“See, Saucey? Monogamy equals ego boost. My girl knows I can do anything.”
“Hold off, Superman.” Ollie steps in front of me, blocking my sight of the cutout. “Oh, El, you can touch me anytime you want,” he calls out as he grabs himself.
“Thanks for the offer, but there’s only one thing I like to touch.”
Ollie shakes his head while I shoot my girl a wink.
“See, Saucey? Another upside to monogamy. Your girl isn’t touching anyone else’s junk,” I comment, sidestepping Ollie.
He lines up to throw.
“She’s completely brainwashed you. You do realize that, right?” Saucey asks.
My mouth is ajar to say something else, but Ollie shoots us the shut-the-fuck-up look, and we do.
“Sorry, Ol,” Saucey says.
Amazing that six foot five inches can intimidate even the biggest smart mouth.
Ollie sets himself back into place and hammers a ball through the left tit. He lets out a holler like a wolf, body motions and all. “Let’s go.”
He thumps his chest, and I’m guessing this is a side of Oliver Kane that I’ve never seen before.
“He tends to get overly excited. Wait until you play with him,” Saucey whispers.
Ollie sets himself up and nails the right tit on the spot.
Seriously, how often has he played this?
“I always leave my dessert for last,” he says as he positions himself again.
“Shit,” I murmur as the ball rockets right toward the pussy hole.
“Shit!” Ollie screams when it hits the wood and falls to the ground.
“Oh, fuck,” Saucey says, obviously well aware that this leaves me a huge opening. “What happened, Ollie?”
“Fuck off,” he sneers at Saucey. “Let’s hope Third Base chokes.”
I get ready, ball in my right hand.
“You go, Cros!” Ella screams, climbing the steps.
“Keaton, stay in the dugout!” Coach Lipton yells over to her.
She cowers back down the steps.
“Where to first?” I ask. I release the ball, flying it directly into the pussy to piss Ollie off. “I eat my dessert first.”
I lick my lips, and Ollie’s fist clench.
“Now, now, decisions, decisions.” I throw the ball into the right tit. “I like to work this board like I do Ella.”
Ollie huffs.
Saucey bites his fist to stop from laughing.
I nail the ball into the left tit. “Can I request the color of sliders you wear?” I place my gloved hand on my hip and stare over to a lion mad Ollie. Seriously, if I were his prey and we were in the middle of the Sahara Desert, I’d be screwed.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Ollie stomps on the ground in true toddler fashion.
I had no idea he cheered or criticized himself at this level.
I slap his back. “It’s okay. You can wear whatever color you want.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and Saucey and I laugh.
“Calm down, or I’m going to rename you Ollie the Bull.”
“Crap, good one, Lynch. Damn, Ollie, how did we never come up with that?”
Ollie’s narrowed eyes move into Saucey’s direction.
“Way to go.” Ella cheers as I approach her.
“Loser puts the cutout back,” Saucey says to Ollie, who rolls his eyes and stomps back out to the outfield.
“I’d jump in your arms, but Coach Lipton scares me.” She cringes.
I smile. “He scares me, too.”
In this moment, I forget how I need to tell her about the charity game because it’ll impact both of us. Sometimes, I think we would be better off running away to Jamaica and starting some new life where no one knows our past.
Mr. Keaton’s words ring in my head. We do have bigger problems on our plate than his approval. He’s right because I have to somehow not run when facing my biggest fear from the past two years—facing the ones who called me a murderer, the ones whose love for me turned to hatred faster than a snap of a snow pea.
Chapter Nineteen
Ella
Practice ends, and I sit on the ledge of the cement wall outside the doors of the building. The sun has started to descend behind the trees, giving me a great sunset view.
The whole day runs through my head—my fears, my parents’ approval, Crosby’s kisses, Crosby being a part of a team. Things seem to be in an upswing for both of us, but I fear a shoe will drop.
Wasn’t it only two years ago when I held the perfect life, a life most were envious of? Then, bam, it ended with my shredded heart.
The doors push open, and the guys are razzing Ollie about what he’ll be wearing on Saturday night. They emerge, and Crosby searches for me. Our eyes meet and lock, and a melting smile lazily crosses his lips.
“Hey,” he says, his hand already moving up to caress my cheek.
“Hey.”
“We’re going to study lab. We’ll catch you two later.” Brax walks backward, winking over to Crosby.
“Make an excuse for me?” Crosby asks.
Brax gives him a thumbs-up.
The boys file into Brax’s pickup and drive off.
“Did you guys make some sort of agreement?” I ask.
He takes his hands, urging my legs to open to make room for him. My breathing hitches, and my fingers loop in the belt buckles of his worn-in jeans.
“I had to have you alone.”
He lowers his head, kissing my lips, and my eyes close, my body giving in to him.
Our lips brush, and our heads turn. Crosby presses harder, slipping in his tongue for a brief second. He backs up faster than I’d prefer.
“We need to get out of here before Coach comes out. If he finds out I didn’t go to study lab, he’ll have my ass.” He places his hands under my arms, helping me to jump down.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble,” I argue.
But he doesn’t respond to my question. He only drags me to his truck, throws his bag in the back, and opens the passenger door for me.
“Crosby?”
“Shh…we both need this.”
Yeah, we do.
Shutting my door, he rounds the hood of his truck and slides into his side, starting the ignition and backing up.
The five-minute drive to his house is excruciating, and I almost text Jen to tell her to get out of the house, but when we pull in the driveway, her car isn’t there.
“El”—he turns off the ignition, holding the keys in his palm, and he looks over at me—“you’re in control tonight. If you don’t want to, I’ll never rush you. I might be walking around with blue balls, but I’ll survive.”
A smile plays at his lips. His sincerity isn’t lost even if he knows I’m not about to deny his advances.
“I’m not sure I will survive either,” I say.
His head falls back to the headrest. “Thank fuck because I seriously don’t know if I can go another day without being inside you.” He springs the door open and is at my door a millisecond later.
We walk into the house, hand in hand, and the door closes. We don’t jump on each other. Instead, Crosby drops his bag by the coat rack. He takes my hand again, and step by step, he leads me up to his room.
My heart pounds. It was years ago when we were last together. We were each other’s firsts. I’m sure he’s had other girls who were better than me. Sure, we’d experimented after our first time together, but no way could I have held a candle to some of these girls.
Liam was more about missionary and nothing else. His idea of excitement was me being on top. It was always the same flow—hands on my breasts and maybe venturing down to my pussy, depending on time.
Why is Liam in my head right now?
Crosby is standing in front of me. Currently, we are stopped outside his door, and his hand is on the doorknob.
“Stop whenever you want,” he reminds me.
I wish I could assure him that I’m eager to have him again. I never fel
t closer to Crosby than when he would stare into my eyes while moving in and out of me. The pleasure and the love pouring from his eyes allowed me to open myself up to him .
“You don’t have to worry about that.” I cover his hand on the knob, slowly turning it with him. “I want you, Crosby Lynch.”
The door opens, and we stumble in. His hands catch my hips, and his feet shuffle us to the wall until my back is pressed firmly against it with him sheltering me.
His fingertips dig into my hip bone as his other hand shuts the door and flicks the lock.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says.
That hand on my hip slowly moves up my side. My breathing hitches as his fingers graze over the swell of my breast. I hook my finger in his jeans to pull him closer, and his length presses into me. His mouth covers mine, and our kiss is gentle and steady, like the slowest of dances. His tongue slips in my mouth, and our pace quickens. My hands reach up to his neck, making it clear that I don’t want him to stop. His hands reach under my ass, urging me to wrap my legs around him, which they do willingly without me even realizing it.
“God, El,” he murmurs into my neck, carrying me over to the bed. “You’re everything to me.”
My heart cracks open and allows his words to bring in the safety he encompasses.
“Please, Crosby.” I wiggle under him as he pushes my hair away from my face.
He stares down at me. My body aches from the amount of love conveyed in his caramel hues.
“What, baby? Anything?” he says, circling his erection at my core.
My legs move up to wrap around him. I wish I were wearing leggings instead of jeans.
“You. All I need is you.” I grab the edge of his shirt, urging it off his body.
He takes his hand on the neckline, shrugging it over his head. My hands travel down the his muscled chest until they reach the button of his jeans. I flick the button open.
“You always have me. Never question that,” he whispers, his hands skating up my shirt.
He sits up onto his knees, giving me space to take my shirt off. Once I’m in only my bra, his eyes feast on me, like I’m a ten-million-dollar deal from the White Sox.
“So damn beautiful,” he says. Reaching behind me, he unhooks my bra and brings the straps down my arms. “Perfect.” He kisses my shoulders before moving down to the middle of my breasts.
Both of our hands reach between us to help the other shed more layers.
“Me first,” he says, his hand splaying down the front of my body to lay me on the mattress.
My back arches, like a wave, following his touch, and I buck when he flicks open my jeans before sliding the zipper down. Standing up, he undoes his own zipper and then grabs the ankles of my jeans, pulling them off my body.
“Nice.” He smiles at my underwear.
My hands go to cover the saying, but he pushes them away.
“Slide In, huh?”
“Jen didn’t exactly pack the best options for me, and she got these for my birthday last year.”
He shakes his head. “Shh.” His eyes stare down at my white underwear with the words, Slide In, and an arrow pointing right to where he should. “I’m an expert at sliding, so you found the right guy.”
As his eyes indulge at the sight of my exposed body, I absorb all of him. His muscles are bigger, his shoulders are broader, and his dick even looks larger. That seems crazy, but with the way it’s outlined in his blue boxer briefs, it looks like it’s grown.
“I take it, you like what you see?” He flexes his pectoral muscles.
I laugh. He does it again, and I sit up on the edge of the bed with my face right in front of his cock. Through my eyelashes, I look up at my Adonis of a man.
“I think I’d rather see another muscle pulsing?”
Crosby closes his eyes, his hands weaving through my hair. “It’s missed you,” he jokes.
My fingers hook on either side of his briefs, dragging them down his legs. His cock stands at attention, and my mouth salivates.
“I’ve missed…you,” I say, wrapping my hand around his shaft and pumping up and down.
My mouth covers the tip of his dick, and he groans, flexing his hips out.
“Shit.” His fingers wind tighter in my hair, and I move faster. “No.” He tears my mouth off of him.
I look up at him in disbelief. “What?”
“I need to come inside you, and if your mouth stays on me anymore, that’s not going to happen.” He picks me up under my arms and drops me onto the bed again. Lodging his fingers on either side of my panties, he pulls them down my legs, tossing the thin fabric over his shoulder.
My heart beats faster as he reaches in his drawer, grabbing a condom and rolling it down his length.
He lies on top of me, his hips centered between my legs. The tip of his cock pierces into me in a playful, teasing way. His lips cast small kisses up my neck and to my face.
“I love you, Ella,” he says, his dick slowly moving inside me.
I spread my legs wider, giving him room to fully enter me. Once he’s in, he stills for a moment until I rock my hips.
“I love you.” My hands press on his cheeks, and he smashes his lips to mine, thrusting in me.
My arousal picks up faster than I would have hoped, and I lift my legs over his hips, crossing my ankles behind his back. He positions his arms under my chest, wrapping his hands around my shoulders, pressing my body down at the same time he thrusts into me.
“God,” I say, my head falling back into his pillow.
His teeth nip at my neck, and his speed only increases, spurring my orgasm to hang on the cusp.
“Oh, El, you feel amazing. I’ve missed you so much. It’s always been you. Always,” he rambles.
A tear forms in my eye, needing to escape.
“You’re my one, Crosby. The one who I’m meant to love. It killed me, being away from you. I missed you,” I tell him, somehow becoming unglued in this moment.
“Never. I’ll never leave you again. And you can never leave me.” He looks up, his brown eyes promising me the same future he did two years ago. “You are my forever.”
I wind my hand around the back of his head, pressing my lips to his.
“Let me see you come,” he mumbles as his hips grind faster.
As Crosby pushes me to the top and over in pleasure, the headboard slams against the wall, the mattress squeaks, and my cries can probably be heard two blocks over. He immediately follows, stilling inside me.
My body sinks into the mattress. I’m emotionally and physically spent.
“Better than I remember,” he jokes.
I playfully smack his chest, but he grabs my hand and brings it up to his mouth.
He kisses my knuckles. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“Well?” I wait, and he releases my hand, lowering himself over my body, sprinkling kisses along my skin.
“We’re even more compatible now, if that’s possible.” His mouth mere inches from mine, he hovers over me. “You are incredible,” he murmurs.
I inch up to kiss him. “You are unbelievably awesome.” I speak the truth, and although I fear how he got better in bed, I’m not sure if it was his movements that brought out my intense orgasm or if it was his declaration to never leave me or the divulgence that he missed me as much as I missed him.
He rolls off me and ventures into the bathroom before crawling back in bed with me. We get under the covers, and he leans on his elbow, staring down at me.
“Tell me something I missed,” he asks.
I shrug. “Nothing really.”
“Come on. I had to have missed something?”
I rack my brain for anything, but I’m not about to tell him about my depression or the drinking during my freshman year. With the parties, my stupid self was trying to forget not only my best friend, but also the love of my life. How lost I was my freshman year.
Crosby bears enough guilt. He doesn’t need to hear about the stupid things I did.
“Truthfully, Crosby”—I turn on my side and place my hand on his cheek—“all you missed was me missing you. I wasn’t myself these past two years. I was half of myself.”
A slow smile creeps up his lips. “Nothing important that you’ll tell me years down the road? Like, during those two years we weren’t together, you robbed a bank?”
I laugh, shaking my head. My hand falls from his cheek. “No, promise. What about you?”
“Same, I guess. I lived on the field though. Spent most of my time there and in the weight room. It was how I knew I’d get you back. Sorry it took so long.”
I tackle him, leaving him on his back, and I scatter short kisses along his face—his forehead, his eyes, his nose, his chin, and lastly, his lips.
“You’re here now. I’m done living in the past,” I say.
For the most part, I believe it. It will always be hard for us, but we can move on. His lips turn down for a second, and I tilt my head inquiring to his nonverbal signal that something’s wrong.
“What?” I ask, sitting up on him.
He grabs me by my hips, plops me down next to him, and sits up.
My stomach drops, and my throat dries. This is the other bomb. Something did in fact happen in those two years. I’m keeping a few drunken nights where I might have gotten loose with my body, but he’s holding something deeper, and from his set dark eyes, it’s big.
“What?” I ask again.
He climbs out of bed, shrugging his jeans back on. “You hungry?” He tosses me his shirt.
I throw it over myself so as not to be completely exposed when he breaks my heart.
“No. What is it?”
He starts pacing, his sign indicating he’s processing deep shit.
“Tell me.” I sit on the edge of the bed, my nails in my mouth. I’m panicking about what’s going to come out of his mouth.
“Coach stopped me at practice today.”
“And?”
“There’s a charity game for Coach Weathers in a month.”
My body relaxes.
Crosby didn’t ask me about Coach Weathers, and I didn’t want to hurt Crosby more than he already was. Maybe he had been in contact with him, maybe he hadn’t, but when it came to the past, I’d let Crosby take the lead on what he wanted to talk about.
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