“Well, with compliments like that, I’ll get you anything you want. Unless you want me to rub you out with my tongue. I mean . . . up to you.”

  She pushes at my chest and turns away, but I capture her beneath me and press my mouth against hers. The entire time she giggles. I can honestly say that no female giggle has ever done anything for me, but Milly? She’s . . . everything. “Same goes here, Milly.”

  She looks up at me with her sweet face. “Same goes what, Stone?”

  “Never come harder with another girl. Only you, beautiful Milly. Only you.”

  At that, she leans up, cups my cheeks, and kisses me gently.

  How the fuck did I not know this sort of happiness existed? Something tells me it’s only going to get better.

  Chapter Twenty

  MILLY

  “What the hell are you doing?” Carson’s sleepy voice breaks through the silence of the early morning. “Why are you up right now, and why am I alone in bed?” He lazily pats the mattress. “Come back to your man.”

  I glance over my shoulder to see his hair in a crazy mess and his bare torso exposed. We ended up making out a little longer after we ate pizza but left it at that. I almost expected him to want to go all the way, but I can tell he’s holding back. Not because he doesn’t find me attractive—that’s clearly not an issue with the way he reacts when I’m around—but because he’s being respectful and taking things slow, an attribute I’m not used to when it comes to guys. They always want to get the goods and the that’s about it. It’s why I’ve never really tried to have a relationship, but stuck with random one-night stands.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Why not?” He rubs the palm of his hand over his forehead and then tosses the covers off him and walks over to me. “Scoot forward.” He helps me move forward on my chair and then sits behind me, pulling me back into his warm chest. He rests his chin on my shoulder and wraps his strong, bulky arms around my mid-section. “What are you looking at?”

  My computer screen lights up the room, showing multiple links in an email.

  “Apartments.”

  “Apartments?” He kisses my shoulder, the light touch sending a wave of goose bumps over my skin. “Why are you looking at apartments?”

  “We graduate soon, and I need a place to live. I don’t want to move back home, and Cory sent me these links of apartments he thinks would be ideal for me. They’re ridiculous and completely out of my price range. He says he’s going to cover my rent, but I don’t feel right about that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, I don’t want to look like a mooch, you know? Cory worked hard for his money, and he already spoils me, more than anyone in the family. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Yeah, but aren’t you the one who helps him every off-season? Who spends hours with him training? I’m sure it’s his way of thanking you.”

  “Yeah, I guess so, still. Just seems weird. There are some reasonably priced ones too that I’ll consider. He said at least let him help me get on my feet, you know, until I get settled.”

  “He’s a good brother and I really like that he cares about you so much. Do your brothers get jealous?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “They have their own success and even though I’m not as close with them, they have each other. They’re Irish twins, only thirteen months apart, so they’ve always been attached at the hip. It’s why Cory and I are so close because we spent more time together.”

  “That makes sense.” He leans over and grabs the mouse, clicking on a high-rise that is so insanely expensive I would never consider living there. “Wow.” He chuckles, his chest rumbling against my back. “This is fancy.”

  “Yeah, it has a food service and everything. Way too much. I think this was more of a joke than him actually being serious.”

  “You should tell him you can’t imagine living anywhere else, call him on his bluff.”

  I press my head against Carson’s shoulder. “The scary thing is, if I told him I wanted to live there, he’d make it happen. He can afford it, but I’d feel so terrible. I already know when I move in he plans on furnishing the place too, so I want to keep expenses really low.”

  Carson presses another kiss against my neck. “You’re one of the good ones, Milly. There are people who’d take advantage of your brother, other siblings who’d think it wasn’t a big deal to use their sibling’s money, but not you.”

  “I don’t love him because of his money. I love him because he’s one of my best friends. I uh . . . actually told him about you.”

  “I expected you would. Did he tell you I was a douche and to stay away?”

  I chuckle and lean deeper into his embrace as he clicks on each link, checking out the approved apartment choices from Cory. “He was really happy. Asked if you held my hand. It’s a known thing among Cory and the boys, that I’m happy with having someone to hold my hand, to like me for who I am, not who some guy wants me to be.”

  “Did you tell him I’m infatuated with you? That I’m head-over-heels obsessed and not because you know how to fix any swing that comes your way, but because your slider and change-up give me a boner?”

  I jab him with my elbow in the chest and he laughs out loud. “I didn’t talk about boners with my brother, but I’m glad to know where you stand.”

  He moves his lips up my neck to the sensitive spot behind my ear, making my nipples hard in seconds. “Come on.” He slides his hand up my stomach to my breast where he cups it and passes his thumb over my hardened peaks. “You know there’s so many more layers to you that I can’t seem to stop thinking about.”

  Since his pelvis is pressed against mine, I can feel his erection poking the back of my ass, and I really love how easy it is to turn him on. It gives me a sense of power I’ve never felt before, knowing he sees me as an attractive and irresistible woman.

  I shift my backside against his length, causing him to grown, and because he instills confidence in me, I reach for the hem of my camisole and pull it up and over my head.

  He sucks in a harsh breath as I lean back and bring both of his hands to my breasts. I grip the back of his neck to keep me in place and lift up so I’m sitting on his lap, my legs spread so I’m straddling him, his hardened length right beneath me.

  “Jesus, Milly,” he groans into my ear and kisses my shoulder.

  I work my hips, grinding into him and loving the way his chest rolls against my back, how his hands seem to not function smoothly as I take over the moment. He’s slightly clumsy, lost in his lust for me, and it’s empowering. He’s a confident man, and unsurprisingly exudes prowess when it comes to the bedroom, but in the moment, when he’s turned on to this point, he loses finesse. Some might find it an unattractive quality, but I love it. It’s raw. Real. All for me.

  Wanting to try something different, I reach behind me and pull his length out of his boxer briefs so his cock is pointing straight up against his flat stomach, and then I bend slightly so my ass cheeks hug his cock. Oh God, he’s so warm. Hot against me

  He hisses as his hands leave my breasts and go straight to my hips where he moves me up and down, his groans filling the early morning quiet.

  With each pass, his grip grows tighter and tighter until he calls out my name and pumps even harder. He stills and shouts, “Fuck,” as he comes.

  Smiling to myself, I slow down. I did that. His front slumps against my back and his lips find my skin again, his breathing hard and sporadic.

  “Christ . . . Mills.” He shifts me backward on his lap so I’m completely reliant on him holding me up. He smooths his hand down my body, his lips continuing to sweep across my skin as his hand disappears under my underwear, finding my arousal. “You are so fucking perfect. You’re wet from making me come. Do you know how fucking hot that is?”

  His fingers slide past my clit and I prepare myself for a very short bout of foreplay. He’s not going to have to do much because he’s right, I did get turned on from making him come. It’s not just because he has the most gorgeously sculpted body I’ve ever seen, but because I can hear his passion for me in his groans, the way he says my name, his cursing when I touch him a certain way. It’s like he needs me to know every pressure point on his body.

  “Right there,” I moan, spreading my legs wider.

  His fingers slide easily over my clit, as I hook my feet around his calves and move my pelvis lightly up and down with his fingers, my orgasm building in my center, every last ounce of pleasure pooling in the middle. Building and building and building until I can’t hold back anymore, and my body is thrown into white-hot pleasure.

  I call out his name as my clit throbs against his fingers, soaking up every last swipe until I can’t take it anymore, and I shut my legs tightly, my body humming and quaking from how hard I just came.

  “Oh God,” I say, my voice shaking as I turn my body and curl into him.

  He kisses the top of my head and holds me close to him. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

  “Perfect,” I answer, in disbelief at how good he can make me feel in the matter of seconds.

  This isn’t just a passionate romp with a guy I like, this is something deeper. Our connection dives way past the surface and is going past layers to the very core of our souls.

  It’s early in our relationship, but it feels like I’ve known him forever.

  It feels like Carson could possibly be my forever.

  * * *

  I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous, which is so weird because my entire life has been surrounded by guys. Brothers, friends, my dad . . . so hanging out with a bunch of baseball players should be a breeze, but for some reason, as I walk toward the baseball loft door, I feel like throwing up.

  I worked with Carson in the cages early this morning, and he asked if I wanted to come over to his place after practice for dinner. The guys were grilling burgers and apparently Jason Orson made his famous potato salad, and it’s something I can’t possibly miss out on.

  It was cute, he was nervous asking me, as if I was going to turn him down.

  I could never turn down that smile.

  I finished my last final today. Yeah, school is over. School has been my life for so many years, that it feels surreal, weird, to know that I’m done. Now it’s time to move forward with my life, my time to find my niche in the world. I’m lucky, because I don’t feel pressure from my parents, but I’m excited to start work. When I get a job . . . I have another week in the dorms though thankfully, so it doesn’t feel completely real yet. And now I’m heading to my boyfriend’s place. Another thing that is surreal. I spent a good amount of time trying to figure out what to wear. I even FaceTimed with Cory and asked him for advice. He made me take him through my closet and show him what I have, which then made him text Cheryl to get me more date clothes. I begged him not to spend more money on me but as he put it, what’s done is done.

  We wound up picking out a pair of denim shorts he got me a while ago that I’ve never worn because they seemed a little short, but he told me they were fine. I paired the shorts with a Bobbies tank top because Brentwood is the Bobcats as well, so it works out, and I wanted to still feel comfortable. I French-braided my hair, put on some mascara, topped the outfit off with my glasses and a pair of sandals, and called it a day. It’s nothing special, and I’m sure any other girl would be decked out when going to hang out at the baseball loft, but that’s not me and it’s not the girl Carson fell for, so I kept it simple.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk up to the big medal sliding door of the loft and knock. From the other side, I can hear a bunch of male voices shout, “She’s here, she’s here. Carson, your girl is here.”

  Oh Jesus, they sound way too excited, which makes me even more nervous.

  I twist my hands together, trying not to puke, but the minute the door opens and Carson’s there on the other side in a Brentwood baseball shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, my nerves fall to the wayside and my heart pounds rapidly from the sight of him.

  Wet hair and a lazy smile; it’s everything I could ask for.

  “Hey Coach,” he says, his voice deep and sexy. Taking me by the hand, he pulls me into the loft, shuts the door, and lifts my chin where he plants a wet and long kiss on my lips. My hand instinctively goes to the back of his neck for support just as the guys behind him hoot and holler.

  Carson peels his lips away and presses his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry in advance for any stupid things my teammates say.”

  “I won’t hold it against you.”

  With my hand in his, he turns around and reveals the Brentwood baseball team with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and mushy looks on their faces. They make a collective aw, and there’s no question that my cheeks are bright red.

  Sounding embarrassed as well, Carson ruffles his hair and says, “Guys, this is Milly. My girlfriend. Milly, the team.”

  “Hi, Milly,” they say in unison, as if they’ve been practicing all day.

  I give them a curt wave and try not to freak out. These guys might be Carson’s boys, but they’re also Brentwood’s finest, a whole lot of talent in one room and even though I’m trying to act cool, my little baseball heart is wild with excitement.

  Jason Orson, Brock Romero, Gunner Klein—all three top prospects for the draft this year along with Carson, who’s been rumored to sign with Chicago. There’s a whole new class of major league ballplayers right in front of me. It’s unreal.

  “Look at her, she’s in shock. Too many muscles in one room, huh?” Brock “Romeo” says.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Carson responds, taking me by the hand around the loft, the entire team with their eyes glued to us.

  “They’re so cute,” someone says.

  “Match made in heaven.”

  “Total locker room material.”

  I snort at that just as Carson pulls me into his room and shuts the door. He lets out a deep breath and says, “That could have been worse.”

  “It wasn’t bad.”

  “Really?” His brow shoots up to his hairline. “Because your face is bright red right now.”

  My hands go to my cheeks and I can feel how hot they are. “Oh God, are they blotchy too?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Just red. Please tell me you’re blushing because of the talent in the room, not because you find them all wildly attractive and you’re deciding who you’re going to leave me for.”

  My lip curls to the side. “Please, you’re easily the hottest guy in the loft.”

  “Your flattery doesn’t go unappreciated.” He leans down and kisses me. “So, it’s the talent?”

  “I mean . . .” I bite my lip and then gush. “It’s incredible. Do you know the kind of draft class you guys have this year? We’re talking first-round picks for everyone. Scouts have been saying this is by far the most talented and impressive draft class they’ve seen in years.”

  Chuckling, he wraps his arms around me and says, “You’re such a baseball nerd, and I fucking love it.”

  He leans down to kiss me when his door opens wide and Jason stands in the doorway, an apron draped over his large shoulders and a wooden spoon in the other hand. “Dude, the potato salad is ready. No sexuals before you eat.”

  “Don’t fucking say sexuals,” Carson responds before moving us back into the living room.

  The gawking men have dispersed, as they’re all grabbing plates of food around the kitchen island and I have to admit, I’m impressed.

  For some reason, when Carson said they were grilling out, I expected a bunch of burgers stacked on a plate and some potato salad in a tub, but they have proven me wrong. To the right of the kitchen is a burger bar, full of fixings like bacon, lettuce, tomato, onion rings, and every condiment you could think of with a variety of buns as well. On the island, there is a large bowl of potato salad, fruit salad, four different kinds of chips, a pickle platter—what—and a giant bowl of . . .

  “Is that a vat of M&M’s?”

  Carson presses a kiss to my head and says, “That was my contribution. Mostly caramel, but I threw in some other flavors for the guys.”

  “You’re too cute. And what’s with the pickle platter?” There are at least ten jars of pickles sorted and fanned out on a giant platter, the prettiest thing on the island for sure—my apologies to Jason’s potato salad.

  He rolls his eyes and grabs plates for us. “Pickles are a serious thing on the team. There’s an ongoing argument about what kind of pickle is best. We are usually a cohesive unit but when it comes to pickles, we’re divided. I’m a sweet pickle kind of guy, but then you have the dills, the bread and butters, and the Polish kosher. So instead of fighting, we always make a giant platter so everyone is happy. Freshman are always in charge of the pickles and there must be equal representation of every kind.”

  I can’t help it, I laugh out loud. “I think that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Trust me, I agree, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more passionate fight on the team than when we start talking about pickles. It’s best you just take a sweet pickle and be done with it.”

  “A sweet pickle? Why would I do that?”

  “Because it’s my favorite,” he says, picking one up and putting it on my plate.

  “But I don’t like sweet pickles.”

  The room falls silent and Carson squeezes his eyes shut before mumbling something under his breath.

  Out of nowhere, Romeo pokes his head around us and says, “Did I just hear that right, Stone? Your girl doesn’t like sweet pickles?”

  Jason pops up from across the island. Was he lying on the floor? Where the hell did he come from?

  “Did you hear that, boys?” he shouts. “Milly doesn’t like sweet pickles.”

  From the corner of his mouth, Carson asks, “What have you done?”

  I just opened a can of worms for Carson and even though I try hard, I can’t tamp down the smile that crosses my face.

  Gunner hops up on the counter and holds a large serving spoon and quiets down the ruckus that was created from Jason and Romeo. “Boys, listen up. We have a new pickle opinion, and looks like there’s trouble in paradise because it doesn’t match the betrothed.”