"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow night."
I chuckle, hesitating to move. "Just a reminder--, I can't do Tuesdays or Thursdays--"
"Because of the varsity games. You're off the hook, don't worry."
"I was never on the hook."
She laughs, rolls her eyes. "Riiiight. I've had you on the hook helping me since day one of ball practice."
"Molly?"
"Yeah?"
"Do I look like I'm complaining?"
The flush that rises in her cheeks is so fucking pretty. "Well,alsoper our agreement, I was wondering if, before you go, you could, um,put me in, coach."
Four stupid little words I've been dreading all day, only because I don't want to say no to her. But this? This I expected. This I hoped for. This one, I don't have to say no to.
So I smile. Step into her. Cup her sweet, pretty face in my hands and look down into it. "Batter up, peaches."
She sighs, her body softening into me as I bring my lips to hers. I intend only to taste her, just a sip.
We go up in a whoosh of heat like the strike of a match.
Her lips are too soft, her mouth too hot--the fire burns the air out of my lungs. The tiny gasp she makes when my seeking tongue slides past her lips feels like a punch. The plush give of her mouth, the slick of her tongue, the warmth of her breath. She doesn't kiss like she knows what she's doing, but she wants it so badly, my restraint is pushed to the absolute limit. I want her closer, even though I'm hunched to hold her in my arms, her hands scrabbling on my arms, my shoulders, gripping my shirt. We're chest to chest, and I'm grateful for our height difference. To hold her like this means my hips and hers won't meet, not unless I stand up and take her with me.
I should stand up.
I break the kiss for my sake, pepper her with lighter, smaller kisses for hers.
It's not you, peaches. It's me.
But she's practically purring, taking my lead on the brakes at least. It's the one place where I have any control, and it's thin at best.
Her arms are around my neck, and we're smiling at each other. I brush a curl from her cheek, wishing I could kiss her like this all night.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Molly," I promise, gently unhooking her arms from my neck so I can put some space between us.
She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, smirking. "Can we work on some homework, maybe? I'm shooting for straight As."
"I'll see if I can come up with an exercise or two," I joke, pleased when she laughs and opens the door. "Night, peaches."
"Night, coach."
As I'm trotting down the stairs, I note she hasn't closed the door, so I turn to smile at her once more over my shoulder. The sight of her there in the doorframe of this shitty old house she loves so much, standing in a rectangle of golden light, does something to me that feels so good, it can only mean trouble.
She waves. I smirk. Get myself down the stairs. Get in my truck. Adjust my furious erection. As I'm backing out, she waves again, and this time I wave back before backing out of the driveway.
The high she has me on is terrifying. I want more so bad it threatens to take me over. And for a brief, perfect moment, I revel in the feeling.
And then, she's out of sight, and the rush leaves me with a whoosh, reality taking its place with a painful slam of reality.
What have I done?
What the fuck did I do?
Why is it so fucking hard to remember that she is twenty-four, and I cannot have her?
