“I like them a lot,” I mumble.
“But my daughter is already trying to move you to Wyoming.”
“Isn’t that where you want to go?”
“Whirlwind, I’m going to tell you a secret,” he says, laughter tracing through his words. “I’m a very wealthy man. Wherever youwant to live, we can visit Wyoming as often as we want. Where I want to go is where we’ll be most happy putting down roots.We.Both of us. A decision we’ll make together.”
“That’s a lot to think about.”
“You’ve got time.” He kisses me, his mouth sure and strong. His kiss says,we don’t need to think about that right now.We don’t need to think at all.
I’ve wanted to be alone with him all day, so I lean into the embrace and believe him.
He rewards me with a toe-curling, tummy-fluttering make-out session that makes my head spin.
“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs. “Tell me what you need.”
“Umm… Maybe a glass of water?” I sound like I’m drunk. I am, probably. Drunk on Jeff, drunk on passion.
He pours me a cold glass of water, pressing it into my hand. I swallow half of it in a hurry, then slow down.
“What else?” There’s a lot of humor in his voice.
That’s when I realize that the water wasn’t at all what he meant.
“I don’t know.” I take another sip. My pulse is pounding. “I do know what Iwantnext, but I think you mean in a broader, bigger sense?”
“I mean it however you take it. Water is good. Whatever you want next is good. A whitepicket fence somewhere, sometime soon isverygood.”
I nod slowly. “Can you find my phone?”
It’s in the living room, and he brings it to me as I finish my water. When he hands it over, I start recording a video. “Tell me that it’s time for bed.”
He gives the camera a heated, horny look I can’t put on social media. “Come upstairs with me, Molly.”
I press my lips together, trying not to smile, trying not toscreamat how hot that was. “Not what I meant,” I manage to get out. “But I’m saving that for my own personal usage. I was thinking something more like, ‘That’s a wrap on my day off. Now I’ve gotta get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow I’ll be at the ballpark bright and early.’”
A parade of emotions march across his face, then he gives a tight nod and parrots back exactly what I said, word for word, the corner of his mouth smirking up just the tiniest bit when he saysgood night’s sleep.
As soon as I stop recording and lower the phone, he’s on me again, kissing me hungrily.
“Upstairs,” he growls.
“Just need to post this to the team account,” I whisper.
“God damn it, how long will that take?”
“Ninety seconds.”
“I’m timing you.”
And distracting me. He kissesthe back of my neck when I turn around to try and focus. He works his hand under my shirt, cupping my breast and teasing my nipple into a tight peak.
But I’m a pro and I want him to see that this is easy. I quickly stitch together the few clips I did manage to get of the day, then add a caption.
Our hard-working manager doesn’t love the camera, but he let us tag along as he ran errands on his day off. See you tomorrow for our first game against Baltimore!
I add the team hashtags and hitpostjust as Jeff tells me that time is up.
