Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(77)

Knowing she played dirty, Georgie gave Travis an innocent yet beseeching look over her shoulder. “Please?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Why is this important to you?”

It was so hard to keep the love hidden. This morning in bed. Now. Every time they reached this point where her heart ached to come clean, she drew back, afraid he might catch on. Right now, though, with something so vital on the line, she pushed through the nerves. “I used to sit in the bleachers and watch your games.” She turned and eased away, casting a look at the seating area in question. “By the time they were over, I’d have little moon-shaped nail marks on my palms . . . and they wouldn’t fade for hours. That’s how exciting you were to watch.” She rolled her lips together. “Not because of your batting average. Just because you made everyone want to love something as much as you loved baseball. To feel what you felt.”

Travis seemed frozen. Or maybe they both were, because she couldn’t attempt movement until he gave some sort of reaction. Finally, his chest lifted and fell on a heavy shudder. “When I used to play, we always kept a stash of balls in the eaves of the dugout. There’s probably a ball or two.” He sniffed and took the bat from Georgie, weighing it in his hands. “Better hit a few before the sky opens up.”

She had already turned and was walking at a fast clip to the dugout, a cheer going up in her mind. It was happening. She’d done it. Her foot skidded on some loose dirt as she rounded the corner onto the dugout steps, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the row of balls. Using her T-shirt as a carrying device, she gathered as many balls as she could and waddled back under the weight, probably resembling a harried duck. “What should I do?”

Travis took a practice swing, tension riddling his shoulders, and Georgie had a moment of panic. What if pushing him backfired?

Instead of answering, he held up his hand.

Georgie tossed him the first ball. He caught it with ease, staring at it a moment. His narrowed gaze eventually drifted out to the fences, his sturdy frame expanding. Preparing. “Stand back, baby girl.”

She looked down to find herself mere inches from the batter’s box. “Oh.” Quickly, she scooted back. “Right.”

Holding her breath, she watched as Travis tossed the ball up in the air. It had been months since he’d swung a bat, yet his body fell right into the familiar motion. His stabilizing leg bent, his arms carrying the bat back, his tongue tucking into his cheek. Muscle memory. And oh my God. Legs twisting, arms and torso flexing, he was magnificent. The ball cracked off the bat and went soaring, up toward the rapidly darkening clouds, and dropped way out in the outfield, rebounding off the fence with a ping.

Georgie could no more stop her loud whoop of pure joy than she could stop the rain that started to fall in gentle drips around them. Travis turned to her with stunned optimism, and she didn’t hesitate to throw him the next ball. And the next. One by one, they dropped into the outfield or roared down the third base line, every thwack of the ball meeting metal making Georgie’s heart sing louder. The rain grew heavier, soaking their clothes and hair, but they didn’t stop until all the balls were gone from her T-shirt. If she had a million more, she would have stood there tossing balls to Travis until the sun went down, watching him grow more confident with every swing, but she couldn’t have been any more victorious when he dropped the bat.

Tears blurred in her eyes as he strode toward her, lifting her into a bear hug. She laughed without restraint as he spun her in a circle around home plate, her arms clinging to his neck. “Show-off,” she breathed into his ear. “How did that feel?”

“Good.” He shook his head. “No. Great.”

She held him tighter, sensing them walking but uncaring of where they ended up as long as he kept her wrapped in his arms. Remembering their morning conversation about wanting her touch, a dam inside Georgie split down the middle and burst open. She licked a stream of rain off his neck. Her thighs itched to climb higher on Travis’s hips, so she let them and then twisted her fingers into his shirt collar to keep him in place for a kiss.

“Goddammit, Georgie.”

“What?”

“Thank you.” His eyes ran laps over her face, his fingers stroking the side. “How do you do that? You . . . accept me. Exactly as I am. But you still change me for the better.”

I love you. That’s how. She couldn’t say it out loud, so she leaned in for a kiss instead.

When their mouths joined, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was gratitude and adrenaline. Excitement and support and love. And it was frantic, rain-soaked glory. Georgie sank so deep into the kiss, she didn’t realize they were in the dugout until Travis fell onto the bench, her legs still fashioned around his waist, their faces a mere centimeter apart. Breathing heavy. The change in position brought her aching center down on Travis’s erection, catapulting her into a deep abyss of lust. She clung to his wide shoulders and worked herself up and back on the rigid flesh, encouraged by his biting curse.

“Please. Please, baby girl. Don’t grind that little thing on me unless your pants are off,” he growled against her mouth. “I need inside that pussy.”

“You can have whatever you want,” she whispered brokenly, drifting into that mind space that made her the hottest. Let Travis put his needs on display so she could be the one who took care of them. And after last night, she knew giving led to Travis worshipping her in return. Giving until his body couldn’t anymore. The promise of that made her all the more eager to match his hunger now. “Tell me what you want.”