Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Decker
With us trying to keep our relationship a secret, we don’t have a lot of choices for me to take Pen out. If I picked a restaurant, especially one with a reservation and a wine list and dim lighting, we might have our picture taken. And then keeping it between us is over and done.
So, I used my connections and arranged what I hope is a romantic dinner, just us, where we can be alone.
I open my building’s door that leads to the rooftop and lead her through the bar that serves the patrons on Colts game days, finding her hand and leading her out to the open area.
“You guys get access to this? I always wondered what it’s like to watch a game from here.”
“Me too.” We both laugh. “Although I might be able to find out soon.”
She squeezes my hand. “I just know Shane Whitaker will come to his senses.”
“I hope so.”
I open the doors to the small concrete platform before you can take the stairs to go up to the bleachers.
“Deck,” she says, stepping to my side. “It’s beautiful.”
“Just so we’re clear, my idea, not my execution.”
She lays her cheek on my shoulder. “I love it.”
I lead her to the table for two with a black tablecloth, candles lit under hurricanes, and our meals already waiting. “We’re alone, just so you know.”
“I feel like you might be thinking something dirty to tell me that.”
I slide out the chair, and she smooths out her dress and sits.
“You are teasing me with that dress.”
“It’s practically a sundress.” She tilts her head. “And what about you? Slacks, a V-neck shirt?”
“Maybe it doesn’t matter what the other wears, we just want to tear the other one’s clothes off.”
She laughs, knowing it’s probably true. These past few weeks with the away games, we definitely mastered our sexting, and I thanked God baseball players get their own rooms.
“Well, you look very sexy tonight, Decker.” She says it in a polite voice like she’s complimenting the chicken.
“And you look stunning.”
She smiles, her face glowing in the candlelight.
I take the silver cover off her dish. “I can’t cook like you, but if memory serves, this was your favorite.”
“Spinach and garlic?” she asks, perusing the heart-shaped deep-dish pizza.
“Yes. Your own personal pan.”
She peers over at mine. “And what do you have?”
I lift my lid to see my usual thin-crust onion and green pepper shaped in a heart, which I didn’t ask for. Nice of the pizza place to make it special.
“I never understood why you don’t like deep-dish.”
“Too much cheese.”
We both pick up a piece. “And just so you know, you’re outnumbered. Hazel likes everything I like. I’ve already brainwashed her.” She smiles right before she takes a bite.
“I can convert her.” I take a bite of my thin crust and then realize I never even poured our wine, so I put my pizza down and open the bottle before pouring us both a glass.
“No, it’s ingrained now. Sorry.” She shrugs. “Maybe the next one.” She hurries and takes another bite, concentrating on her plate.
“And all the ones after that.”
She peeks up. “You don’t have to say that. It’s probably too soon for me to have said that.”
“Pen, I want an entire house full of kids with you.”
Her smile emerges again, and the tension around us dissipates. Thank god.
“Me too.”
Our eyes lock and hold over the flickering candles, and I place my hand over hers.
“It’s weird, right? I mean, that it feels so natural already?” She wipes her mouth and takes a sip of her wine.
“Yeah, but I love it. It’s what I always wanted.
And I don’t want to go slow just because someone said you have to, or society dictates what makes a relationship successful and long-term.
I love you, Penelope, and I want to become a father figure to Hazel, but on her terms. I want to marry you, I want to have more kids with you.
And I’m done being scared to admit that.
And I don’t want to wait when we’ve already waited so long. ”
“You’re going to ruin my makeup.” She swipes a finger under her eyes.
“Is that you avoiding a response because you don’t feel the same?”
“No!” She shakes her head. “I do… I want all of that. It was always you, but there’s a lot still to consider.”
“Like?”
“Like my dad is your manager, and how it will look if that comes out. Your contract and what that means. Relocation?”
I’ve been playing great lately and feel back to my old self. Every good game I have, I gain more confidence. “I hope I get to stay in Chicago.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m not sure what I did to piss that guy off. Or why he wants Harkins to take my spot. My only saving grace is that I have your dad on my side.”
She smiles, slides her chair out, and walks around the table to me. “And he’ll always be on your side. He loves you more than he loves me.”
I open my legs and she slides between them, sitting on my lap and putting her arms around my neck. Nothing feels better than when she comes to me.
“No, you’re his baby.”
“Ah, Hazel took that spot, which I’m thankful for.” She leans her head to mine. “Whatever happens with your contract, we’ll get through it.”
“I can commute. There’s no need for you and Hazel to move. She’s settled here.”
She doesn’t move, allowing me to hold her. “Let’s just give it some time, but Decker.” She pulls back and looks me in the eye. “If this is going to work, we are united. It will be hard for Hazel, but having you in our lives trumps that.”
God, she’s killing me. A small part of me still feels like I don’t deserve this. To have everything I’ve wanted so fast is making it hard to really believe that I’m here, living the life I want. That it won’t be snatched away.
“Oh.” She gets up off my lap, and I reach for her, but she swats my hands away, grabbing her clutch from the table and pulling out her phone. “Did you see this?”
She returns to my lap. I stare at Webber Field across from us while she searches on her phone.
I can’t imagine playing for anyone else.
Sure, I want to stay here for the family I’ve built with my teammates, and I don’t want Hazel or Penelope to upend their life, least of all for me.
I love this city, I love this team, and I love the fans.
It would break my heart to leave. But what I don’t tell Penelope is that I’m almost positive I’m already out.
I don’t think my performance is the problem. I think it’s my salary.
“Look.” She puts her screen in front of my face, and it takes a second for my eyes to focus.
“HandsOffDeck.” My forehead wrinkles.
I take the phone from her, scrolling down the Instagram account and looking at the posts. It looks like an account dedicated to keeping me here in Chicago. Everyone on here is talking about the fact that my contract is up this year, and Chicago hasn’t said anything about re-signing me.
“Look at all the comments. I mean, it just started, but it’s gaining a following. Chicago loves you.”
I scan a few comments about people saying Whitaker is stupid for even playing around with me. That another team is going to snag me. All their comments hit me right in the heart. Maybe this city loves me as much as I love them.
I hand the phone back to Penelope. “Not sure any of that will matter, but it’s nice.”
She clicks Follow. “I’m a fan.”
“Well, I’m a fan of you.” I push all the bullshit any player has to face at some point from my mind. “Straddle me?”
The rooftops aren’t exactly private, so there’s no way I’m going to strip her down here, but I think I’ll tease her a little bit for what’s to come when we get back to my condo.
“What’s your plan?” She stands between my legs.
“Hike up the skirt, Pen.” I pat my lap.
“So far I like where this is going.” She hooks one leg, then the other around my waist, and I shift us until her back is braced against the table, giving her something solid to rest against.
“This is only the appetizer.” I drag my mouth along the line of her jaw. “My full meal will be downstairs.”
Her laugh catches, turning into a shuddered breath when I slide my hand up her thigh beneath the hem of her skirt.
“Deck,” she whispers, but it comes out less like a warning and more like a plea.
I kiss her before she can say anything else, swallowing the little gasp that leaves her mouth her when my fingers find the inside of her thigh. She’s already warm, already shifting against me, her hands on my shoulders for balance.
“Stay still,” I tell her, though I like the fact she can’t.
My thumb strokes a little higher, along her wet panties. She breaks the kiss with a shaky exhale and tips her head back, exposing her throat. I take advantage, pressing my mouth there, tasting her skin while my hand keeps moving beneath her skirt.
“You like making me wait?” Her voice is thin and breathless.
“I like watching you fall apart.”
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and I slide the edge of her panties over, my finger running along exactly where she’s aching.
She jolts against me, her forehead dropping to my shoulder. “God,” she breathes.
“Thanks for the praise.”
She rocks against my hand, and I laugh softly under my breath, tightening my hold on her hip with my free hand to keep her where I want her. My fingers slide through her wetness, my thumb applying a little pressure on her clit.
“Look at me, Pen.”
She lifts her head. Her eyes are glassy, and her mouth is parted. I take a moment to memorize this version of her. The one where all her pleasure comes from me. I slip a finger inside her, and she jolts up off my lap before settling again.
“That’s it,” I murmur.
Her body softens and tightens at the same time, a war between satisfaction and desperation. I kiss her hard as I add another finger and arc them inside her. Her breaths turn sharp and uneven, and she clutches my shoulders as though she’s afraid I might stop.
“Deck—” My name breaks off into a moan.
I press my forehead to hers. “Come for me. Let me watch you come on my hand.”
I thrust my hand again, my thumb adding more pressure. She rides my hand, her arousal dripping down my hand. Anyone could see us and know what we’re doing even though we’re clothed. But I don’t care.
A shudder runs through her, her mouth falling open against mine, her fingers biting into my shoulders as she rides out her orgasm in my lap. I keep my hand on her, coaxing her through every pulse until she falls boneless against me, spent and catching her breath.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
Then I brush my lips over hers and murmur, “That was still just the appetizer.”
Her laugh is weak and sexy as hell. “You are entirely too pleased with yourself.”
“Not yet.” I slide my hand out from between her legs before placing my fingers in my mouth and tasting her. Her eyes go molten as if she’s already primed and ready for round two. “But give me five more of those, and I will be.”