Gretchen opened one eye and looked at the clock. Six. Still early.
A hand was on her waist, and she pulled the covers up to her mouth, stifling what could only be described as a girly scream of delight. If not for waking up Josh beside her, she would have kicked her legs in excitement.
It was not a dream.
She had just spent the night with Joshua Malvern. Like something out of a fantasy porno. They had done things she had never even dreamed she would do. All night. They’d barely slept.
She stretched and her muscles complained, remembering how his arms had tensed around her when he had her bent over the couch. Or up against the window, the lights of Vegas glittering below them, their outline clearly visible in the glass. His eyes had bored into hers in the reflection, watching her response as he—
“Good morning,” a rumbled, husky voice said beside her ear.
She rolled over and looked into his eyes as he gazed down at her.
“Sleep well?” he added, tucking her further into his warm body.
She ran fingers through his hair, reveling in the few moments they had left together. He would be heading off to the ball field, and she would be getting ready to meet with distributors. Real life was about to interrupt this interlude that she didn’t want to be over.
“I did, thanks,” she murmured as she purposely ran her hand down his neck, over his chest, and down his arm. She wanted to remember every inch of this man.
The slow, bad boy, all-knowing smirk that followed her hands was irresistible, and she moved in close to him. Just as his lips met hers, his phone went off. He ignored it, moving down to her neck, then her collarbone. As he sucked a very sensitive nipple into his mouth, it went off again.
“Dammit,” Josh sighed in irritation and lifted off her. “I really should get that. Likely my agent, Harv.”
“It’s early,” she mumbled.
“I’m normally up and working out by now,” he replied before he answered the phone.
Gretchen tugged the sheets back up over her as he stood, his perfectly sculpted ass flexing as he stretched and reached for his pants, still on the floor where they had been flung the night before. He lifted the phone out as it rang for a third time.
“Hello?” he said, groggily as he carefully hop-stepped into his pants, pulled them up, and walked toward the sitting area in the suite, the belt undone and the waist hanging enticingly low on his hips. He sat down on the curved brown couch and began talking to the person on the phone.
Gretchen slowly slid out of bed, wrapping the white sheet around her, and headed for the bathroom, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a work call. When she reappeared, Josh was still on the phone, facing away from her, random uh-huh s punctuating the silence. His shoulders slumped as he rested his elbows on his thighs, his face a mask of calm reflected in the window. Outside, the city was waking up with a desert-orange glow, and she took a moment to catch his eyes in the glass. He winked at her and wiggled his fingers.
“You can pick me up at the Luxor. Yeah. A car? Okay. I have to be there at ten. Yeah.”
Rummaging through her suitcase, Gretchen came up with some underwear, thoughts drifting to how to reconcile the heady, out-of-this-world sex with how she was currently feeling. She’d never had sex like that before, and part of her was dreading the parting. Perhaps that was the secret of hookups and one-nighters for people who did that kind of thing. It was mind-blowingly good because there were no regrets. No emotion. Just sex. But how many people had sex like that as a one-nighter? Not many, she wagered.
“Don’t put those on yet,” Josh murmured in her ear as she straightened up. His hand came around her waist, his lips on the back of her neck. “You look so fucking good right now. Your ass is perfection.”
She shuddered when his hand went lower, brushing her crotch, the other hand throwing her undies into her suitcase, then circling one of her nipples, pinching. He was hard, brushing up against her, and she lost all resolve, letting him hold her up, stroking and pressing.
“Josh,” she breathed, spreading her legs as his fingers dipped inside of her.
“I want to watch you come,” he breathed in her ear. “I want to fuck you up against this wall, but we’re out of condoms. So this will have to hold you until—”
“I’m on the pill. I’m . . . I’m clean,” her voice shook, leaning into his touch, hungry for more. “Are you?”
He paused for a moment, and she looked back at him. He had his lower lip in his teeth, his hand gently caressing her hip. His eyes searched hers, heat and hesitancy in them swirling. It was a big question.
“Yes, I am,” he replied quickly. “Are you saying—”
“Yes. Fuck me up against this wall,” she answered.
His belt buckle thunked as it hit the floor, and with a single thrust, he was inside her, letting her go so she could brace against the wall. He leaned up against her, pressed together skin to skin, his muscles taut against her back. He moved inside her hard, and she reached back for him, the sensation of his skin hot both inside and out.
“More,” he murmured fiercely. “I want more of you.”
She gasped as he thrust harder, pulling out of her abruptly, turning her.
“I want to see your face when I’m inside you,” he said, reaching for her.
She was shaking with the need to have him back and pushed him over to the bed before he could pull her to him. He grabbed her as they fell, and she straddled him as quickly as possible, fingers finding and sheathing him, and his resulting hiss of pleasure was all she needed.
“Oh God, Gretchen. Like that. Ride me,” he gasped as his hands gripped her hips. She rocked over him, the sensation of him tight against her unbelievable. Sitting up and circling her waist, he encouraged her as they moved together, lips on each other, her nipping at his shoulder when he tightened his hold.
“Josh,” she breathed in his ear. “Come for me. Come inside me.”
He pulled back, looking at her with heavy eyes, full of animal arousal, for her. He closed, then opened them again to her, the heaviness gone, piercing need replacing it.
“Come for me,” she repeated, thrusting her hips faster, matching him. She wanted to watch him explode, to see him lose control and remember that for the rest of her life.
He let out a groan, hands roaming everywhere, all at once. He was close, she could feel it, and the coil of her own orgasm started low in her belly, spiraling out as he gasped in time with their movement. Her eyes bored into his, their mouths close, lips brushing one another, he moaned as the familiar tension of her own orgasm built.
“I—” he gasped. “Oh God, Gretch. Oh—”
He exploded, shaking, and she let her own control go, not caring how loud she was, their eyes riveted to each other, orgasms perfectly in sync.
That was more than sex, Gretchen thought. They fell sideways to the bed, both of them breathless. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to let tears slip out, because the emotions she saw swirling in his eyes as he had lost control were raw, intense, and not at all what she had expected.
They lay there for a few moments, completely spent. His hand on her hip, his eyes closed, she studied his face, taking her time to settle her emotions. She would never, ever forget this. Most people never forgot their first tryst, and she’d had a memorable one, if she was comparing it to the stories her girlfriends had told her of their own.
“That was incredible,” he murmured after a moment, his eyes opening to her, looking down her body possessively. “It’s been a long time since I, you know . . . went—”
“—bareback?” she finished for him, and giggled. It was a ridiculous description, but her brain was addled and a more sophisticated word hadn’t revealed itself to her.
“We’ll go with that,” he said. “It’s still okay?”
“Yes,” she said. It was. It had been intimate, raw, and unfiltered. She hoped he felt the same way.
“What time is it?” Josh asked, rolling onto his back, hand running through his hair. “Do we have time to sleep more? I have to tell you, you know how to wear a man out, Ms. Harper.”
Gretchen craned her neck over at the clock radio. “It’s around seven now.”
Josh reached for her. “Come here,” he said gruffly. She slid up beside him, and he wrestled the knot of blankets around them, finally giving up and yanking the comforter up, cocooning them underneath it, blocking out the real world with an airy whoosh of fabric.
“Should we set an alarm?” she asked. He mumbled something about already having one set for eight-thirty on his phone, and pulled her closer, his arms encircling her. It was intimate and sweet, and as his breathing evened out, his hand caressed her skin. She melted into him, her heart bursting with the knowledge that saying goodbye was going to hurt even more later.
. . .
“Here. The TV says you’ll likely need this, especially after last night.”
Josh turned at her voice, and he took the bottle of water she offered. The news was on in the background and the anchor was talking about the weather in Vegas being stupid hot again today.
“Thanks,” he said as he cracked it open and took a grateful sip. He’d just taxed parts of his body that would parch almost any man. Willingly, of course.
She had showered with him before they’d finally dressed just after nine, soaping each other up, which had, of course, become another round of the most mind-blowing sex he had ever had in his life. The sheer intensity of her was throwing his mind into chaos, upending the idea of the “just one night” he had promised himself. He was ecstatic and exhausted. Not a good combination for rational thought.
The way they had moved together, the way she had held his eyes as they had come together this morning. The feel of her against his skin; literally all of it. The moment thrummed through him, that instant where he’d seen the wild emotion in her, the utter open and raw need for him. The firecracker had gone off in spectacular fashion.
The suite phone rang, and Gretchen crossed the room to answer it while he stood. Likely that was the front desk saying Harv was here, since his phone had run out of charge. He’d called earlier to let Josh know he had arrived on the early morning flight from L.A. and needed to confer before he went over to the ballpark. It was necessary. He needed help to manage the message he’d give to the press when they spotted him today.
“That was the front desk. Your agent is here. Do you want to meet up here? It’s more private. I have to get going anyway.”
Josh looked around him at the completely rumpled bed, the jumbled couch cushions, the empty wine bottle, and stained crystal glasses. He noticed the hand and ass prints on the window glass smudging through the sunlight and he shook his head.
“No. Harv likes to eat when we meet. We’ll head for breakfast, and we’ll drive to my place after.”
Gretchen fidgeted nervously. Josh stood up and crossed to her.
She was feeling things, too, he reasoned. This was supposed to be goodbye—thanks for the memories and all that. But he knew he didn’t want it to be. He wanted to see her again.
“We play tonight at seven,” he said, hopeful as he tipped her chin up to look at him. “Come to the game if you can. I’ll leave tickets for you and Sharla at the west gate.”
She searched his eyes, and he pulled her into a hug, holding her as close as possible. She smelled like strawberries and fresh soap, and it stirred his libido again, despite being utterly exhausted.
But there was something more than just a kick to his sex drive.
He liked how she felt, like she fit. The only other time he’d been this confused was the first time he’d been called up to the majors.
He’d been a jittery mess—so excited he couldn’t contain himself—wanting to yell and scream and jump around like a crazy person, yet scared as hell to mess it up.
“This isn’t the end,” he murmured to her and kissed her gently before walking toward the door. If he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t be able to.
. . .
Breakfast with Harv was sobering. Josh had mainlined coffee, refills every few minutes from the pretty waitress who kept smiling at him. The silver and red of the diner décor was harsh. Josh wished he had sunglasses, and he squinted until the caffeine kicked in.
“They need to market you to other teams. I’m pretty certain Toronto isn’t bringing you back, son,” Harv finally admitted between mouthfuls of eggs and bacon.
“If you can find me a placement, I can ride out the season in the majors, at least?” Josh asked. Harv hadn’t received any calls from other clubs yet, and that wasn’t a good sign. Monday would be the day that Toronto informed him of their plans, so he had the weekend to stew over it and for Harv to bombard his network.
“Yes, sure,” Harv muttered. “In order for that to happen, you need to get your shit together. Your batting average is tanking, and your swing is shit right now.”
Harv, despite his gruffness, was a damned good man, and Josh took the bluntness with a grain of salt. He managed his players a little differently than the usual. Sometimes he acted more like a concerned uncle than strictly an agent.
“Got it. Loud and clear, boss,” Josh said, and Harv chuckled as he leaned back, his breakfast done. Josh had kept it light. Poached eggs on toast, a side of granola, a bowl of fruit. He avoided the bacon. Grease would not go over well if he had to lace up and get in some practice this morning.
“Keep your head in the game, son. Like you always do. Never had to worry about you like that anyway, but all the same, I’ll say it again.”
Conversations like this were why he’d signed with Harv, back when Harv had been recommended to him when Josh was hunting for representation out of college. He’d wanted to stay steady as he got used to the big game, not lose his head and spend all the money he was making.
Josh tossed a few bills on the table, and they made their way out into the bright Vegas sun. It was going to be hot today; Gretchen had been right about that. He shielded his eyes and looked down the street, back toward the strip. His mind was definitely not on baseball yet.
“Want to ride out to the field together? The car’s yours while you’re here.”
“Need to go home. Get my gear first, sure,” Josh replied.
When he slipped into the front seat, the water bottle Gretchen had given him was in the cupholder. Harv hadn’t asked about why he’d been at the Luxor, nor had Josh offered an explanation.
Sometimes it was better not to. Harv would remind him of his priorities and to “quit skirt chasing” as he would so eloquently put it. Not that Josh did a lot of that.
“Thanks, Harv,” he said as they stood in front of the apartment building not long after. Harv handed him the keys to the car and he slapped Josh on the back.
“You’ll be fine, son. Enjoy some downtime. It’ll be good for you.”
Josh paused, thinking on that, and then hopped into his car to head back to reality.