The only clear point in my brain right now is that I feel lucky tonight.
* * *
Lookingout the floor-to-ceiling living room window, I glance at the stars while I drink a nightcap. My tie hangs loose around my neck.
We had a silent ride back, and the moment we stepped inside the house April disappeared. Fair enough. I haven’t touched her to prove a point. I could have slipped my fingers between the slit of her dress to feel her wet and ready, but I refrained because I knew that was what she was expecting.
Now, I’m taking a moment to relish the fact that Hadley isn’t here, because off-season, I don’t have many breaks from being a dad, and during baseball season, I have no breaks from being a star pitcher. It’s all one continuous grind.
“Hey, can you help with this?” I hear April approaching behind me.
Turning halfway, I see she is indicating to the zipper that conveniently rests on her lower back, causing the dress to become a second skin to the curve of her ass.
Smirking to myself, I know what she is trying to do, but I’ll play along.
“Come here,” I say and set my drink on the side table.
April slowly turns in front of me, offering her back, and my fingers willingly find the zipper to tug, but I pause. Instead, I inhale her flowery perfume and feel bold.
“I’ll help you, but you have to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Take off your panties.”
I’m far too curious if my theory is correct.
She throws me a coy look over her shoulder, hesitating at first, but quickly skims the bottom of her dress up her silky legs and reaches under to pull down the black thong. It slides down her legs, and she steps out of them, holding them up for presentation.
I grab my prize, and my smirk of accomplishment is immediate. “My, my, someone has been soaking.” The fabric feels damp, and I bring it to my nose, her distinct smell as sweet as I know she tastes. Her lips part open as she watches me.
“Will you help me now?” Her brows arch.
I step closer to her, and I’m quick to shove the ball of panties into her mouth. She mumbles something from surprise but doesn’t spit them out. “Now I will.” My smirk is now cocky.
My fingers return to her zipper, and I pull slowly down, feeling the softness of her sparkly powdered skin and the firmness of the curve of her body. The fingers of my other hand entwine in her hair to find any form of a clip, then I slide it out, which is followed by her hair falling loose around her shoulders.
“If you’re going to play the game then go all in with your efforts,” I suggest.
She glances over her shoulder with a wicked look and spits out the fabric. “Wishful thinking.” With purpose, she brings her arm to the bow at the back of her neck, tugging, before her arms come forward to shield her breasts as the fabric hangs loose around her body.
“Night, night. I need to go hang this up, as this dress is prone to wrinkles.”
She walks away, clearly satisfied with her performance, and I watch every step as she fades out of the room.
Blowing out a deep breath, I take one last sip of my drink to calm me then scoop up the destroyed thong.
I want the upper hand, and I will not go after her. Challenging April is the highlight of my day lately, and that means not doing what she would expect. I’ll just take a shower and go to bed.
Simple as that.
* * *
Five minutes later,I’m in my bathroom unbuttoning my shirt, waiting for the water in the shower to warm up, yet I can’t seem to commit. Physically, I don’t want to step under the stream to find relief.
Not when the best release is a few doors down.
What the fuck am I doing?
