Playing Without Rules: A Baseball Romance Page 4

  He pressed his advantage. “You’re mine, Marcia. I still love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

  Marcia’s lips opened with sharp intake of air, and he was upon her, kissing her. Her taste was sweet and minty, and she’d applied his favorite coconut flavored lip gloss. He caressed the back of her neck, and his tongue dived between her lips, drinking her in. Desire and need slammed between his legs as his cock swelled rock hard. He groaned in his throat and pressed her against the side of his truck. If he wasn’t parked in front of her business, he’d have her jeans down to her ankles and his cock buried into her depths.

  “My place, now.” He managed to choke the words out, shuddering to control his physical urges.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Marcia gasped in his open mouth.

  Brock pushed and guided her onto the passenger seat and started his truck. His heart jackhammering, he bolted from the parking lot and made the short drive to the temporary apartment he was renting.

  # # #

  Marcia gripped the armrests tightly as Brock tore down the main boulevard. The wind coming through the open window slapped her out of her trance. What the hell was she doing in his truck on the way to his place?

  This was crazy. Nuts. Jeanine was supposed to seduce him and spit him out. Send him packing and out of Phoenix.

  But a part of her heart thawed. He’d said he still loved her. After all these years and the cold shoulder, he dared to still love her. But this was so wrong. She could never love him enough to trust him completely. Not with his family history.

  Another glance at him had her melting all over again. She’d never gotten over him. He invaded all her dreams and fantasies. Especially the long, sleepless nights when she replayed every move he’d made, every kiss and caress.

  Ignoring her nagging conscience, Marcia allowed Brock to pluck her from the passenger seat and kiss her while he carried her up the stairs of his pueblo-styled apartment building.

  He kicked open the door and swung her into the air-conditioned unit. Hurrying through the spartanly appointed pad, he threw her onto his bed and crashed on top of her.

  His hot lips massaged hers while his tongue mated with hers, rolling and tangling. Her fingers raked and probed the planes of his muscular body. With anyone other than Brock, she would have been inhibited, self-conscious. But he’d been her first, the man who’d opened her up to his garden of earthly delights.

  Gawd, she’d missed him. Known deep inside her core that no man would ever be enough for her. She needed him. Needed him now.

  Unable to wait a second longer, she tore at his shirt as he ripped her blouse off and unlatched her bra. He went straight for her desperate need, wrapping his hot tongue around her nipple. Sucking and nipping, he alternated between both breasts while grinding his prominent erection against her crotch.

  Heat and want and passionate desire welled up from deep within. She quickly undid his pants and tugged them down, freeing his pent up cock.

  Brock moaned while she cupped his balls and stroked him. Meanwhile, he deftly unzipped her jeans and she wriggled them off her hips.

  “Did you miss me?” His fingers dipped inside her panties, sliding between her moistened folds. “You’re so wet, gushing.”

  He spread the wetness over and around her clit, tickling her until she was wantonly jerking her hips, writhing and moaning. “Brock, I missed you so much.”

  “Do you dream about me impaling you? Fucking your wet pussy?”

  She shimmied her panties off. “I’ve never dreamed of anything else.”

  “You’re so hot and ready.” He hooked a finger inside of her and stroked her. Spikes of intense pleasure arched her back and jerked her hips toward him.

  “Inside me, Brock. Please, don’t wait.”

  He lifted his body from hers, leaving her cold and uncomfortable while he sheathed himself. He never forgot, not once, except she had gotten pregnant despite his precautions. Right now, she didn’t care. The urgency of her body’s needs cast all logical thought from her mind. Brock was back, and he loved her. Could there be hope? Would he accept Bianca and go to therapy for her?

  “You ready?” He was on top of her again, his eyes seductive, his voice smooth as velvet. “I want you to really want this, because if you’re not sure—”

  “Come home, Brock,” she cut him off, gripping his hips and guiding him in between her slick folds.

  They both gasped and moaned at first contact, his length and girth stretching her. It’d been so long and she was tight, but oh, the joy of having Brock once again inside her, filling her emptiness, moving and rocking in her arms. How could she have turned her back on this and driven him away? When all she wanted was him?

  Tears prickled her eyes as she clutched his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him on with tiny kicks. She couldn’t stop the mantra of his name from spilling out her lips, as he pounded her, the slapping, slick sounds intensifying her pleasure. Each stroke and thrust brought her higher, cresting her already heightened need. No one knew her responses like Brock did. From her mewling pants to the throaty utterances, loud and urgent, telling him she was about to come.

  Propping himself with one arm, he reached with his other hand and tickled the bundle of nerves on her sensitive nub, driving her hips wilder with action.

  Her moans intensified into involuntary utterances and when he brought her to the peak, she let it all go in a heated rush through her body, tingling to her fingers and toes.

  His breathing ragged and demanding, he groaned loudly and shot his tongue into her mouth in rhythm to the motion of his cock within her.

  “I love you, Marcia.” He moaned his release at the moment she crested again with an intense splash of pleasure.

  “Brock.” She cried out, wanting and wishing, but her words stopped, and she couldn’t say she loved him back.

  Chapter Six

  Brock hated to leave the bed, but he had to be at training camp early in the morning. He silenced the alarm and bent to kiss a sleeping Marcia. Her face was relaxed and sweet, graced with a slight smile. Sweeping a stray lock of hair from her cheek, he kissed her again on the lips.

  “Mmm …” she mumbled and kissed him. Her eyes fluttered and opened. For a fleeting moment, she looked content, until her pupils constricted and she bolted up so fast, she knocked his jaw with her forehead. “I can’t believe a spent the night with you.”

  “I believe you wanted it as much as I did.” He tapped her nose with his index finger.

  She shut her eyes, as if not seeing him would make him go away. “I can’t believe you let me.”

  “I let you?” Brock sank onto the bed and rolled her into his arms. “Don’t deny yourself. This, us, will happen again and again.”

  “You sound very sure of yourself.” She wore that annoyed look again, her eyebrows lowering with distrust.

  What was wrong with her? Was she still pissed that he’d chosen to go to the minor leagues instead of hanging around for another year of college? Didn’t she understand that ballplayers only got a single shot at the big leagues and that youth mattered, a lot?

  Whatever. There was no denying the heat between them and the eagerness with which Marcia had made love to him last night, over and over again.

  Growling, he nipped the junction between her neck and shoulder and dug his fingers into her ribcage. “I know you love me, Marcia. You can’t get enough of me.”

  “Wait, wait.” She struggled from his grip, trying to look serious by setting her jaw in a firm jut. “We have to set something straight. Establish ground rules.”

  “Rules, smules, who needs rules?” He poked her belly, intent on starting a tickling game. “Unless it’s a game. Winner chooses the place and position.”

  “I’m serious.” She backed away, wrapping the sheets around herself. “You left five years ago. We agreed not to keep in touch. You’ve probably been with hundreds of women. Now you come back to town and add me to your collection.”

  “Whoa
, whoa, wait.” He held his hands up. “That’s a boatload of assumptions you’re making. First of all, I didn’t have hundreds of women. I had a few girlfriends. I’m not here to play around, Marcia. I busted my butt to get called into spring training by the Rattlers. I gave up a more lucrative contract. My agent thinks I’m nuts. Bottom line. I’m here because I want you back.”

  “You don’t get to make all the rules.” Her jaw inched forward into a pout.

  “I agree.” He grabbed her chin and brought her face level to his. “Tell me you have no feelings for me, and I’ll leave you alone. No need to play games by foisting your friends on me, or parading around with some dweeb trying to make me jealous.”

  Her gaze slipped from his eyes and she worried her lips. “It’s not all about you.”

  “Agreed.” Brock lowered his voice and caressed her cheek. Why was she being so difficult? Why couldn’t she admit the spark was not just kindling, but blazing hot between them? “I told you my heart last night. Do you want to hear it again?”

  “No, no.” Her eyelids flickered and she swallowed tightly. “I’ll need rules. Okay? I have to admit I still feel for you, but I need guarantees.”

  He wanted to say life held no guarantees. But she was a woman, and women needed security.

  Unfortunately, a ballplayer could always be traded. The only guarantee he could offer her was his undying love. As for geography and schedules, all bets were off. Which was another reason he’d never wanted a family. Never needed one, now that his mother had passed.

  The lump in his throat grew. It all came down to baseball—or more specifically, playing on a team and traveling versus coaching and staying put. Could he let go of his dreams and settle to being a local high school coach who never traveled outside the state of Arizona? For Marcia? Would he come to resent her or would she be enough?

  Marcia was waiting for an answer. She slid to the side of the bed and was back to her lip biting again.

  “Okay. You win.” Brock nodded. “Whatever you want. As long as you give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

  Marcia cleared her throat and lifted her chin from his grip. “I’ll sleep with you as long as you’re in town. But you have to leave Bianca alone, which means you can’t be friends with my father.”

  Wait. Did he miss something? Brock’s head swam and his eyelid twitched. He’d expected her to demand exclusivity, or a commitment, or maybe make their affair conditional on him being selected to the roster. But no friendship with her father? Strange.

  “I’m not sure I get it. Me and your father were friends before I started dating you. He gave me my first job and let me sleep at his office whenever my dad went on a rampage. From what I can tell, he’s quite lonely now that he’s retired. I saw him after the game yesterday, and he was so excited to watch me play. I don’t see why I can’t pal around with him.”

  “No.” Marcia speared her index finger at him. “You don’t get it. You asked me to make the rules and I did. Leave my duh—, sister, Bianca alone.”

  The alarm on his cell phone buzzed, reminding him he had to get to the ballpark. He put it on snooze and stared at Marcia.

  “Fine.” He extended his hand to shake. “I’m not interested in your baby sister whatsoever. No problem, except I stay friends with your father.”

  “Deal.” She squeezed his hand hard, the way guys do when shaking. “Bianca goes to morning preschool during the week. You’re welcome to come by the house after I’ve taken her to school as long as you’re gone before she comes home.”

  “Sounds good to me. We won’t have to worry about child safety and whether she’s cranky and needs a nap. See why I never wanted kids? They’re demanding and hem you in.”

  # # #

  Marcia pulled on her clothes as soon as she heard Brock turn on the shower. He hadn’t asked her to stick around after agreeing to her rules, and she had to get herself out of his orbit before she did anything stupid, like believe that one night of lovemaking would make up for his callousness toward her and Bianca.

  She dashed out of Brock’s apartment before realizing she had no wheels. Shit. She’d been totally and completely out of her mind to come home with him, to start something she could never finish.

  He hated kids. It was so obvious. Not have to worry about child safety and whether she’s cranky. Grrr.

  No matter what. She wasn’t going to wait around for him to drive her home and run over her heart in the process. She was definitely not taking the ride of shame down the main boulevard where everyone could see her with Brock if they were up this early.

  She flipped her phone from her purse and called Jeanine.

  “He-lloo?” Her friend’s voice slurred. “What time is it?”

  Crap. She’d probably disturbed Jeanine and her male companion of the night.

  “Sorry, it’s Marcia. Go back to sleep. I’ll call a cab.”

  “Don’t call a cab.” Jeanine’s voice brightened. “You spent the night with him? Where is he?”

  “Taking a shower. Look, sorry about waking you. Let me go now.”

  “No way. Stay right there. I’m on my way.” She hung up before Marcia could ask her how she knew where Brock lived.

  Well, duh, of course. Jeanine was his date the night before, and they had probably exchanged contact information. Her stomach plunging, Marcia couldn’t decide whether to stay or go. If she took the cab, Jeanine would show up and pound on the door. Brock would open the door and they’d talk, and things might get hairier than they already were.

  But if she hung around in her bartender clothes and mussed up hair and wandered around the sparkling pool as residents sipped their coffee and watched the morning news, she’d be advertising her has-been-hook-up status.

  The apartment complex was typical. Sandy colored and devoid of bushy trees and hedges she could hide behind. Clean concrete walkways curled around the central outdoor pool with a covered cabana and BBQ pit.

  Before Marcia could decide whether to duck into the cabana or make a run for the parking area to head Jeanine off, Brock’s door opened behind her.

  “Hey, did you want coffee? Breakfast?”

  “Uh, nothing.” Her throat constricted so much her voice piped into a squeak. “Jeanine’s picking me up.”

  “I could have given you a ride.” Only Brock could look so delectable with water droplets sparkling on his sparse chest hair. He looked practically lickable.

  Marcia wet her dry lips and yanked her eyes from Brock’s chest, settling on his gray-green eyes, the same color as Bianca’s. “Uh, you’re probably in a rush.”

  “I always set my alarm two hours early. If you hadn’t been such a grouch, we could have showered together.” He wiggled his eyebrows and dragged her back into the apartment. “Now that we have our agreement, where’s my kiss?”

  “I wasn’t a grouch …” Her halfhearted protest was cut off by Brock’s lips. Her entire body was still tingling from the increased blood flow from last night. Gasping, she locked herself in his arms and surrendered her will to fight. For now. Except she was grungy and he was soapy clean, still damp and utterly sexy.

  He threaded his fingers through her hair and angled her head for deeper entry. Marcia couldn’t help opening her mouth and teasing him with her tongue. She couldn’t stop her hands from exploring his chest and her hips from grinding up against him. Five years without Brock. Five long drought years ended last night with a flash flood of undammed passion.

  Brock broke the kiss, leaving her panting and wet between her thighs. His lips curved with an arrogant smirk and he chuckled. “You weren’t a grouch. Come, let’s have breakfast. Coffee’s brewing already.”

  How was he able to charm her so easily? She should be pissed off about his hatred of children. Worried sick about him finding out about Bianca. But then, he winked and tied on a chef’s apron and cracked an egg into the frying pan, and she settled onto a chair at the kitchen table to admire him.

  His sweatpants slung low on his waist and his mu
scles bulging beneath the apron, he poured her a steaming cup of coffee. Marcia inhaled and licked her lips. Yum, yum, yum. She shouldn’t worry about the future and deny herself this opportunity. After all, he was clueless. Completely unaware of Bianca’s resemblance to him. She could enjoy him for spring training, and when the baseball season started, who knew where he’d end up? She most certainly didn’t care.

  Yeah, Marcia. Keep lying to yourself. She slapped her inner voice into submission and sipped the coffee black.

  “Yoohoo, lovebirds,” Jeanine called from the partially open door. “You decent in there?”

  Marcia’s coffee cup jiggled as she jumped from the chair. Her face was hot and she swiped her fingers through her hair, patting down the bedhead. Her lips were chafed from Brock’s beard stubble and every muscle of her body ached with delicious pleasure.

  “Hey, Jeanine, good to see you.” Brock slid a fried egg onto a plate arranged with slices of cantaloupe, pineapple, and strawberry. “Over easy or sunny side up?”

  “Oh, I’m an over easy type of girl.” Jeanine licked her lips and wiggled her hips. “As for you, girlfriend, how’s your sunny side up today?”

  She pressed Marcia down with a firm hand on her shoulder and stage whispered, “The hunk’s cooking you breakfast. You did well.”

  “I, uh, need to call my father.” Marcia’s hands shook while she scrambled for her phone. “I was with you, right Jeanine?”

  Both Brock and Jeanine’s eyebrows arched sky high.

  “How old are you?” Jeanine asked while giving Brock a significant look. “I mean, your dad knows you used to date Brock and—”

  “Oh, nothing, you’re right. I don’t need to check in.” She plopped herself at the table and dug into the fruit on her plate. “Thanks. This is delicious. Yummy. Wow.”

  She had to keep babbling. Jeanine almost spilled that Brock had knocked her up. Of course both her parents knew. And they’d advised her to tell him. And so had Jeanine, but now was definitely not the right time.

  “Coffee or glass of OJ?” Brock slipped an egg easy-over onto another plate for Jeanine.