NINE
RAIN AND WIND
BATTERED THE DECK AND WINDOWS, coming down so hard Gavin couldn’t
even see the chairs.
The rain kept them
shut inside. That was bad. No game today.
No sunshine, nothing
to do but stay inside.
That could be
good.
While Elizabeth
slept during the morning, Gavin went to the store and bought food.
He intended to cook for her, felt bad about making her talk about a
past that was obviously painful for her.
She’d had a rough
childhood. A very rough childhood with a father who’d been abusive
to both her and her mother. And yet she’d managed to escape and
grow up to be a strong, independent woman, which said a lot about
her strength and character. He wanted to talk more about it, but it
was clear she wasn’t ready yet. Maybe she never would be, and it
was her right to decide that.
But he admired her
more for what he knew now about her. There were facets to Elizabeth
he’d never known about, things about her that made him appreciate
the woman she’d become. She’d done it all on her own.
Despite the game
being rained out, he still had work to do. Workouts with the
trainer and indoor batting practice with the batting coach. He left
a note for Elizabeth telling her where he’d be, hoping she’d still
be there when he got back.
He was gone most of
the day. He had spent several hours on physical training, then
batting practice, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with
his swing. The verdict—nothing was wrong with his swing. As he
figured, it was mental. The mechanics were all in place; he just
had to connect bat to ball. And he would, as soon as the rain
stopped and he got the chance to stand at the plate and swing the
bat again.
He had to do a few
media interviews late in the afternoon, then he was cut loose for
the day and on his way back to the beach house. He wasn’t sure why
he was surprised to find Elizabeth’s car in the driveway, but he
was glad she was still there. When he went inside, she was curled
up on the sofa, a steaming cup of something on the table in front
of her, her legs crisscrossed over each other and her laptop
sitting in her lap. She wore a sundress and a sweater, had her hair
in a ponytail, and didn’t have any makeup on. She looked so young,
almost like a teenager, when she lifted her head and smiled at
him.
God, she was
beautiful.
“Hi, honey. How was
your day?”
He grinned and
flopped onto the sofa next to her. “Just great. How was
yours?”
“Productive,
actually. Nothing like a rainy day to help one catch up with
paperwork and phone calls. I got a lot done. You?”
“Workouts and
batting practice and a few interviews. Trying to figure out why
I’ve been oh-for-everything the past few games.”
She frowned. “You
have? Why?”
He shrugged. “No
clue. My swing is fine. Mental block I think.”
She leaned forward
and kissed him. “Too much sex weakens you.”
“I haven’t had any
sex. You were gone. That’s probably the problem.”
She gaped at him.
“Oh. I didn’t know we were being exclusive.”
“I believe I
mentioned that the first night we had sex.” He arched a brow. “Tell
me you didn’t go around screwing everything with a dick while you
were out of town.”
She laughed. “I’m
the one with the two-year drought, remember.” She laid her hand
over her heart. “I’ve been totally faithful to you.”
“Ditto.” He swept
his hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his for a searing
kiss that made his dick hard in an instant. God, he’d missed her,
had missed fucking her last night. But last night she’d needed to
be held, not fucked.
Now, though, as she
climbed onto his lap and her breasts pressed against his chest,
Gavin felt the warmth of her and inhaled her scent, and he didn’t
want to wait. He needed her. She was a fire in his blood and
constantly on his mind. She made his balls quiver, and all he could
think about was sinking inside her.
He shifted her
underneath him, spreading them both out on the sofa, positioning
himself on top of her. He nudged her legs apart and positioned his
cock against her sex, feeling the heat soak through her underwear
and his jeans.
“Five whole days
without sex, huh?” she asked, lifting against him with a wicked
smile.
“Six now. It’s
killing me.”
She swept her
fingers across his goatee, then slid her hand down his chest and
between them, cupping his hard cock. “Poor baby. How you must be
suffering. We should take care of that right away.”
“Yeah, we should.
How about right here?”
She gave his cock a
gentle squeeze. “I’m just lying here waiting for you to get this
inside me. I’m ready, Gavin. I’m wet and my pussy’s throbbing. Fuck
me.”
He sucked in a deep
breath, raised off of her only long enough to lift her dress up and
take her panties off and unzip and remove his jeans, and then he
was between her legs again, falling into her welcoming
arms.
His mouth met hers
at the same time his cock slid inside her. Unsheathed, he felt her,
hot and slick, tightening around him as he thrust inside
her.
He swirled his
tongue around hers, and she wrapped her hand around his neck, her
fingers diving into his hair. She lifted her hips and tightened her
legs around him. He’d never felt anything like the sensations
bombarding him all at once. His mouth on hers, his cock inside her,
and his whole body pressed against hers. He fisted her dress,
pulling the strap down on one side to reveal her
breast.
No bra. He liked
that. He bent and took her nipple in his mouth, feeling it harden
against his tongue as he sucked.
“Gavin,” she
whispered, arching her back and feeding her nipple to him, still
holding on to the back of his head and keeping him there. Her body
was fluid motion as she moved against him, and he was caught up in
a tight ball of tension, ready to skyrocket into an orgasm that
he’d held back for all these days.
All he’d done was
think about her—how she looked, how she smelled, how soft her skin
was. He popped her nipple out of his mouth and looked down on it,
then dragged his tongue up to her neck and grazed her throat with
his teeth, watching the goose bumps prickle her skin.
She smelled like
vanilla, like sugar cookies, and he loved the taste of her. She was
like his favorite candy—hard on the outside but a soft surprise on
the inside.
She was his
Elizabeth, and he didn’t think anyone knew her like he did. He
didn’t think she’d ever let anyone know her like he knew her. And
that made her a treasure. His treasure.
He lifted up on both
arms and looked down at her. She was painfully beautiful without
her makeup on, her hair pulled loose from her ponytail, all messy
and perfect. He lifted and thrust into her, watching her eyes when
he rolled his hips over her to grind against her clit.
She might keep
secrets from him about painful parts of her life, but here, when
they were connected, there were no secrets. She was fully open to
him and she let him see her pleasure, how much she enjoyed sex, how
much she enjoyed what he did to her.
She wound her arms
around his neck. He pulled her up. Her legs were still wrapped
around his hips as she slid right into rhythm with him, moving
against him, riding his cock as she balanced her feet on the edge
of the sofa, held on to him, and rocked against him, taking him
right to the edge so fast he had to pull back to keep from
climaxing.
But she wouldn’t let
go. She tightened her grip on his neck and rode his cock, rolling
her pussy over him and dropping down onto him, rubbing her ass
against his balls until sweat poured down his face. He grabbed her
ass then, gripping her tight and lifting her on and off
him.
“Yes, like that,”
she said, keeping her focus on his eyes as hers went dark green.
“Make me come for you, Gavin.”
He dug his fingers
into her ass cheeks and lifted her faster and faster, up and down
on his cock. “Yeah. Come on, baby, come on me.”
When she tightened
around him and he saw her jaw drop, he let go, shoving inside her
with the force of his orgasm. She cried out and came, and the
convulsions around his cock intensified, sending him spiraling out
of control. He wrapped his arms around her and let his orgasm rip
through him. Both of them shuddered against each other as he poured
everything he had into her until all his limbs were shaking and he
was breathless and spent.
He smoothed his arms
down her back, kissed her neck, and held her, not wanting to let
her go.
“I’m starving,” she
said against his chest.
He laughed. “Good
thing I went to the grocery store this morning.”
They disengaged,
cleaned up, and dressed, and Elizabeth picked up her cup from the
coffee table, grimacing.
“It’s cold now.
Guess I won’t be drinking any more coffee. How about a cocktail? Or
do you want to get dressed and go out to eat?”
“I’m making you
dinner tonight. I bought white wine. It’ll go with
dinner.”
She stopped on her
way to the kitchen and pivoted, arching a brow. “You are? Does this
mean I have to make a pie?”
“Nah. I was just
teasing about that.”
She gave him a
dubious look. “Okay.”
She looked like she
didn’t believe him, but he went into the kitchen to start dinner.
Elizabeth fixed them glasses of wine and sat at the counter,
watching him drag out pans and ingredients.
“What are you
making?”
“Pan-seared salmon
with pasta and spinach cream sauce.”
She laughed. “No
really. What are you making?”
He slanted her a
look. “That’s really what I’m making.”
“I’m stunned. And
will be highly impressed if you don’t poison me.”
He laughed. “I
promise not to poison you.”
He put water on to
boil, then put butter in a pan and added a piece of salmon. While
that was cooking, he got out the spinach, washed it, and zested a
lemon.
“You look like you
know what you’re doing.”
He smiled at her and
took a sip of wine. “I told you I can cook.”
“I guess you did,
didn’t you.”
Once the salmon was
done, he set it aside, threw more butter into the pan, and tossed
the spinach in there. Once the spinach had wilted, he added the
lemon zest and some cream, and stirred it with one hand while
drinking his wine with the other.
Elizabeth inhaled.
“Gavin, that smells so good. What can I do to help?”
“Are you sure you
want to? I don’t want to ruin your cooking embargo.”
“Ha-ha. What do you
need me to do?”
He gave her
instructions for the garlic bread, so she busied herself with
slicing the bread and preparing it. She set the table while he
tossed the bread in the oven. By then it was time to flake the
salmon and add it to the pan with the spinach and cream. He’d
already added pasta to the boiling water.
Everything was
moving along at a fast clip, just the way he liked it.
Elizabeth came up
behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “A man that cooks. I
might just never let you go. Do you hire out for
parties?”
He laid the spoon on
the stove, turned around, and kissed her thoroughly, making sure
she understood just how much he still wanted her. “Depends on the
payment plan.”
Her cheeks were
bright pink, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the
stove being hot. “Oh, I think I could definitely meet your payment
demands.”
He patted her on the
butt, and she moved out of his way while he drained the pasta and
added parsley to the salmon and spinach in the pan.
While that heated
up, he pulled the bread out of the oven, put some pasta on their
plates, and scooped the cream, spinach, and salmon on top of the
pasta, finishing it off with some fresh parsley. He brought the
plates over to the table where Elizabeth had already poured fresh
wine.
He waited while she
took the first bite. Her closed eyes and murmured sounds of
approval made him smile.
“Holy crap, Gavin.
Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be a chef? This is
fantastic.”
“Thanks. And I like
to eat but don’t always like to eat out. Told you my mom is a good
cook and insisted we learned to fend for ourselves.”
She scooped another
forkful into her mouth. More yummy sounds. He liked
that.
“Fending for
yourself is tossing a steak or burgers on the grill. This is
cuisine. Men just don’t cook like this.”
He took a bite,
enjoying her delight in his cooking. “This man does.”
She waved her fork
at him. “You are a rare breed, Gavin Riley. Don’t tell too many
women your secrets, or they’ll be lining up in droves to marry
you.”
“You think
so?”
“Hell, yes. You’re
gorgeous; you play Major League Baseball, which means you’re a
jock; you’re a millionaire; and you can cook, too? Women will
swoon. I should get media to do a photo spread of you in the
kitchen.”
He ate, watching the
wheels turn in her head. Her eyes widened, and he knew the gears
had clicked into place.
Shit.
“Oh, my God, the
exposure would be fantastic. We could do the cooking angle, maybe
get you on some of the cooking network shows, some of the morning
shows, because they eat that up. The jock who can cook.” She
grabbed a forkful of food and ate another bite.
“What else can you
cook?”
He arched a brow.
“Why?”
“Well, is it fancy
stuff like this?”
“This isn’t a fancy
meal, Elizabeth. It didn’t take long to make.”
“It doesn’t matter.
It looks fancy and it tastes incredible. So tell me what else you
can make.”
He ignored her. He
was hungry, so he finished his food, drank his wine, and ate garlic
bread, then fixed a second helping. Meanwhile, Elizabeth grabbed
her laptop and ate while simultaneously typing notes.
“What was the name
of this dish again?”
“Pan-seared salmon
with pasta and spinach cream sauce.”
She typed, then
looked over the top of her laptop at him. “Now tell me what else
you can make.”
He sighed, pushing
his plate to the side. “Pasta carbonara. Lime chicken with mango
salsa. Steak fajitas with Spanish rice. Chicken Parmesan. I make a
lot of stuff, Elizabeth. I don’t even remember half of
it.”
She was wide eyed.
“Really? This is great. We could do a cookbook. Or even a cooking
show.”
“No.”
“What?
Yes.”
“No. I don’t cook
for a living. I play baseball.”
“You could do both.
Are you kidding me? Women will go crazy over you. This will sell
tickets like nobody’s business. I’ll make you famous.”
“Me cooking will not
sell baseball tickets. That makes no sense.”
“Of course it will.
See, this is why I’m in charge of your PR and you’re not. You just
don’t get the connection.”
“Because there is no
connection. And no, I’m not going to be your cooking baseball
guy.”
“But—”
“No,
Elizabeth.”
“Gavin . .
.”
“No.”
She inhaled and let
out a huge dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
She closed the
laptop and took her dishes to the sink. Gavin sat back and finished
his glass of wine, watching her take her frustrations out on the
pots and pans.
She was cute when
she didn’t get her own way. He let her storm about the kitchen for
a while, then went in with his plate and helped her finish up the
dishes. She didn’t speak to him or look at him, which meant she was
either pissed or gearing up for round two.
“What do you do
during your off-season?”
Round
two.
“I come down here to
fish, hang out at home. See my parents. Go see some of Mick’s
games. Relax.”
She grabbed the dish
towel and dried her hands. “Cook?”
His lips lifted.
“Yeah. I cook.”
“Alone or with your
mom?”
He snorted. “I don’t
need to cook with my mom anymore, Elizabeth. I’m a big boy now and
can handle the stove all by myself.”
“Not what I meant.
Do you try out new recipes alongside your mother? Does she help
you, or do you come up with dishes on your own?”
“I spend a lot of
the off-season on my own, so yeah, I cook for myself.
Why?”
She folded the towel
and hung it on the rack. “No reason.”
No reason his ass.
But he wasn’t going to question her further because he didn’t want
to encourage her stupid notion of him and cooking and making
anything promotional out of it. Wasn’t gonna happen.
“Lizzie?”
She turned to face
him. “Yes?”
“Drop this idea. I
mean it.”
She lifted one
shoulder. “Okay. Sure. If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want. I
cook because it’s fun and relaxes me. I don’t want you exploiting
it.”
She nodded.
“Understood, Gavin.”
Somehow he didn’t
think she really understood. Elizabeth with an idea was like a dog
with a meaty bone. Once she got hold of it, nothing was going to
make her let go.
And that worried
him.