30. Avery
THIRTY
AVERY
Me
My place tonight.
Reid
I finally get to see your apartment?
Me
You sound happier about getting a tour of my place than you do about fucking me on the kitchen counter.
Reid
Come on, Sinclair. I can have both.
Dinner? I’ll pick something up on the way.
Me
Sure. I’m good with whatever.
Reid
I have a meeting until six, then I’ll head over.
Me
Thanks for the reminder. I need to talk some shit on your post after your loss on Sunday. Gosh, I can’t wait until we play against you next week.
Reid
Fuck you.
Me
That’s the plan for later tonight.
Hopefully you’re willing to lend a helping hand.
Reid
And if I’m not?
Me
You can sit in the corner and watch.
“I hope Mexican food is okay.” Reid sets down a large paper bag on my kitchen island. “Enchiladas sounded fucking amazing.”
“Perfect.” I stand on my toes and grab two plates from the cabinet, putting them next to a dish of queso. “How was your meeting?”
“Not bad. A professional development one-on-one with my boss. Seems like he’s changed his tune as far as my performance goes. I had a couple videos go viral in the past week, and merchandise sales are up. We’ve also secured some large group ticket sales for December around the holidays, so things are looking encouraging on all fronts.”
“Still think you’re going to win our bet?” I ask, putting a hand on my hip.
Reid crowds my space. He tilts my chin to meet his gaze, and his eyes are dark. “Without a doubt,” he says nice and low before he kisses me, and I know it’s a promise of what’s to come later tonight.
I shiver at the press of his mouth. I hum in appreciation when he lifts me in one easy swoop and sets me on the counter. A knife clatters into the sink, and the bottle of chardonnay I pulled out of the fridge nearly rolls onto the floor.
“Your cockiness isn’t cute,” I say. “But your new glasses are.”
“I bet your wet pussy would tell me differently.”
He’s right.
My underwear is damp. My nipples pebble under my shirt, and I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t see the effect he has on me. “In your dreams, Duncan.”
“Trust me, you’re always wet in my dreams,” Reid says, and I can’t help but laugh. “You’re also usually naked in my bed and reading a comic book.”
He steps back and pops a chip in his mouth, leaving me breathless and aching for him. The asshole knows it, too, because he clamps down on a smile. His attention bounces to the front of my shorts and holds there until my legs open and I rest my hand on my thigh, teasing him like he’s teasing me.
“I’m glad to see you’re still on two feet after your less than stellar baseball play,” I say. “Any lingering pain?”
“No,” he rasps, pulling his gaze to the bag of food. He unloads two Styrofoam boxes and sets them on the counter. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since then. How was Denver?”
“Fun. It would be a beautiful place to live. Winning helped, and the guys are finally finding their groove. Malcolm is gelling well with the offense and—” I shut my mouth and giggle at the expression on Reid’s face. “You don’t care about this, do you?”
“What gave it away?”
“You look like I just started talking about calculus and physics.”
“That’s not right. If you started talking about calculus, I’d be fucking giddy. I’m a numbers guy, Sinclair. Integrals are my form of dirty talk.”
“Sounds like I need to step it up in the bedroom,” I tease, and his sharp gaze cuts to mine. “What?”
Reid moves closer to me and cups my cheek. “You don’t need to step anything up. You drive me crazy.”
“I do?” I ask, and he nods.
“All the fucking time. With your text messages. With your photos. When you’re ribbing me on your official account.” Reid drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “The things I want to do to this smart fucking mouth.”
“What kind of things do you want to do?”
“I’ll show you once I get you fed.” He squeezes my thighs. “Food first.”
We work around each other in my kitchen. I point out where I keep the silverware and he fills two glasses with water. We sit on the barstools and dig in, melting into silence while we eat.
“What are you doing for your bye week next week?” he asks, finishing off his first serving of food.
I lick away a drop of hot sauce from the back of my hand. His eyes follow my movements, and he shifts on his stool. “I have some reading I want to catch up on, and Maven mentioned a dinner with her, Emmy, and a few of the girls who work for the Stars.”
“It’s cool you all are friends. From what Maven and Emmy have told me, getting close to women in the sports world can be difficult,” Reid says.
“Very difficult,” I agree. “There are some who are in the industry for the wrong reasons. They want to get close to the players. They want to find a rich husband or boyfriend and think this is the way in. For the most part, though, we all want to see more women in our fields. We want to break down the barriers and stereotypes associated with our careers. We want to be valued like our male counterparts.” I shrug and inhale half my enchilada. “Sorry. I don’t mean to make this a whole feminism thing.”
“You’re not. It’s important to you. And, as someone who’s spent their fair share of time with you and would love to see more women in sports, it’s important to me too.”
“Thanks for being part of the team.” I swipe a forkful of beans off his plate. “Do you want a tour of my place?”
“Of course I do. I need to see where you do all your pathetic trash talking.”
I laugh and jump off the stool, tugging on his sleeve. “Come on, Duncan.”
I lead him to the living room, a smaller space than his and not nearly as nice. I wasn’t looking for anything fancy when I moved up here, just somewhere I could make my own.
I think I’ve done a good job adding personal touches. The shelf shoved against the wall is overflowing with books. The antique lamps and the tables on either side of the couch add a pop of color to the space. The fuzzy blanket draped over the small chair by the window is cozy, and it’s the spot I like to sit in and watch the snow fall in late winter.
I’ve always wanted something to feel like mine , and in the last year, this has become more like a home. Less of a spot where I rest my head for ten hours between being at the stadium, game nights and travel days and more like a safe haven.
Reid examines every nook and cranny, and I wring my hands together. I don’t know why I’ve been hesitant to show him my apartment.
In a way, it feels like the next step someone would take in a relationship. Maybe I’m afraid he’ll find something he doesn’t like and run away. Maybe I want him to feel like he has a place here, a spot where he belongs too.
“I like it,” he says after a long stretch of silence. He touches the mason jar of sunflowers sitting in the window and smiles. “It’s very you.”
“Is that a good thing?” I ask, watching him pick up a framed photo from back in college. He taps the corners and his smile gets bigger. It reaches the crinkles around his eyes and the scrunch in his nose. “Sounds like it could go either way.”
I’ve always been the popular girl. I was prom queen and cheerleading captain in high school. President of my sorority in college and homecoming queen. The one who had dozens of friends and could always find someone to talk to.
In my twenties, that popularity mixed into my dating life. I could score any guy I wanted, and I wouldn’t think twice about their opinion of me or how I was perceived. If they thought I was silly for wearing dresses to work and six-inch heels because I liked how they made my legs look, I didn’t care.
My confidence with men has wavered in the last few years, though. After my breakup with Peter, I’ve become unsure of myself. Worried that maybe I’m not enough. Scared to share parts of my life I used to give away freely.
I’m reluctant to tear down my walls become someone already tore them down so aggressively in the past.
Reid is the first guy to be in my apartment, and it feels like that’s important.
“It’s a very good thing. I can tell so many things about you just from looking around. You like to read and decorate. You get cold easily, so you always need a blanket nearby.” His fingers wrap around the crochet project my mom gave me for Christmas six years ago. “I’m glad I get to be here and see it.”
“That’s where I message you most of the time.” I point to the couch, the leather a little worn, but very loved. “There, and my bedroom.”
His eyes blaze. “I’ve been dying to see your room since I got here.”
I drag him down the hall, his hand in mine. I like the way his thumb rubs the inside of my wrist. How close he stands to me, as if he doesn’t want to be far away, not even for a second.
When we get to my room, Reid doesn’t bother to look around. He nudges me to the bed and I sit on the edge of the mattress, anticipation building at the base of my spine.
He bends down to kiss me and smiles when I wrap my arms around his neck. I tug him on top of me until we’re a tangle of limbs on the already wrinkled sheets.
Reid holds himself above me on the bed and blows out a breath. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
“You talked to me every day.”
“Not the same. I don’t like going so long without seeing you.”
“So don’t.” I peel off my shirt, desperate for him. “Come by anytime.”
“That won’t bother you?” He pulls the cups of my bra down and palms my left breast. His mouth closes over my nipple and I sigh, ready to chase the relief I’ve craved since I woke up this morning. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“I— ah . It won’t be time wasted when I know I’m going to get this out of it.”
Reid’s laugh is a rumble against my skin, and he makes quick work of my lounge shorts and underwear.
His knuckles brush across my entrance, and I know he can feel how wet I am. How ready I already am. The orgasm I gave myself in the shower before he got here did little to fill the void of his touch, and fuck , I’ve missed him too.
“ Shit , Ave. I love how responsive you are and how badly you want me.”
“Yeah?” I wrap my fingers around his wrist, keeping his hand there. His thumb circles my clit, and I groan. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone else, Reid.”
He knows my body better than I do at this point. He’s an expert in the things I like and the things I love. It’s cruel torture to lie here and let him have his way with me, a demise he’s going to draw out to last as long as possible.
Reid moves away from me, and I miss him already. He scoots to the end of the bed on his stomach, his intent clear as he settles between my legs.
He pulls off his glasses and tosses them toward the pillows, not a care in the damn world where they end up. Eyes glinting with determination and lust, a sinful spark behind the green, he grins when he bites the inside of my thigh.
“Going to get you off first,” he mumbles. He licks his lips and holds under my knees, his palms smooth and steady. “I like having your cum on my hands and tongue.” I drop my head back when he parts me with two fingers. I grin when he groans in delight and curses me under his breath. “Fucking look at you. Dripping already, and all for me.”
Two fingers press inside me, stretching me, then three. My back arches off the bed. He bands an arm over my stomach, keeping me in place, and I grind into his face.
“Taking it so well,” Reid says, and when he adds his tongue, I moan his name. I grip the back of his head, burying his face in my pussy. “Guess you missed me too.”
I’ve missed you so much .
The words must tumble out of me accidentally in a fog of desire, because his movements slow. His touch goes from rough to gentle, and he kisses the top of my knee.
“I want you inside me,” I whisper, hoping to breeze past the admission.
He undresses, discarding his shirt and jeans and the navy-blue boxers I like. There’s a hole on the ass, right near the curve of his cheek, and I love that he hasn’t bothered to replace them yet.
He lines himself up with my entrance, and I let out a shaky exhale. He strokes my calf to help me relax, and I nod to tell him I’m ready.
Our groans match when he sinks in me, and no matter how many times we do this, the first burst of sensation is almost too overwhelming.
Reid leans forward, his elbows by my ears and his chest against mine. I feel the sweat on his pecs. The beat of his heart and his hand traveling from my chest to my throat, fingers wrapping around my neck in the perfect way I can’t get enough of.
He moves, an easy thrust until he’s buried all the way inside me.
My breath catches and he strokes my windpipe up and down, murmuring my name.
This doesn’t feel like fucking.
This isn’t the game we usually play.
It’s tender and gentle and sex in its most real form. Vulnerable. Raw and taking our time.
I want him to stay inside me forever.
I want him to take over my heart and my mind, and when our gazes meet, I swear there are stars behind his eyes.
“Okay?” he slurs, a little drunk on euphoria.
“Perfect.” I touch his cheek and he turns to kiss my hand. “It’s always going to be okay, Reid. I trust you.”
He nods, cheeks pink and breath stuttered. He opens my legs wider, finding a new angle, one he’s never reached before.
A moan escapes me, and I’ll never get over how good he makes me feel.
How full and how perfect, and how sometimes, when he’s looking at me like this, I think the moment could last forever.