Chapter 21
ROMAN
In the last twenty years, I’ve been to a club twice.
During both of those trips, I’ve been accompanied by my catcher’s younger sister. I don’t know how to begin trying to make sense of that.
Sitting on a cold, firm leather couch a full level above the rest of the club, I’m surrounded by a handful of my players.
Finn and his girlfriend, Aubrey, then Jett, Kellan, Asher, Beck, Wesley, and lastly .
. . Brielle. I’m stiff and completely sober as I watch them shoot back shots and dance to unfamiliar music that does little but make it more obvious how much older I am than them.
I don’t feel the desire to dance, nor do I reach for the bottles of top-shelf alcohol that don’t appear to stop being brought to our section. There are tall, bulky men standing at each entrance, unmoving as the crowds below us spare glances every few moments.
It was Beck who was recognized first. I knew it would be. From the moment we were escorted through the doors and to this blocked-off, seemingly protected area, there have been eyes on us. Too many for how uncomfortable I already am.
Still, joining them was the right decision.
I did it for the team.
It’s as simple as that. The woman dressed in pink had little to do with it.
My prickled feelings after having spent over five hours watching her and Beck on the flight here were a mere inconvenience. It was misplaced aggression that I buried the moment I made it to my hotel room. The cold shower was refreshing, not punishment.
I glare at the liquored-down table in front of me as it flashes pink and blue. I’m a fucking liar, and there’s no denying it. Not anymore.
Brielle’s still dancing in front of me. Her hands are gripping the railing as she twirls her hips and grins down at the crowds below like they’re little more than her own personal audience.
Tangled blonde curls sway across her back, so beautifully messy that they don’t make sense with how put together she is.
I can still smell her perfume and feel the addicting press of her arm against mine from the party bus.
Those several minutes felt like a goddamn lifetime, knowing that I couldn’t take her soft hand in mine and tug her right onto my lap so Beck would finally realize she isn’t available to him.
She should be. I know that; we all know that. But she isn’t.
I want her so fucking badly that I’m struggling to breathe, knowing that at any given moment, she might decide to leave this isolated section we’re in and slip away.
I’d have to watch her slide between hot, sweaty bodies as they move without a care for whether or not she gets shoved around or touched in a way that has me unravelling.
Brielle is a force of nature that no man alive is strong enough to weather, but I think I want to be the one to try.
Wesley’s voice is obvious over the music. It should be enough to change my mind, yet as Kellan drops onto the couch beside me and hammers me with his shoulder, I’ve already decided my next move.
Standing, I brush my hands down my shirt.
Kellan’s reaching for the bottle of tequila when I round the table and pass Jett.
He’s too concerned with whatever is on his phone to notice me, and beside him, Finn’s explaining something to Beck that I ignore.
Out of the entire group, it’s Finn and, surprisingly, Beck who have remained sober.
It’s a mess of lively bodies, shouting, and flashing lights. The overstimulation is almost enough to guide me to the exit rather than the railing I’ve set my mind on. A tight, pink, shimmering dress yanks me back on track.
Brielle’s holding her hair off her neck when I approach. She’s rubbing against Aubrey’s side as they dance together, singing so loudly that I can make out the words over the bass. I gulp and slow my steps. My hands sink into the pockets of my slacks and curl in the inner fabric.
I settle against the railing a few feet from them, close enough to know she’s still nearby without interrupting her fun. A deep shadow covers the area, bathing it in dark. The metal is cold against my palms when I take hold of it and lean forward, sucking in a long inhale of hot club air.
My senses are overrun. I can’t help but sweep my eyes across the space between us, willing her to feel my presence and look my way.
The minutes crawl by without acknowledgment.
I rock forward, tightening my jaw. The club has grown busier, but I’m hidden in the shadows, only illuminated by brief flashes of colour.
I should go.
This is pathetic. My breath saws out of me as my confidence begins to fray. One minute soon turns into five.
I lock up when I feel the air change. It’s slow at first, a slow, creeping twinge of energy sparking. Then, it’s an eruption.
My blood floods with need when Brielle sidles up beside me. She’s not close enough to touch me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m ruined regardless.
Leaning closer to me, she raises her voice over the music. “Why did you come tonight? I want the real reason. Not whatever you’ve been rehearsing.”
I fix my gaze on the stage at the front of the club instead of dropping it to her. Frustration pulses through me at my lack of action here.
“To see you.”
“And was that so hard to say?” she questions, dropping her hand to cover mine.
I turn my head sharply and stare at where she’s touching me. With a flick of my eyes, I confirm nobody from our group is watching us.
Brielle guides my fingers apart and slips hers through the available space.
I suck in a weak breath and slowly lift my gaze.
Her lashes are lowered as she watches me, rubbing her lips together.
They’re slick, like she’s just applied some sort of gloss to them.
I tighten my grip on the railing instead of reaching up to smear it.
To cover my thumb in it and suck the taste off.
“Yes,” I declare, hating the way the truth tastes. “Because when I admit these things to you, I open doors that should remain shut.”
“Fuck the doors, Roman. I’m so done with your roadblocks. You either take me to your hotel room right now, or I go find someone who will.”
My brows shoot up before pinching together. I grind my teeth together so hard they ache before I manage to pry them open again.
“Don’t.”
Brielle’s eyes burn with a blistering rage that turns me on far more than it terrifies me. I’m so screwed here, and we both know it. It’s only a matter of how long I continue to fight this, not whether I’m going to stop. And right now, my toes are hanging off the edge.
“Then stop me. Because if you don’t, I’m going to walk down those steps and spend the rest of the night on the hunt for someone who can give me what I want. And when I do that, your chance is going to disappear completely. Poof, Roman. Gone.”
I yank my hand from hers too quickly for her to latch onto it. The fabric of her dress is so thin that when I palm her low back, I can feel the tiny strap of her panties beneath. My mind goes silent, cock throbbing painfully.
Brielle leans into me, relaxing completely, like my touch has soothed something inside of her.
Like maybe she’s feeling the same way I am rather than a mere simple attraction.
I spread my fingers and follow the string that’s leading to the split between her ass cheeks.
It disappears while I glide my hand to the left and squeeze, growling under my breath.
“Rome.”
It’s one word. One hardly audible, needy word.
It’s my name.
I war with myself as the urge to shove my hand right up beneath her short dress threatens to overtake me. It would be so easy to delve my hand between her thighs and feel how wet that sweet pussy must be. She’s trembling now, so delicate beneath my touch.
My mind is whirling. The risk of what happens next is heavy on my conscience.
I’m not a spur-of-the-moment type of guy.
My decisions are almost always weighed out.
Yet with Brielle, I want to be sporadic.
If changing the rules just this once means I can have her to myself, even if just for one night, then I want to give in.
I turn my body toward her and glide my hand across the railing. Leaning forward, I push my chest against her shoulder and dip my head, inhaling just once.
“We wouldn’t be able to tell anyone, Brielle. Do you get that?”
“Aubrey wouldn’t share anything I didn’t want her to,” she argues, pressing her ass further into my hand.
Dainty fingers find the front of my shirt and pluck at the bottom button, teasing me. I release the railing and grab her hand, keeping it in place.
Her eyes hide nothing. They’re darker than I’ve ever seen them, blown wide with need.
She’s not listening to my warnings, and I can’t say I blame her.
They’re empty, heatless. If she told me that she was going to go announce to everyone on the team that I was seconds away from fucking her right here, I can’t guarantee that I’d stop her.
I’ve already jumped off the ledge.
“Wait five minutes, and then meet me outside. If you take longer than that, I’m going to come back to find you, and there won’t be any explaining that. Do you understand?”
She tips her chin, using the extra few inches she’s gained with her heels to brush her lips against my jaw. Liquid bliss flows through my veins as I feel the sticky print left behind.
“I understand.”
A loud hooting noise comes from the couches.
I tense against her and dig my fingers deeper into her back while looking toward the interruption.
She stays rooted in place, shielded in the shadows while Wesley drops to his knees in front of Beck and accepts the rim of a tequila bottle between his lips.
His friend tips it all the way back and cheers when he gulps it down.
On instinct, I look out at the rest of the club to check for anyone recording them.
There’s nothing, though. Not one camera pointed our way or fingers dancing in our direction.
Returning my focus to the team, I realize not a single player has any interest outside of the circle they’ve created.
Even Aubrey, the same woman who was stuck to Brielle’s side, has slipped into Finn’s lap, completely focused on the shot he’s tipping into her mouth.
Suddenly, the need for a head start seems unnecessary. At least one as large as I was planning.
Without allowing myself the chance to talk myself out of it, I take Brielle’s hand. I keep it hidden beside my thigh as I stroke her knuckles.
“Two minutes. Follow me,” I command, squeezing her fingers once before releasing them.
I don’t wait for her to reply before leaving her in the shadows and strolling across the VIP floor.
Guilt festers as I scold myself for not staying to ensure everyone gets back to the hotel in one piece.
They’re grown adults, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t take that as an excuse to abandon them.
My invite to join them tonight was made out of pity.
If I hadn’t been sulking in the hotel bar at the same time Finn was passing by, I’m positive nobody would have sought me out because they don’t need a babysitter.
That should be enough to convince me that I’m making the right decision choosing myself this time.
My pace slows before stopping entirely. The guard in front of the stairs down to the main floor eyes me curiously, and I scowl, shaking my head. I can hear the howls and cheers from behind me and grit my teeth.
I’m not expecting someone to touch me any more than I am to be shoved forward.
Brielle’s frown is the first thing I see when I catch myself and turn to stare bewilderedly over my shoulder.
The mess of bright curls sticking out around her face is next, and I reach up to brush a few back behind her ear before I can stop myself.
Her eyes twinkle when she realizes what I’m doing, the softest smile I’ve ever seen pulling at her lips.
“Go.” She mouths the simple word, jerking her chin forward.
The risk of getting caught together pushes me into motion.
The guard steps aside to make room for us, and I lead the way down the dark stairs.
Flashing, coloured lights illuminate a path forward, but it’s hardly enough.
I linger at the bottom of the staircase and wait for both of her feet to touch the ground before taking her wrist.
We stick near the wall as we rush through the club. I duck my head to hide my face. It’s doubtful that I’d be the one recognized here, which calms me a bit. I still need to get Brielle out of here quickly, though. Until we’re outside, I won’t be able to realize what I’ve just done.
That’s both terrifying and the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced.