The Dugout(66)

“I mean, there are quite a few good-looking guys on your team, but crush, crush. There’s only been two.”

“I better be one of them.”

Her thumb passes over my nipple and I hold back the hiss that wants to escape. “You know one is you, but the other was my freshman year, well, our freshman year. He was a junior, drafted after the end of the season.”

I think back to who was a junior when I was a freshman. There’s only one guy who would have turned Milly’s head. “Brett Dover.”

A small smile passes over her lips. “He was a vision in baseball pants, and he had an accompanying smile that struck me every time I saw it. And his stats alone were a huge turn-on. Still holds the record for most home runs and highest paid rookie contract and signing bonus. Not to mention when he was here at Brentwood, he spent every Thursday at the homeless shelter making lunches. Every Thursday. He even scheduled his classes around it. And those eyes . . .”

I stare at her, blinking a few times when she stops. “Please”—I motion with my hand—“go on. Don’t stop on my account. I want to hear so much more about Brett Dover.”

She chuckles and runs her finger down my chest to my abs. “Are you jealous?”

Her finger toys with my stomach and even though I am jealous, with every pass of her finger, I grow stiffer.

“What do you think?” I ask, my hand sliding down her arm to her backside. I pull her in a little closer and splay my hand across her ass, my pinky finger skimming her bare skin.

She sucks in a short breath, her hand slipping a little farther as her thigh brushes against my erection. Her eyes widen in surprise right before a wicked smile crosses her face.

Fuck. That look is about to get me into some trouble.

“I think you’re excited to play this game.”

A hearty laugh comes out of me. “Yeah, a little too excited.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Her fingers dance down to my waistline and play with the band of my briefs. She slips the tips of her fingers inside, teasing the ever-loving fuck out of me.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Cashing in on my touching reward.”

“I think you need to answer another question to gain access to that.”

Her fingers scrape along the sensitive skin right above my pubic line, and it takes every muscle in my body to contain my pelvis from thrusting forward. This is the secret part; I’m totally digging this new, previously hidden facet of Milly. From her shy demeanor, you’d never anticipate this side of her, this secret sexy side that I hope like fuck I get to see more of. It’s hot. She’s hot.

“I’ll have to wait, because it’s my turn to ask a question.”

Christ.

I swallow hard.

“Okay, ask away and make it quick.”

She chuckles and rubs her fingers along my skin, so fucking close to the head of my cock. Just a few millimeters . . . and she’ll be right there. Just a brush, a minor touch, anything to ease the buildup in the base of my spine and the aching in my balls. It’s been so long that I might explode the minute her hand touches me.

“Favorite body part on a woman.”

“Tits,” I answer, letting my hand show her exactly what I mean. Over her shirt, I draw a circle around her ample tit, outlining how voluptuous she is. She has what I like to call sneaky tits—probably because she wears sports bras a lot of the time—but they don’t look that big. They look like they’re a decent size, until she lets them free of their spandex confines and then holy fuck, she’s stacked. So gorgeous—and I’m dying to pull them into my mouth—but this is her game and if she’s going to tease me, then I’m going to tease her.

“There’s something about being able to turn a woman on with a small stroke over her nipple.” My thumb passes a featherlight touch over her already hardened nipple. She sucks in a breath and her body shifts, her fingers moving as well, so deathly close that my entire body hums with need. “I love that they come in all shapes and sizes and that each and every one is beautiful in its own right. And, they seem to define the woman they’re attached to.”

“Oh?” she asks, her lashes fluttering as she opens her eyes, her breathing making her chest rise and fall against my hand. “What do mine say about me?”

“Well, I haven’t really gotten a good look,” I say, my fingers going to the edge of her camisole. I test my chances and lightly pull on the neckline. She doesn’t protest, so I pull a little more. Not fully exposing her, but bringing the fabric close to her nipple, I say, “From what I can tell, from the outside, you act small and shy, but when you let yourself free, you’re larger than life and so fucking sexy.” Over the camisole, I make small circles around her nipple, the peak pressing dangerously against the fabric. I drag my thumb over the nub, and the feel of her breast under my hand is incredible. Perfect.

“God,” she groans, the sound full of lust. “That feels . . . that . . . God, you’re turning me on so much.”

With a confession like that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back tonight like I planned. When I came over, I was thinking a little make-out session with some snuggling, maybe a grope here and there, but this game, this moment, I was not expecting at all. Nor was I expecting her to be so vocal about how she’s feeling. Milly’s confidence in baseball I understand. She lives and breathes it. But her natural sexiness? It’s wanton. Sensual. She’s a goddess.