* * *

I threw the ball back to Smithy on the mound and positioned myself behind home plate. No parental units were here to root for me tonight, and by the seventh inning I was beginning to feel some respite. I’d been able to get lost in something else for a while. No expectations to live up to except my own. I didn’t know what would happen with my newfound lease on life, but for the first time in a long while, I wanted to try.

To live. To do something more meaningful. For me.

Outside of Gabby, Ella had gotten closer to me than anyone else—she’d been to my parent’s house, and she knew stuff about me that others didn’t. Even though she didn’t know everything.

But I was working up to that. I was feeling more comfortable with the idea. Because the alternative was worse. Being without her. And if I didn’t take that chance I’d never know. And I’d already had too many regrets in my life.

Ella and I had texted every day since our pizza date. And, of course, my fantasies were ramped way up since our insanely hot make-out session in my car, while the windows steamed up around us. I mean, fuck—the girl made me want to worship her, revere her, build a fucking altar in her name.

Nonetheless, Ella was still holding back. I could feel it. Not in her kisses. If anything, that’s where I felt her emotions were on display. Instead, it was in her heart. Like maybe she’d decided that we’d just be friends with benefits and she’d be all right with that.

Except I wasn’t okay with that. It might’ve taken the pressure off—but not enough for me to live with the idea of just being a fling to Ella. I had this intense need for her to know that I could barely go five minutes without thinking about her. If I could only get the words out. It’s like they got lodged in the back of my throat and the only way I knew how to get beyond it was to show her instead. With my lips, my hands, and my body.

I was hoping to see her before the team hit the travel bus in two days. So I texted her that morning.

Me: Fury got a flat tire last night.

Ella: Poor thing. Sounds like your baby needs some TLC.

Me: Absolutely does—from a certain brunette with beautiful blue eyes and kissable lips.

Ella: I’d be happy to offer up some lovin’.

Me: Hopefully soon? Fury’s owner has one home game left before he hits the road.

My frat brothers and the girls from our sister sorority were hollering in the stands because McGreevy had thrown a player out at first. When my eyes darted over to them, I spotted her. Ella had shown up to my game and somehow, having her here bolstered me. Made me want to work harder to finish this game on top, just so I’d be proud of myself when I saw her afterward.

She was sitting between Tracey and her friend Rachel.

I watched how Joel had looked behind him and waved at her. And how Ella’s jaw had ticked as if she was clamping down tight on her tongue—holding herself back from telling him off or whacking him in the head. Maybe I’d knock him the fuck out for her.

I hadn’t considered how it’d go down when Ella and Joel first saw each other again. But Joel seemed oblivious as usual, like the huge blockhead he’d always been. Besides, he had a blond chick sitting next to him. Apparently his new conquest.

The other night at poker he’d been a drunken sloppy mess again. He’d spouted off about Ella’s amazing tits, how he missed looking at them, and I’d basically lost my mind. I jumped up, the chair clattering to the ground behind me, and had my fist drawn back ready to pummel him. Brian had to plant his hand on my arm to stop me. He yanked me into the other room to play Call of Duty and talk.

He hadn’t asked me straight out what was going on between Ella and me, but I got the impression that he and Tracey had figured it out. Probably along with everyone else by now.

I hated that Joel treated Ella like she was only made of body parts. There was no denying that Ella had a beautiful body, but she was also perfect in every other way, too.

She was plain amazing. And I wanted more.

Maybe I wanted everything.

The game ended with a pop fly at home plate. I caught it, tossed it to the umpire, and headed for the locker room to change. Before leaving the field, I looked up at the stands once more and locked my gaze on Ella. I’d expected her to have waited for me in the parking lot with the other family, friends, and fans, but that hope was obliterated when she wasn’t anywhere near the team bus.

Instead, I saw Ella up at Zach’s Bar, drinking a beer at a back table with Tracey and Rachel. We made eye contact, but she looked hesitant to come up to me. It killed me that we didn’t know how to be around each other yet. What we were to each other. I think she was as scared and confused as I was.

Plus, there was Joel to contend with. Not that I gave a shit what he thought. It was more that I wanted to respect Ella. Didn’t want people to think she’d left him to be with me. Girls got a bad rap when it came to that kind of stuff—it was a ridiculous double standard. Guys could do whatever the hell they wanted, but girls were immediately turned into sluts.

I ordered two beers at the bar, hell-bent on joining Ella at her table, everyone else be damned. We were friends first and foremost and it wasn’t like I’d planned on groping her in public, no matter how much I wanted to.

While we were waiting on our drinks, I got pulled into a discussion with some baseball fans. They’d asked about our upcoming schedule and whether we could keep ahead of our competition. When I next looked toward the back of the bar, Ella was nowhere to be found.

Her friend Rachel had moved to a table in the corner with one of my teammates. When my eyes skated past Brian’s girlfriend, Tracey, I saw the tiny movement of her head.

I raised an eyebrow at her. She motioned to the parking lot. Her way of telling me Ella had taken off. Shit. I nodded in thanks.

I chugged back my drink, deciding what to do. At about the same time, my phone buzzed with a text message.

Ella: Headed home. Sorry, don’t feel like being in the same room as Joel.

Me: Understood. It won’t always be this awkward. I won’t let it be.

Ella: I know.

ME: I really liked having you at my game, Ella.

Ella: I liked being there.

Me: Wish you would’ve waited. Was looking forward to spending time with you.

Ella: Actually, I was hoping . . .

Me: Hoping what? Maybe it’s the same thing I’m hoping. . . .

Ella: Maybe it is. Apartment 1A. 34 Carmine Street—you know the building. I’ll be waiting.

I could barely contain myself on my barstool. I waited a good two seconds before bolting out the door. The urge to see her was nearly blinding.

I parked on her street and tried not to jog all the up the walk. When I rang her apartment, she didn’t even bother to ask who was at the door; she just buzzed me in. I decided I’d have a chat with her about that later, before I realized that she probably saw me pull up through her front window.

As soon as she swung open the door, I grabbed hold of her face and kissed her. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to smell her, taste her, hold her. And damn if her lips didn’t feel so soft and pliant and ready for me. Her breath tasted like mint mixed with alcohol from the beer I’d seen her drinking at the table.

I backed her into the room and shut the door with my foot. “Are we alone?”

“Ye—” When she opened her lips to speak, I took advantage with my tongue, sliding it deep inside her mouth as she grasped at handfuls of my T-shirt. I couldn’t get enough of her. She shoved her hands in the back pockets of my jeans and hauled me against her. In an instant I was hard as a block of fucking ice.

She moaned as I gathered up the back of her hair into a makeshift ponytail and gently tugged it down to gain better access to her mouth. I backed her in the direction of her room and though I could see her bed in my peripheral view, I wanted Ella in a different way.

When her back hit the door, I pinned her hands above her head, in much the same position we’d found ourselves in before. She closed her eyes, tilted her neck, and I took full advantage, practically devouring her skin. It was smooth and silky and smelled faintly of her almond scent.

“We always seem to end up against a door,” she breathed out. Her words faltered as I licked and nipped my way down her collarbone to the scoop of skin above her breasts.

“I have fantasies about what I want to do to you against this door.”

Her breath hitched as she squirmed, grinding her hips against the front of my jeans.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to come like a horny teenager,” I breathed into her hair, attempting to steady my racing pulse. “That’s how hot you make me.”

She made that little noise in the back of her throat and I nearly lost my load.

“Want to know what I plan on doing to you?” I growled against her neck.

“Yes,” she breathed out. “Please.”

Shit. She did not have to beg. At this point, I’d probably walk across flaming coals if she’d asked me to.

I let go of her hands and trailed my fingers down to the sliver of stomach peeking beneath her shirt. I felt her shiver while I ran my tongue along her earlobe and then claimed the patch of skin below it. She fisted the back of my hair and tugged my lips back to her mouth. Her kiss was frantic and deep and, goddamn, this girl knew how to rock my world.

When she sucked on my tongue, I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.