The Dugout(57)
I choke on my own saliva and start coughing uncontrollably, causing him to laugh and rub his hands over my thighs until I can control myself. Did he really just say that?
He’s masturbated to me?
Well, that’s something I didn’t know.
“Weren’t expecting to hear that, were you?”
“Nope.” I laugh and shake my head. “Not even a little.” I pause and lean forward, whispering, as if I speak any louder, the sacred outfield grass could hear me. “You’ve thought of me that way?”
“Hell yeah.” He continues to rub my thighs. “You’re gorgeous, Milly. I’d be broken if I didn’t think about you that way.”
A blush creeps up the back of my neck. “No one has ever spoken to me like that.”
“Well, you’ve been hanging around the wrong people. Can I ask you a serious question?”
“Yeah.”
“And don’t get mad at me, okay? But, are you a virgin? And it doesn’t matter to me if you are, that won’t change anything. Just thought I’d ask so I know for the future.”
I smile softly at him and press my hand against his chest. “No, but that was sweet to ask. I might be na?ve when it comes to the romance thing, but I’ve had a couple hookups along the way. Trust me though, nothing that’s blown my mind. They were more of, I’m slightly drunk and lonely.”
“Anyone I would know?”
“Maybe. Carlton on the golf team?”
“Carlton?” he asks in a disgusted voice. “Milly.”
“Remember, drunk and lonely.”
“You’re not fucking lonely anymore. You have me and when the time comes, trust me, I’ll be a thousand times better than Carlton.” There’s no doubt in my mind about that. Just from the way his large hands move back and forth on my thighs, he already has me geared up and ready to go. “Now, about that fantasy.” He nudges me with his finger.
“You’re going to think it’s stupid and it’s nothing compared to yours. Which, for the record, I don’t own a thong.”
“What?” He sits up, moving me along with him. I’m still on his lap but now we’re face to face. “What do you mean you don’t own a thong?”
“It’s not a proper piece of underwear.”
He drags his hand down his face. “Mills . . . do you wear . . .”
“Granny panties?” He peeks through his fingers and nods. “No.” Exhaling, he pulls me into a hug.
“Thank God. Or else I’d be running to the store tomorrow.”
“That’s awfully shallow of you. What if I did wear granny panties, then what?”
Grinning, he says, “I guess I’d help pick your wedgies for you.”
“Oh my God.” I go to push him away but he pulls me in even closer, keeping his hands firmly placed on my back so I can’t go anywhere. This touching, this intimacy, it’s still so very new to me, but so welcome. And I like it. I like him. “Just so you don’t have nightmares at night, I wear cheekies.”
“You mean the underwear that shows half your ass?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, Coach,” he drags out, making me laugh. “That’s fucking hot. Let me see them.”
He tries to reach around me but I swat him away. “Get a hold of yourself.”
“Listen, now that everything is out in the open, it’s going to be really hard for me to keep my hands to myself. I’ve held back for too long. It’s been torture. Watching you bend over and pick up balls, seeing your tits jiggle with every pitch you threw at me. I wasn’t taking in the speed of your arm, because I was watching your boobs.”
“Seriously, Carson?”
He chuckles and shrugs. “I’m a guy and you’re sexy as shit, especially when you’re holding a glove and lecturing me about fundamentals and lining my knuckles.”
“That’s the first thing they teach you in little league. It’s appalling I had to remind you.”
“It’s appalling you haven’t told me your fantasy yet.”
Oh right.
I drag my finger over his collarbone, feeling how strong he is beneath my fingertip. I can’t even begin to imagine how many times I’ve thought about touching Carson this way since he came into my life. Far too many to count, and it’s unbelievable I’m actually able to do it. That I’m sitting here, on his lap, with his arms wrapped around me, talking to him about intimate things. I did not see tonight going this way.
“Okay, but don’t laugh at me.”
“I would never.”
“Liar.” He smirks. “My fantasy, honestly, was you holding my hand. I know it’s simple and not really sexy, but I’ve never really held a guy’s hand. I’ve never been in a relationship, so the little romantic heart inside me didn’t really fantasize about sex, but about the intimacy of being with another person, the touches, the smirks, the quick snag to grab a kiss.” I shrug just as he entwines our fingers together. “I fantasized about the small things.”
Without skipping a beat, he says, “Then it’s the small things I’ll give you.”
“What happens if I don’t get drafted by the Bobcats?” Carson asks as he outlines the words on my shirt with his finger. He’s skimmed my boobs at least ten times now. I’m lying on the blanket and he’s leaning over me, his handsome face staring at me, a constant smile on his lips.