6. Brendan
brENDAN
Somewhere in the middle of the movie, Dakota starts laughing and leans into me, and I know I’m fucked.
I’ve wanted this woman since February. I’ve spent eight months looking for her when I walk into a room, finding excuses to talk to her, asking her out even when I knew she was going to turn me down.
I already knew one date wasn’t going to satisfy me. But I didn’t know how much worse I’d have it for her once I had her beside me.
Tonight has given me a few hours of Dakota without work between us.
Now I want this every day. Dinner together after a long day.
Her stuff at my apartment. Mine at hers.
Waking up beside her and knowing I’ll get to do it again the next morning.
All the ordinary shit I haven’t let myself think too hard about because, until tonight, getting her to agree to one goddamn date was challenge enough.
By the time the credits roll, I’m considering every possible excuse to keep this night going.
We follow the small crowd toward the exit while Dakota informs me that my opinion of the movie is wrong. Apparently The Princess Bride is flawless, and saying the sword fights are better than the romance has her passionately arguing the opposite.
“You need to watch it again,” she tells me as we step outside. “Clearly you weren’t paying enough attention.”
“I was distracted.”
She glances at me while buttoning her coat. “By what?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
Her cheeks turn pink, but she smiles as she looks away.
I take her hand as we start down the sidewalk.
The idea of watching the movie again has already put another picture in my head.
Dakota on my couch with her curvy legs across my lap.
Me knowing exactly how she likes her popcorn because I’ve made it for her a hundred times.
Her falling asleep halfway through and me carrying her to bed.
It’s after ten now. We head back toward where we met earlier, taking the long way without either of us suggesting it. We turn onto a quieter street lined with apartment buildings and closed shops.
Dakota tips her head back as we approach one of the taller buildings, studying the upper floors. “Wow. I’d love to live there.”
I start laughing.
She looks at me. “Why is that funny?”
“Tell me more.”
She narrows her eyes but keeps going. “I’d get the highest apartment I could afford, which would probably mean I’d have to drain my savings account and sell all my furniture. I’d sleep on an air mattress, but at least I’d have a view.”
I nod toward the building. “You know, that’s where I live.”
Dakota stops walking. “No.”
“Yep.”
“How high?”
“Penthouse.”
She closes her eyes. “Right. Of course.”
I squeeze her hand. “Come upstairs. I’ll show you the roof.”
A few minutes later, we’re stepping onto the rooftop terrace. The city stretches out below us, and the night is clear, the moon big and bright above the buildings. Dakota walks toward the railing, her expression soft as she looks around.
“It’s so beautiful up here,” she says.
I go to stand beside her. For a few minutes, we don’t talk.
The quiet doesn’t bother me at all, which is probably another sign of how fucked I am.
Most of my life is noise. Stadiums, clubhouses, reporters, teammates.
Dakota is one of the few people I can stand beside without feeling any urge to fill the silence.
“When I was little, my dad used to take me outside to look at the moon,” she says. “If it was really bright, he’d come get me before bed and we’d sit on the back steps for a while.”
I glance at her. “Your brother too?”
“He’d come out, but he’d usually get bored and go back inside. I stayed.” She smiles faintly. “Dad always acted like we were getting away with something because Mom wanted me in bed.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It was.” Her gaze stays on the sky for another moment before she looks at me. “Thank you for tonight.”
I look at her. God, she’s gorgeous. “You had a good time?”
“A very good time.”
“Good enough that I get another one?”
Dakota pretends to consider it. “I suppose it’s possible.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
She laughs. “Brendan.”
“What?”
“Maybe give me twenty-four hours.”
“I gave you eight months.”
“You asked me out about twice a week.”
“Exactly. That’s a lot of patience.”
She’s still smiling when I kiss her. I don’t think about it. I don’t say anything clever. I just bend my head and put my mouth on hers.
The second she kisses me back, I’m done for. Her lips are soft and sweet, and when I deepen the kiss, Dakota’s hand wraps around the back of my neck. She rises onto her toes, pressing closer, and the quiet sound she makes goes directly to my cock.
I’ve imagined kissing her more times than I can count. In the clubhouse. On team flights. In hotel hallways when she stood too close to me. None of it got this right.
I slow down our kiss, tasting her until I feel her hand slide up into my hair. That nearly finishes whatever control I have left. When I pull back, Dakota’s lips are parted and her cheeks are flushed. She looks up at me in a daze before smiling.
“Jesus,” she murmurs. “That was worth waiting eight months for.”
I laugh, mostly because otherwise I’m going to kiss her again and forget we’re standing on my roof. “Come inside for a drink.”
“Okay.”
I take her hand and lead her downstairs. Dakota walks into my apartment and immediately stops. Her gaze moves over the tall windows, the furniture, and the open kitchen.
“This is your place?”
“You’ve already seen the outside.”
“I know, but this is ridiculous.”
I chuckle as I head for the kitchen. “Wine?”
“Sure.”
I open a bottle while she wanders toward the shelves beside the television. The apartment is expensive, but most of it was chosen by a designer because I didn’t care enough to choose anything myself. Dakota apparently figures that out within thirty seconds.
“You didn’t decorate this.”
“I picked some things.”
“Name one.”
“The television.”
She laughs and keeps looking. Then she goes quiet. When I turn, she’s holding a folded piece of paper. I know exactly what it is.
“You kept this?” she asks.
I smile and shrug. She opens it and reads aloud what she wrote months ago. “Kelso. Add an actual vegetable to lunch. Potato chips don’t count.” Her eyes lift to mine. “Why do you still have this?”
I bring our wine glasses over. “I like your handwriting.”
Dakota stares at me. Then she looks at the note again, and I can tell she likes that I kept it. I take the paper from her, fold it, and put it back before handing her the wine.
We sit together on the couch, and Dakota immediately resumes criticizing the apartment. Apparently it needs more color, more personal things, and better art.
I glance toward the painting she’s insulting. “New proposal.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Another bet?”
“Spring training. First start. Six scoreless innings, and you get to replace something in here.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“You’re going to regret that.”
“Probably.”
She holds out her hand. I take it, but instead of shaking, I run my thumb over her knuckles. Dakota’s smile disappears.
The room goes quiet. I put my wine down and lean toward her.
This kiss is different from the one up on the roof. There’s no chance of someone walking onto the roof, no reason to stop. Dakota shifts closer as my mouth moves over hers, and I slide a hand into her hair.
She kisses me deeper. I pull her onto my lap.
Her dress rides higher as she straddles my lap, leaving her thighs bare beneath the hem. My hands close around her waist, and for a second I just savor finally having her here.
Then Dakota shifts. Her pussy presses against my cock through our clothes, and a groan tears out of me. Her eyes widen as she feels me grow rock hard against her.
“Yeah,” I say against her mouth. “That’s been a problem all night.”
I grip her hips and she rolls them against me.
The friction is almost enough to make me lose my mind, and judging by the way she responds, it’s clear that Dakota feels the same.
We keep kissing and grinding against each other until I’m hard enough to hurt and Dakota is breathing in little broken sounds against my mouth.
My hands move over her waist and wide hips, then lower to her plump ass, pulling her firmly against me each time she rolls forward.
I kiss down her neck. “I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long.”
Her head tips back as my mouth moves over her skin. “How long?”
“Since February.”
She laughs breathlessly. “You didn’t even know me.”
“I wanted you from the second I saw you.” My hand slides up her side, feeling the curves beneath her dress. “And then I got to know you, which made it worse.”
“Worse?”
“Much fucking worse.”
I kiss her again before she can say anything in response. Her dress comes off slowly, with Dakota lifting her arms while I pull it over her head. Then she’s sitting on my lap in a black bra and matching panties, and I’m speechless.
She’s absolutely gorgeous. Her stomach is soft, her hips full beneath my hands, her breasts rosy above the lace cups. Dakota sees me staring and immediately starts to look self-conscious.
“Don’t,” I say.
Her eyes come back to mine. I run both hands over her waist, then down to her hips. “You’re perfect.”
Heat spreads across her face. “Brendan.”
“I’m serious.” I kiss the upper curve of one breast, then the other. “Your tits drive me fucking crazy.”
Her breath catches. I move lower, kissing her soft stomach while my hands stay on her hips. “So does this.”
I kiss one thigh where it meets her hip. “And these.”
“You’ve apparently thought about this a lot.”
“You have no fucking idea.”
By the time I sit back, Dakota doesn’t look self-conscious anymore.
She reaches for my shirt. We get it off together, then she runs both hands over my chest before leaning forward to kiss me again.
Her palms move over my shoulders and down my sides while I unclasp her bra and slide the straps from her arms.
Her breasts spill free. “Fuck.”
Dakota laughs softly. “Very articulate.”
I cup one breast and take the nipple into my mouth. Her laugh turns into a moan.
I suck slowly, feeling the nipple tighten against my tongue. Dakota arches into me, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I switch sides. By the time I lift my head, she’s flushed from her chest to her face.
I slide a hand between her thighs. Her panties are already damp.
“Dakota.”
Her eyes close as I stroke two fingers over the wet fabric.
“Look at me,” I say.
She opens them. I rub her slowly through her panties, watching her expression change as I find her clit through the thin material. Her hips ache against my hand.
“Right there?”
“Yes.”
I keep the pressure steady. Dakota grips my shoulders and starts moving against my fingers, her thighs opening wider over my lap. The fabric grows wetter beneath my hand while I circle her clit, rubbing faster when her breathing starts breaking.
I can’t stop looking at her. Her head tips back. Her mouth parts. Every ample curve of her body is pressed against me while she rides my hand.
“Come for me.”
Her fingers tighten. I stroke her faster. Then Dakota cries out and comes against my hand, her whole body tightening before she collapses forward against my chest. I hold her there while the tremors move through her, kissing her temple and breathing hard myself.
“Jesus,” she whispers.
I smile against her hair. “Good?”
She lifts her head. “Are you kidding me? You know it was.”
Her hand slides down my stomach. Then into my pants. My smile disappears. She wraps her fingers around my cock, and every muscle in my body goes taut.
I kiss her hard, then lift her enough to lay her back against the couch. Her panties come off next, sliding down those gorgeously thick thighs before I toss them onto the floor. Dakota reaches behind me and tugs at my waistband, and I stand up to shove my pants and boxer briefs down.
My cock springs free. Dakota looks at it. Then at me. Her eyes are full of heat and hunger. I move back over her, settling between her thighs. Her legs open around me, and I run my hand over one of them, then take my cock in my fist.
I drag the head slowly through her slick pussy. Dakota inhales sharply. Her hips lift. I position myself against her, then push in.
The first tight inch feels so fucking good that I have to stop. Dakota’s hands grip my shoulders, her eyes fixed on mine as I slowly work deeper.
“Fuck, Dakota.”
She wraps a leg around my hip. I push further into her. Her mouth opens on a moan. Then I bury myself deep, her pussy tight and hot around my cock, and my brain can barely process any of it.
I pull almost all the way out and drive slowly back in. Dakota gasps. I do it again. Deep, measured strokes that let me feel every inch of her. Her hands move over my back while I fuck her, her hips rising to meet mine.
“God, you feel good.”
“So do you.”
I kiss her and keep moving. There’s no rush to it at first. I’ve waited too fucking long for this not to savor it. I want to feel her pussy squeeze around me every time I push deep. I want to hear the little sounds she makes when my hips meet hers.
I want all of it.
Dakota digs her fingers into my back when I change the angle and hit deeper.
“There?”
“Yes. Please.”
I give her the same stroke again. And again.
Her moans grow louder, and my control starts slipping. I brace one arm beside her head and fuck her harder, still deep, still slow enough to drag every stroke out.
She looks up at me. Something about her expression catches inside my chest. I’ve spent eight months telling myself I’m crushing hard on her, fixated, whatever word lets me keep this simple. But there’s nothing simple about the way I feel looking down at Dakota now.
Christ. I’m in love with her.
Dakota pulls me down for another kiss. I give up on thinking. My pace increases, each thrust driving deeper as her body moves beneath mine. Her pussy gets tighter around my cock, and I know she’s getting close again.
“Come with me,” I tell her.
Her eyes open. I kiss her, still fucking her hard enough that the couch shifts beneath us. Dakota’s legs tighten around my hips, and suddenly her pussy clenches hard around me.
She cries my name.
I drive into her again as my control breaks. My cock pulses deep inside her, pleasure tearing through me while I keep pumping through it, holding her against me as she shudders beneath my body.
Everything disappears except Dakota. Her arms are around me. Her face is pressed against my neck. I’m still buried inside her, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel it everywhere.
And I know this: I’m going to love Dakota Lee for the rest of my fucking life.