Chapter Nine
Connor
You can’t have her. Stay focused on baseball.
I’d just had the best orgasm of my life, and already the negative self-talk had begun.
You can’t have her. You can’t have her…
Sports psychiatrists spent a lot of time addressing self-defeating habits. At least once a season, someone forced me to sit and listen to psychobabble around mental toughness. It all boiled down to mind over matter, even if your mind whispered bullshit in your ear. Especially if it did.
So I’ve rooted out all that crap when it comes to baseball, but I was up to my ears in it in my dating life.
You can’t have her.
I knew it was bullshit. I was a good guy. I deserved a special woman who loved me. But that didn’t stop the endless stream of negativity in my brain that told me I wasn’t good enough for her. That I’d be better off if I didn’t want her in the first place.
But damned if Gia wasn’t the most special, the most amazing woman ever.
I loved that she didn’t hide, but attacked the world with gusto. Like every time I nipped, or pretended I was going to abandon those glorious breasts of hers, she gripped my head and drew me back. She loved what I was doing almost as much as I loved doing it to her.
“Let me touch you,” she’d begged as she reached for my dick. I angled away. This was all about her. About enjoying a special, wonderful woman for the one night I had her. But she was determined—my Gia—and she wriggled against me in a way that made my dick pulse hot and hard.
She wasn’t ashamed to spread her legs beneath me, either. There was no girly shyness, which I appreciated. I intended to taste her in all the ways I’d been dreaming about since she bounced into the locker room and introduced herself as our social media mistress. I wasn’t the only one who’d envisioned her in black leather that day. But I was the only one who was going to make her scream.
In a minute.
After I spread her out like a banquet before me, then went in for a taste.
It was like chasing a baseball in the best possible way. She moved. That’s what was so fun. But it was nothing compared to what happened when she came.
She always started with a whimper, as if she was surrendering to the tide when it was just starting. And then her butt cheeks would pulse in my hands. I was holding her ass as a way to control her movements. It didn’t help much, but it filled my palms with sweet Gia, so I didn’t mind. I had a choice, then, whether to go for the gusto right away or drag it out. I chose both, just because I could.
Eventually, though, I would head for her clit. By that time, her hands were on my head, demanding I do what she wanted. She loved it when I licked, but when I sucked—wow—she was like lightning in my hands. She stretched tighter and tighter, her sounds building in pitch until I knew she was on the verge. And then, after one hard pull on her clit, her whole body seemed to fly apart—legs wide, chest lifted, arms splayed.
Glorious.
And God, I wanted to spend the night watching it, over and over. But a man can deny himself only so many times. Especially when she lay there gasping, but still managing to give orders.
“Condom now.”
I was happy to agree. I was so close. So once the latex was in place, I sunk deep inside her. One single thrust and she welcomed me like she’d been waiting for me her whole life.
God, yes.
Inside sweet Gia.
The rush built quickly. After all, I was covered in Gia’s scent, buried inside her honey, and looking at the greedy glee on her face. I’d have come from any one of the three, but combined, I was out of my mind with need.
Two thrusts and the roar was inside me.
One more and I gave myself over to it. To her.
I released every part of myself into her. And when that was gone, I still tried to give her more. If I could have, I would have frozen myself in that moment of emptiness, where everything I had was in her. No thoughts left, no feelings except bliss, and no concerns except how to do it all over again.
Perfect emptiness.
Perfect Gia.
Until that dreaded moment of post glow closeness. I wanted to spoon with the woman, feeling her breasts against my arm and the way her breath slid in and out in rest. I’d press my nose to her hair and breathe. And together we’d sleep, an extension of the sweet emptiness of orgasm.
But not with Gia. Not even when it was well after midnight. When I went to pull her backside against me, she wriggled around and faced me, nose to nose. I could work with that. Except she wasn’t closing her eyes in sleep. While my eyelids were too heavy to lift, she stroked a couple fingers across my cheeks and lips. She traced the length of my nose and brushed the hair away from my eyes.
She was looking at me and thinking…things. I didn’t know what. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but the more I wondered, the more I became less empty.
“What?” I finally asked.
Thankfully, she didn’t play games and answered clearly. “You’re such a mystery to me.”
“I’m a dumb jock.”
“Then I’m a stupid blonde.”
“You’re a brunette.”
“And you’re the smartest guy on the team. You analyze baseball like some people analyze the economy. You read the field like nobody else. The Bobcats wouldn’t be heading for the pennant without you.”
A rush of pride coursed through me. I was smart about baseball, and I managed the team as well as anyone could when trying to control a bunch of thoroughbred athletes with the egos to match. But I didn’t say any of that. I simply enjoyed the heat where her fingers still caressed my face. Then she pinched my nose. I snorted but didn’t open my eyes.
“You’re smiling,” she said, the words almost an accusation.
“I’m happy.”
“I want to know everything about you, but you’re just going to fall asleep.” I heard the mournful note in her voice, but that was nothing compared to the rush of alarm that shot through me.
Danger, danger! The word screamed through my cells, even though I tried very hard to keep my breathing steady. I could handle this, I told myself. I had a plan I used with the media but also any girl who got too close. Start with denial.
“There’s nothing to know. I’m just a dumb jock.”
“We already covered that,” she said as she flicked the tip of my nose.
Okay, so I already knew Gia was smart. Step two: distraction.
I tugged her closer and fondled her breast. “We could always do something that doesn’t require talking.”
She laughed as she wrapped my hand in hers and held it firmly between us on the sheets. “I think we’ve thoroughly covered that, too. I don’t think I would survive another round.”
I opened my eyes a little and waggled my eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.” Then I exhaled and pretended to drift off to sleep. I didn’t think I’d make it, but maybe she—
“You never talk about yourself.”
I groaned. “You’re like a dog with a bone. It’s late. Get some sleep.”
She blew out a breath, and I believe she made an attempt to stay quiet. She certainly remained still for a few seconds, long enough for me to hope that I’d won. Then she flopped onto her back with a growl of frustration.
“Gia—” I protested, but she cut me off.
“I’ve got one night with you. One night. I want to use it to get close to you. To find out—”
“My secrets?” I rasped out. My eyes shot open as I glared at her. “So you can use them against me in some article?”
She reared back as if I’d slapped her, and with good reason. That wasn’t at all what she’d meant, and I knew it. But that little voice in my head kept telling me that whatever I told her would come around to bite me. Meanwhile, she was insulted enough to fight back. Hard.
“First, I work for the Bobcats, so whatever I wrote would be in your favor.”
Until she didn’t. Jobs changed. Priorities shifted.
“Second, do you really think I’m that kind of person? To take pillow talk and splash it all over the sports pages?”
No.
“Third, I told you that you would see anything I wrote. You have the power to ax anything.”
I didn’t trust promises. I rarely trusted contracts. So why would I trust her word that she wouldn’t change her mind somewhere down the line?
She grimaced. “You don’t believe a word I’m saying. I can see it in your face.”
I really needed to turn off the bathroom light. It revealed too much.
“Damn it, Connor, why won’t you say anything?”
I was saying a lot, but only in the privacy of my thoughts. Which, honestly, wasn’t fair.
“What if I swore that I won’t print anything you say now?” She waited, and when I remained stubbornly silent, she grimaced with frustration. “What the fuck is it going to take for you to talk to me?”
“A miracle.”
She reared back enough that she nearly fell out of bed. And in the scramble to stop herself, she ended up sitting up—a glorious sight with her breasts bouncing free as she glared down at me.
“What the hell did I ever do to you?”
I heard the hurt in her voice and knew she didn’t deserve it. And since she was up, I knew the chances of her drifting off to blissful dreamland was at an end. So I matched her pose, pushing up in bed so that I could face her, eye to eye.
“I don’t trust anyone, Gia.”
“Bullshit. You trust your teammates. I’ve heard you give that speech to the guys. All about trusting each other to do their jobs right. You trust your coaches and the docs.”
I grimaced. She was right. “I trust them on the field, not with the details of my life.”
She nodded as if she’d expected as much, but she kept pressing me. “You trust Cassie.”
“She’s my sister.”
“So, you trust Sophia?”
I buttoned my lip. I didn’t trust Sophia out of my sight. I didn’t trust her with a camera anywhere near me. And I sure as hell wouldn’t trust Sophia with any of my inner thoughts.
She waited, and I knew she was watching my face closely. “Well,” she finally murmured. “I’m glad you have reservations about her.”
What I had was a deal with her, and that was the only reason she was in my life. It was a bargain we made three years ago, when Cassie was in the hospital. Sophia could be my publicist and live off of my fame—but only if she never spoke to Cassie again. Because that was priority number one: keep Cassie safe from my piranha of an older sister.
At Gia’s questioning look, I shrugged and quoted Sun Tzu. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Ouch. Not exactly the picture of an all-American family.”
“I don’t know. There are lots of fucked-up families out there.”
She nodded. Given that she was a foster kid, she probably knew that better than I did. Then before she could pursue this line of questioning, I turned the tables on her, reaching out and tugging on her index finger.
“Tell me about your family. You’re living with a sister, right?”
“I am, and I’ll be happy to talk all about her…later. We’re going to finish this discussion first.”
I figured she wouldn’t let this go, but I had to give it a shot. My face must have given me away because she burst out laughing.
“You look like you’re facing a firing squad.”
“And you look like a determined reporter. A naked one, so that kind of distracts me, but—”
“I could get dressed.”
“Oh, no. That would be a terrible idea. I’ll clam up immediately.”
She chuckled. “You’re not exactly an open book right now.” Then her expression sobered, and she twisted her fingers around mine. “I’m trying to understand, Connor. We’re in bed together. We’ve just had the hottest sex of my life. Don’t make me feel like I did this with a stranger.”
She wasn’t asking for anything she didn’t deserve. And truthfully, I did trust that she’d keep whatever I told her a secret if I asked her to. But the problem was, I’d been private for so long, I didn’t even know how to start. What secrets did I have?
“I’m not complicated, Gia. I get up and go to work. I try to improve my skills. In the evening, I hope that Cassie will come by for a visit. End of story.”
She nodded. “So tell me about other things. How do you feel about your job?”
“I love it, of course. I get to play baseball. What could be bad about that?”
She arched her brow. “My grandmother knits.” She looked up. “Not my biological grandmother. I’ve never met her. My foster one. She knits all the time, and she taught me how to do it, too. We’d get together and she’d show me different stitches. We’d look at patterns and plan what we were going to make. And then one day in high school, someone asked me where I’d gotten one of my sweaters. When I told her I’d made it, she wanted one too. She even said she’d pay for it.”
I tilted my head, trying to picture it. “I can’t see you sitting still long enough to knit.”
She laughed. “Well, I could, more or less, with Nana’s help. And it was fun to sit and knit while we watched television. If I was really quiet, my parents would forget I was there, so I got to stay up really late.”
“Sneaky,” I said.
“Very. Until I had the great idea of making sweaters for money. Suddenly knitting went from being fun to a job. I took orders for six sweaters from my friends. And then I had to make them. It was awful. Suddenly, a dropped stitch was unprofessional. I was selling a product, and it needed to look good. I couldn’t play with the pattern but had to stick to exactly what my friends wanted. It went on and on until I hated the sight of my needles.”
“Ouch. What did you do?”
“I took my friends shopping with their own money and told them to pick something. I never confused a hobby with a job again.”
I could see it. That was a lesson every serious athlete learned early. That shift from amateur to serious sports could kill all the joy in the game. And the work only got harder the higher you got.
“So will you tell me the truth now?” Gia pressed. “How do you really feel about your job?”
“Like it’s ending, and I don’t know if I’m happy or sad about that.”
My words came out quickly before I could think about them. And as I heard them in the air, I winced at the truth of them. Fortunately, she didn’t react, but just sat there, listening. The urge to keep talking nearly buried me. My gaze slid from her face, because I couldn’t watch her when I spoke, and the words just fell out.
“I’m really scared, right now.”
“Because of your knees?”
“Because of everything. I’m only twenty-seven, but my body isn’t going to make it much longer. Not as a catcher. And there are some really talented guys coming up. All it will take is one smart guy with good knees, and I’m out.”
“That’s not true.” Her belief rang through her words, and I smiled at her naivete.
“It is true. And the truth is, I feel the pressure all the time. I need to get better. I need to do better. It’s like being crushed in a vise. And you know what the worst thing is?”
She didn’t speak but squeezed my fingers.
“I want out of the vise as much as I want to keep playing. I love being a catcher. I love playing for the Bobcats, but sometimes the attention makes me want to explode.”
“The attention?” she asked. “That’s just people watching you do what you do best. They’re rooting for you. They’re fans. Why are they scary?”
“Because we might not make it to the pennant. Because one bad call on my part, one bad play, or God forbid, one twisted ankle and we’re screwed.”
She brushed a hand across my face, her touch sweet. “So you don’t make it to the pennant. It happens.”
“Often.”
“Yeah. But you thrive on the pressure. I’ve seen you talk in the locker room. It’s like you get this intense focus and everyone picks up their game.”
I thought about that. Yeah, I guess I knew what she was saying. But it wasn’t the game pressure that bothered me. It was the attention. All those people prying into my life, judging how I did things on sports shows, and lying in wait, just to charge me with an error. I’d already fucked up bad with Cassie, and now I felt like everyone was waiting for me to fail again. Paranoid? Yes, but still realistic.
“I just want to play. I don’t want the commentary.”
“Ah.”
The way she said that word made me tighten with anxiety. It was as if she suddenly understood something—the key to my psyche or whatever—and that made me worry. Then she burst out laughing.
“What?” I demanded, suddenly defensive.
“Nothing! I just got it, that’s all. You feel like we’re all judging you. Fair enough. A lot of reporters are. I’d hate that, too.” Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “But I’m on your side. I’m trying to help.”
I knew she was. I knew it in my bones. And that’s why I finally caved. Right there, with her naked in my bed, I finally decided to let her in.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll let you interview me for the articles.”
“Um, great, but that’s not what I was going for here.”
“I know. That’s why I said yes.” And because everyone wanted it. And because—most important—it would do good things for her position with the Bobcats. Maybe take some of the uncertainty out of her life and job.
And suddenly she was bouncing closer so that she could kiss me, a quick peck on my lips and cheeks. Then she drew back with a mischievous grin. “I’m not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. In fact, I’m going to hold you to this promise or else.”
I frowned. “Or else what?”
“I won’t do this.”
I don’t know how she did it. We were sitting up facing each other. But a moment later, she had her mouth on my dick, and my worries flew straight out of my brain. My last coherent thought was that if this was my reward for answering a few questions, I could see quite a few interviews in my future.
Well, that, and one more thing. The eternal litany in my brain.
She’s not for you.
Fuck that. Tonight, Gia was mine. But just for tonight.