Bases Loaded (Mustangs Baseball) (16 page)

He moved fast. She
gasped. Pinned between a wall of solid muscle and, well…a wall, she had nowhere
to go and nowhere to look but up.

“Tell me what you
want me to do, Clare. I give up. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you my
feelings are real. I want you. I love you.” He punctuated each declaration with
a kiss that was neither quick nor friendly. His body pressed against hers,
making his physical state clear. With anyone else, she would have been
frightened, but she was certain Antonio would never hurt her.

“I want to run the
bases. Please, let me.”

His gaze burned
through her skull—straight to her gray matter. Refusal was written in the
creases fanning out from his eyes and along the chiseled line of his jaw. He
ground his erection against her stomach.

“You’re mine,” he
growled.

“Please, Antonio.
I have to do this.”

He spun away from
her, raking both hands through his hair as if to keep from strangling her. “It
means that much to you?”

“I told you
before. It does. Running the bases may be wrong, but it will make all the
difference in the world. Can’t you see?”

“Hell no, I can’t
see
.”
He fisted his hands on his hips and stared her down. “I’ve tried. I really
have, but it doesn’t make any sense to me at all. I guess it all boils down to
one thing—I’m not enough for you.”

She pressed her
palms flat against the wall behind her for support and fought back the tears
threatening to fall. “You’re wrong. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Make me
understand, because nothing you’ve told me so far has made any sense at all to
me.”

She nodded,
swiping moisture from her eyes with trembling fingers. “Did you know I was at
Julliard when the Marauders brought you up from the minors?”

“No. Damn it, you
haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

“You’re right.”
She choked back a sob and swung for the bleachers.

He leaned against
the far wall, one knee bent, his foot bracing him. He listened while she told
him of her time at Julliard and how she had, in her words, worshiped him from
afar. She looked anywhere but at him. When she wound down, her gaze landed on
her feet.

“I’ve been living
my fantasy these past weeks, but I’m a nobody. Just a silly girl with a crush
on a professional athlete, and everyone knows it. So, you see, it’s
me
who isn’t enough for
you
. I never have been.”

He let her words
sink in. He admired her for having the guts to tell him how she felt. Most
women would never admit to having a crush on a guy—not to his face anyway. But
there was more to her telling than admitting to a young woman’s obsession with
a celebrity. With her connections, she could have arranged to meet him long
ago, but she hadn’t because deep down inside she hadn’t thought she was good
enough for him, or for any man, he suspected. Yet, she’d opened up to him,
admitted her insecurities, and in her own way, begged for his help.

He had a savage
urge to strangle the bullies who had made her feel that way about herself.
Realizing what he needed to do made his stomach churn. He tasted bile in the
back of his throat and swallowed hard.

“Running the bases
means so much to you that you would tell me all your deep, dark secrets?”

“I wouldn’t call
my crush on you a deep, dark secret. More like a silly memory.”

“Why me? Why not A
Rod or Jeter or someone more famous?”

She shrugged. “I
don’t know. There’s something about you I liked from the first time I saw you.”

“That’s the way it
was for me, too.” He paused, waiting for her to look up at him. When she
didn’t, he continued, “I don’t know why you won’t believe me, but I can see you
don’t.”

“I want to….”

“Clare, look at
me.”

She raised her
chin, and slowly, her eyelids lifted until her gaze locked with his. The
despair in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. He gave one last thought
to his decision. Was there another way? Had he missed anything that might
change her mind? He’d made love to her, shown her all the tenderness he
possessed, and shown her the depth of his feelings for her.

He’d ignored the
need clawing at him to give into his desires, believing what
he
wanted
couldn’t possibly be in her best interest.

He’d told her he
loved her. But that wasn’t enough.

He looked at the
ceiling and prayed for divine guidance. When none came, he sighed and cradled
his face in his hands.

Dropping his
hands, he clenched them into fists at his sides. Never in his wildest moments
had he thought he would ever say these words to the woman he loved. “Okay. I’ll
call some friends and arrange for you to run the bases.”

Chapter
Sixteen

That went well
.
Not.
He’d hoped to win Clare over with the house of her dreams and ended
up consenting to letting her run the bases.

He was an idiot.
Nothing to do now but accept the inevitable.

She was going to
do it.

He needed to wrap
his fucked up head around the idea and make damned sure it was, if not the best
experience of her life, at least a memorable one. That meant choosing her team
wisely and making sure she was prepared. The woman had no clue what she was
getting herself into. It was up to him to remedy the situation.

They made it to
the airport with time to spare, so while Clare shopped in one of the
you-won’t-find-this-anywhere-else shops, he made a few phone calls. He had
three days to show her what to expect, and he would need every minute.

He turned,
locating her at the checkout counter of a nearby store. Leaning his shoulders
against the wall, he watched her pay for her purchases. Unlike most travelers,
she took the time to converse with the cashier, offering her a smile before she
moved on to the next store. Tony pocketed his phone and crossed his arms and ankles,
content to watch her without her knowing.

Just like the
first time he saw her, she took his breath away. Every luscious curve of her
body promised a lifetime of passion. She dipped her head to look at something,
causing her hair to fall across her shoulder. He flexed his fingers,
remembering the way those silken strands felt against his skin. She tucked the
wayward locks behind her ear, framing her in profile. Why she didn’t believe in
her own beauty was beyond him.

Another traveler
paused next to her, and she appeared to be unaware the only merchandise the man
had eyes for was hers. He pushed away from the wall and headed in her
direction. Before he could weave his way through the throng of passengers
rushing to and from their gates, the man spoke to her. She was about to respond
when Tony stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling
her tight against him.

The interloper
took a cautious step back, eyeing him. Tony recognized the look. Confused
recognition. He knew Tony’s face, but had no idea why. And Tony felt no
inclination to help him out, not after the way he’d looked at Clare.

“Babe, we need to
go,” he said.

Instantly, her
hands covered his at her waist, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her
smile was like a jolt of electricity that went straight to his groin, with
predictable results.

“Okay.” She
allowed him to steer her out of the store without a second glance at the other
man.

Several stores
down, with his hand at the small of her back, Tony turned her into a coffee
shop. There was one unoccupied table in the back, and once he’d settled her in
the dimly lit recesses and admonished her to stay put, he went to the counter
to procure drinks.

He needed the time
standing in line to wrestle his body under control. What was it about Clare
that made him act like a caveman protecting his woman? He’d never felt this way
about anyone else. Hell, most of the women he’d been out with, he’d actually
hoped would find someone else to go home with. But Clare? He couldn’t stand the
idea of her talking to another man, much less….

Ah, hell. No way
around it. He’d promised her she could play the game, and he was going to make
good on it. First, though, she needed to prepare, and that was one thing he
silently vowed, he would enjoy.

Tony returned to
the table with two steaming cups of coffee and a couple of chocolate chip
cookies.

“Thanks,” she
said, reaching for one of the cups.

He took the other
chair at the table for two and handed her a cookie and napkins. “We need to
talk.”

“Oh?” She pried
the plastic lid off the cup and with pursed lips, blew across the hot brew “I
thought we were in a hurry.”

He bit into his
cookie to keep from tossing coffee, cookies, and everything else to the floor,
so he could drag her across the table and taste those that mouth of hers. And
the hell of it was, she hadn’t done it on purpose. She’d been cooling her
coffee, which wasn’t anywhere near as hot as he was at the moment. His dick had
begun to feel like a pogo stick. Up. Down. Up. Down.

“I made it up to
get you out of there. That guy was hitting on you.”

“He was not.”

“Was, too. And we
do need to talk. I was going to take you to the V.I.P. Lounge, but the place is
like a morgue. We couldn’t have any kind of conversation in there without
everyone hearing.”

“The guy wasn’t
hitting on me,” she repeated. “And I’m fine with this coffee shop while we
wait. What do you want to talk about?”

Tony sipped his
coffee. “He was, and we aren’t going to talk about him anymore. We are going to
talk about this weekend.”

She shrugged, took
a big bite of her cookie, and chewed. He had to look away or risk arrest for
doing indecent things in public.

“What about this
weekend? I’m a lousy skier.”

“We aren’t going
to be skiing,” he said, trying not to notice the way the muscles in her throat
worked when she swallowed. “I made some calls. A buddy of mine is going to meet
us at the airport in Colorado. I asked him to purchase some things for me.”

“What kind of
things?”

“Let’s just say
they’re training equipment. You have a big game coming up, and you need to get
in shape for it.”

Her face turned
Mustangs red then ghostly pale in the space of a heartbeat.

“No need to worry.
I’ll make sure you’re ready.” He reached across the table and covered her hand
with his. “I can’t let you go into the game unprepared.”

“He’s coming with
us?” she asked in a startled whisper.

“Hell, no. He’s
just bringing the stuff to the airport for me.”

Her color evened
out, but she still could pass for a vampire. She slipped her hand out from
under his, grabbed a napkin from the stack he’d put on her side of the table
earlier, and balled it in her fist.

“You still want to
play, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“If you’ve changed
your mind, then we won’t need all the stuff. As a matter of fact, if you change
your mind at any time, just say so. I haven’t made any arrangements yet, and
even if I had, I could cancel. All you have to do is say the word.”
Please
say the word. Please don’t make me go through with this.

“I want to play.
But I’m a little intimidated by your plans for this weekend. Do we have to…?”

“Practice?” he
supplied.

She turned bright
red again.

“Yes, we do.
You’ve only been to two of the bases, haven’t you?”

If he hadn’t seen
it for himself, he might not of believed a person could turn that particular
shade of red.

With a shaking
hand, she raised her cup to her lips and sipped. “Only two bases, and you know
which ones they are.”

“Then you need to
experience the third one before you commit to the rest. That’s what this
weekend will focus on. That third base and loading all the bases at once.”

“How?” She wrapped
both hands around her drink then squared her shoulders, hanging onto the cup as
if it was an anchor.

“Don’t worry. You
know I won’t hurt you, but the game is difficult, especially if you haven’t had
any experience with all the aspects. You can’t go into it without experience,
Clare. You’d never finish if you did.”

She lifted and
repositioned her fingers a few times in silent thought. His pogo stick was
currently stuck in the up position, impossible to be otherwise with thoughts of
how he was going to coach her this weekend rolling around in his head. He
finished his cookie and gulped down the rest of his coffee while she sat
tethered to the table by a cardboard mug of fowl tasting liquid.

“Think about it.
Like I said, you can change your mind any time.”

He pried the cup
out of her hands and held the rest of her cookie up in question. She shook her
head He stuck the remaining bite in his mouth and gathered their trash in one
hand. With the cookie hanging from his lips, he deposited the garbage in a
nearby receptacle and returned to the table.

“We should go now.
Pick up our carry-ons from the V.I.P. Lounge.”

Silent, she stood,
allowing him to escort her along the concourse. They claimed their luggage and
boarded their flight. Once the plane was in the air and the interior lights
lowered for those who wanted to rest on the evening flight, he reached for her
hand and found it cold as ice.

“Clare, look at
me.”

Her eyes were dark
pools of turmoil that mirrored what he felt inside.

“It’s going to be
all right. I promise.”

One of the perks
of first-class was the use of a thin blanket. Tony retrieved hers and his from
the seat pockets in front of them, removed them from their plastic wrapping,
and draped one over her shoulders and the other over her lap. “Spread your
legs, babe.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. No
one will see. That’s why I gave you the window seat.”

“We shouldn’t,”
she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Maybe not, but we
are. You need to be reminded how good it feels.”

Her gaze darted
around the darkened cabin then she eased her legs apart.

“Recline your
seat.” Tony tilted his to match hers and slid his arm across the console
separating them.

She lifted the
edge of the blanket, and he slipped his hand underneath. A glance her way, a
lifted eyebrow, and she undid the fasteners on her slacks and pushed the zipper
down.

Like a compass
seeking true north, his hand found the triangle of skin and dipped lower. He
hadn’t noticed panty lines earlier, which meant she wasn’t wearing any, or she
had on a thong. When his fingers found heated satin, he wasn’t at all
disappointed. The outline of the fabric scrap indicated it was ornamental as
opposed to a functional garment.

“For me?” he
asked.

She nodded, a Mona
Lisa smile on her face. He couldn’t help himself. He shifted so he could kiss
her. What should have been a thank you kiss quickly turned to a pre-orgasmic
experience with tongues and teeth and maybe a groan or two. Thank God, the
droning of the engines muffled everything but the sharpest of voices. A ding
brought them to their senses.

The fasten
seatbelts light had gone off. Tony wasted no time unbuckling first Clare’s then
his. In a move that would have made Gumby proud, he scooped her into his arms
and swung his ass beneath her, bringing her atop his lap in her seat. One arm
anchored her to him—the other was on a mission.

“Put your head on
my shoulder,” he said. “Wrap both hands on my forearm. If it feels good,
squeeze. If not, let go.”

She curled her
fingers over his arm and dropped her forehead into the crook of his neck. His
cock throbbed against her soft hip pressing into his groin. The big boy was
going to have to wait. Clare needed reassurance, and in the cozy cocoon of
first-class, he could give it to her.

“Close your eyes,
babe, and relax. Just feel.”

He found the scrap
of satin again and, with sure fingers, pushed it aside. He swallowed hard,
feeling the heat between her legs. Her pussy lips were tight, engorged, and
inviting. A little pressure from his hand and she allowed her legs to slip a
little farther apart. Tony took advantage, parting her folds to stroke her.

“You’re wet,” he
whispered, against her ear. “I like that.”

She wiggled, and
he held her tighter.

His fingers
stroked and played in her damp heat until she whimpered with need. He loved the
way she responded to him, the way she told him what she needed without ever
saying a word. He found her clit with his thumb and pressed down, using a
circular motion that earned him another whimper and wiggle.

She was so damned
wet, he couldn’t wait to get inside her any way he could. He shrugged his
shoulder, and she lifted her head to look at him.

“Kiss me,” he
said.

Her eyelids
dropped, and her lips touched his. In that instant, he entered her. Two fingers
sank to the third knuckle. She tightened her hold on his forearm until he was
sure he would need surgery to repair the damage from her fingernails, but he
didn’t stop. Their mouths and tongues dueled while he kept up a steady rhythm
with his fingers, plunging in as deep as possible then retreating. His thumb
kept firm pressure on her clit.

She was close or
coming. He could tell by the way her limbs stiffened, and the way her fingers
clawed at the muscles in his forearm. Her breathing became labored, stealing
oxygen from his lungs until he grew lightheaded. And maybe a little crazy.

Withdrawing from
her, he swallowed her frustrated gasp with his lips over hers. His fingers,
dripping with her natural lubricant, explored lower, finding her tight back
entrance. She stiffened, but her grip on his forearm never wavered.

“Babe, it’s going
to be so good.” He went back for more lube, returning to rim the prize. “Just a
sample. Let up on my arm. If it feels good, dig those fingers back into me.
Okay?”

She nodded, rested
her forehead against his, closed her eyes, and loosened her grip on his arm.

“Here we go,” he
murmured against her lips. “Relax. Let me in.”

“I don’t know
how,” she said.

“Yes, you do.
Concentrate, Clare.”

Her shoulders
lowered, then slowly, her entire body relaxed. It was now or never. Tony pushed
his middle finger past the ring of muscles guarding her inner sanctum. She
became a stone statue.

Tony froze. Every
ounce of willpower he possessed went into maintaining the status quo while he
waited for her to adjust to the new invasion. Then slowly, one by one, her
fingers clamped down on his forearm, and his heart began to beat again.