“Mildred is a little old school, but it fits you.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “Since I answered, I get to have my way with you.”

  He puffs his chest out. “My body is yours, touch whatever you want. I heard things down south are really fun to stroke if you want to start there.”

  “It’s funny how hopeful you are,” I say, even though my body is already heating from the thought of feeling how hard and big he is. I’m going to save that until I gather more courage. I start at his face and drag the tip of my finger over his scruff and along his carved jawline. “Your face is so handsome,” I say, observing the way his light blue eyes darken with my strokes. “Do you look more like your mom or your dad?”

  “Dad, but I have my mom’s eyes. She passed when I was in elementary school, but I carry her eyes with me wherever I go. It’s a constant reminder that she’s always with me.”

  If I wasn’t already seriously crushing on the man, I would be big time after that statement.

  “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine losing a parent.”

  “It was hard, especially when my dad was working double time to afford my baseball practices. I’ll always cherish the moments I had with her before she passed.” He lifts his hand to my collarbone and drags a finger along the bone, just a whisper of a touch. “Did you really never see how much I liked you?”

  I shake my head. “No, I honestly thought I was broadcasting my feelings too much and when you noticed, you’d let me down gently.”

  He chuckles. “God, you completely underestimate yourself, Milly. You have no idea the kind of power you hold over me.”

  He leans forward and presses a light kiss across my lips before pulling away and asking his next question.

  Chapter Nineteen

  CARSON

  Let’s play a touching game. It will be fun.

  We can get to know each other.

  It will be fun.

  Fuck. No.

  This is not fun.

  So far, Milly has answered one question and has touched my face, and I can already feel my dick getting hard. What the fuck is that about? She touched my face, not my pec, not my abs, not my actual dick, but just my face, and I’m already turned on.

  Then again, the minute she walked out of her bathroom, I knew I was in trouble. She might be shy and reserved, but she’s also daring and surprising, two attributes I’m really attracted to. And when she’s daring, she goes all out, meaning the booty shorts at practice and the thin camisole she’s wearing right now. I swear I can see the outline of her nipples, and I’m itching to lift that shirt up and over her head and suck each little peak into my mouth.

  Holding myself together, I take a deep breath. “What’s your favorite smell?”

  “What?” She laughs. “That’s not the kind of question I was expecting.”

  “I like to keep you on your toes.”

  “Okay, well . . .” She pauses to think about it. “Do you know what I really love? The fresh smell of rain on a ball field.” A girl after my own heart. “There’s something about it that brings back such good memories. Do you know the smell I’m talking about?”

  I nod. “Yeah, and I would have to agree with you.” I motion at my body. “Go ahead, touch away.”

  With a sly smile, she drags her finger down my face to my neck. She dances her fingertips along the soft skin and then to the hollow of my shoulder, but the entire time her eyes stay connected with mine, never once looking away. It’s not only hot and tempting; it’s forming a deeper connection between the two of us.

  “My turn,” she whispers, her leg moving closer to mine. “What’s your favorite thing to do on the Internet?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Porn.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I knew you were going to say that. Answer seriously.”

  “Uhh . . . I did.” I start to touch her but she stops me.

  “Seriously? I thought you were going to say baseball clips or something.”

  “Milly, I’m a twenty-two-year-old male who hasn’t had a girlfriend since high school. Porn is absolutely my favorite thing to do on the Internet.”

  “You haven’t had a girlfriend since high school?”

  I shake my head and move my hand over her shoulder and down her ribcage where I rest my palm against her side, my thumb falling below her breasts, where I stroke back and forth, never touching her breast.

  “When I got to college, I knew what my job entailed: earn a degree, play professionally. My dad worked his ass off to get me to where I am today, and I wasn’t going to do anything to screw that up.” I glide my fingers over her stomach and ever-so-lightly graze them up the center of her chest to her breastbone. The swell of her breasts tickles my fingers as her breathing picks up. I continue to mimic the circular motion moving down her shoulder, across her ribcage, up her stomach, over her cleavage and to her breastbone. With each pass, her eyes become heavier and heavier and her breathing becomes more labored.

  “Have you been celibate this whole time?”

  “Cute, Mills.” I glide my finger over one swell to the other. “I’ve fooled around, but nothing serious. Nothing like what I feel for you.” I draw a lazy circle over the top of her right breast. “My turn to ask a question. Have you crushed on any other Brentwood baseball players beside me?”

  “Oh yeah,” she answers without skipping a beat.

  “Ouch. And here I thought I was special.”

  “You are.” She brings her finger down my pec and circles my nipple with her thumb.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  Just like that, my cock strains against my sweats and boxer briefs, an ache starting at the base of my spine. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any sort of release with a girl. I’m not sure how long I’ll last if we keep up this game.

  Trying to take my mind off my hardening cock, I ask, “Who was it? Whose ass do I need to kick for trying to steal the attention away from me?”

  “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.

  “Ask me a question so we can move this little touching game along.” I pinch her nipple and her chest lifts off the bed, her mouth falling open in surprise.

  “Carson,” she breathes. “Play . . . nice.”

  “No way in hell. Your hand is so fucking close to my cock, teasing the shit out of me, that I’m going to make sure you get the same torturous but amazing treatment. Ask away.”

  Her smile is pained, but in a good way. “It’s actually your turn to ask me a question.”

  “Oh fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Okay, uh . . . favorite color. Go ahead, touch me.”

  She laughs and the sound hits me hard in the chest, sending a wave of heat through my bones. So sweet, so hearty, so fucking beautiful.

  “You can’t ask a simple question, it has to be thought-provoking.”

  “That’s thought-provoking,” I strain out. “So many fucking colors, so hard to answer. Take your time and feel free to use my dick as a thinking stick.”

  “You’re so ridiculous.”

  “I’m desperate,” I say, my voice cracking. “Fuck, Milly. I don’t think you have any idea how much lying next to you, practically naked, touching me, is affecting me. I’m seconds away from losing my cool and pinning you to this bed.”

  She nibbles on her lip and quietly says, “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” Her fingers move lower and connect with the head of my cock, eliciting a long, slow hiss from me.

  Holy.

  Shit.

  She touched my dick, just touched it, and now there’s a strong, forceful throb beating up and down my body.

  “Milly,” I grind out. “Answer the question.”

  Detecting the agony I’m going through, she takes her time but doesn’t leave me hanging. Her index finger makes the softest pass over the tip of my cock, back and forth, back and forth. My cock jumps and twitches under her touch, begging for more.

  “I guess you’re right, but this is a hard question to answer.”

  Her finger circles the head. And my eyes roll to the back of my head.

  “I mean, there are so many different shades.”

  Her thumb falls to the underside of my cock and very lightly presses against a throbbing vein, lowering with its length. The sensation is too fucking much as she passes over a sensitive spot, causing my hips to buck up, pressing my cock directly into her hand.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry.” Christ. My hips rock against her hand. “Shit, Mills.”

  In an instant, her fingers wrap around my length, and she squeezes so hard that I groan loudly. I’m actually nervous the other girls on the floor will think there’s a feral wolf in Milly’s room.

  “Green, I think it’s green.”

  “The fuck if I care,” I say, right before bringing my hand to her cheek and capturing her lips with mine. I crash our mouths together. There’s no finesse involved. It’s raw and not even close to pretty, but I need this woman.

  I’ve felt like I haven’t been able to have her for so long, that she was a distant dream I’d never capture and now that she’s here, that I can actually call her mine, I’m lacking coordination as my hips thrust with her hand.

  I need to slow down.

  I need to gain control over my frenzied hormones but when her hand slips to my balls and tugs on them lightly, I nearly pop straight out of my pants.

  “Fuck,” I groan while reaching down and pushing my pants and briefs to my knees, giving her better access. Still on our sides, she slows her movement and her grip, stroking me still, but torturing me with the pressure.

  I take that moment to reciprocate the favor. I glide my hands from her face down her body, to the juncture between her legs. I feel her through her panties.

  Jesus Christ. She’s really fucking wet.

  There’s no stopping me when I move her cheekies down her legs and then lift her top leg so she’s completely exposed. She holds herself there as I bring my hand to her pussy. I test her out with a light swipe across her clit and when she moans into my mouth, I bring two fingers to her sensitive nub and start playing with it, loving how turned on she is.

  She wasn’t lying.

  Together, we play with each other. Increasing speed, pressure, taking it away and keeping our mouths tied together the entire time. In tandem, we bring each other to the precipice of orgasm, our moans mixing together, our groans tangling, our pleasure wrapping into one.

  It takes seconds before both of us are clawing at each other, her hand working my cock so fast that I fear I’m going to come before her, so I slip two fingers inside her while applying pressure to her clit with my thumb. The movement has her jerking forward and her mouth falling from mine.

  Her body stiffens beneath mine, and the most beautiful moan I’ve ever heard falls past her lips. Her grip loosens on my cock for a second before she realizes I’m on the precipice of falling over with her, and then she strokes me harder than before.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Oh fuck . . .

  Three times and I’m coming, my head falling to the crook of her shoulder where I bite down on her skin, as my orgasm rips through me.

  It feels like a cannon went off in my body, and all the pent-up anger, anxiety, and nerves are released, sending me into a euphoric state, a place I never want to leave.

  When I come to, my breathing evening out, I look up at her and realize I left bite marks on her shoulder.

  “Oh fuck, Mills. I’m so sorry.”

  She smiles lazily at me, her hand still casually stroking me. “Don’t apologize, that was really hot.”

  A stupid grin passes over my lips. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, big time.” She releases me and after quickly cleaning us up with tissues, she wraps both arms around my neck. “You’re really sexy. That was really sexy.”

  “Because you turn me on so damn much.” I press a kiss against her lips and then settle in next to her, the comfortable silence between us soothing.

  It’s not weird with her, it’s not awkward. It feels completely and utterly right, like we’ve been meant to be together this entire time.

  Sighing, I press a kiss against her neck and say, “When the pizza gets here, you’re in charge of getting it.”

  “No way.” She laughs. “That’s the man’s job.”

  “What? When did you become sexist?”

  “When I can’t move my legs after you just made me come harder than any other guy.”

  I pop up on my elbow to look down at her. “Yeah? More than any other guy?”

  She rolls her eyes and brings her hand to my jaw where she cups it. “Yes, Carson. You made me come harder than any other guy . . . with only your fingers.”