Chapter Forty-One #2
She opens the door immediately, a grin lighting up her face, and my fatigue is instantly replaced by a flood of warmth. “That block in the second half is already all over social media,” she says as I step inside.
“I didn’t see you after the game.”
“I came back here to finish my story.” She shows me her tablet. “The headline reads ‘Bergman, Varga Lead MSU to NCAA Finals Win for Third Year in a Row.’ Riveting stuff.”
I kick off my shoes and flop onto the bed beside her. “It’s your turn next.”
She blushes slightly, setting her tablet aside. “I would have thought you’d still be celebrating.”
“Everyone’s back at my room but I wanted to see you.” I trace circles over her shoulder. “How was Cali?”
She smiles, her teeth glowing in the soft light. “We swept them.”
“Of course you did—I had no doubt.” I press my lips together. “And what about Emma? Has she gotten the results?”
She averts her gaze. “It’s Jacob’s.”
“So . . . what happens next?”
“She needs to talk to him again but she’s pretty sure she wants to keep it.”
“Wow.” The word comes out breathier than I intended. “That’s a big decision.”
“She’s made bigger ones with less thought, but this time she actually seems to have considered the implications.”
“That’s good, right?”
“It is . . . it’s just . . .” She stares at the ceiling. “She’s growing up. Making her own decisions.”
I study her face, trying to understand the emotions swirling beneath the surface. “That takes the pressure off you, though, right?”
“That’s what’s so messed up.” She tugs at her braid, unraveling it. “I should be relieved. I should be celebrating. Instead, I feel . . . lost, like I’ve spent so long being her caretaker that I don’t know who I am without that responsibility.”
“You’re who you’ve always been. A powerhouse baseball player who cares deeply about her family and friends.”
“But that’s the problem—I won’t be a powerhouse baseball player in a few more months, I’ll be on the sidelines, developing the players.” She levels her gaze on me. “How would you feel if you were going to start coaching instead of heading into the NBA draft?”
“Like I’d be losing a part of myself.”
She nods curtly. “Exactly.”
“So you wanting to continue being Emma’s caretaker was you trying to hold onto something that defines you?”
“Yep,” she says, popping the p. “It’s messed up, isn’t it?”
The guilt I’ve been suppressing bubbles up, and I almost say it: I called Chase, you know.
I asked him to come. Maybe if I’d kept my mouth shut you wouldn’t be losing a part of yourself and you could have figured this out on your own.
Maybe then you wouldn’t be staring at the ceiling, fraying your braid into copper wires.
But even though it sits like a brick on my chest, I can’t make myself spit it out, especially when she straddles my waist.
How many more nights will we have like this?
I mentally count the number of nights until she moves to Texas. Graduation is in less than a month—her final College World Series in just over two . . .
Eleven weeks and three days.
Just eighty nights.
I don’t want to waste one by telling her and risk her being mad at me. No, I’ll wait until the last night; that way, if she never wants to speak to me again, I won’t miss out on anything.
“Earth to Todd.” She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “If you’re too tired we can just go to sleep.”
“Sorry just thinking about how fast this year is going.”
She sits back on her heels, like she’s just realizing the same thing. “Right? Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Insane,” I agree and pull her back on top of me, so we are chest to chest. My cock pulses beneath her ass, savoring the feel of her soft breasts pressed against me. I gather them in my hands, rolling the nipples between my finger and thumb.
“Todd . . .” Her eyes flutter shut.
“Shh . . .” I kiss her neck. “Let me take care of you.”
“You always take care of me.”
I look straight into her hazel eyes. “You take care of everyone, so you deserve to be taken care of. Now come up here and sit on my face.”
Her lips part, and she hesitates, but I pull her forward. Sliding my hands into her pants, I push them over her ass until they slide down her legs.
“Do you ever wear underwear under your pajamas?”
She blushes. “Not really.”
I tug at her again, and she finally complies, squatting over my face like she does behind home plate. “I’ll get a crick in my neck if you don’t sit.”
“Do you know how much I weigh?”
“No, but I can probably bench it, so sit,” I reply, wrapping my arms around her thighs and yanking her down.
She remains rigid until I start working her clit, and then she leans into me, hanging onto the headboard for support.
“Want to go back to squatting?” I ask.
“Shut up and keep going.”
I do, my thoughts drifting back to when this all began as she shudders above me. She’s surely gained her confidence in the bedroom, and as much as I love being in charge, I find her telling me what she wants sexy as hell.
I can tell when she’s getting close because she actively starts riding my face, trying to get my tongue where she wants it. Releasing one of her ass cheeks, I stuff two fingers in her pussy and rub them against her front wall.
“Shit,” she groans, coming apart above me.
Not giving her any time to recover, I lift her up and put her back down on my cock. Her eyes fly open, meeting mine, as I ram into her.
She meets me thrust for thrust, rolling her hips over me, and I clench my eyes. God, I’ll never get enough of her—how will I ever let her go?
Her movement becomes more erratic as another orgasm hits her, and I hold her down, emptying myself into her.
She collapses on top of me, and I tuck her head under my chin. We lay there in silence until she eventually dozes off, but I stay awake, staring at the ceiling and running my fingers up and down her back.