Releasing my hand from his grip, I glide it up his neck to his hair where I weave my fingers through the short strands and then bring his head closer so our lips barely touch.
“If it were your team against the Bobcats in the World Series, your girlfriend would be proud to wear your shirt.”
“Damn right.” He smiles right before pressing his lips to mine.
Carson’s kisses are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. They not only make my stomach somersault with excitement, but they flip a switch in my body, making every inch of my skin tingle.
He’s gentle but demanding. Soft, but hard, with the pressure he applies with his hands, his body. He doesn’t just kiss with his lips. He kisses with his entire being, pressing his hips against mine, holding me adoringly with his hands, maneuvering his tongue around mine, showing me how much he wants me.
It’s hot.
Consuming.
And I can easily see myself getting lost in his touch.
His hand falls to the juncture of my neck and shoulder where his thumb rubs across my collarbone. Featherlight strokes awaken my senses even more, igniting the many dull and lifeless parts of my body.
I deepen the kiss, pulling him even closer. Our mouths collide, our tongues dance, and the beat of our hearts hammer wildly as we kiss under the one single light of a ballpark.
I couldn’t ask for a more perfect moment.
Hand clutched to mine, Carson walks me to my car and then pushes me against the driver’s side door. We dropped his “picnic” items off at his car first so they didn’t get in the way of the make-out session. At least that’s what Carson said.
“I’ve never made out with a coach before,” he says, pinning me with his hips and moving his hands up my waist.
“Not even a little peck with Disik?”
“Pretty sure if anyone kissed that old fart bag he would disintegrate on the spot.”
“He does seem very crotchety.”
“That’s an understatement. The man is a bastard most of the time, but he makes us good, even if he can’t pick out a problem with my swing.”
“Hey”—I move my hand over Carson’s carved jaw—“it took me a bit to figure it out and reviewing a lot of video. And I was only assessing you, because it was gnawing at me. Coach Disik has a whole team to assess and train.”
“Yeah, I know. But . . .” He smirks. “When you were reviewing that video, were you thinking how hot I was the whole time?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“No,” I answer and his face falls. “Sorry to let you down but I will admit, I thought your forearms were super nice.”
“Oh yeah?” He lifts up his arm between us and starts flexing. “You like that, huh? Are you getting all hot and bothered?”
I stand there, completely deadpan, not even humoring him as he continues to flex in a bunch of different ways.
“See all that sinew firing off, probably just like the fireworks in your pants, right?”
I should be surprised by his cocky and confident attitude since he’s been pretty low-key, but I’m not in the slightest. That side of him is like every other athlete I know. I grew up with three cocky guys, Carson is no different, although his heart does seem to do a good job setting him apart.
“Wow. In the matter of a few hours you went from completely mature to a douchey college boy.”
“It’s always been there, Coach, just haven’t showed it. Now you get all of me, douchiness and all, but the whole package does include the muscles, so that’s a benefit.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He lowers his head to mine, our foreheads touching, and he whispers, “Are you always going to bust my balls?”
“Someone has to keep you in line.”
“What happened to the shy, stuttering girl who caught my attention?”
“She’s still there, but you gave her a breath of confidence today.”
His lips press lightly against mine for a second before he exhales and says, “I think we both gave each other some confidence.”
“You didn’t need any—”
“I was lost before you came along, Milly.” He grips my hip tightly. “I might seem confident, but it’s a front. You truly have changed the season for me; you’ve changed my way of play. And you never gave up on me either, with how you encouraged me and stood by my side until I started to kick ass again. You make me better.”
Carson brings both hands to my jaw and tilts my mouth to his where he leans me to the side and then captures my mouth. He clutches my jaw tighter, moving his tongue inside my mouth and as I match each stroke of his, my feelings for this man intensifying. He’s truly desperate for more, sincere with his words, and honest with expressing how much he likes me with his body.
This isn’t fake. This isn’t him putting on a show. This is Carson Stone wanting me.
Propelled by my own passion, I move my hands to the back of his neck and dig my fingertips into his hair, my heart thumping erratically, my ears hammering with the tangible bond weaving between us, and I’m catapulted into one of the most sensual experiences of my life.
Up against my car, in the dark, only the stars above us shining, I get lost in Carson Stone. Blissfully lost.
Chapter Fifty-Four
MILLY
“There’s our girl,” Jerry says, making room at the dining hall table for me. Last night, after I finally peeled my lips away from Carson’s, I sent the boys a text saying we should have breakfast together before classes to catch up. They responded with an enthusiastic yes.
I thought telling them in person about Carson and me would be more fun, especially since they’re huge fans. Just seeing their faces of shock will be worth the wait.
“Hey.” I take a seat and set my tray down. I grabbed some eggs and bacon this morning with a side of fruit, but both Jerry and Shane went with the giant cinnamon rolls. I’d been tempted, but knowing these two, they’ll give me a piece. “How was the party last night? Did it fulfill your wildest dreams?”
Shane sighs wistfully and leans back in his chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything so magical. I saw stars.”
Jerry snorts and shakes his head. “He met up with some girl last night and she gave him a hand job in one of the coat closets.”
“Eww, Shane.”
“Why ew?” he asks, offended. “It wasn’t ew; it was an act of art. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like it. The pressure this girl had and the way she played with my—”
“Spare me the details.” I glance at my eggs and opt for the bacon for a minute. I’ll get to the eggs once the image in my head disappears. “Did you even know the girl?”
“No, but I got her number and she agreed to go out on Friday.”
“What’s her name?” I ask, loving how crispy the bacon at the dining hall is.
Shane looks to the side and then leans forward, a worried look on his face. “Okay, so her name is a little odd for our age group, but I promise you, she’s our age.” Well, now he has my attention. “It’s Edith. But before you make fun of her,” I hold back my snort, “Edie has the viselike grip of a twenty-one-year-old and the lips of an angel.”