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“What the hell is this?”
They were at the tail end of a grueling 18-day road trip and Ginny had one last game to pitch in the morning. According to the reports, it was against the Phillies, but Ginny could hardly keep all the teams straight anymore. Afterwards, thank God, the Padres could head home.
So, Ginny was in yet another nondescript hotel room in a long line of nondescript hotel rooms, going over scouting reports. She sat on the bed, trying to commit stats to memory. Mike was there, too, having shown up and told her that he didn’t trust her judgement anymore after giving up three homers in Chicago. She’d rolled her eyes and allowed him in, but mostly he just sat in the desk chair and snarked about guys on the Phillies he’d played with in his illustrious (his word) career.
At some point, he’d excused himself to “Take a leak, Baker,” Ginny wrinkling her nose and waving him away.
She’d almost forgotten he was even there until his voice broke into her thoughts about the efficacy of her curve.
Ginny looked up and immediately wished she hadn’t.
Pinched between his thumb and pointer finger and looking ridiculous in his massive hand was Ginny’s bright blue pocket rocket.
“Uh,” she croaked, heat flooding her face.
Mike smirked and looked speculatively at the offending object then back at her. “Is this is what I think it is?”
At the smug delight in his voice, Ginny’s mouth twisted. She knew for a fact that she’d put the vibrator back in its pouch and tucked it into her toiletry case. “Did you never learn that lesson in kindergarten about minding your own business?” she asked, rising from the bed and stalking over to retrieve her property.
He jerked his hand away from her reach, grinning in the face of her annoyance. “Nope. Think I missed that day.”
Ginny eyed the hand cocked next to his ear. Mike just grinned and waggled her stolen, very intimate, property tauntingly. Purposefully, she didn’t think about the fact that his hand was wrapped around something that had recently gotten her off. Several times, in fact. Her brain also didn’t jump immediately to the thought of his hands getting her off. Several times, in fact. No, she simply calculated the odds of her being able to wrestle the vibrator out of his hold so she could bury it and herself under a pile of embarrassment. She settled on low chances if the challenging glint in his eye was any indication.
“You didn’t answer my question, Baker.”
There was interest in his gaze. If Ginny was being honest, there was always interest in his gaze. It mirrored her own. But they were teammates. Captain and not-quite-rookie. Catcher and pitcher. They couldn’t do anything about it.
They shouldn’t do anything about it.
That didn’t keep Ginny from licking her lips before responding. “I think you know exactly what that is.” The heavy warmth of his gaze on her lips made Ginny feel lightheaded. Mike swallowed and her eyes tracked the movement hungrily. She couldn’t bring herself to take a step back, but she had to to cut the tension. “Now, unless you’re hoping for a demonstration, go put that back.”
It was meant to be a joke. It was a joke.
It didn’t come out like one.
Ginny sounded too breathless, anticipation lacing through her words. Mike’s hazel eyes turned nearly back and he leaned into her space. If Ginny could manage a deep breath, her chest would bump against his.
“That on the table?”
Couldn’t and shouldn’t sounded less forbidding when Mike was looking at her like that. When his voice lowered to a dark rumble and set something inside her afire.
“Mike...”
“Ginny.”
Her lips parted, voice frozen at the sound of her name wrapped up in that low rumble. She hadn’t heard him say it, in any tone, since that night outside Boardner’s. They were almost as close as they’d been, then.
She made the same choice.
Ginny rocked forward and her lips connected with his. The first thought through her mind was, Finally, followed quickly by, Oh, shit.
Because Mike Lawson was a phenomenal kisser. His broad hand cupped her face, impossibly tender. The other, still holding her little pocket rocket, splayed against the small of her back. Ginny’s curled against his ribs, fisting in his shirt. His beard did tickle, but she found that she didn’t mind it, not when his lips moved against hers, coaxing her mouth open. When he groaned into her parted lips, Ginny felt a spike of white, hot want lance through her.
She pulled away enough to gasp, “Bed,” against his skin, stumbling back until her knees hit the mattress.
“Yes, yes,” he nodded eagerly, following as Ginny laid back. The weight of him over her was dizzying, and those baggy shorts he’d shown up in did nothing to conceal his interest.
Or how big it was.
Still, Mike didn’t do anything about his own shorts. Instead, he pulled hers down, pressing kisses to every bit of skin as they went. Rather than get to work, though, he pressed the vibrator into her hand and stretched out next to her.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly. Mike was already nosing along the low neck of her tank top, nudging it down the slope of her breast. The cool air against her wet folds, though, made her squirm even more.
“Waiting for that show you promised me,” he murmured into her neck.
Ginny’s hands fumbled immediately for the dial. It began buzzing, not loud enough to hear over her thundering pulse or Mike’s hums of approval. Her hands were still shaky when she touched it to her clit. Immediately, she knew it wasn’t going to take her very long. The buzz thrummed through her, curling from her hips to her stomach and winding up to her chest, which Mike was still nuzzling at devotedly. His bulk pressed up against her didn’t help matters.
He ran one hand up her stomach, goosebumps breaking out in his wake. The thin fabric of her tank top caught on his calluses, but Ginny couldn’t mind the way it exposed more of her skin to his gaze. His touch.
A touch that trailed back south. Soon, his hand covered hers between her legs. He coaxed the vibrator out of her grasp and Ginny bucked against him.
“Allow me?”
Ginny nodded jerkily, too far gone to come up with a better response. Her toes curled at the weight of his arm against her stomach, holding the pocket rocket in place. He circled his wrist a bit, trying out different angles, different pressure. It all worked. Ginny was a panting mess, even with her pussy aching for something to fill it. It hardly mattered. Not with Mike quickly driving her off the cliff.
He’d stopped dragging his beard across the skin of her breasts, having exposed them to the air, too, and turned his attention to the action between her legs. His eyes darted between the vibrator and Ginny’s face, clearly searching for cues.
When she felt herself slam into the precipice, Ginny scrabbled for Mike’s face, drawing him down to her. Every last one of her nerve endings was on fire, muscles coiled and ready to propel her into oblivion.
She let herself go.
After all, Mike was there to catch her.
She kissed him. Then whimpered, moaned, and cried her orgasm into his mouth. Mike gamely swallowed every sound. He dropped the vibrator and his broad fingers gentled her through the aftershocks. Ginny’s hips kept bucking, the pads of his fingers slipping between her folds. Once she was in control again, she shifted more deliberately, seeking out the pressure and licking into his mouth.
Mike pulled away. His hand dragged up her mound and rested on her stomach, but the way his lips parted from hers left her aching even more.
“Why’d you stop?” Ginny couldn’t even bring herself to care about the needy note in her voice.
“So I don’t do something that I regret.”
Cold horror washed over her. “Regret. Right.” Ginny pushed Mike away and hauled herself upright, scooting to the edge of the mattress and away from Mike. She struggled to right her top, bunched obscenely around her middle as it was.
“Ginny, wait. That’s not what I meant.” He pushed himself up, too, crowding into her space. Gently, he untwisted one of the straps of her tank top and laid it flat against her shoulder. The tender adjustment had Ginny’s hollow stomach in knots.
“What did you mean?” She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Stared at her brown, bare knees instead.
“I meant that I don’t want to mess this up.” Ginny risked a glance at him. He stared back, brow furrowed and utterly earnest. “I could never regret you. Only not treating you the way you deserve.”
“And what do I deserve?”
“Everything. You deserve more than what would probably be an embarrassingly short roll in the sack, for sure.” Mike’s gaze turned heated and Ginny would swear her temperature rose in response. “I want to take my time with you, Ginny Baker. Drive you so wild you forget your own name. Fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight.”
Her tongue was bone dry and she had to clamp her thighs shut to prevent the rush of liquid heat that threatened to gush out of her already sated pussy. Still, she managed, “That’s some talk, Lawson. Sure you can back it up?”
He just looked at her, gaze promising her that and more. She swallowed thickly and Mike’s gaze turned teasing. Cocky. Pun maybe intended.
“Tell you what. You get the win tomorrow and I’ll give you a real show when we get back home. Deal?”
Reluctantly, Ginny agreed. It was getting late and if things went any further, she couldn’t see herself letting him leave before morning. Then, there was no telling who could find out and make their lives hell. She could wait. Didn’t want to, but could.
So, she showed Mike to the door and after one last, lingering kiss, went to bed.
Determination coursed through her veins.
The Phillies would have no idea what hit them.