Chapter 20
Maren
“Fuck… shit… no, no, no, no,” I whisper to myself in a hushed panic.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sadie laughs, looking across the kitchen at me.
The words come falling from my mouth at warp speed.
“I called him a grouch, and he said I miss you and I started typing a response, but thought it would be cute to find a little Oscar the Grouch meme with a heart, and there isn’t one, because he’s a fucking grouch and now I don’t know what to say.
And it’s been too long, and he probably thinks I am freaking out and that he scared me away…
Fuck a tit, help me!” I yell and toss her my phone.
“Easy.” She lets out a soft shaky sound, and as calm as a cucumber she types away before handing my phone back to me, and on the screen is the perfect little meme of Oscar the Grouch looking all sarcastic and the text says, “Oh good… feelings.”
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I ask her with a deep sigh of relief.
“Sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you,” she says, wiping her forehead in dramatics. “I can’t date him for you, so you’re gonna have to figure it out, Mare.”
“I walked up on his ex kissing him in the parking lot today,” I blurt out.
“What?” She spins around and the look on her face could kill.
“He let her have it before he saw me, and when he did he got in my car and took me to lunch.”
“Back up. Did he kiss her back?”
“No, he told her to burn all his shit. Then he told me her lips didn’t feel right and took me to lunch at The Club House.”
She shakes her head in confusion, “I need you to stop giving me parts of the story and start from the beginning before I drive to his apartment and kill him.”
“I think Jax already has that covered.” I chuckle as I sit down to tell her the more detailed version of the story.
“I mean he sounds like he has a sweet side, just be careful you don’t get swept up in all the charm. Ok?”
“The charm?” I laugh. “Charm is not the word I’d use to describe him. Sexy, yes. Passionate and domineering, definitely. But charming… no.” I adjust in my seat recalling the alleyway incident I never told her about.
I know he’s a lot, but I feel like he’s going to be more cautious with my heart than I am.
After I listened to her go on and on about being careful around Oz, we both scarfed down some pizza and I decided to go straight to bed and shower in the morning. I’m exhausted after the rollercoaster of emotions I experienced today.
I tried to ignore the empty feeling in my chest all night. I miss him too, so a quick phone call before bed couldn’t hurt, right?
I hold up the phone and wait for him to answer my FaceTime, deciding it’s better to see him than just hear him.
“Hey,” he says in a gravely voice. The room is dark, and he looks like he might have been asleep.
“Did I wake you?” I ask anxiously, looking at the clock. Shit. It’s 11:30. “I’m sorry. You have a long day tomor—”
“Are you always this anxious?” he asks with concern lacing his voice.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “You can tell?”
I thought I had a better poker face.
“There’s just a few small tells. You bite your nails, and your texting is indecisive. The little bubbles bounce like crazy.” He laughs. “Plus, I’ve caught you talking to yourself a few times.”
I shrug. There’s nothing to say. He notices me more than I thought.
“What’s on your schedule tomorrow?” he asks, because tomorrow is all baseball and no dance for the guys until the game.
“I’m sleeping in, and then I might do a little shopping.” Things are heating up between us, so I need to get some better undergarments, just in case.
“Where’s the best place to shop in Mango Bay?” he asks.
“Second Base Boutique,” I answer without thinking.
“Isn’t that a lingerie place?” He raises a brow and sits up taller on the other end of the FaceTime.
“Yes.” I try to sound confident, like my heart isn’t racing and I’m not blushing.
“Taking requests?” he asks in a playful tone.
“I’m not getting it for you.” I lie.
“Oh yeah, do you have someone else in mind?” He bites his lip nervously, like he’s not sure what my answer will be.
“Yeah.” I let my answer hang there for a moment until his gaze drops from the screen. “Me.”
It’s not a lie, I love the way sexy underwear makes me feel. But fresh ones—those are for him.
My answer makes a smile tug at his lips, and the look he gives me makes me break out in goosebumps.
“You do it for you?” he asks to confirm.
“It makes me feel sexy, put together. Even on the most chaotic days, I know if I fainted or some shit, I wouldn’t be caught with laundry day underwear.”
The sound that escapes him makes me laugh, “What the hell is laundry day underwear?”
“You know, the underwear you have as back ups when all your laundry is dirty? The ones you would never wear unless you have to.”
He chuckles, “No, I don’t know. My laundry doesn’t pile up like that. The team has a laundry service. I bet Horner would put you on the rotation if you asked.”
I gasp, “There is no way I’d ever ask, let alone allow someone to wash my panties.”
“Why? You worried there’s evidence of how much you think about me on them?” His tone turns dark and seductive.
“No,” I answer, deciding to lean into this game a little. “I wouldn’t want evidence of what I do by myself.”
His mouth falls open and he goes to speak, but no words come out.
He stares at me for a moment before clearing his throat. “Prove it.”
I choke on the damn air, “What?”
“You heard me.” He’s calling my bluff. “Do you watch videos of me while you do it?” His smile is devious.
“No,” I lie. There is one in particular that has been the inspiration for many solo nights.
It’s from a year ago, at least. It was an away game.
They were playing the Tornadoes, and I think it was the first time he danced shirtless.
It was born out of an accident, by someone filming a video on social media.
He was dancing on top of the dugout like he jumped right out of a scene from Magic Mike, to “Love on the Brain” by Rihanna.
When he stood up, his jersey got stuck on something and tore clean off.
The crowd went wild, and he nervously bit his lip, like he was a few minutes ago, and I lost it right along with everyone else.
The look in his eyes was seductive as hell.
He played up the entire moment, so much so that I can’t watch it without needing relief.
“Liar.” His voice makes me jump. “I just watched you replay something in that pretty little head of yours. Give up the goods.”
I take a long breath. “There’s just one video of you—” I don’t even finish before he starts playing the exact fucking song I’m thinking of on a speaker in his room.
“Show me.” His words are short and wound tight.
“How did—” I can’t even finish my sentence, because the sight of him on the other side of the screen watching me, matched with the sensual tone of the song, has me finding my clit in seconds, not bothering to press for the answer.
“When a moment defines you, you remember it,” he says. “Now, show me.”
I run lazy circles over my swollen clit, soft, just waiting for the perfect amount of pressure to build with the song playing in the background.
“Look at me, baby,” he demands, and my eyes snap open to find him staring intently back at me. I didn’t even realize they’d closed.
“Do— Do you want me to move my phone?” I ask nervously.
“No, I need to see your face when you come all over your hand. I need to see what I was missing when you came all over mine while you were pressed up against the wall. Plus, I want the first time I see you dripping for me to be when I can do something about it.” His breath hitches, and it’s then I realize he’s chasing his own release right along with me.
I stop moving and turn to grab a toy out of my nightstand, and he hisses. “Just your hand… please. If you use something, it will be more than I can handle. I’ll need to see you spread wide for me, and I’m too far away.”
His voice is a desperate plea, so I close the drawer and return to placing soft caresses over myself.
“Come for me. Imagine me rolling over your body, covering you with soft kisses on your neck,” His voice turns ragged. “Your breasts…” His words fall off, and I imagine it, and as the song crescendos, I fall so far over the edge my vision blurs.
The only thing that brings me back to reality is the sound of his muffled moans as he joins me in release—neither one of us stands a chance.