22. Déjà Vu
TWENTY-TWO
DéJà VU
ISABELLA
Turns out I was right to be concerned about having to see him at work. This is the third game I’ve worked since everything changed between us and I find it hard to believe that no one seems to be picking up on it.
Ryan tends to linger around the crew—and, more specifically, me—longer than before. I can’t tear my eyes off him whenever he’s within sight. When I’m with the crew watching the game from the studio, I only ever focus on him. I don’t know who is up at bat, don’t know the score. All I see is him.
It’s dangerous, this thing between us.
But I also wouldn’t trade it for anything.
After the last two games, I’ve gone over to Ryan’s place and spent the night. Soaking up every opportunity to spend time with him before they leave for their next away stretch tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need to see if that’s still the plan for tonight.
I sneak a peek at the crew and they’re still busy packing up all their equipment. Slipping my phone from my pocket, I open my conversation with Ryan, intending to send him a text when I see there’s already one waiting for me from him.
Ryan
Got any plans tonight?
I try to bite back my smile as I decide how I want to respond.
Isabella
I mean I was going to see if I could find a baseball player to go home with, but I guess I could change my plans
His reply is quick.
Ryan
I’m sure I could find a way to make both of our plans work
It’s date night
Isabella
Ryan…
You know we can’t go out
Ryan
I know
I have something else in mind
Come over to mine? 7pm?
Isabella
Fine
Should I bring an overnight bag?
Ryan
You’d better
I cough to hide the laugh that bursts out as I slide my phone away and jump back into helping the crew clear off the field.
“Need any help?” I ask as I sidle up beside Jamie who is loaded down with tripods and monitors.
He side-eyes me with a warm smile. “Absolutely not. You’re off the hook for the evening.
” He juts his chin in the direction of where Annie is chattering away with the sound engineer as they head toward the door that leads off the field.
“Just make sure she gets out of here alright and then you’re free to go. ”
“Sir, yes sir,” I respond, paired with a salute in farewell. He chuckles as I hustle to catch up with Annie and the rest of the crew.
“Isa!” Annie’s eyes are sparkling with excitement as I catch up with her. “Please tell me you’re going to join us for drinks. We’re heading to a bar around the corner. We’d love to have you join!”
Guilt roils in my stomach. This isn’t the first time I’ve been invited out after work by someone from the crew. I always politely decline, choosing not to mix business with pleasure.
But isn’t that exactly what I’m doing with Ryan?
I’ve settled in well with the whole crew, but only ever here at the stadium on broadcast days. Never outside of work parameters. Would it really kill me to say yes once in a while? If only I didn’t have plans, I might have accepted the invitation.
I grimace. “Sorry Annie, I actually have plans tonight. Rain check?”
Her twinkle dims the slightest, but the smile remains on her face. “Sure, rain check.”
I feel bad for turning her down, but shake off the guilt and sadness trying to drag me down. “Right, let’s go track down your car then, shall we?”
The door swings open to reveal Ryan before I even get the chance to knock. He’s in a pair of dark wash jeans and another of those Henleys that look like they’re sculpted to his body.
My mouth instantly starts to water, and it has nothing to do with the smell of tomato sauce and spices.
He’s quick to grasp my hand and tug me inside, closing the door behind me and pressing me up against it with a wicked smirk.
“This feels awfully familiar,” I whisper.
His smile only widens before he drops his lips down to mine, drawing a groan from my throat.
My arms loop around his neck while his hands find my hips, both of us pulling each other as close as possible.
I nip at his bottom lip, asking for more, but he pulls away abruptly, leaving me cold and wanting.
“As much as I’d love to continue, if we don’t stop now, we’ll never eat.” His voice comes out rough.
I roll my eyes and fold my arms over my chest. “Fine, if you insist.”
He plants his hands on either side of my head, keeping me crowded against the door. “Don’t worry, firecracker. I have plans for us after dinner.”
His words send a shiver of anticipation through me.
Without another word, he takes my hand and pulls me behind him until we’re standing in front of the dining table. A table that is now covered with dishes of pasta, chicken parm, tiramisu, and lit candles.
“Well, this is certainly romantic,” I say, turning my head to look at him.
He gestures for me to take a seat in the chair he’s pulled out for me. “If I can’t take you out on a proper date, it’s the least I can do.”
Dinner is easy. But that’s not a surprise. Being with Ryan is easy when we hide away in our bubble like this.
I’m placing the last of the dishes into the sink when I’m lifted and dropped on top of the counter, an entirely unflattering shriek escaping me.
My hands land on Ryan’s shoulders to brace myself and he’s looking at me with a wild heat in his eyes.
His mouth finds the side of my neck, planting a kiss at the junction where my neck and shoulder meet.
I tilt my head to grant him better access.
He drops another kiss, and another, working his way up.
“Have I told you yet how beautiful you are?” he whispers, breath tickling my ear.
“Not tonight,” I breathe out.
He hums. “My apologies. I suppose I’ll have to make up for that,” he says, nipping at my ear lobe, eliciting a gasp from me.
“How do you”—another gasp as he sucks on my neck—“plan to do that?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer as he scoops his hands under my ass, lifting me off the counter. My arms tighten around his neck and my legs wrap around his waist as he walks us to his bedroom where he unceremoniously dumps me onto the mattress.
“As much as I love seeing you in that dress, I think I’ll like it even better on my bedroom floor,” he says with a wicked grin.
If there’s one good thing about an afternoon game, it’s that we’re out of there at a reasonable time.
Meaning, I had enough time to go home and change out of my pantsuit and into a fitted midi dress with a slit that hits mid-thigh for our dinner date.
And also, in the hope that it would finally get Ryan to give up on this whole ‘going slow’ thing.
Sure, I’ve stayed over the last few nights since, what I’ve dubbed, Jersey Night, but he hasn’t let us get carried away past good old fashioned hand jobs like we’re teenagers exploring the body of the opposite sex for the first time.
Don’t think I haven’t tried to push things further either.
I tried to wake him the other morning with a blow job, but he caught on too quickly and stopped me before I could even slide my way down his body.
At least I’m still getting orgasms out of this arrangement, but I wish it was more.
Ryan plays with the hem of my dress, fingers tracing the slit up to my exposed upper thigh. “This has been teasing me all night,” he growls.
“Good.”
He arches a brow. “Good? Were you trying to drive me crazy?”
“Yes,” I breathe out as his hand slips under the fabric, brushing against my hip bone and where the waistband of my underwear would be… if I were wearing any.
“Fuck, Isa,” he groans. “You’ve been sitting at the table across from me all night without any panties?
” Fingers dance along my inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to where I’m desperate for them.
I squirm under him with a whimper I’m not at all proud of.
“What was that?” he asks, halting his hand.
“Yes,” I gasp out. “Ryan, touch me. Please.”
He tugs at the dress, pulling it up and over my head before tossing it across the room. His body falls over me, bringing his mouth next to my ear. “Only because you asked so nicely,” he says, echoing his words from our first night together.
I’m set alight the moment his finger begins to draw tight circles over my clit. My back arches off the bed, my body trying to get closer to him. His mouth drops to my nipple, sucking and nipping. It’s not long before I’m writhing beneath him, panting for more.
“Ryan, please.”
“Please what?” he asks, his voice a rumble against my chest.
“Fuck me,” I gasp out.
His movements freeze, and I whine at the loss of the building pressure, lifting his head so he can meet my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Fuck taking things slow,” I say, trying to catch my breath as my brain attempts to form coherent thoughts. “I’ve wanted this for weeks.” I reach my hand up, threading it into the hair at the nape of his neck and tugging him close to me. “Now, please. I’m begging you to fuck me.”
A groan slips through his lips as his eyes fall closed before they pop back open and the bright blue of his eyes is overtaken by his pupils, turning them a dark navy.
“Fuck. I love hearing you beg.” That’s the only warning I get before he dives back into things with a ferocity that wasn’t there moments ago.
He slides a finger inside me, and I gasp at the surprise.
“Need you to give me one before I fuck you,” he growls.
“Think you can do that?” he asks as he slides a second finger in.
I nod repeatedly, my brain unable to form words while he’s overwhelming my senses so fully. Heat washes over my body as the pressure builds and builds, climbing higher.
“I’m gonna—” I barely get the words out before I detonate like a bomb.
My body shakes as waves of pleasure wash over me.
When I come back down to earth, everything sounds muffled, like my head is under water.
“Jesus, fuck. How are you so good at that?” I ask, breathless.
“Actually, scratch that. I don’t want to know. ”
He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss into my forehead before leaning to dig around in his nightstand. Returning with a little square foil packet he holds up between his index and middle finger, he gives me a serious look. “Still sure? You can change your mind.”
I gently take the foiled packet from his fingers and tear it open. “I’m absolutely positive that if you don’t fuck me tonight, I might combust.”
He barks out a laugh at me throwing his own words back at him.
He rips his shirt off over his head and makes quick work to remove his jeans and boxer briefs.
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” I shake my head as I work the condom down his hard length ever so slowly.
He twitches in my hand before his hand shoots out to halt my torturously slow movements.
“Okay, if you keep doing that, we won’t be fucking,” he grits out, trying to hold tight to the leash that keeps him from finishing in my hand.
He slots himself between my legs, his tip nudging at my entrance.
My eyes are fixated on the place where our bodies connect.
His finger finds my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes.
“Eyes on me, firecracker.” I shiver in anticipation.
He thrusts in only an inch at first, testing.
I gasp at the slight pinch of pain as I adjust to his size, and he halts.
“Are you okay? I can stop” he asks, concern etched on his face.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” I pant out.
He laughs. “As you wish.” He nudges his way in another inch.
Then two. The movements are so slow it’s teasing and torturous.
I can’t take it anymore. Looping a leg around his waist, I pull him closer, thrusting him inside until he bottoms out with a groan.
I moan at the feeling of him filling me so completely.
His forehead falls to my shoulder, trembling with the restraint at holding himself still while I adjust to him.
“Ryan, move.”
He’s gentle as he pulls out and thrusts back in.
“Oh my god,” I moan.
“I know,” he grits out.
“More, Ry. Please,” I beg.
He picks up speed, pounding into me with a desperation that tells me he’s been needing this as much as I have.
Gripping one of my ankles, he slings a leg up and over his shoulder, practically folding me in half.
This position forces him deeper until he’s hitting that spot. The spot I can’t ever hit myself.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp out.
“Tell me you’re close.”
“So close.” I’ve never come from penetration alone, but I think I just might if he continues to do exactly what he’s doing.
“Don’t stop. Yes, right there. Oh, god.” The pressure builds in my spine as I get closer and closer to that edge.
I can tell he’s close by the way he’s gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut.
He’s trying to hold off his own orgasm until after I come.
It only takes one, two, three thrusts before I’m thrown over that edge.
I come with his name on my lips, quaking as the climax wracks my body.
He follows me over not even a beat later, groaning as he pours into the condom.
He loses his balance, falling onto his elbows, bringing his face an inch from mine.
“Hi,” I say, panting with what I’m sure is a bliss filled smile on my face.
“Hi.” He laughs, wrapping me up in his arms and rolling us over.
I never want to leave his arms.