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His hand stays where I need it, creating that perfect amount of friction. He strokes me, and each time, I tip closer to that feeling like a bomb is detonating inside me. I’m there with him one second, and the next I’m crying out as my back arches off the bed and stars dance behind my closed eyes.
As tingles spark down my limbs, he never stops thrusting, pumping, rubbing until I feel him jerk inside me. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his hips meeting mine as he sinks into me as deeply as ever. He continues sliding in and out, slowing down after each time until we’ve finished fluttering back to reality like two little exhausted feathers.
Our eyes open at the same time and our gazes meet. I smile a secret smile, which makes him smile.
“So? Did I convince you?” he asks, surveying my flushed cheeks and wrung-out features.
I shrug playfully. “Maybe. I mean, that was round one. Let’s get some hydration and see if we can’t do a bit more convincing. I really want to be sure I know what I’m getting myself into here…”
He just shakes his head and bends down, sealing the challenge with a kiss.
TWENTY-TWO
TATE
A week later, I walk to work beneath a cloudless blue sky. A little animated robin lands on my shoulder and tweets a cute-ass song in step with my stride. My coffee is exactly the temperature I like. My hair has never been shinier or healthier. My mood? Fan-fucking-tastic.
Grant and I are boyfriend and girlfriend.
HAVE YOU HEARD, EVERYONE?! I’m dating Grant Navarro!!
I expect life to be different, like people will stop me on the street and ask me about my skincare routine. “Girl, you’re glowing!”
Much to my disappointment, work is still work, and animals aren’t any more drawn to me than they would be otherwise. But it doesn’t matter. My smile can’t be dulled.
Every night since Josh’s proposal to Sophia, we’ve stayed together either at his place or mine. In the shower, against the closet door, propped up against a dresser, hanging off the side of the bed, propped precariously on a kitchen stool—we’ve done it. A lot. I’m surprised I haven’t pulled a muscle or sprained my neck. Grant’s not really one to go easy on me. In fact, I’m blushing just thinking about the ways he positions my body for maximum, erm…effectiveness. Wink.
Everything’s perfect except that yesterday, he had to fly out with the team to Boston for a series of away games. I was with him at his apartment while he finished packing his bag. He keeps most everything he uses on the road pre-packed in a carry-on, but he still needed to toss in a few changes of clothes. I tried not to be sad as I sat on the bed, watching him, but he could tell something was up because I hadn’t been talking much.
“Still tired?”
I nodded, trying to get out of having to tell him the truth.
“Yeah, same,” he continued. Then he shot me a sidelong glare. “I’m definitely not sad about having to leave you today…”
His wistful smile was too much. I almost had tears in my eyes, almost. Thank god I looked away.
“I’ll be back next Monday. That’s only six days.”
I nodded, still not looking at him.
Even though he was fully dressed and about to head out the door to meet his team, he crawled back up on the bed and started littering kisses across my cheeks and neck until I finally broke and laughed, forcing myself to look at him. I’m sure he could see too much in my expression; I wasn’t doing a very good job of concealing how I felt about him leaving.
“We can do this, okay? Look at Luke and Chloe, Josh and Sophia.”
“They’ve been together forever. It’s different.”
He frowned, and I hated myself a little in that moment. This wasn’t some unforeseen circumstance. I knew this would happen. I knew his travel schedule would be a problem for me, and layered within that is the professional athlete lifestyle too. I’ve just seen how different it is to normal life. When these guys are on the road, they’re offered a veritable buffet of willing bedmates, and the temptation is just too hard to resist sometimes. Nick and Dustin are single and no doubt take full advantage of all the perks while they’re on the road.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you…” I started, trying to figure out a way to explain to him how I was feeling without forcing him to be on the defense. I didn’t want to make it seem like he was the problem.
But he shook his head, already understanding where I was headed. “I know the stereotype about professional athletes, and Jesus…” He sighed. “I know how many of us have lived up to it. I’ve just never been that guy, Tate.”
