Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Penelope
I join Decker on the couch. We really have no choice but to be close to one another so we can work off the same paper.
His thigh is pressed to mine, his head leaned in close to mine, and the scent of his cologne surrounds me.
It’s the sweetest form of torture to be so near to him yet have to maintain some kind of distance emotionally.
Working through the VIP seating with Decker goes how most things do with him, which is to say efficiently.
“Keep Drew away from Easton.” He takes the pen out of my hand, leans over, and scratches off Drew’s name before putting him on the opposite side of the room from Decker and Easton. “Believe me, as far as we can make it.”
“They’re teammates.” I pick up the pen after he drops it, and I scribble some other names. “I figured we’ll put a couple players with a few season ticket holders and sponsors at each table.”
“Not all teammates get along. Look at Foster and me.” He leans back and finishes his water bottle.
I forgot how small I always feel sitting next to him. It’s not like I’m petite, but he’s six-three, and his body is big and muscular.
“I meant to ask you, Foster hitting that batter after you got hit…”
He shrugs his shoulder and arm as if remembering the hit. I want to ask him how bad it is. Is the bruise already black and blue? Does he want me to look at it or ice it for him? But just having him next to me is bad enough. A shirtless Decker might make me lose all my willpower.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t have happened last year.” There’s an amused expression on his face, and I love seeing it attached to Foster’s name.
I didn’t ruin them. They won’t go a lifetime without talking because of me. That knowledge loosens something in my chest.
I move to sit in the corner of the couch, bringing a pillow into my lap since I’m wearing a skirt. “You two seem good again.”
He scrunches his empty water bottle and tosses it on the end table next to him. “We are.”
There’s something in his tone, but I don’t address it since it feels like we may be crossing into territory we shouldn’t. “That’s great, Decker.”
“Yeah.” He stretches his legs out on the coffee table.
I’d do about anything to straddle him right now.
Just picturing it makes my nipples tighten.
“It is great. I just… I forgot what it felt like. Before everything went down.” He rubs his hands together.
“We started going to therapy together. It’s been…
I don’t know. I didn’t think I was the kind of person who needed to sit in a room and talk about things. ”
“And now?”
“Now I think had we not gone, we’d never be here.” He peeks over at me. “There’s a lot we still haven’t hashed out though.”
I’m guessing that’s code for me.
“Decker,” I say, then stop because I don’t want to address it. At the same time, I’m so sick of it hanging over us.
“I know.” He breathes out a sigh as if he’s finishing my thought.
I stand and toss the pillow on the couch. “I should go.”
I collect my papers and head to the kitchen, packing my bag so I can get out of here before things get too heavy. He follows and stops in front of me with six inches between us, but he might as well be flush against me for the way my treacherous body reacts. I don’t step back like I should.
Decker pushes my hair back from my face slowly, and I stay still as a statue, holding my breath. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and my eyes fall closed with the gentleness of his touch.
Something in me breaks. I forgot what it felt like to be touched this way. To feel as though I can let the armor I don every day slip away. This man undoes me.
“I’m tired of fighting this.” His voice is a whisper, as if someone might hear us.
I open my eyes and meet his gaze, all the fight having left me. “Then don’t.”
He stares at me, his attention falling to my lips.
I wait for the disappointment. For him to step away and say he can’t.
The longer his hand stays on my cheek, the more strained the tension between us becomes.
His thumb moves to my lips, outlining their shape.
I stay in place, not giving him anything. This is his decision, not mine.
A pained expression crosses his eyes, and I prepare myself for his rejection.
Then his fingers tighten around the back of my neck, and he pulls me toward him until his lips meet mine.
His kiss is soft at first, careful, as if he’s asking for permission.
I grab the front of his shirt to make sure he knows I’m in total agreement.
I haven’t forgotten all the reasons this is a bad idea, but I’m with him—I’m done fighting it.
Something shifts inside him, and our kiss turns into the one that encapsulates how long he’s waited to kiss me again.
His mouth turns demanding, his hands more explorative, his tongue desperate for the taste of me. I melt into him, gripping his shirt so hard my knuckles ache, but now that I have him again, I never want him to let me go.
I have no idea how long we kiss, but when we come up for air, he rests his forehead on mine, staring into my eyes.
“God, Pen.”
My eyes drift close at him shortening my name again. The first time since we’ve been reacquainted.
I inch up to kiss him again, but three hard knocks land on the door. “Ignore it.”
He’s still catching his breath, and I wait for him to release me, tell me this is a bad idea.
But he presses his lips to mine again, our mouths still ravenous for one another.
I wrap my arms around his neck, inching up on my tiptoes.
His hands fall to the small of my back, pressing me into his body.
Another three knocks echo on the door. “Deck, man!”
Easton.
We pull apart, and he steps back. He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m not sure he needs to because it’s all there in his eyes for me to see. We’re out of the moment and guilt has seeped in.
Who am I kidding? We’ll never get over this hump. Did I really think we could just move on like that?
He says nothing, turns, and walks over to open the door. “What?”
I catch a quick glimpse of Easton wearing a pair of shorts, no shirt, and just his chains hanging around his neck. He tries to peek in, but Decker shuts the door quickly, so he doesn’t catch sight of me.
“I need a condom,” he says.
“Seriously?” Decker sounds less than impressed.
“You want me on my knees? Do you have one? Some if you’ve got more than one.”
Decker slams the door shut and stalks into his bedroom.
I hear a drawer open and shut, then he reappears with a strip of condoms in his hand.
A sick feeling settles in my stomach at the reminder that he doesn’t keep them in his bedside drawer because I might stop by.
He opens the door and tosses them to Easton.
“Thanks, man, I owe you.”
Decker says nothing. He just shuts the door and leans his back against it, staring at me with a pained expression. “Pen…”
“It’s okay.” I smooth my hair and reach for my bag, then pull out my phone as if I have somewhere to be. “We finished the seating arrangements. I’ll send it to Janet in the morning.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I know.” I look at him, so he understands that I mean it.
I get it. I do, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
I walk toward the door, and he steps forward, but I weave by him.
“It’s probably best that we stop seeing one another.
I’ll text you with the details on the Dugout Social Club stuff, and maybe you can help Hazel at Hayes and Leighton’s place.
I’ll leave food in the fridge as payment. ”
“Penelope, I don’t want your food.” The words he’s not saying are clear—I want you, but I can’t have you.
I inwardly wince at my full name coming off his tongue again.
“It’s safer this way, Decker.” I stare right into his eyes so he can see he isn’t breaking me.
I place my hand on the doorknob.
The fact that he isn’t saying anything tells me everything I need to know. He’s far from ready to have me in his life.
I slip the door open and slide through, shutting it after me.
I don’t wait for him to fight for us. I don’t wait for him to come after me. I jog down the stairs and walk down the street, weaving through the Colts fans still celebrating the win.
I’m done waiting.