Hope sparked in her eyes, and damn if I didn’t want to grab hold of that light and keep it safe forever.
“How late? Nine? Ten?”
I shook my head. That was when Cassie was coming over. “Eleven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter Twelve
Gia
Connor played like shit.
Honestly, I wasn’t surprised. We’d released a lot of emotion right before the game—hot sex, traitorous older sister, relationship limbo. That stuff had to be knocking around his head all through the game. It sure as hell had been banging around mine, and I wasn’t trying to score a home run against the Indians.
He didn’t hit one out of the park, but he did get a couple of base hits, thank God. It would have put a serious crimp in our publicity plans if his batting average dropped.
He didn’t look at me the entire game. I usually stood in the back of the press box, ready to answer questions or just overhear what the media was saying. Connor couldn’t see me in there, but he usually looked up at the box every now and then. I hadn’t realized how much I lived for those moments until he didn’t do them. When had baseball games become long stretches of work interrupted by a few glorious seconds when his face was lit by the sun as he looked my way? Just how far gone was I?
I knew the rules. Romances between coworkers were stupid. And hell, who wanted to date a sports star, anyway? Sure, it was a great fantasy, but the practicalities would make me crazy. I’d be terrified every day that he would get hurt. One twisted ankle and his career would be over. Worse, I’d hate the amount of time he’d have to spend on the road. If we had kids, I would be the sole parent while he traveled. And when he wasn’t traveling, he would be…what?
The greatest father ever. I had only to remember the way he treated Cassie to know that. I’d always planned on having my own career. I never wanted to be dependent on someone else’s income. But how wonderful would it be to have him in my bed every night? To watch him hold our baby or read a bedtime story to our kids?
So when he didn’t look up at the press box, I felt as if my entire imaginary future was crumbling before my eyes. I knew it was a fantasy, but the longer I went without seeing his face, the more impossible that future seemed.
I knew I was being ridiculous. Connor hadn’t said or done anything that would indicate that he wanted to spend a lifetime with me. Every one of our encounters had been couched as “one-time” or “just tonight.”
It was a relief when the game was finally over, even though we lost by five runs. Ouch. And then a flurry of press stuff, last minute scheduling, and after-game interviews kept me running, but not so much that I didn’t turn every corner looking for Connor, or watch every door, thinking he might step through it.
Stupid, stupid me. And when everything was over, I was left alone to stew until eleven. What the hell had happened to me? I could not be this far gone over Connor. Not after one New Year’s Eve kiss, a bliss-filled night, and two hot office encounters. Okay, if you put it in a list like that, we had been having quite the sex-fest, but we’d also gone for ages without anything more than a furtive glance across the baseball field. And the New Year’s Eve kiss had been over a year ago.
And why the hell wasn’t my sister home so I could talk this out with her?
Because Bailey was waitressing tonight. There was nothing like Friday night tips, she always said. But it left me to wander about our apartment while doing long overdue beauty routines while I watched the clock for eleven.
At 10:14, my phone rang. Connor. I tried to answer in a normal voice, but it came out breathless. “Yes?”
“Cassie’s gone. Can you come over early?”
“Be there in ten.” And I was, my face still stinging from the mask I’d washed off too early before throwing on makeup too soon.
I didn’t even have a chance to knock. He had the door open before I made it halfway down the hallway. As soon as he could reach me, he grabbed my wrist and hauled me inside. Seconds later, he had me against the wall, his mouth to mine.
I didn’t want to kiss him so hard. We had things to talk about. But the noise in my head had grown steadily louder all day, and this was the only thing that quieted it. His mouth on mine. His hands on my breasts, and his thigh pushing between my legs to rub against the throbbing there.
“We have to talk,” I said between gasps as he hauled up my T-shirt. I’d dressed with casual care, making sure everything I had could be stripped off in seconds.
“I know,” he said against my bare breast, but then he took my nipple into his mouth, and my mind went blank.
I pushed his sweats down his hips. Commando—thank God—because it allowed me to quickly get my hands on his thick cock, squeezing it as I rolled my thumb through the moisture at the tip.
The hard ripple of his quads sent delicious pressure through my leggings, and I fumbled to get to my purse and the string of condoms inside. I couldn’t do it, not with him shoving my leggings down so he could get his fingers between my folds. So I gasped the word out loud as his thick, calloused index finger rolled across my clit.
“Condom!”
He shoved a larger finger inside me, and I clenched around it. His other hand abandoned my breast to reach behind me. I saw a foil packet, but he didn’t have the dexterity to open it. Thankfully, I did. And while he thrust a second finger inside me, I ripped open the packet.
It was awkward rolling it on him, but the urgency was building. I was about to come all over his hand, but what I wanted was to do it around his dick. I wanted him inside me when I lost all control. And so I haphazardly shoved the condom onto him. It wasn’t pretty, but it did the job. We were both frantic.
