Page 60 of Blind Date with a #FORMERPLAYER
Levi moves back, giving me some space. I step out of my skirt first, standing in front of him in just my bra and panties my heart an erratic mess beneath my ribcage. Reaching back, I unhook my bra and let it fall to the floor. His eyes widen, turning to liquid gold. Gripping my panties, I slide them down my legs and step out of them, straightening. Standing in front of him bare, exposed, his eyes flare, raking over my body and boosting my confidence. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
I blush, prickles racing through my insides. “Levi,” his name falls from my lips on a soft sigh.
Turning off the water, he drops his boxers and steps into the tub, holding out his hand for me to follow. Carefully lowering himself in the tub, he leans back, opening his legs for me. I step in and sit down, submersing myself in the bubbles and facing away. The scent of lavender floods my senses, further relaxing me. His gentle touch on my back with the cottony soft washcloth starts to calm my racing heartbeat.
“Is this, okay?” he prompts.
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.
“Lean back,” he directs. I do as he says, his hands gliding over my shoulders. Taking the washcloth, he runs it down my neck and arms. Painstakingly making his way along my sides and over mybelly before reaching my breasts, pausing to take extra care, my nipples perking in delight. “You’re perfect, Layla.”
“Your flattery is doing wonders to my confidence.”
“It’s the truth. I’m wondering how I got so lucky to be here with you,” he says, kissing my shoulder.
“Levi,” I whisper, my heart squeezing. This is the time to tell him, talk to him.
He drags the cloth down to my legs, tenderly cleaning between them causing a shock of heat to burn through me. His breath becomes ragged, his cock pressing into my back. He chuckles darkly. “This is definitely a lesson in restraint.”
Grabbing his hand, I ask, “Do you want me to wash you?”
He shakes his head. “That is definitely a very bad idea. Why don’t you just lean back against me?”
Relaxing against his shoulder, I look up at him and smile. His arms wrap around my waist and I rest my hands on his solid forearm. “If you couldn’t play baseball anymore, what do you think you would do?” I ask, instead of confessing.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No, no, no! Nothing like that,” I insist. “I’m sorry. You’re healing well. I can tell you’re listening to my advice even when I’m not around.”
I feel his sigh of relief. “Well, I enjoy working at the camps with the high school kids and I would love to coach, but I think I’d like to be a pitching coach more than anything at the older levels. Pro, college, even high school. But if not in baseball,” he pauses in thought, “maybe an announcer or sports broadcasting?” He chuckles. “I guess that’s baseball too.”
“It’s okay. You obviously have a passion and you should follow it.”
“What about you? Would you consider doing physical therapy for a pro team?” he asks, making my stomach turn as he gives me even more of a perfect opening.
“Um, well, I…” I stammer, trying to figure out how to tell him.
“I’m not saying you want any special treatment. That’s not what I’m asking,” he quickly amends, guilt hitting me for not speaking up.
“I don’t know. Maybe, I…” I trail off, my heart hammering and my hands trembling with nerves.
“You’re shaking. Let’s get out. The water is getting cold.”
Scrambling out of the tub, he grabs a towel and holds it up for me. I climb out and he quickly wraps me in the luxurious warmth, pressing a kiss to my temple. He reaches over and drains the water before grabbing his own towel and swiftly drying off, then, hanging it up. My gaze drops to his sculpted ass when we step into the bedroom, flicking back to his face as he grabs out a gray t-shirt, handing it to me. I drag it over my head before dropping the towel, seeing him stepping into a pair of boxers.
“You know we never carved our pumpkins.”
He chuckles. “No, we didn’t. We could always do it after you finish work tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Come on,” he urges, linking our fingers and gently tugging me towards the bed. He tosses the covers back and gets in bed, beckoning me to him. I lay down facing him with one hand under my head. Smirking, he reaches for me and grips my hips, pulling me closer, a soft squeal escaping. “Closer.”
Giggling, I say his name, “Levi.”
“I just want to hold you and look at you,” he murmurs. His hand grazes over my hair, stopping at the rubber band and jerking it loose. “You’re so beautiful.”
“And you’re so sweet to me, Levi.” I’m starting to wonder if I deserve it, if he deserves more than me.
