Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(77)
Before she could catch her next breath, I finally plunged deep inside her. She clung to me, her small hands nearly pulling my hair out, her tight body gripping my cock with hot spasms, until, on a deafening growl, I came.
We stayed like that, pressed together as one against the cool tiles, hot water streaming down my back, steam billowing around us. Neither of us moved to break our tight hold. The intimacy we shared seemed so vital to my existence, I wanted to breathe it in and never exhale.
But eventually, we let go. My body began the reluctant separation, slipping from hers. She released her grip on my hair and relaxed her legs down mine until she stood before me. And yet, we both kept a loose hold on one another, bodies trembling.
Our breaths were labored, hearts still pounding.
On a growl, I stole one last kiss, before reality fully set in.
Clean first. Softball next.
Then? We had a party to plan.
Kiki…
“Did you just shake your ass?” Darren slapped the softball into his glove again.
I adjusted my grip on the bat, forcing my twitching lips to stay relaxed, feigning neutrality. After a deep inhale and slow exhale, I bent one knee then the other…again…knowing my short polka dot skirt flounced a little with each hip sway.
My black cotton bikini-brief underwear were innocent. My intentions were not.
“Did it distract you?” I called out, not caring who overheard.
“No,” he scoffed.
I finally let my lips curve into a smile and slowly arced the bat around until the tip pointed toward the outfield, exactly where I planned to launch that ball.
“Liar,” I muttered so no one could hear, but mouthed big enough for him to know exactly what I’d said.
He reached up, pinched the bill of his baseball cap, then lowered it to hide his eyes.
I grinned wider, stretched out a couple more practice arcs of the bat, then waited, coiled and ready to strike.
Cheers came from the stands where spectators had gathered: neighbors, friends, family, customers of Loading Zone, and supporters of The Unity Foundation, our charity.
“Bring it home, Kiki!” The clear shout came from Logan.
She’d already rounded the bases.
We’d decided to be on the same team. Against Cade’s team. Darren’s team.
But we had a few ringers: aka Cade’s entire security staff. Even though they were more muscle than speed. No matter. We girls have cunning.
With all the waiting, I stepped back from the plate, stretched my face up to the sky, shoulders back, chest out. After a deep breath, I tilted my head from side to side.
“What is this? A Victoria’s Secret ad?” Cade snapped his gloved hand out and gave an impatient shrug from where he stood behind first base. “Quit flashing your goods at the world. Let’s play ball already!”
Darren hunkered into position, hands curled into his chest, eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat.
His breathing changed.
Deep in, in, in…
Slow out, out, out.
Measured. Controlled.
Barely…
Okay. I’d done my obligatory duty. Gotten into Darren’s head.
I stepped to the plate again, choked up on the bat, kicked my toe into the dirt, then coiled my arms up and over until the wide stretch of wood hovered behind my ear once again.
The truth was, he’d gotten into my head, bad. Under my skin. Into my heart.
We’d be returning to the harsh reality of my life soon enough. After the game, we planned to enact his strategy to save me from homelessness.
But for now?
I intended to stay in our blissful honeymoon-fantasy bubble for as long as humanly possible.
Darren…
“Don’t you want something to eat?” Cade watched as Hannah put down her menu.
“You know what I want.” Hannah closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Cade gathered her into his arms and murmured, “I’m beginning to think you have a cinnamon bun in that oven instead of our baby.”
My gaze shot to Kiki.
She gave a slight nod. Clearly she’d overheard it too.
As always after the game, most of us ended up at Lila’s. The neighborhood café was built into the lower level of a century-old house. The furnishings were quaint and unassuming. But the food came straight from heaven.
The screen door slammed shut behind Lila. She had a fierce expression on her face and brandished a broom like a weapon. The curvy woman reminded me of a Southern grandmother: ruddy cheeks, snow-white hair pulled into a loose bun, often smiling, regularly gossiping.
“What’s all the racket?” Lila’s brother called from the kitchen through the open counter.
“Nothin’, Willard.” She leaned the broom into a corner near the bathroom. “Jus’ the IRS decidin’ they wanted to stalk one of our own.” When she walked by, she gave a pat to Kiki’s shoulder. “Don’t you fret none, dear. I chased him off right good.”
Kiki blinked. “Hold up…what?”
“The I. R. S.” She punctuated each letter with disdain as she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling then Willard. “It gripes my gut them thinkin’ they can come anywhere and do anything. We pay our taxes, so leave us alone.”
Kiki darted from our corner table and pressed her hands to the café’s front window. “The car’s pulling away!” She spun back around. “Did he mention his name, leave a business card?”