The game was over, and despite the rally in the eighth, the Neons couldn’t convert and had lost by two runs. It was hard fought, and a disappointing end, but the team had played well. Gretchen got a sense that this was a good club. She watched Josh for quite a bit—well, no, most of the game—and he was a different player here. It was all business in Toronto, but here, it looked like he was having fun. She understood that this was a different kind of baseball and he’d adjusted his game, just like she altered her delivery when she was talking to a large distributor versus a smaller boutique winery.
Josh looked much more at ease with himself here, and she chastised herself for analyzing a man she’d known for only a day.
They had a connection, but it was still new. She wanted to be happy with the exciting night they’d had but knowing it wasn’t going to be long-term made her wistful for more time.
When the final out was called, Sharla beelined for the bathroom, and unsure of where else to go, Gretchen walked toward the field and stood along the wall as the last of the fans left the stadium. Bugs gathering around the floodlights buzzed softly in the night air, accompanied by the sounds of the staff putting the diamond to bed for the night. Other than the odd holler or slam from the team lockers behind the dugouts, it was peaceful.
Definitely a different atmosphere from the big stadium downtown. Slower, more relaxed. A few of the staff waved at her as she watched them. It was a clear evening, the air cooling quickly.
A nice night in Vegas, for sure.
Josh poked his head back out of the dugout door as Gretchen leaned against the wall, taking in a lungful of air and enjoying the atmosphere. He put down his gear and strode over to her. When he reached her, she leaned on the top of the wall, looking into his eyes. Something about how she felt around him was just so natural.
“Hiya,” she said playfully.
He unceremoniously picked her up and lifted her over the wall, then set her down on the turf, dragging her over to the plate, greeting the guy raking all the pitching mound dirt back up into place. He held up a finger and jogged back to his gear, bringing his bat back with him.
“Here,” he said, “Give it a try. I know you have a good grip.”
Gretchen carefully held the bat, swinging it a little. She liked how nicely balanced it was, and he pulled her toward him, his hands on the end.
“This isn’t a Walmart special, is it?” she murmured. The wood felt solid in her hands, heavier than the metal bats she normally swung at monster-sized softballs when she played slow-pitch.
The grit from the chalk rubbed into the tape and was powdery against her hands, but it felt nice compared to the sticky rubber on non-professional bats. It was marked up in places from the weights Josh would stack for his warm-up swings, various impressions from balls where he’d made contact, the dents in the tape where he would wrap his fingers before standing at bat.
It was his bat. One of many, obviously, but she thought this one might be special for some reason. She didn’t want to ask. That would sound silly.
Josh positioned himself behind her and adjusted her body along the plate, helping her set up her stance. His body was a solid wall behind her, which she didn’t mind at all. He slid his hands over hers, pressing her grip higher on the bat, a knee nudged in between her legs, kicking at her feet gently as he did.
“Plant your feet farther apart. Now, bring your elbow up a little more. Don’t worry, you won’t jab me.”
Glancing back, Gretchen faltered. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth as he smiled made her want to drop the bat and kiss him instead. His hat was on backward, his sunglasses perched on top. Scratch that. He looked like a fantasy sports hero.
She blinked and refocused, his hard muscles shifting around her.
She couldn’t jump him on a ball diamond. She shouldn’t jump him on a ball diamond.
“Now, swing,” he said softly, guiding her arms down through the arc into the strike zone. He made a sound to imitate a ball hitting the bat with his tongue. Gretchen leaned back into him, lowering the bat, tilting her head up. He looked down.
“I’m glad you got a hit tonight,” she said softly, and he brought a hand up to her face, caressing her jaw, his face serious and studying hers. She turned and he kissed her softly, taking the bat from her hands and dropping it as he kissed her deeper. He burrowed his fingers into her hair, taking more, and she responded, hungry for him. She wanted him. Now. She amended her thought—she could indeed jump him on a balldiamond, and she didn’t care who saw. He was solid and hot and she wanted to climb him like a tree.
“Gretch, we cannot have sex right here, no matter how much I would love to push you up against the backstop and fuck you senseless,” he murmured as he broke their kiss, both of them breathing hard.
“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” she breathed. “This is kind of your work-place, isn’t it?”
He looked down at her playfully, holding her close, and she could smell his deodorant, see a streak of red on his jersey from sliding to catch a runner, and a smudge of dirt across one cheek.
He was intoxicating and she had completely forgotten where she was.
She looked around, and all of the maintenance crew were watching, some with their jaws hanging. Sharla was standing at the wall, laughing loudly. She realized that one of her hands was firmly planted on his ass, the other one fisting his jersey and she let go slowly. He was intoxicating, like a fine wine on a cold night.
“Let’s go eat. There’s a great fried chicken place near here. The guys usually go after the game and I promised I would introduce you,” he said, and all she could do was nod—half embarrassed, half enthralled by him.
“Sharla. Come have chicken with us,” he called as he headed toward the dugout to grab his things. “Meet us at the west gate.
My car is there.”
Sharla waved, still laughing, and Gretchen was ushered into the dugout, then down some stairs, into a hallway. Josh pointed to the door at the end of the corridor. “I’ll meet you out there. I just have to grab a couple of things from my locker,” he said.
As she made her way toward the door, she passed by what looked to be the coaching offices where the head coach had his feet up on his desk, and a glass of what was likely bourbon in his hand. He saw her and beckoned to her.
“Young lady, come in here a moment.”
She hesitated, then stepped through the door, suddenly shy.
She felt the need to break the silence.
“Evening. Damn shame tonight, but the rally was good. Their closer has quite an arm on him. What was his top speed tonight, do you know?” she rattled, then stopped, realizing she was nattering on like a fool.
Coach stood up, extending a hand. “Not too sure. Forgot to ask. He’s a helluva closer. We could use him, I think.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr.—” she started, cutting herself off when she realized she didn’t know his name. Blushing, she gestured toward him helplessly.
“Call me Travis, darlin’. You must be Gretchen.”
Travis gestured to the chair in front of the desk, and she sat.
He looked like one of those stereotypical grizzled old baseball coaches, with a natural grimace and wrinkles from experience.
“You know baseball?” he asked.
“A bit. I like to go to Sixers games when I can. My dad and I used to watch baseball together.”
Travis leaned forward on the desk. “Good. Good. A man needs a woman who can talk shop with him when he’s frustrated about his game.”
“Oh, I’m not his—”
“Are you harassing my woman, Coach?”
Josh winked at her. Travis chuckled and leaned back again.
“Ric didn’t tell me how you two met,” he said, waiting expectantly.
Josh shook his head and muttered something under his breath.
“Oh. He was at the airport on his way here, and I bought him a coffee. He looked like he needed it,” Gretchen supplied before Josh could speak.
“I did,” Josh added. “So I decided to bring her along. Any time a firecracker like this walks by I have to sit up and take notice now, don’t I?”
“Indeed you do. I know I did,” Travis said.
Josh tried hard to keep a snort of laughter in and failed.
“Storytime, Coach?”
“Mind your tone, boy,” Travis said, amused. “You know how I met my Felicia? Did I ever tell you that story?”
“No, Coach, you didn’t.”
“She bought me a hot dog after a game in Poughkeepsie, the year I made it to the draft. I was as grass-green as they come when it came to women. I’d seen her in the stands with her girlfriends, and I never would have talked to her in a month of Sundays, knowing she was out of my league, a true beauty. She marched up to me one evening, put that damned dog in my hand and said,
‘Travis McGovern, you’re taking me for a proper dinner tomorrow night.’ Then she handed me a card with her address and left.
I showed up the next night in my best clothes and a bunch of daffodils picked off my billet’s lawn, nervous as a chicken in a fox house because she was the prettiest girl I had ever set eyes on, already half in love with her.”
“That is such a sweet story!” Gretchen said. “Obviously you had a good first date.”
“Indeed we did, young lady. We watched the sun come up the next morning, those damned daffodils in the back seat, wilting alongside a tinfoil swan and two melted candy bars. I proposed to her on the hood of my car as we sat, arms wrapped around each other. She said yes and that was it. One night.”
“Jeez, Coach. I never took you for a romantic,” Josh said, his eyes twinkling.
Travis grunted and stood, looking at them both, his eyes a little misty. He cleared his throat and let out a breath, signaling they should make a graceful exit from his likely not-normal display of emotion.
“It was lovely to meet you, sir,” Gretchen said, standing as well, and offered her hand again to shake. The older man grasped it, and picked it up, kissing her knuckles, just like Josh had just yesterday, and she melted a little.
“Go watch the sunrise, while you can,” he mumbled as he sat back down and then ushered them out of his office.
“Oof,” Josh said as they made their way out to his car. “That was, uhh . . . interesting. You don’t see that side of Coach often.”
“It was a lovely story to hear. It would make a fun baseball movie, don’t you think?” Gretchen offered.
Josh pulled her over and kissed her gently, a hand stroking her hair as he looked into her eyes. “It might. It was. I’m kind of glad he told me,” he murmured, and then they kept going, heading out to the parking lot.
Sharla was waiting, talking to another player who was obviously interested in her. She was flipping her hair, giggling, and he was tilting his head, and looking down, directly at her chest popping out of her shirt.
“That’s Ryan. He’s a good guy with Iowa farm-boy manners.
Sharla might have fun with that.”
“Sharla doesn’t do good guys,” Gretchen replied. “She likes them alpha and aggressive. Which usually doesn’t work out for her.”
“And what type of guy is your go-to?” Josh asked nonchalantly, but it was loaded, and she wasn’t ready to answer that seriously, not just yet. She slipped her hand out of his, into the back pocket of his uniform pants, and pinched his ass.
“The kind that wants to push me up against the backstop and fuck me senseless.”
He stopped dead, and she continued walking, purposely swaying her hips, catching up to Sharla and Ryan. She turned as she reached them, because he hadn’t followed, and was rewarded by him still rooted in place, slack-jawed, hopefully imagining just what her response had meant. His response made her feel fearless and wanton. Like last night, not holding anything back. Normal Gretchen would have never blurted that out in the open.
But, if this was her weekend to end all weekends, she wanted to make it epic.
. . .
Josh was losing his damned mind.
He was sprawled on a chair beside Gretchen with the team around them. Sharla was completely immersed in Ryan, and Gretchen had already murmured to him that Sharla was likely going to stagger into tomorrow’s wine competition rounds a little tired. Sharla had been taking selfies of her and Ryan, sent one to someone, and then ignored her phone as it practically vibrated off the table. Gretchen’s friend was feisty, that was for sure.
Gretchen had been running her fingers up and down Josh’s spine for the last ten minutes and it was frying his brain, making him fidgety. All he could think about was picking her up and taking her into the back so he could have his way with her in one of the bathroom stalls like some sort of freshman punk.
But he was also watching her, learning about her, and it was fascinating. How she relaxed and just went with the flow around her, laughing, joking, interested in his teammates’ stories. Her caring nature shone through her in little ways like that. She would make an excellent team manager, he thought. It was likely why she did what she did, as she could tease relationships out of people she’d just met, making them feel heard and understood to get deals made.
It had worked on him. Well, that plus her killer blue eyes and soft, sexy curves, which he was aching to run his hands over. And had. And would again if they could get out of here soon.
The boys all clamored for Gretchen’s attention, of course, teasing her, calling her “ma’am,” asking about her life as a “professional drunk.” She laughed and played off what he would have considered an insult. She understood these men were young and somewhat tactless when they’d had a few.
If he’d been a prideful or possessive man, he would have been jealous, but it simply felt good to have a plus one beside him who could keep up in his world, or at least was showing she could. It took a special woman who could understand the boys’ club of baseball. Schedules and travel were hard on relationships, and he had a brief, strange thought on how they would handle that. Long-distance relationships were terrible, in his limited experience.
Being a major league baseball player was all-consuming during the season, and in the off-season? You were training for the next one. Relationships had been distractions and after a few failed attempts, he’d steered clear of getting in too deep. He also had never entertained the thought of getting involved with women who propositioned him either, even just for the thrill of it.
Until now.
Which was the other side to him losing his mind. In the space of twenty-four hours, Gretchen had gone from someone to flirt with on a plane, to a welcome distraction, to something more.
His original idea was a temporary hookup, but now he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be just that. That train of thought made him sit up and clear his throat, shaking off the heaviness. The realization dawned slowly, rippling like a wave. He didn’t want this to end.
“You’re quiet this evening,” José, another fielder, said as he leaned over. “You getting tired on us, old man?”
Josh carefully picked up a strand of Gretchen’s blond hair and flipped it through his fingers to deflect his introspection. He was here for a good time, not to play what if when there was likely nothing to think over.
“Nope,” he replied, causing José to laugh loudly and slap his shoulder.
Okay, maybe he was a bit possessive. Possessive and ready to leave. He wanted to be alone with her.
“Cheers, lads, to a scheduled day off tomorrow!” someone else said, and a bunch of whoops and hell yeah s echoed. He had forgotten, and Gretchen turned to him, meeting his eyes.
“What are your plans?” she asked in his ear. The delicate strawberry scent that hit whenever she leaned close reminded him of their slick, wet bodies plastered together as he washed her hair this morning in the shower, his fingers sliding across her scalp as he massaged, resulting in—
“None. I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Likely unpack, paint my toenails, binge-watch Gilmore Girls,” he replied, joking, trying to keep his arousal under control.
It made her laugh, but she went quiet almost as quickly, twisting her fingers in her lap. He’d noticed that was her “tel ” when she was unsure of something and that her question had been more pointed.
“You want to spend it with me?” he asked quietly. He could hope, right?
She relaxed immediately. “I have to attend the competition results tomorrow in the morning, and then I’m at the tasting in the afternoon, but—”
“Can anyone go to these?” he interrupted, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I’ll go with you. I’d go anywhere with you.”
The look on her face told him everything he needed. She was feeling this connection too. What-ifs be damned. Where she would go, he wanted to follow.
“Sharla? Honey, we’re leaving,” Gretchen exclaimed before he could, standing and stepping over to her friend. Sharla turned from Ryan and the two of them talked for a moment, Gretchen shaking her head, Sharla seemingly reassuring her. Then Sharla hugged her and Gretchen came back to him, obviously worried.
“She’ll find her way back to her hotel. I can trust your teammate, right?” she asked, her hands clasped again, her eyes worried. “I—”
“Yes,” Josh said a little louder. “Ryan will take care of your best friend, won’t he?”
The grin on Ryan’s face was a mile wide. He was the safest of all the boys on the team, so Sharla was in no danger. Likely he’d deliver her back to her hotel and be a gentleman, but the way they had been looking at one another, perhaps not. Josh had already recognized that Sharla could handle herself.
“Okay then,” Gretchen said, and pulled Josh up. “Time for bed, old man.”
That had the rest of the group howling with laughter, and as they said their goodbyes, Josh only paid half attention. With her hand in his and the way she was laughing, his heart was ready to burst.
What was he getting himself into?
. . .
“I’m just going to stop by my place and pick up a change of clothes,” he said as they drove the short distance to his apartment.
Gretchen stretched in the seat, a small yawn escaping.
“Okay,” she replied sleepily.
He hadn’t thought of the fact that they hadn’t slept much the night before, and she was likely exhausted, having to work most of the day. How he wasn’t was a bit of a mystery. Perhaps it was the time change? More likely it was her. She gave him a ridiculous energy boost. He turned off the car in his parking spot.
“I’ll just be a minute.”
She slumped in the front seat, closing her eyes. “I’ll just nap.”
He zipped up into his apartment, threw some nice clothes into his duffel—a pair of jeans, his Neons team sweater, and a T-shirt—grabbed his shoes, chucked his bathroom bag in, and was back down in under five minutes, half a banana already mowed down. Despite all the fried chicken and nachos he’d eaten at dinner, he was starving again for some reason.
Gretchen was asleep.
He stared at her through the glass, her chest rising and falling peacefully. Finishing his banana outside the car, he was as quiet as possible as he climbed inside so he wouldn’t disturb her. With the radio off, he headed off toward the Luxor. Her soft breathing filled the car as he let the day wash over him.
He’d gotten a hit tonight. It had been a pop-up, but at least he was making contact. They’d noticed one of his shoulders wasn’t rotating properly at batting practice and his knee was acting up—both were sabotaging the follow-through on his swing.
Some adjustments, a massage, and some ultrasound were in order, and a brace for his knee would be in on Monday. Honestly, the aches and pains were a normal part of his day now, and he hadn’t thought it was physical. He had truly thought he was losing his touch and that it was all mental. It made him wonder how committed the Sixers batting coaches were to him if no one had mentioned anything.
It was a relief, in a way, to know he could improve again, because he didn’t want to be done. He wondered if he’d addressed his knee properly, would they have put him on the injured list instead of sending him down, but that was water under the bridge now. He and Harv could regroup on Monday. Harv wanted to meet with him following their afternoon game. They were busing to Bakersfield after that for a three-game series, then to Reno, then back to Vegas for another home stretch of games.
Josh hoped to be back up somewhere by then, but who knew.
He ran a hand through his hair, his hat in the back seat, and realized he hadn’t even showered yet. He’d been completely focused on spending as much time with Gretchen as possible that he hadn’t thought about his demotion much at all. It had been about her, playing ball, and the focus that went into both.
The stop-and-go as he reached the main strip slowed him down and he let his mind wander to random thoughts, rethinking plays from the game, making a mental list to look at some of the tapes from Bakersfield on Monday. He had some analyzing to do since the coaches wanted his opinion on batting order.
In some ways, it felt good to be asked to assist with some of the coaching. He’d always enjoyed that. He liked working with the team to devise options on strategy. Baseball was all about numbers and matching talents for the best results. It reminded him of the business case studies from college. The problem-solving, relief, and excitement when it went right.
His window was down and a breeze wafted through, raising the hair on his arm as it rested on the door. Music from the street performers, traffic noise, and laughter of people walking interrupted his thoughts. The palm trees and lights lent a festive feel and he relaxed fully, feeling the tension ebb away. It was such a surreal world here, all fake and designed to make money. But somehow, when he was here, he felt more himself than anywhere else. He glanced at Gretchen, her face peaceful, the lights creating shadows across her cheeks, the blond highlights in her hair sparkling as they drove.
She was fucking beautiful.
He was the luckiest guy in the world in that moment, with her right there, wanting to be with him.
He pushed a bit of hair off her face, glad he hadn’t done what he normally did when fans bugged him, which was clam up.
Gretchen shifted, muttered something about buying cases, and went back to sleep.
Josh turned into the Luxor a few minutes later and was able to get a spot in the garage, even though it was late. As he killed the engine, Gretchen roused from her sleep.
“Where are we?” she rasped. “Was I out long?”
“Luxor. A half hour or so.”
She sat up, reaching for him over the middle console. She kissed him, then let him go, opening up her door.
He followed her, bag in hand as they made their way to the room. He was still rolling the thought of her in his head—how incredible it was that she was his for the night. She held his hand the whole way. In the elevator she folded into his side, tucking her head into his shoulder, and sighed heavily.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“I feel good. Happy,” she replied.
He couldn’t answer her, a lump in his throat as their eyes searched each other. There was that damned emotion again, and it nearly undid him when she reached up and ran a thumb over his cheek, palming his jaw.
Jesus. He could fall for her right now and never look back.
They made it to her room, which had been cleaned up except for the butt and handprints on the glass. Those had stayed put.
Gretchen dropped her purse and key card on the table and wandered over to the window, standing with her arms crossed, looking out over the city as Josh dropped his duffel by the bathroom and levered off his shoes.
He crossed to her and embraced her from behind. She put her hands on his arms, holding him there. They stood, silent, the snake of car lights on the strip twinkling and shimmering. A world away as he absorbed her heat, her solidness molding to his.
“I am too,” he finally whispered, feeling compelled to tell her how he was feeling right then, how he wanted this to be more. “I don’t know what th—”
She turned in his arms, putting a finger on his lips. “Let’s not go there yet. I want to be present now, not stew on what-ifs.”
Maybe she was thinking of this as more than a quickie romance too. He held her there, trying to decipher what she was thinking, and she cradled his jaw again. He leaned into it and turned, kissing her palm.
“Shower?” he asked, finally, wanting to break the heaviness that had settled on them. He’d tell her, just not right now. Her idea of being in the now was reminding him how much he wanted her.
He’d wanted her all day, dammit, and the lead-up had been torture.
She tugged him wordlessly toward the bathroom, where he proceeded to strip her slowly, kissing each bit of exposed skin as he peeled a layer back. Her shoulder, her collarbone. Crouching, he trailed his lips over her stomach, hands rising up to caress under her breasts, then down as he slipped her jeans off, finally rounding her ass and pulling her to him so he could kiss a hip, sliding a hand to her calf muscle on one leg.
She was soft and warm and he wanted to lift her leg and taste her, but he slowed himself down. He didn’t want fast. He wanted to savor every moment he could. Her soft sighs and touches made him as hard as a rock and ready to plunge in, to feel her surrounding him again, tight and hot. The thought of it had him twitching, and he groaned as her fingers found his hair and threaded through it, pulling.
He slid his fingers over the silk of her panties, the heat intense as she moaned and pushed into his hand. She wanted him just as much.
She stopped his hands as he attempted to slip her panties down, and she pushed off the counter, undoing the buttons on his jersey with one hand. He pulled his tech tee over his head and threw it away quickly, and she ran a hand over his chest, kissing where her hand had been, raising goosebumps. Smiling as she licked a nipple, she distracted him as the other hand was undoing the belt on his pants. Before he could tell her to stop, she had dipped in and circled the length of him with her palm, slowly caressing up and down. He sucked in a breath, unable to expel it, the sensation pushing his nerve endings into overdrive. Her touch was featherlight, gentle, and teasing.
All the blood left Josh’s head and he gave up holding his breath as she pulled him out, dropped into a squat and took the head of his cock into her mouth as his pants fell, circling her tongue over the top of it, her hand sliding up and down his shaft.
“Jesus, Gretch,” he moaned and her lips formed another smile as she continued sucking. He couldn’t kick off his pants, his socks holding them to his lower legs, and he was desperate to pull her up and get her under him. If she kept it up he was going to explode right then and there like a teenager.
She pulled him all the way into her mouth, her hands coming around to his ass, grabbing flesh. Eyes glued downward, he moved her hair to one side, holding it back, absolutely amazed at what she was doing to him. The tension in his belly tightened as he tried to maintain control, and he rocked forward as she encouraged him with little moans. It was erotic as hell, but he held himself from thrusting hard, the sucking noises emptying his brain of all thought except how hot her mouth was.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to—” was all he could groan out before she started moving her head faster, her tongue working up and down, and he slapped the wall to stay upright as he exploded into her mouth, his other hand grasping the base of his cock, coming hard and fast. He was lightheaded as she sucked him dry, not stopping.
She stood up, wiped the side of her mouth, and shimmied out of her panties. Reaching past him as he sagged against the wall, she turned on the shower, testing the water with her hands. He rarely came when a woman gave him a blow job, but that was . . . whoa. Out of breath, he couldn’t move, seeing stars.
“That was fucking incredible,” he rasped as she stepped flush with him again, hands caressing him, pressing her breasts into his chest, licking her lips. She knew exactly what she’d done.
“I’m glad,” she murmured.
Gretchen stepped into the now-steaming shower, and looked back at him as water cascaded down her back.
“Holy fuck,” he swore under his breath and hurried to pull the rest of his uniform off to join her.
. . .
Gretchen stood in the jet of hot water, watching Josh hop awkwardly out of his pants, catching her reflection in the big vanity mirror, unrecognizable. She had just dropped to the floor and . . . damn, she’d never, ever done that before. She’d had no idea if she was doing it right until he had reacted. She wasn’t as experienced as some of her friends, who shared their secrets after far too many drinks, but she had wanted to please him.
This was not her normal world, and this was not a regular experience. She briefly wondered if sex could be like this all the time, intense and erotic, or if this was once-in-a-lifetime sex, always to be remembered and measured against. She was sensitive everywhere, her skin reacting to the heat of the water, her nipples hard as rocks even though the room was filling with hot steam.
This sex was definitely not as safe and routine as some of her previous boyfriends. There was no resemblance to anything she’d ever experienced before or maybe would again. Closing her eyes, the water cascaded over her, washing away all the doubts she had, pushing all comparisons to other men away. That was in the past, and she was here now.
A hand slipped around her waist, reaching down to cover her crotch, pulling her up and in, and lips grazed the back of her neck. She leaned into it, the slide of his hands roaming over her wet body turning her insides to jelly.
“What you do to me,” he murmured and plunged his fingers inside her, probing and rubbing.
She gasped and the wave of an orgasm hit her almost as if he had conjured it from thin air. She rolled her hips into his arm as he held her and stroked, her hand coming to join his, noisily riding the crest of pleasure. He held her up as her legs went boneless, shaking with the intensity. She’d never come that quickly in her life, and it was unbelievably sensual, the hot water pouring over their joined hands, the feel of their skin suctioned together, his strength all around her.
“Go on. Come. Yes, like that,” he urged her. He was hard again, pressed into her back as he moved with her, relentless as he continued to tease out the release. She moaned and let go of his arms, bracing on the wall, and he leaned with her, moving his hand over her back, pressing from behind.
“Fuck,” she muttered. “Josh—”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied and he pushed into her, burying himself all the way, stretching her quickly. Another wave of pleasure hit, and she gasped, pushing back, wanting all of him at once, grappling for grip on the slick shower tile as he let out a guttural groan and started hammering his hips into her. She wanted it hard, and she held on to the wall in anticipation, the noise from their skin smacking together echoing off the tile.
“More,” she rasped, and he slammed her harder. She couldn’t get enough, and she turned her head to see him. The effort to keep up the pace was evident across the corded muscles of his neck, his slick hair falling over closed eyes, completely surrendered to the moment. When he opened his eyes, they threw fire, glittering and intense. He moved a hand over her ass, his thumb caressing, spreading wetness over the opening. A small “yes” escaped her lips as the sensation sent a shot of pleasure through her, not caring what he did as long as he didn’t stop. She pressed into him as he plunged his thumb inside her, stroking in time with his cock.
She came immediately, fiercer than the last one, bucking into him, screaming his name, slapping the wall. That was a first too.
She’d never had someone do that before. She liked it. A lot.
“Oh my God. Josh! Come, come with me!” Spasms rocked her entire abdomen, her hand finding her own nub and stroking to prolong it.
The water sprayed everywhere as he thrust one more time, burying himself to the hilt, his own body shaking with relief.
Holding her shoulders as he leaned into her, he gasped her name, the water still hot against both of them. Exhausted and spent, they leaned against the wall for a moment, their breath echoing in the bathroom, competing with the hiss of the shower head.
She’d never be able to forget the look on his face, or how his hands felt pushing and probing, gripping her with more than just strength. It had been possessive and primal. She turned, leaning against the tile, and he pulled her close, the hot water cascading over them, stinging her chafed skin.
After a few moments, they finished showering. Gretchen staggered toward the bed, pulled the blankets back, and fell onto it, her towel falling to the floor. She rolled onto her back, her modesty forgotten. Landing beside her on his stomach, Josh braced his head on his hand and they just looked at each other. It was perfect and simple, and her heart nearly burst.
“You know I’ve never done that before,” she finally said, filling the quiet. Honesty was important, right? He’d been honest with her about the condoms, and now it was her turn.
“What?” he asked, settling in, a hand coming to caress her gently, tracing the curve of her breasts, following down her stomach to her leg, then back up. It was soothing, and her muscles were so tired they just melted under his touch.
“The thing you did with your thumb.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No? Was it okay? I’m—”
“I pretty much told you to do it, don’t you remember?”
“Yeah, I do.” His eyes got dark with desire, and he pulled her toward him until they were completely wrapped together.
Somehow, he managed to drag the comforter over them, and she cocooned herself in his arms.
“I think you might have liked it,” he murmured.
“I think I might have,” Gretchen replied, her eyes drooping.
She was exhausted. It was late and she had a full plate tomorrow.
Josh let out a massive, contented sigh, tucked her into his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. She could hear his heartbeat, could feel him breathing, the scent of body wash fresh on his skin.
The thought entered her head again that she was falling in love and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She reached out and put her hand over his heart, and his came to join hers. She’d deal with that hurdle tomorrow.
“Goodnight, my little firecracker,” he rumbled, as she settled completely safe in his arms.
“Goodnight,” she mumbled back.
He said something else that she couldn’t decipher, but she let it go as she fell asleep.