Page 35 of Crew
He hummed like he was considering it, but the way his hands moved—skating over my abs, then tugging me closer—told me he already knew exactly what he wanted. “I’m thinking we celebrate.”
“Celebrate, huh?” I arched a brow, tilting my head back as he leaned in to feather kisses down my throat. “Is that what we’re calling this?”
He grinned against my skin. “Got a better word for it?”
I let out a low chuckle, threading my fingers through his hair, and pulling his head back just enough to look him in the eye. “Not really. Just wasn’t expecting you to get all soft on me.”
His fingers skated lower, gripping the waistband of my pants. “I’m not.” He kissed me again, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that sent heat curling in my stomach.
I hauled him down to lie on the couch with me, pulling him until we were tangled together, hands roaming, mouths moving together.
Singleton’s fingers traced over my stomach. “You good?”
I met his gaze, my chest rising and falling. “Never better.”
Before I knew it, I was on top of him, straddling his lap, my hands braced on his chest. He smirked. “You’re not wasting any time, huh?”
I grinned, my lips brushing his as I spoke. “You wanted to celebrate, and I don’t think either of us wants to wait.”
He rocked his hips, and I moaned as our erections strained against our pants and rubbed together. His hands skimmed beneath my shirt, fingertips grazing over the muscles of my back. The touch made me shiver, and I leaned down to kiss him harder, then ran my lips along his neck, working my way down but not rushing to get us naked.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he murmured.
I smirked against his skin. “That a complaint?”
“Not even close.” He pushed my shirt up. I let him, lifting my arms just enough for him to slip the fabric over my head before tossing it onto the floor.
The second it was gone, his mouth was on my throat, his lips dragging over my pulse point and his teeth nipping my skin just enough to make me gasp. I rocked against him again, feeling how hard he was, and how much we were both past the point of teasing.
My fingers slipped under his shirt, and I slid it up, needing more of him, needingallof him. He helped, pulling it the rest of the way off and throwing it aside before yanking me back down into another kiss.This one was hotter, messier, and desperate in a way that sent a thrill down my spine.
I barely registered the sound of a knock at the door until he groaned and stopped kissing me. I ran a hand over my face as I sat up. “Food’s here.”
“Terrible timing.”
I huffed out a laugh and forced myself to climb off him, my body still buzzing as I grabbed my shirt off the floor and pulled it back on. “It’ll still be hot when we’ve worked up more of an appetite.”
He sat up. “You better not be making promises you can’t keep.”
I grinned, shaking my head as I headed for the door. “Well, I guess that actually depends on how long you keep distracting me. Good thing I have a microwave.”
14
Knox
I couldn’t wipethe smile off my face as I got ready for batting practice before our afternoon game. For the past couple of days, it seemed like everything was looking up for me. When Stratton found out he wasn’t going to be a father, a weight was lifted from his shoulders, and we’d gone back to having fun together.
Although, I wasn’t sure I only wanted to have fun anymore.
Somewhere between sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms and spending time at his condo, it had started to feel like more than the casual hook ups I was used to. And it appeared I was going to stay with the team, so I began imagining taking things further with him.
The idea of wanting a boyfriend was new for me, and if I was honest, a little nerve-wracking as well. Finding someone online for a night was easy, but dating somebody with feelings involved was an entirely different ballgame. One I wasn’t familiar with.
But when I thought about a relationship with Stratton, it was easy to envision spending nights together, going out to eat, and doing things we both enjoyed. It wasn’t really different than what wealready did, but there’d be a label attached to it. A label I’d never thought would be important to me, but I was pretty sure I wanted it with him.
As I went over in my head different ways to say what I wanted, Weber, our bench coach, called out, “Singleton, Schmitt needs to see you.”
“Ohhhh, Singleton’s in trouble,” Latham teased like we were in school and I’d been called into the principal’s office.
