CHAPTER 60
I twirl Sierra away from me as the first song we ever danced to comes to an end. As she spins back into my arms, I wish the song were longer. I’m not ready to let her go yet, but I’m not sure whether this dance was a sign or simply an olive branch between friends. The next song is another reminder of that night at the batting cages, and I dare to pull her closer.
“Mateo–”
My name is hardly more than a breath from her lips. It lingers on the dark lipstick that I ache to see smeared. I spin her one hundred and eighty degrees and catch her hips against mine. My fingers dig into her waist, and my palms caress the soft fabric and long for the softer skin beneath. I hold her pressed against me–anything to keep her from seeing the way she ruins me in three quiet syllables.
We’re surrounded by family and friends, but for the duration of the song, they all cease to exist. I am alone in this bubble where all that matters is grinding against Sierra and brushing my lips over her neck. There’s no future to worry about. Even the heartbreak of the past month is like a bad dream that can’t exist in the same world where I’m able to hold her body like this.
The final song from that night comes to an end with her face buried in my neck and my knee taking full advantage of the slit in her dress to nestle between her thighs. It’s hard to believe this is what ‘just friendship’ looks like, but I’m still terrified that one wrong move will ruin what we have left.
“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” she says.
“I’m sorry I ever took that meeting.”
“No.” She shakes her head, and the hope fluttering in my chest stills. “I understand why you did. Even if you’d taken the trade, I couldn’t have stayed mad at you.” Sierra pulls back and wraps her arms around my neck. “I let social media drama get to me, and I took it out on you. On us.”
“I understand–”
“Enough to forgive me?” she asks.
“I was never mad at you,” I say honestly. “I missed you more than I should probably admit. And it hurt like a motherfucker. But I wasn’t mad.”
“Seriously?” Sierra narrows her eyes and purses her lips. “From the guy who held a grudge against Oliver for years?”
I have to laugh. “I’m a Taurus, what can I say?”
“You know astrology?” Sierra leans in a little closer, and I tighten my arms around her back.
“Gray has been teaching Leila, and since I’ve been home helping with all of this, they’ve both been teaching me. You should have seen the way they were hounding me about your birth chart.”
“They’re both way too cool for us.” Sierra glances over at my niece and her partner. Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks are flushed with the slightest tinge of pink when she turns her attention back to me. “You have no idea how bad I want to kiss you right now, but I’m afraid to mess everything up again.”
“Okay. Then tell me what to do.” I’m not sure how I form the words when I can barely breathe.
“Kiss me, cari?ito.”
I want to hold her face between my hands, but part of me is afraid that if I let her go, she’ll disappear. With one arm wrapped tight around her waist, I grab her chin, tilting her face gently to meet mine, while my fingers caress the smooth column of her throat.
“I’m going to smudge your lipstick,” I whisper against her lips.
“A pues. Shut up, and kiss me, viejito.”
I capture her mouth with a smile on my lips. She doesn’t rush me. She doesn’t take control with her aggressive kisses that make my dick twitch and my heart race. Sierra meets my kiss with tenderness to match my own. When I part her lips, she whimpers into my open mouth and caresses my tongue with hers.
We kiss with the desperate sensuality of people who should never have been apart. When the wolf whistles start, we pull apart, laughing and out of breath. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen beneath her ruined lipstick, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since we won our last game.”
Sierra presses one hand to her chest and pretends to be wounded. “Only since then?”
“You know what I mean.” I kiss her forehead. “Want to get some fresh air?”
She takes my hand, and I am all too happy to let her lead me out to the patio. The heat lamps take the edge off of the brisk November air, but I have no complaints when Sierra wraps her body in mine. We don’t pretend body heat is what we’re after, when what we need is the reassurance that neither of us is going anywhere without the other.
“I want to be with you, Mateo,” she says. “For real. No hiding. No secrets. I don’t want to be afraid to leap anymore.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love the sound of that. And I don’t want to pretend that baseball comes first in my life anymore.”
“Oh really, viejito? What does?” Her words and tone are flirtatious, but her dark eyes and the tooth worrying her bottom lip are all seriousness.
“You, rookie,” I answer earnestly. But tonight is a party. To keep things light and flirtatious, I add, “And, if you give me the chance, I will make sure you always come first.”
“Aww, it’s cute that you think you get to call the shots on who comes when.”
She kisses me through the laughter, and the last of my tension falls away. It took me nearly two decades to win a Series ring. The month I spent without her felt twice as long.
And the reward is twice as sweet.
By the time the party wraps up and we’ve finished cleaning the ballroom, I am exhausted. Feet that are used to being in cleats and trainers are sore from being in dress shoes all day, and I can only imagine how Sierra’s must be killing her in those heels that bring us eye-to-eye. I slide the last chair into place and stretch, trying not to groan when my back cracks. Thinking of the temperature play and erotic massage Sierra gave me makes me think of the last time we were together, and I almost let memories of the morning after shake me.
“Are you going to make me call a ride, or can I go with you, viejito?”
Sierra wraps her arms around my waist and leans into me. I squeeze her tighter, and our kiss wipes any worries from my mind.
“Is that your way of telling me you’re ready to go, mami?”
“Gross,” my sister says, but Oliver has to cough to try to hide his laughter. The two of them stand hand-in-hand a few steps away from us, looking like they’ve been waiting a while for us to come up for air. “Are you staying at our place, Sierra?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose–”
“You’re not. Really. There’s plenty of room, and Leila would love it,” Nessa says.
“We don’t want to pressure you, but you should at least come over for a bit. They’ve insisted on breaking out the karaoke machine at home, and I promise, you don’t want to miss that,” Oliver says. “If you want to head out once you’ve had your fill of karaoke, we’ll make sure you make it back to your hotel safe.”
“Alright. Sure. That sounds like fun,” Sierra says.
She looks up at me. I’m not sure if she’s looking for validation, but it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t stop smiling at her if I tried, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be than by her side. Not that I would have turned down a chance to fuck our way around her hotel room, but something about having her spend time with my family makes this more real. Makes me less afraid that I’ll wake up in an empty bed to a woman who’s already made up her mind to leave.
“Mateo,” she says when we manage to find street parking a couple blocks from my sister’s place. She places her hand on mine, and I wait for this to be the moment that wakes me up from a dream too good to be true. “Are you sure it’s okay if I stay? If your sister was just being polite–” She trails off and holds up the key to one of the slightly more reasonable hotels with oceanfront views. “I want to hang out with your family. But if it’s too crowded here, I still want to spend the night with you.”
“We have to stay for a few songs at least, but with my family and friends, karaoke could go all night. How long do you have your room for?”
“A week–”
“A week?” I ask. She may have leveraged her post-season success into one hell of a five-year deal, but I have to do a double-take at her room key.
“Five days,” she says. “I wasn’t sure how long it would take to win you back.”
“Cari?o, I don’t think I could ever say no to you.” I tuck her key into her purse and kiss her cheek because I’m certain that if I kiss her lips, we’ll be out here making out until my family sends a rescue team. “Ready?”
Karaoke is already going full blast when we make it to the front door of Nessa and Oliver’s place. We add our shoes to the neat lines by the door and follow the music. My sister’s living room is full of people wearing everything from their full debut attire, to actual pajama sets, to every mussed combination in between. Leila and Gray hop off the loveseat they were cuddling in, and my niece is a little too eager as she ushers Sierra and me to take a seat there.
I loosen my tie, but the glare Sierra shoots me when I go to remove it makes me leave it on. She sits with her legs draped over my lap. The slit in her dress reveals one bare leg, and I rest my hand on her thigh to caress her under the throw blanket that Oliver offers us.
After a few songs encompassing everything from a drunken tito’s rendition of some classic rock number to Leila and Gray doing more dancing than singing to some song by a KPOP girls’ group, I pinch Sierra’s thigh.
“Want to sing something together?” I ask. I raise one hand and gesture for Oliver to toss me the binder full of options. “I’ll even let you pick.”
“You know I can’t sing,” she says with the cutest flush of pink across the bridge of her nose.
“No, I know you can’t carry a tune in a five-gallon bucket.” I kiss away her attempt to protest and feign injury when she playfully punches me in the arm. “More importantly, I know you love to sing, and I love … listening to you.”
Before I can curse myself for the three little words that I’m sure it’s too soon to say and the awkward pause I replaced them with, Sierra responds with bright eyes and a pause of her own.
“I love … listening to you, too,” she says.
We step onto the blue area rug that’s been designated as the stage, and I have no shame grinning like a fool while we wait for the reggaeton duet to start. Backed by slick drums, a driving bass line, and synths, we sing about a clandestine romance. We don’t get as carried away on this makeshift stage in front of my family as we did on the dance floor earlier tonight, but it’s close. The song ends, and I’m tempted to pull her out to the car and haul ass to her hotel room.
If my mother weren’t here, I probably would have.
It’s long past midnight, and I’m surprised none of the neighbors have complained, when the last stragglers hang up the mic. I try to lead Sierra down to my guest room without drawing attention, but my mother’s hawk-like vision clearly didn’t suffer from her fall.
“I know you’re only going to get her some clothes to borrow like a gentleman,” she shouts.
“I’m a thirty-five-year-old man,” I grumble, careful to pitch my voice low.