Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
olivia
My throat was hoarse from screaming when Nate hit his home run. The girls behind me had spent the game ogling him, reading off his stats, and planning to accost him outside the stadium.
Okay, ladies. You might know his height, weight, and place of birth. But I know a few stats that no one else does. It’s nine inches where it counts.
Me: Fuck me.
Sophie: All okay at the game?
Me: Technically, yes. But I want to punch these girls behind me for thinking that they have a chance with Nate.
Sophie: OMG. Livvie, I’m so proud of you.
Me: Do I even want to know?
Sophie: You’ve got feelings. I mean, technically, jealousy is like the seventh circle of hell, but it’s a start.
Me: Stop. Don’t ever say that shit to me again.
Sophie: You come asking for honesty.
Sophie: So I’m to tell Austin you’re at a concert?
Me: Please, but only if he asks.
Sophie: Go have tons of screaming hot sex with your rookie. Your secret is safe with me.
Me: And Bran.
Sophie: You know it!
I stood in the meeting place Nate had sent me to and nearly jumped when he approached me on foot.
“Shit, Nate! What if someone recognizes you?” I asked, looking around to see if anyone realized one of the players was just chilling on the street.
“I’m fine.” He gestured to his outfit, a Minutemen jersey and hat with jeans and sneakers. It was the quintessential Boston uniform, one that men all over the city wore to games, out to bars, and even on first dates if no one stopped them.
“I’d tell you that you looked like a dork if you didn’t look so adorable. Is your car okay to leave?”
“Yeah. I checked with security. I can get it later.”
“Good, because I had to sit there and listen to your fan club all night—and it made me want to do some things.”
“What kind of things?” he asked with a smirk.
“Very bad things that feel amazing.”
The walk to the hotel was less than ten minutes, but after Nate watched two men check me out, he pulled me towards him possessively. The fact that I liked that would be something I forced Sophie to analyze with me over a glass of wine—or three.
“Question—”
“What?” I asked, curious as to why Nate suddenly seemed nervous.
“I’m not sure how to say this—because I really fucking love the dirty talk. But what does it do for you?”
“Oh, man.” I paused and worked it out in my head before I spoke.
“I’ve always been a little more adventurous with sex, and there was a time when I worried that there was something wrong—or defective—with me.
Dirty talk flips a switch; it changes my headspace and gives me freedom to feel good and enjoy sex without guilt. ”
We arrived outside the hotel, and Nate looked at the door. “Here we are. Is the room in my name, or yours?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I called to make the reservations, used your name, and let them know you were using the room to fuck your teammate’s sister.”
“Ha ha. Did you tell them you’re the best sex I’ve ever had?”
“I did,” I said, joking. “They asked to watch.” And there was that tinge of jealous rage that had been simmering. Nate was mine, and I was the best sex he would ever have. Did I want to be the only sex he’d ever have?
Oh, fuck. I did. But the worst thing—I wanted him to want that.
I bent over and placed my hands on my knees, struggling to catch my breath. Hyperventilating.
“Liv, are you okay?”
No. No. No. I was not fucking okay. But when he bent over and those beautiful green eyes looked into mine, I was okay.
“Nate,” I whispered.
“Liv?”
“I have feelings.”
“We all have those. Sometimes they hurt like a bitch.”
“No!” I practically shouted. “I have feelings! For you.”
He scooped me up, and I looked around. We’d attracted some attention on the street.
“What are you so afraid of, baby?”
“Can we go inside and talk?” I asked.
“Anything you want. But if we go in, you’re going to need to talk to that woman at the desk. Can you do that? Or do we need to take a walk around the block first?”
“Let’s just go in, I don’t want to be out here on the street right now.”