Chapter 14
MOLLY
We don’t fall asleep until the middle of the night. I didn’t know that my body could physically have that many orgasms, but apparently, it can.
And waking up after a few short hours of delicious, tangled-up-with-Jeff-Rosehill-naked sleep is hard.
But as soon as the heavy arm that’s been wrapped around my waist all through the early morning slides away from my body, I’m startled awake.
Murmuring in protest, I try to catch him and tug him back against me.
“Go back to sleep,” Jeff says, his voice a low rumble against my hair.
“Don’t go,” I mumble.
“I have to, unfortunately. I need to go home and pack. We’re leaving on a road trip tonight after the game.”
The game.
Because he’s the manager of the baseball team I work for, and I spent half the night with his head between my thighs.
With a start, I lurch upright in bed.
His eyebrows lift, clearly amused as he takes in whatever my expression is. “Hi.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
“Is that morning-after-regrets oh my God or a you-just-remembered-how-good-five-orgasms-in-a-row-feel oh my God?”
I touch my head, frantically feeling for what kind of insane bedhead I have.
He pats my hands away and kisses my forehead. “You look gorgeous.”
I stare at him.
I slept with the manager of the Outlaws.
I’m married to him too. But that was a paperwork mistake.
Him calling me his pretty little wife as my clit pulsed against his tongue … that didn’t feel like a mistake, though.
Oh God.
In an hour or two, I’m going to walk into work and I’m still going to be the new girl in the PR office, and he’s … he’s going to coach a baseball game today and then get on a plane because the team is leaving for a road trip as soon as this opening home stand ends.
“Um …” I swallow hard.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Last night …”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’re not freaking out,” I whisper.
“Wasn’t planning on it, no.” He catches a sliding lock of my hair and twirls it, letting it slide against his fingers.
“Wasn’t planning on talking about this first thing, either, because I thought you should stay sleeping.
You’re really fucking pretty when you’re asleep.
And when you’re awake, for that matter. But since you’re insisting on sitting up … How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I lie, but it comes out like a squeak.
He keeps playing with my hair, his expression softening into a thoughtfulness that takes me by surprise. “Can I ask you something?”
My heart squeezes and I nod.
“Last night, you mentioned the white picket fence thing. The life you want.” He pauses. “Were you waiting until marriage? Is that why you’re still a virgin?”
Am I still a virgin? We had a lot of sex for two people who didn’t fuck last night. I try to ignore the heat that races to my cheeks. “Yes,” I confess. “Not for religious reasons, exactly. Just …”
“You want it to be special.”
“Yes.”
“I understand that.” He drops his hand to my shoulder, then to the sheet, which he tugs up to better cover my naked body. “I’m sorry if—”
“I wanted what we did last night,” I say in a hurry. “I really, really wanted it.”
He exhales and grins, his eyes crinkling. “Me too. Obviously.”
I can still feel him on top of me, stroking his cock and spurting all over my belly. I know he wanted it.
It was heady, how much he wanted it.
And I’m a little sad he has to leave right now and we can’t do it again.
But in the cool light of early morning, I don’t say that out loud.
I know better. That was last night. That was magic.
But now we need to gently close the door on the magic, because this is real life and we need to work together.
He searches my face. “How old would you be when you meet this guy? The one you’re going to marry?”
I frown slightly, confused by the direction of the question. “I don’t know. I mean, in the next couple of years, I was hoping? Why?”
“And when you meet him—would you want a long engagement? Or would you want to, I don’t know, have kids right away?”
“Jeff, what—”
“Just humor me.”
I study his face, trying to read what’s happening behind those eyes. “I’d want to get to know my husband first. So … yes, a long engagement sounds nice.”
“Better than finding out after the fact that you accidentally married someone you don’t know.” He squeezes my sheet-covered knee. “It’s okay. I know that threw you for a loop.”
“Getting to know someone first before marrying him was always the plan,” I say dryly.
“Good plan.” He winks. “And then kids? Quickly or wait a while?”
“I’d like to be married for a while before adding kids to the mix.” A funny heat swirls through me. “I like the idea of being someone’s wife first, and then …”
“Good.” His fingers trace up onto my thigh, then back to my knee again. “That’s good. What if it was a six-month engagement?”
When I don’t answer, because I don’t understand the question, he continues.
“What if …” He takes a breath. “What if it was a six-month engagement, and it had to be secret because you worked together? And what if he traveled a lot for work—but this was going to be his last year doing that. And at the end of those six months, after you didn’t have to keep it secret anymore, he’d go anywhere you wanted.
Build you that white picket fence anywhere you want. ”
My pulse starts hammering in my ears. “Jeff—”
“You don’t have to make a decision now. You have six months to make this decision.
We don’t need to get an annulment. We don’t need to get a divorce.
We don’t need to do anything. I want you to take the next six months to consider, privately, if we could be that thing you’re looking for.
And if, or when, you decide that we could be that thing, then we’ll consummate our marriage.
And if you decide that it’s not what you want, then we won’t, and when I leave the team, we’ll get a quiet annulment and nobody will ever know that we were accidentally married for a period of time. ”
“For six months.” I stare at him, my mind racing.
“You can decide sooner, if you want. The ball is in your court.”
My throat feels tight. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” His hand cups my cheek. “I know I’m older than you.
Maybe too old for that white-picket-fence dream, but I’m pretty good with my hands.
And when you’re ready for kids, I’d be game for that too.
I’ve been ready since—” He cuts himself off.
“I promise I know what I want, Molly. I want you, however you will have me. And I’m more than willing to wait for you to figure out if you want it too. ”
I should say something. I should probably say a lot of things. But all that comes out is “You have to go.”
“Yeah.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I do.”
But he doesn’t move.
I let the sheet fall to my waist, and he groans.
Slowly, reverently, he cups my left breast in his hand and strokes his thumb over the nipple.
“Thank you for last night,” he whispers before brushing his lips against mine.
I kiss him back, slow and deep. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he hauls me out of bed until I’m straddling him, naked. He’s pulled on his boxer briefs, but that’s no match for his cock thickening up.
He pulls me down against his erection, and we grind and make up, and he pinches my nipples and squeezes my ass.
“I don’t think I can wait six months to consummate this,” I admit because I’m turned on.
He groans.
And then he gives me two of his fingers to ride, and consummating is all I can think about. My brain flatlines as pure, intense pleasure spears up through my belly.
His thumb finds my clit.
His mouth drags down my neck, past my collarbone, and he latches onto my tit.
I go wild, fucking down on his hand, making a mess of him, I’m sure, and suddenly, I’m there, I’m coming, and it’s so, so, so good.
He’s murmuring against my sweat-slicked skin as I come down from that sparkling high. “You’re so pretty when you come. Thank you for that.”
Except I didn’t … he didn’t, this time, I don’t think. “What about you?”
He pats my hip. “I’m fine. I’m going to take the echo of you coming like that on my lap and think about it tonight in my hotel room.”
“Wait.” I push off him, legs shaking like a brand-new baby animal. I sink to my knees in front of him at the edge of the bed, and I tug at his waistband.
He goes to cover my hands, but I bat him away.
His gaze hooded, he leans back and lets me pull his cock out into the early morning light.
I didn’t do this last night.
I want to this morning. “Is there time?”
He nods. “Give me a kiss right there on the tip, and I’ll fucking make a fountain for you.”
I laugh and lean in. He smells like both of us, like a night of sex, and it’s intense and raw and real. I want to remember this moment while he’s gone. I want to hold it tight, like a promise, that maybe just maybe, at the end of this season, Jeff Rosehill might be mine.
Is it possible?
A lot could change in six months. Heck, a lot could change on this road trip.
Maybe he’ll have regrets.
But I don’t want to have any. I don’t want to miss a chance to show him that I share the same hunger he showed me last night.
I start with a kiss on his tip, and he doesn’t immediately explode, but he does … react. His cock strains, and a drop of dew appears on the flared crown, drawing my attention to the slit there. I poke my tongue out and lap it up.
“Fucking hell, Molly.” He jackknifes up, his hands sinking into my hair, and he holds me still as he throbs against my tongue. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Gonna make me blow, I swear.”
“I’m just licking.”
“I’m just licking, she says like a fucking angel. All right, then, Whirlwind. Lick me again. See what you get.”
I lap at the slit with more fervor, tasting where his seed comes from before pulling the whole tip of his cock into my mouth.
He’s huge.
There’s no way I could fit all of him in my mouth, but he doesn’t seem to care, just the tip is more than enough to make him make the best sounds. Groaning, growling noises that match the rough thrusts against my tongue, and then cursing as his cock goes even harder, stiff as a board, and throbs.
With a hard, heavy spurt, he comes on my tongue.
The taste is so different from the clear precum that I pull off in surprise.
The next spurt of his release lashes across my mouth, then the third hits my cheek.
I stare up at him in surprise as he takes over, fisting his cock up and away from me, spilling the rest of his seed on his belly and underwear.
“These things are beyond redemption,” he mutters, shoving his boxers down on his hips before falling back on my bed.
“I’ll wash them for you.” I wipe my face, then crawl back onto the bed and curl up beside him.
He tugs me into his side. “Sex isn’t always this messy, I promise.”
“I like it.”
He growls again, then kisses my temple. “If I don’t see you at the field today, I’ll call you tonight when I get to Atlanta. I want to call you every night that I’m gone. I already know I’m going to miss you.”
I’m going to miss him too.
When he finally leaves, commando under his jeans, his cum-stained boxers in my laundry basket—how domestic—I stay in bed for a long stretch, staring at the ceiling, replaying our conversations and the orgasms and the kissing and the rest of our conversations over and over again.
The trial engagement part. The white picket fences part. The babies in the future part.
The not consummating our marriage part.
We did a lot of things last night. A lot of firsts for me.
But despite how many times he called me his wife, he didn’t take it all the way.
He left our marriage unconsummated on purpose, to give me an out if I want one.
No sex.
Not unless I’m sure about us, just in case we need to be honest with a judge that we never consummated our marriage and it was all a paperwork mistake.
But nothing about the way he kisses me, or the mess he makes when I suck his cock, or all the rest of it feels like a paperwork mistake.
And I have to keep all of this a secret while I make this decision and do my job and stay cool.