantly, I turn back to her, swallowing hard. I’m not sure I want to hear her advice.
“Rhett is a good man. A good man who cares about you. Deeply,” she emphasizes the last word. “Don’t let someone else’s intentions cloud you from seeing what his intentions are.”
My eyes tear involuntarily for the millionth time that day. It’s been an eternity since I’ve had such little control over my emotions, but it’s been a long day. “Honestly, Sheila,” I breathe, feeling the fight leave my body as I say the words. They come out weaker than I mean for them to. “It’s not like that between us. We’re just friends, and he’s free to do what he wants.”
“That’s what you want?” She dishes out some tough love.
“I—“My voice stutters, my eyes cutting back to Rhett. The woman with the cheesy slogan plastered across her chest is hanging over the railing holding out a piece of paper. As I watch, he takes it from her outstretched fingertips. It has to be a phone number. One tear escapes as I look on. Rhett takes a step away from the girls, and unfortunately his deep brown eyes kick my direction as I wipe it from my cheek. Alarm colors his face before he comes to a stop at the entrance to the dugout. I pull my gaze from his and back to Sheila, who watched the whole scene along with me. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” I whisper, wishing now that I’d just stayed home.
Sheila’s smart enough to let the subject drop, strengthening her grip on my hand, though I’m sure she has more she wants to say.
No more than a few minutes pass before Rhett is back out of the dugout, beckoning for me to meet him at the railing. I already know he’s worried about me. I really wish he hadn’t seen me cry. I only have about two seconds before he’s swarmed by fans, so I jump from my seat and rush to him.
“You okay?” He stealthily peers around us for prying ears. Rhett takes his cap off, smoothing out his hair and pulling it back on lower over his brow this time. He’s delectable, and it makes my heart wrench with need.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie unconvincingly. He doesn’t have time to discuss this, and even if he did this is not the time or place.
“Just tell me,” he orders in a huff. He isn’t trying to be unkind, he just can’t stand it when I keep things from him. All semblance of the high and mighty, star baseball player fade, and all that remains is my Rhett. The one who used to sit against the old tree in my backyard with me for hours on end while my parents screamed at each other just a few feet away in our tiny house—so I didn’t have to be alone.
“Honestly, I was just talking with Sheila, and it’s not something you need to worry about.” I try again to ease his fear. “I’m fine.”
Precious seconds that we don’t have are wasted while he stares at me, waiting on an honest answer—which is fine by me because I don’t especially want to have this conversation. Where are the fans when you need them?
“Hannah, if it was the girls…” He cuts to the chase.
I look away guiltily. I don’t mean to. Sometimes you can’t help your gut reaction to things.
“You know I don’t go for that kind of thing.” Rhett begins to plead his case, but I don’t want to hear it.
“You don’t?” I purposefully act surprised and not a little rude. Definitely out of line. I have no right to make him feel bad.
Rhett’s head jerks backward, as shocked by my attitude as I am. We never fight. Ever.
I continue, apparently set on making a fool of myself. “Look, I saw her give you her number, and that’s fine by me. You owe me no explanations. Okay? If that’s the kind of girl you want, then so be it.”
One chuckle escapes his lips, but not out of humor. “Well, you’re really full of zingers today aren’t you?” His eyes flash to a pair of fans hovering at the top of the stands, looking very much as if they are deciding
whether to interrupt us. I find myself for the first time hoping for the disruption.
“Hannah!” Rhett commands my attention when I don’t turn back to him. That doesn’t help my mood. “Look at me!” His voice turns deep. It’s not often that I act this insolent, but I’m two seconds away from leaving so he’s trying to get the situation back on track.
My eyes beat down into his, showing my resentment at this whole conversation.
“You actually believe that’s the kind of girl I want?” His face holds mine captive.
“Yeah,” I state simply, and I really don’t believe it, but I’m angry and saying whatever I can to cause him the hurt that I feel.
“Yeah?” He half questions, half mimics me. The anger that he’s trying to keep below the surface springs free.
“Why are you repeating everything I say?” I strike back.
“Because I can’t actually believe that you are saying it! I feel like I need clarification that I’m hearing you correctly!”
Rhett’s outburst catches a few sideways glances. He braces both hands on the wall that separates us and drops his head to steady his nerves.
“You know what, don’t worry about it. Just go play your game,” I urge him. Anger drips from my voice, as present as it is in his, coupled with a sadness I know he can hear.
“Don’t worry about it. Sure. No problem.” Rhett shakes his head, the words spilling from his mouth lifeless.
His tone causes me enough alarm to be concerned, but that is diminished by the fact that he’s repeating me again, making my temper flare back up.
Taking control, because that’s what he does, his angry stare lessens, and his voice turns as soothing as possible given the situation. “Hannah, just do me a favor and wait for me after the game. Please? I can’t do this here, you know that, but we’ll talk this through. Okay? I’ll give you a ride home. Take you out for dinner?”
He’s so painfully handsome that I don’t know where I find the strength to tell him no, but I’m hurting too much, and I think I’ve had a day where I can officially say, enough is enough.
