Double Play (35 page)

He pointed to the last wall. “We have one more.”

She stared at him, then nodded. “You’re right.” Turning away, she bent over for more paint.

Slowly, in nothing but her bra and panties.

He hissed out a breath, but he didn’t touch her. His shorts, already low on his hips, sank even lower. His bare back was sleek and strong, muscles rippling with his every movement. He joined her, reaching high on her wall as she painted low. A few seconds later, she felt his hand skim up her spine. When she straightened to look at him, her bra slid off.

She hadn’t even felt him unhook it. “Smooth,” she said, heart pounding.

His hungry gaze ate her up, from the tips of her hair, to her bared breasts, to her skimpy bikini panties. “Almost done,” he murmured, and dipped his roller into the paint.

She let out a shaky breath and went back to the wall. Topless. In just panties.

Never in her life had she done anything like this before.

Thanks to all his stretching, Pace’s shorts gave up the fight and slid down to his thighs. He kicked them off, leaving him in just a pair of black knit boxers with an interesting and mouthwatering bulge right in front.

By the time the last wall was done, Holly had a streak of paint on her shoulder, another between her breasts and belly, and one on her thigh. Pace had a long smear across his torso and abs, and another in his hair.

“Tell me we’re done,” she said, stepping close.

“Still always in a hurry?”

“Uh-huh.” She slipped her fingers into the low waistband of his boxers as she pressed her lips to the scar on his shoulder.

He took her roller from her and set it aside. “There’s no fire.” He bent his head to nuzzle at her neck, one hand skimming up to cup a breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple.

With a low hum of pleasure, she arched to give him more access. “I feel like I’m the fire.”

His soft laugh huffed against her skin, and the sound melted her bones.

“Slow,” he murmured. “We have a better chance of finally getting satisfied.”

The words penetrated her lust-ladened brain, and she went still. “I thought we were past the getting-this-out-of-our-system thing.”

“We are. Way past.” He made his way lazily to her shoulder, his hands skimming up and down her back, going lower each time until his fingers caught in her pale peach panties. “I like these.”

She relaxed into him. “Do you?”

“Oh, yeah.” He hooked his thumbs into the sides. “Every time you bent over to work the roller, they rode up. I got a lot of mileage out of that. But I’d like them even better . . .” He tugged them down to her thighs, and eyed the view he’d given himself with an appreciative groan. “Oh yeah. You should have painted like that.”

“I couldn’t have walked.”

He smiled, a slow, sexy smile. And then he kissed her, opening his mouth over hers, the taste of him going straight through her, so familiar, so good, so . . . hers that she moaned.

In response, he pressed that hard, hot body close, so close that the paint on her belly stuck them together like glue.

“I’m a mess,” she murmured.

“I know. I love you like this.” He cupped her head, his fingers entangled in her hair. “I love that you’ve lost all that carefulness when it comes to being with me.”

She really had. Which meant he had a direct route to the soft underside of her heart.

“That’s the benefit to going slow.” His mouth was at her ear, and he very gently sank his teeth into her lobe, enough to make her shiver in anticipation. “Drawing things out . . . you feel everything that much more. You feeling everything, Holly. Every little thing.”

Oh yeah, she was. And bigger things, too, such as his erection straining against her. She slid her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth back to hers, that mouth that she could never in a million years get enough of, every slow thrust of his tongue making her heart beat even faster.

“Holly?” His tongue glided along hers as his hand slowly slid up her leg, catching on the panties still at midthigh, which he simply tugged all the way off.

“Yes,” she managed. “I’m feeling every little thing. And the big ones, too.” She pressed against him. “Especially the big ones.”

He let out a low, rough laugh and backed her to the table, lifting her to it so she sat, gripping the metal beneath her. He nudged her legs open so he could step between, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with passion, going even darker when she ran a hand over those mouthwatering abs of his. Freeing him from his shorts, she wrapped her hands around him and stroked, wrenching a satisfying groan from his lips as he thrust through her fingers, huge and silky hard, hot to the touch.

“Holly.” His voice was raspy and thick as his fingers slid between her thighs, jerking a gasp from her. “God, you drove me crazy this past half hour, wondering if you were as hot as I was.”

“I was. Am.”

“Good.” He dipped his head to watch himself touch her, and unable to stay still or quiet, she rocked her hips and let out a needy little whimper.

“Love the sound of you on the edge,” he whispered.

And she was most definitely on the edge. A sweaty, paint-covered, on-the-edge mess. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but with his hot gaze soaking her up, with his fingers taking her to new places, she’d never been more turned on in her life. “Pace.”

“I know.” Leaning over her on the table, he kissed her again, his mouth hot and just a little bit demanding as his tongue owned hers. Slowly. Achingly slowly, taking his damn sweet time, breathing her in, spreading hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, her throat, to a breast, and then, as he went down on his knees, over her belly.

Her inner thigh.

Between.

With a gasp, her head fell back, and she rocked her hips as he rasped his thumb over her, making her arch up for more. He gave it to her using his tongue now, and she lost her words, her train of thought. “Ohmigod, Pace—”

“Don’t even think of asking me to hurry.” His tongue made another slow foray over ground zero, and unable to keep quiet, she cried out, rocking mindlessly against him as his hands tightened on her, holding her still for his mouth.

She couldn’t hurry him, which meant letting him do as he wanted to her, which was amazing, but she was programmed for fast sex, it was all she knew—

“Mmmm,” he said against her skin, making her thighs quiver. He stroked them, soothing even as he nibbled at her in a rhythm designed to rile her up. Her belly quivered, too, and he stroked her there as well, all while slowly, tor tuously driving her right out of her own mind. He held her on that edge, poised on the brink until she was panting, desperate to take the plunge.

And then he nudged her off, holding her as she burst, holding her through the shudders until she sagged back flat on the table, staring up at the ceiling, breathing like a lunatic.

He pulled a condom from his shorts on the floor. Straightening, he looked down at her with heated, glittering eyes as he lifted her leg and wrapped it around his hip, pulling her body up against his hot, hard one.

And everything that had kept her heart protected from him flew right out the window as he protected them both and entered her, a deliciously hot glide that had her wild again in seconds. She arched, rocking up so he’d move within her.

But he still couldn’t be rushed. No, the man who could throw so fast he made her head spin took his damn sweet time giving her another long, slow, perfect thrust. And suddenly, instead of racing for the finish line, she wanted it to never end. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, holding on for dear life as he pushed into her. “Oh God, please don’t . . .” Her toes curled, and she could feel herself letting go, really, fully, utterly—letting go.

“Feel it, Holly. Feel me.”

Yes. She was getting a real feel for him, thick and straining for release inside her.

“Yeah, like that,” he whispered gruffly in her ear, and it hit her like a freight train, making her cry out again, hearing him do the same as he pumped into her one last time. It was earth-shattering, and her mouth, disconnected from her brain, let three little words slip right out of her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I love you.”

Above her, Pace went utterly still, and oh God, she did, too.

Then he lifted his head, slipped his hands into her hair, and tilted her head to his. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, still gasping for air. “I said your name. And then . . . and then I just stopped talking.”

Eyes locked on hers, he slowly shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay, then pretend I said nothing, the way we used to pretend that this was just an odd, inexplicable chemistry.”

He stayed still, holding her against him as he supported the both of them, his arms still quaking faintly, his torso damp, his eyes opaque. “Holly—”

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, Pace.”

Looking staggered, he leaned in and kissed her softly, whispered her name, and then nuzzled her throat.

And very slowly, she relaxed. He was going to let it go, and in relief she curled into him.

“Okay, first,” he murmured, “I hope you got the license plate of whatever that was that just hit us.”

Yeah. That’s exactly how it felt. A damn big truck. See? It wasn’t her fault. The next time they were together, she’d simply tape her mouth shut first, that’s all. Or maybe she’d do it starting right now—

“And second—” he said, much more seriously, meeting her gaze.

Oh God. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit—

“Holly, I—”

The knock at the door startled the both of them. As did Chipper’s voice coming through it.

“Pace?”

Suitably distracted from wondering what he’d been about to say, Holly looked at Pace in horror because she was naked. Naked, with a twelve-year-old boy knocking on the door. “We lost track of the time!”

“Yeah.” He helped her off the table. “The minute you took off your top, I lost all control of my thought processes.”

No time for her bra, she grabbed her tank top as Chipper banged on the door. “Pace? You there?”

“Hold onto your shorts, buddy,” Pace called back, tossing Holly hers.

“I am not going without panties again!” she hissed, but then slid on her shorts sans panties for speed. Dammit.

“I’m sorry,” Pace whispered softly, giving her one last hard kiss as Chipper kept knocking. “So sorry.”

She could do nothing but laugh in disbelief as he slipped her panties in his pocket, looking so damn sexy as he smiled at her in a way that had the love she hadn’t known she felt brimming to the surface. Yeah, it’d really snuck up on her and grabbed her by the heartstrings.

Which meant in spite of her best intentions, she had a world of hurt coming her way.

The charm of baseball is that dull as it may be on the field, it is endlessly fascinating as a rehash.

—Jim Murray

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chipper
and the guys were ecstatic at the news that Pace had purchased the park and were arguing over who was going to help him fix up the building while Pace struggled to get his head on straight. Not easy, because Holly stood there in her shorts, once again wearing no panties.

“I’m great with power tools,” River said. “I helped my older brother tear down a car once.”

Jesus. “Stay away from stolen cars, River.”

“ ’Kay. So can I use the power tools?”

“Me, too,” Chipper said. “I’m helping, too.”

“You’re all helping,” Pace told them. “And then we’ll put out the word about baseball clinics, and more kids will come, and maybe we can start a league.”

“Who’s going to coach us?”

“Me. I’m going to coach you, and by the time you get to high school, the coach there will be begging you to try out.”

Chipper grinned and followed as Pace walked Holly out to her car. The others came, too. Pace’s legs were still wobbling from the climax that had nearly blown his hair off. The lack of underwear wasn’t helping, but there was a bigger reason he couldn’t catch his breath or balance.

She loved him.

She.

Loved.

Him.

Never in a million years would he have guessed that they’d get to this point. He felt unprepared and disoriented and . . .

Well, he wasn’t sure exactly. But he had butterflies in his stomach, and somehow his heart had gotten on the outside of his ribs. He might have mentioned these odd symptoms to her, but he had five kids hanging on their every word and a game to get to.

A game he was going to have to prepare for, somehow.

“Okay, well . . .” Holly turned toward her car. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’m glad you took Pace back,” Chipper said. “I’m glad you’re his girlfriend again.”