13. Chapter 13
Thud!
That’s the sound of the front of my car landing on the parking garage floor as I go over a speed bump a little faster than usual. My gear bag launches off the passenger seat and my teeth clang together.
I don’t care. I’m late.
It’s the only thing that’s keeping me upright today. The thought of seeing her on the screen, talking for longer than fifteen minutes and enjoying each other’s company.
I swing into my spot, kill the engine, and have my phone out before the car has fully stopped.
My car dash says 6:05.
“Fuck.”
I call her before I bother getting out of the car.
She picks up on the first ring. The video’s angled up at her, so it’s mostly her face that I can see.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I breathe out. I can’t help it. The truth always comes out when I’m looking at her.
“Hello to you, too, Handsome,” she says with this small smile on her face. That hollow chest I’ve been feeling since week three without her suddenly feels a lot less empty.
“I missed you.” I rest my head on the seat and just take her in. Now that I have her on the phone, nothing else seems to matter.
“Ditto,” she quips as she reaches for something off-screen.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Opening the car door, I get out, not once losing sight of her.
Even when I slam the door and jog for the elevator, she’s there, right in front of me.
The only thing I see. “My game ran a little long. I’m so sorry.
I didn’t want to call you dressed like this, and I’d planned on having your food already delivered to your door. ”
“JB.” Her voice has an amused, sing-song quality to it. “Breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her camera shakes a little, revealing her dark, silky robe.
The phone slips out of my hand, but I’m able to catch it before it falls to the ground.
“Whit?!” I say, hopeful she’s still there.
“Still here.”
I sigh in relief when I see her.
I love you.
Yeah, let’s keep that thought to myself.
I jab the elevator button four times, needing to be upstairs as fast as possible.
“You look—” I start as the doors open. I stumble in and slump back against the mirrored wall, just looking at her. “You look really good. That's all. I had a whole speech and that's what's left of it.”
“I missed you. You looked good out there today.”
I frown. “I don’t want to talk about the game; I want to talk about literally anything else.” I push my hat back. “Have you finished packing? Are you ready for Canada?”
“Yes,” she says, with a little shrug that makes the robe fall off her shoulder slightly.
Don’t go there. Not yet.
That’s when I hear clanking dishes. “Wait, are you cooking?” I try to look at her background for any clues of what she’s up to, but it’s too bright and blurry for me to see anything.
“Mm-hm.”
“But I told you I was going to order you dinner to your door tonight.”
“I know, but I was really hungry for some hot dogs.”
I gasp. “That’s my favorite.”
“I know,” she says simply.
“You're making my favorite dinner a thousand miles away so I can watch you eat it?”
She tilts her head, completely unaware of her audacity.
“You do realize that's the most romantic and also the most psychologically cruel thing anyone's ever done to me?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”
The floors tick up the elevator—six, seven—and although I can’t wait to get some privacy with her, I just want her.
“I’m sorry, I was hungry.”
The elevator dings, and the doors open to my floor.
“I wish I was there,” I say, and I mean it so much it comes out rough. “Right now. I’d never eat a hot dog again if it meant I could be with you.”
She holds my gaze through the screen. “I wish I was there, too.” Her voice is quieter, and I feel it. The ache behind the words. The reality of a long distance relationship is hitting hard tonight.
I slowly walk down my own hallway with my keys in my free hand and my phone still up.
When I get to my door and put the key in the lock, I stop.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
Hot dogs?
Why does my apartment smell like hot dogs?
Did I leave the oven on? But I wasn't making hot dogs this morning, and the fire alarm isn’t going off.
On the screen, Whit is biting her bottom lip. “Whit? Where did you say you were?”
She just smiles.
Turning the key, I shove the door open, drop my bag in the hallway, and sprint to the kitchen.
“What the—”
I blink a few times and take a couple of steps forward, because there's no way in hell she's here.
“Whit?” The robe’s gone, and she’s in my jersey and shorts with her hair in a ponytail, holding a plate of hot dogs with all different toppings.
This has to be a dream. There's no way she's here.
“Surprise,” she says with a cute little smile as she stands there almost nervously.
What the hell does she have to be nervous for?! She's the love of my fucking life.
“Are you actually here?” I ask, reaching my hands out to her as I step closer. She places the plate on the counter, and the second my hands find her hips, I exhale.
She's real.
She's here.
Wait.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I say as I drop my lips against her mouth, not wanting to wait for the answer.
“I—” When she backs away a little to tell me, I don't let her. I keep her lips against mine, savoring her taste. After a few minutes, I finally pull back. Her cheeks are flushed, and the red lipstick she was wearing has now smeared off.
“Well, you said I could come here whenever I was free,” she says with a shrug. “I've got two days before I've got to be in Canada, so I changed my plans and took a flight.”
“You came here just to see me?”
She nods. “Yeah, I haven't even told my parents I'm here. Grayson gave me the key to your apartment. Max said he stays here sometimes to hide from his dates. Hope that's okay?”
“It's more than okay. Move in if you want a base in Charlotte that isn’t your parents’ house. I don't care. I just want you here.”
Another kiss.
“Okay, but are you going to explain why Grayson is hiding from women?”
“He's a commitment-phobe. Dates around. Gets himself into situations.” I shrug. “I just give him a couch when he needs one. Not my business.”
“Oh. Does he do it often?”
“Once a week, maybe, but if you lived here, I'd tell him he'd need to crash at Tate’s or Max's. I'm not dealing with his shit then.”
“You're really trying to move me in here when the last time we were in each other's physical presence was when we agreed to do this.”
“Your point?” My fingers dig into her hips, and I lift her up so she's sitting on the counter right next to the hot dogs.
Whit in my jersey and hot dogs.
What did I do? What did I do in my life to deserve this sight in my kitchen?
“This is technically our second date. You might be rushing a little.”
Placing my hands on her knees, I step in between them, cup her cheeks, and kiss her again.
Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she relaxes the second my tongue swipes across her lips.
“Can't help it. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me,” I say against her lips.
She giggles, pushing me back, but I don't let her go.
“I'm serious. You in my apartment is better than the time I won district in Little League and the first time I was called up to the Bigs combined. Nothing will top seeing you cooking in my apartment, wearing my jersey.”
I kiss her again, never wanting to stop because I have no idea how long she's here for. She's supposed to be in Canada tomorrow, but right now she's here. With me.
Her back arches as she pushes her hands into my hair and scratches at my scalp, making me groan.
I slide my hand from her waist down to her bare thigh, and she makes a small sound into my mouth.
“JB,” she says against my lips.
“Yeah.”
“Hot dogs are getting cold.”
That stops me right in my tracks. I pull back and glare at her.
“Are you kidding me? You expect me to eat hot dogs when all I want to eat is you?”
I move to drop to my knees, but Whit stops me by pulling away and bats her long lashes at me. Her lips are pouty and plump, her nose is reddened and her hair is messy from my hands running through it.
Mine. She's all mine.
“You can't ignore the hot dogs! It's the first time I've ever tried to make them, and I didn't know what toppings you like.”
She gestures to the hot dogs beside her, and I stare at the counter for a second, taking in the ridiculous spread.
There are ten hot dogs, all loaded with different toppings. One's loaded with chili, one with pulled pork... every single one has something different, and every single one looks delicious.
Whit’s eyes flick between the hot dogs and me.
“It’s... a lot. I know,” she says, biting her lip. “I didn't know what you'd like, and I didn't want to disappoint you.”
I grab her face with both hands and tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “You could never disappoint me, Whit,” I say with the utmost seriousness.
Her lips purse as she holds back a laugh. I can't help it. I break too, chuckling as I say, “It’s a crazy amount of hot dogs, baby, and we're going to devour all of them. Pick the first one.”
She hesitates, then grabs the one with cheese and relish—the exact one I've been thinking about.
I lean in and take a big bite straight from her hand, my eyes locked on hers while I chew.
She watches me, her lips parted as the taste fills my mouth.
Fucking delicious.
“Is it okay?” she asks.
I finish chewing. “Whit... this is the best fucking hot dog I’ve ever had in my life.”
“You sure?”
“I’m a professional hot dog himbo. I would never lie about this.” I bring the hot dog to her lips. “Try it for yourself.”
She looks down at the hot dog, then back to me before she opens her mouth wide and takes a bite.
My dick goes from a semi to hard instantly.
Why the hell is watching her eat a hot dog the hottest thing I've ever seen?
She closes her mouth to chew, and my gaze doesn't move from her lips. She pokes her tongue out to swipe away any toppings left over but misses the ketchup on her cheek.
I lean in and lick the ketchup away, then kiss her deeply, tasting the cheese and relish instantly. My hand slides up her thigh under the hem of her tiny shorts, and I grip the soft, warm skin there.
“Bite,” I murmur against her lips, nudging the hot dog forward as I back away.
Her eyes are still closed, and she moans in protest.
“Take another bite, Marlow,” I say more forcefully this time.
She does. While she chews, I kiss her again and let my hand slide higher. My thumb pushes under the edge of her shorts and finds the damp crotch of her panties. She’s already soaked through the fabric. I groan into her mouth.
“Fuck, you’re so wet already.”
She swallows hard.
“Another bite.” I push the hot dog in her direction again.
She looks at it with wide eyes. “JB—”
“Eat the hot dog, baby. Please.”
Her breath hitches as I sneak my hand into her shorts and hook a finger under her panties, pushing the fabric to the side. Her pussy is perfect. Pink, glistening, and waiting for me. I glide my fingers through her slick folds, teasing her clit before slowly pushing one finger inside her tight heat.
Her knees buckle a little, and she tries to gasp, but that's a little hard for her, since she's got a mouth full of hot dog.
“Keep eating.”
This time, she takes the hot dog from me, and with a shaky hand, takes another bite. I curl my finger, stroking that sensitive spot inside her while my thumb circles her swollen clit.
“Good girl,” I say, kissing down her throat. “How’s it taste?”
“It’s... good,” she breathes, trying not to moan around the food.
“Yeah?” I add a second finger, pumping them slowly, deliberately. “You gonna finish this hot dog while I play with you on my counter?”
“JB—fuck—”
“It's the least I could do. You flew all the way out here and made me my favorite meal, after all.”
She whimpers but obeys, taking another messy bite. Mustard smears at the corner of her mouth. I lean in and lick it off, then kiss her hard while my fingers thrust deeper.
Her eyes start to roll to the back of her head, and that's when I realize it's not enough. I need to taste her.
I drop to my knees in front of the counter, yank her shorts and panties down her legs in one rough motion, and bury my face between her thighs.
The first long, slow lick up her soaked pussy makes her cry out around the hot dog. She tastes sweet and salty and fucking perfect.
“JB—oh my god—”
She drops the hot dog onto the counter, and I growl against her wet folds, but don’t make her pick it back up; I’m too focused on her.
She grips the counter while I lick and suck, trying to show her how much I've missed her by thrusting my tongue inside her before flattening it against her clit and shaking my head from side to side. Her thighs tremble as mustard and ketchup drip onto the counter.
One of her hands flies into my hair and grips me tight as her hips start grinding against my face.
“JB—fuck—I can’t—”
“You can,” I rasp, curling my fingers harder, sucking her clit with filthy, wet sounds. “Come on my tongue like a good girl.”
Without another word, she shatters. Her hips rock and even though she tries to back away, I don’t stop. I lap, suck, and finger her through every wave until her body is close to collapse.
When I finally pull back and rise to my feet, I lick my lips, taking her in. She looks completely wrecked, with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
I lean in and lick the little smear of mustard left on her cheek, then kiss her so she can taste herself on my tongue.
“I tried to eat as much of the hot dog as I could,” she whispers.
“Good girl.”
Her voice is hoarse when she finally speaks again. “Bedroom. Now.”
I don’t even answer. I just grab her ass, lift her off the counter with her legs wrapped tight around my waist, and carry her down the hall while she laughs breathlessly into my neck.
Behind us, nine and a half very neglected hot dogs sit on the counter.
They can fucking wait.