Inside Heat (16 page)

“Yes,” she said on a desperate sigh.

“So sweet. So trusting.” One hand dipped between her legs and parted her folds while the other held her firm in his grasp. The heat of his erection pressed into her back while the palm of his hand radiated warmth to her most intimate parts. “I love to feel you when you’re ready for me. God, your pussy is so swollen.” His fingers toyed with her engorged outer lips. “It must be the animal in me. This makes me crazy with wanting you.”

Her mind registered his voice as he stoked a fire inside her that threatened to burn them both if he didn’t do something quick to put it out. She ached to take him inside her, to feel his hard length invading her body, claiming her as he had so many times before.

“Ahh,” he sighed as his thumb found her clit and applied pressure in a slow, circular rhythm that intensified the ache. “Your body calls to me, Megan. But I won’t come inside you until I’ve taken you as high as you can go.”

It wasn’t an empty promise. Jeff knew her body, knew how to touch her, how to master her, how to make her weak, and how to make her shatter in his arms. Even when they were with Jason, it was Jeff’s touch that moved her, Jeff’s body that she craved more than her next breath. It had been months since she’d been alone with Jason, but she couldn’t deny Jeff. When she was alone with him, she felt a soul deep connection she couldn’t explain. It was as if he was made for her, and she for him.

“I’ve got to feel you,” he whispered near her ear. “Spread for me. Let me in.”

Somewhere she found the muscle control to lift her feet, draping her legs over Jeff’s. He let his legs fall to the side, spreading her wide. She gasped at his blunt invasion. Two fingers, maybe three all at once. Conquering her with his first pitch. His hand pressed to her stomach kneading her tensed muscles, coaxing her to accept him. “Christ, you’re tight and hot.” He flexed his fingers against her inner walls and she shuddered around him.

“Not yet,” he admonished as he pulled his fingers to her rim. “You know better, sweetheart.” She heard the smile in his voice. He loved this, playing her like he did the weaker batters. Give them a taste of what they want with the first pitch, then take it back with the next. He toyed with her inner lips before plunging back inside up to his third knuckles. His fingers fluttered inside her like a three-headed beast, then he retreated.

Megan gasped and fought against his firm hold. The delicious torture threatened her sanity, while it drove her toward something so bright and shiny she couldn’t comprehend it. All she knew was she had to reach it, and if she trusted Jeff, if she gave herself into his care, he would take her there. He always had.

He continued his assault on her senses, alternating between blunt, hard invasions, and gentle, maniacal strokes. And with each one, he pushed her one step closer to the indescribable pleasure he’d promised. He kept up his monologue long past the time she was able to discern his words. His voice reassured and coached, and as the water around them cooled, her body absorbed his heat as it succumbed to his skill.

At last, he plunged his fingers into her and set up a fast, hard rhythm. He nipped her ear lobe to get her attention before whispering in her ear. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let go.”

She responded to the command in his voice and the demand from his fingers. Her body began to gather into a tight coil, ready to spring free. His fingers speared her one more time. With practiced precision, he found the soft palate of tissue on her vaginal wall and pressed her clit hard against her pubic bone. Time ground to a stop. The spring coiled inside her unwound with the force of a tornado, sweeping her up in the vortex and spinning in her head until she was lost and dizzy. Pleasure, wild and untamed, swirled through her.

Suddenly, she was flying. Her knees struck the hard marble bottom of the tub and something, someone, clamped her hands on the edge of the tub. Her knees slid apart as Jeff wedged himself between her legs. Still dazed from the strength of her orgasm, she cried out as Jeff parted her, driving hard into her pussy from behind. He rode her like a man too long denied, and when she thought she couldn’t possibly come again, or come any harder, he took her up and into a storm of passion and pleasure she wasn’t sure she would survive.

Clinging to the edge with white knuckles, she took all he gave, and gave all she had. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her for his assault. Tepid water sloshed against the sides of the tub as he rocked into her. Her breasts bounced with each solid thrust. Her arms burned with the strain of supporting her body. The slap of wet skin against wet skin mirrored the hammering of her heart.

This was primal. Primitive. Jeff dominated and she submitted. She’d never felt more powerful, knowing this man who rarely lost control could not contain his need for her. That she alone made him feel this way.

He’d never shown so much of himself to her. His cock grew harder, bigger inside her. His fingers dug painfully into her hips. A familiar need tightened inside her. Jeff cursed, drove hard into her, and with short, deep thrusts, poured his essence into her. With the first spurt of hot cum, Megan lost her tenuous hold on her control. Her climax slammed into her, impossibly harder than before. Her pussy milked his cock, demanding he give her everything.

She would have slipped face first into the water, had Jeff not wrapped his arm around her waist for support. He sat back on his heels, pulling her with him so she sat in his lap, her back against his front, impaled on his cock. Unable to speak, she let him hold her until his cock grew soft and he slipped from her. He helped her from the tub, wrapped her in a soft towel from the warming rack on the wall, all the while supporting her against his rock-solid body. She was putty in his hands. She always had been.

* * * *

Jeff wrapped his arm around Megan’s waist and snuggled against her back. Her hair smelled like some kind of flower, and her soft skin was warm and flushed from their recent lovemaking. Once in the bathtub hadn’t been enough to sate his need for her. After he dried her, he carried her to his bedroom and made love to her again. As she relaxed into slumber, he wondered if he ever would get enough. From the moment he’d first seen her, reaching out to him for his autograph, he’d felt like an invisible cord connected him to her. It had been natural to share her with Jason, but as time passed, he’d begun to think of Megan as his. Nights like this only served to reinforce the feeling. He liked being alone with her. She made him forget all about the Mustangs, and Martin McCree, and how fucked up his life was. When it was just the two of them, he could fool himself into believing she loved him, and only him. That maybe they could have a life together, as a couple.

In the distance, he heard the soft hum of the garage door opener, and then the opening and closing of the inside door. Jason was home, and with him, the reality that Megan wasn’t his. She belonged to both of them. He tightened his hold on her as Jason’s footsteps sounded in the sitting room that connected all their bedrooms. Would his brother look in on Megan, see she wasn’t in her room and come to the obvious conclusion? Would he join them as he had every right to do? Something tightened in his chest as he strained to hear his brother’s movements in the other room.

The door to Jason’s room opened and closed, but Jeff continued to listen. It wouldn’t be unusual for Jason to look in on his brother. They were close, and Jeff was certain Jason wouldn’t go to bed without first making sure Jeff was in his room. He’d do the same. It wasn’t meant to invade the other’s privacy; it was something they both felt compelled to do. A twin thing, perhaps.

Jeff held his breath as a sliver of light spilled through the crack in the door and grew wider. Jason stood silhouetted in the narrow band of light. His brother took in the silent tableau, nodded his head once, and disappeared. The door closed with a soft nick, and Jeff let out his pent-up breath. For whatever reason, Jason wasn’t going to join them. Megan stirred, sighing in her sleep. He relaxed his hold on her, but couldn’t find it in himself to let her go. He needed her. Needed to feel her in his arms – to hold her – to imagine for this one night that she was his, and his alone.

Chapter Sixteen

“You never did tell me what was bothering you last night,” Jeff said as the coffee maker beeped. Megan reached for the cup of coffee he slid across the counter for her. He put another coffee disk into the machine for himself, and she admired his broad shoulders and slim hips before he turned back to her.

“No, I didn’t. It doesn’t matter.” There wasn’t anything Jeff could do, even if she could tell him. She knew better than to get close to her patients. If she were miserable, it was her own fault. “There isn’t anything you can do.”

“Maybe not, but I want to be there for you.”

“I know you do, but honestly, there isn’t a thing you can do. You know how I am. Some of the kids get to me.” Jeff covered her hand with his. It was a simple gesture, but it went straight to her heart. As she talked, his thumb stroked the back of her hand. Did he know how much his touch meant to her? “It’s enough that you want to help.”

“It tears me up to see you like you were last night.”

Megan turned her hand in his, squeezing gently. She smiled up at him, moved by his words. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on the rest of the season. I’d love to see the Mustangs in the playoffs.”

He slid his hand out of her grip and sipped his coffee. “It’s going to take a miracle for that to happen.”

Miracles were in short supply in her line of work, but perhaps there could be one for the Mustangs. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

“I wish that was all it would take.” He raked one hand through his hair and closed his eyes. Tension lined his face and she recognized the set of his shoulders. The stress of the season weighed heavily on him.

“You’re only one player on the team, Jeff. Winning or losing is not your sole responsibility.”

“I know.” His breath came out on a long sigh and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Sometimes I wish I could do more, but I’m good at what I do.”

“You’re the best closer in the game, but you’re also human. There’s only so much you can do.”

“Are you still worried about McCree?” Jason asked as he shuffled into the kitchen. He wore nothing but a pair of Elmo print boxers, and creases still marked his cheek from the bed linens. His close-cropped hair stood at odd angles making him appear rumpled, and in need of a keeper.

“Hell yeah, I’m worried about McCree, and you should be too.”

Jason fumbled with the coffee maker. For a man with a million details in his brain, he had to relearn the coffee maker every time he used it. Finally, mug in hand, he braced against the counter and took his first sip. “Ahh, heaven.” He took another sip before he turned to face them. “Look, I’m concerned about McCree, but he’s just one player. If we keep the batters off base ahead of him, then he can only do minimal damage.”

“That’s not the point. If the league isn’t going to end this nonsense, then we’ve got to find a way to shut the man down.”

“Walk him. Put him on base, then get the outs so he can’t score.”

“You know damned well I don’t walk batters. Ever.” Jeff was digging his heels in. She could see it in the lines of his body and hear it in the hard tones of his voice. Jason would have to be deaf and blind not to notice, but he continued to goad his brother.

“Suit yourself. But sometimes it’s better to admit defeat, and move on.”

Megan stepped between the brothers. “Stop it, both of you. You need to be working together, not snapping at each other like kids.” She pushed Jason toward the door. “Go get dressed. You have to leave in less than an hour.” Turning to Jeff, she pointed a finger in the opposite direction. “Go. See if you can adjust the sprinkler timer. The grass is dying.”

They skulked off with muttered apologies aimed at her rather than the person who needed to hear them. She didn’t have time to referee between them, and she had her own worries to deal with. Having them sniping at each other didn’t help one bit. As far as she was concerned, this season couldn’t be over soon enough. Then maybe Jeff and Jason would remember they were friends as well as brothers.

* * * *

Jason followed his brother from the clubhouse to the dugout. The pre-game festivities were beginning, and as usual, he and Jeff would be signing autographs and posing for photos with the dignitaries and sponsors taking part. He just hoped his brother didn’t wear the scowl that seemed to be his preferred look these days.

He thought the conversation with the team’s manager would have been enough of a wake-up call for Jeff, and that didn’t seem to be the case. He seemed to have given up on throwing a curve ball, but over the last few games, Jason had noted a slight increase in the velocity of Jeff’s fastball. It wasn’t much, but in this game, every fraction made a difference.

Jason knew he should be happy about the improvement, but that sort of gain didn’t come without risk, especially if proper conditioning wasn’t behind it. If Jeff weren’t careful, he’d blow his arm out. Jason had tried to talk to him about it during warm-ups, but Jeff had closed him out with a stern warning to mind his own business. As if his brother, and the Mustangs, weren’t Jason’s business.

Jeff was acting like an ass. He wouldn’t listen to reason, from anyone. His obsession with McCree was going to cost him his career if he persisted. Jason took up his place, sandwiching the representative from the insurance company sponsoring today’s game between himself and Jeff. He smiled for the barrage of photographers, shook the woman’s hand, and headed for the dugout to don his catching gear. He caught the first pitch, thrown by a kid who’d just made Eagle Scout. He and Jeff posed with the kid, congratulated him on his accomplishment, all without saying a word to each other.

As the team took their place along the first baseline for the National Anthem, Jason couldn’t get Jeff out of his mind. They’d never been more at odds than they were right now. This closed-off scowling person wasn’t his brother. They’d had their differences before – what brothers didn’t? – but this was something new. Jeff rarely spoke to him off the field, and when he did, it was short, and often less than civil. Jason couldn’t remember the last time they’d shared a laugh.

The McCree thing was part of it. Jason had made it clear he thought Jeff was making more of it than the situation warranted. Let McCree have his record, complete with an asterisk beside it. Once the steroid use was exposed, the record would go away. The other Mustangs pitchers had already made up their minds to issue McCree an intentional walk from now on. That was one way, the safe way, of protesting what everyone new – that Martin McCree was using, or had used, illegal steroids. Jeff’s stubborn refusal to walk McCree didn’t make any sense.

It was more than the McCree thing though. Jason couldn’t pinpoint anything specific, but lately Jeff had seemed...restless, for want of a better word.

The last chords of the anthem echoed through the stadium. The enthusiastic crowd cheered as the players broke ranks – some headed to the dugout and bullpen, the rest to their field positions. Texas in September could be many things, but cool wasn’t usually one of them. Today was no exception. The fall sun had heated the stadium, and even though it was setting, the temperature on the playing field was somewhere close to "baking". Jason took his position behind the plate, pushing everything else from his mind – his brother, Martin McCree, illegal steroids. The Mustangs were too close to clenching the wild-card spot to let anything but this game, these batters, occupy his brain. One game at a time, one batter, one out, one win.

* * * *

Megan closed the supply room door behind her and leaned against it. God, how she hated her job sometimes. She grabbed a towel from the stack on a nearby rack and wiped the tears from her cheeks. More followed, and she wiped at them furiously. She had to get a grip. There would always be days like this – days when the sorrow would overshadow the joy. She tried not to think about how often these days occurred, but lately it seemed like they were the norm, and days of celebration would never come again.

It wasn’t true, of course. Even today, if she looked close enough, she could find a reason to celebrate. There was the little girl in 303. She’d be going home soon, and chances were she would live a long, productive life. Then there was the eight-year-old boy in 320. He’d come through surgery with flying colors.

She wiped more tears away and tried to concentrate on the good things happening on the wing. Dwelling on the failures wouldn’t help anyone, and the kids who still had a chance needed her to be at her best. They needed her full concentration, and most of all, they needed her to be cheerful and upbeat. Bringing her misery into their little lives wouldn’t help them get well. She pushed away from the door, fidgeting with her scrubs. She dug around in her pockets for a tissue, and when she found none, she grabbed a box from the shelf. Hospital issue tissues left much to be desired, but she blew her nose anyway, and crammed a handful into her pocket – just in case. Making a mental note to pick up a supply of tissue packets – the good kind – next time she went shopping, Megan opened the door and rejoined the world.

Her first stop was the ladies room where she splashed cold water on her face and surveyed the damage. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her over a nose reddened from crying and no doubt, the attention of the rough tissues. A tear ravaged face wouldn’t do. She dampened paper towels and pressed them to her eyelids for a few moments, willing the redness to go away. Her thoughts turned to the boy in 320. He’d had the same surgery Jason had undergone when he was a kid. Even though it was a routine surgery now, there was still a risk. The kid’s prognosis was excellent, but like Jason, he would carry the scar for the rest of his life. The experience would be scary for an adult, but for a child? She couldn’t even imagine. As she exited the restroom, she made a mental note to ask Jason if he could come by before they left on their next road trip.

Megan administered the last of the ten p.m. medications, and headed back to the nurse’s station. She stopped outside the empty day room. Someone had left the television on, probably one of the siblings who’d visited earlier. They often made use of the room while their parents were occupied with the child they’d come to see. The Mustangs’ game was on. Megan moved in closer to read the score box in the corner of the screen. Mustangs 2 – Miners – 1. Top of the ninth inning. Three more outs, and the Mustangs would win the game, and secure the wild-card spot in the playoffs. Lose, and hopes for a post-season were off.

The music that heralded the arrival of The Terminator began to play. The crowd surged to their feet to cheer on their closer. A surge of adrenaline brought Megan to the edge of her seat as the camera panned to the bullpen. A discreet door opened in the outfield wall, and Jeff stepped out. The announcers recited a litany of statistics and accomplishments attributed to The Terminator, but Megan barely heard them. Instead, all her attention was on the man confidently striding across the field. Jeff Holder. The camera zoomed in on his face. All concentration. Just the way he looked when he made love to her. Totally focused on the job at hand. This was the man she loved, would always love.

The station went to commercial break, and Megan snapped to her senses. She couldn’t sit around mooning about Jeff Holder. She was due her last break of the night, so she crossed to the house phone and called the nurses’ station to check in. Assured all was quiet, and that they knew where to find her if she was needed, Megan settled in to watch the last few minutes of the game. It wasn’t anything like being there in person, but it would have to do.

Programming returned as Jeff threw his final warm-up pitch. Jason walked out to the pitching mound and dropped the ball in his brother’s glove. Megan smiled. While the rest of the world could only speculate about what the brothers said to each other in these moments, she knew. Jason would hand the baseball over, raise his glove to hide his lips from the camera before delivering his parting words, “If you’ve got the balls, strike ‘em out.”

Jeff’s lips curled up in acknowledgement of Jason’s ribald comment, and Megan’s heart squeezed. The brothers had been at each other’s throats for the last week, and it was good to see that whatever was causing the rift at home didn’t seem to affect them on the field. As Jason walked back to home plate, she mentally chided herself. Of course they wouldn’t let it affect their work. They were professionals.

Megan silently cheered as Jeff struck out the first batter on three pitches. The team celebrated with a throw-around that ended with the ball back in Jeff’s glove as The Terminator’s theme song played in the background. The crowd was on their feet now, all fifty-thousand plus of them. The roar was deafening, as they whooped and waved rally towels printed with the Texas flag above their heads. Megan felt the excitement too, and scooted closer to the edge of the seat-cushion, her hands clenched in tight fists to keep them from trembling. The playoffs meant so much to her guys. It was what they worked for all season long, and now it was within their grasp.

The camera swung from the batter getting situated in the batter’s box, to a close-up of Jeff’s face. Megan sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and willed herself to remain calm. In contrast to her own anxiety, Jeff was the picture of confidence and composure. If he was concerned about his opponent, he gave nothing away. He’d make an excellent poker player if he ever gave up baseball.

Jason crouched behind the plate, his legs splayed for balance. The batter settled and Jason flashed a signal to Jeff. She wished she knew what the signs meant, but they were a closely guarded secret between the pitcher and catcher. Megan wrung her hands. The announcers talked over the roar of the crowd. Jeff straightened and drew his hands together at his waist. Megan held her breath as Jeff went into his wind-up and let the ball fly.