“Take her to the locker room,” Jerry calls out. “She’s totally locker room material.”
Yup, I’m going to murder the both of them. So glad I’ve had these past few years with them, but they’re dead to me now.
Locker room material . . . could that be any more embarrassing? As I drag Carson through the throng of students in the dining hall, I briefly consider whether Carson even believes in the locker room rumor. Surely not. I’m as superstitious as they come, growing up in a prominent baseball house, superstitions are nothing to joke about, but sex in a locker room? I’m not sure I can truly believe that . . . or get on board with the idea. Not that Carson would invite me.
I’m getting way ahead of myself.
Once outside, Carson slows me down, yanks on my arm, and presses me against the brick wall of the dining hall, so we’re not in the middle of the walkway.
“That was fun,” he says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss across my lips. When he pulls away, he tugs on one of my French braids and says, “I like it when you wear your hair like this.”
I pull on the brim of his hat and say, “I like when you wear hats, because your eyes shine brightly under the brim.”
“Are we flirting with each other?” he asks, a giant grin spreading across his face.
“I think we are. Are you okay with that?”
“More than okay.” His lips connect with mine, soft and patient. There’s no aggressiveness to his kiss, not like last night when he couldn’t get enough. This go-around, he’s taking his time, exploring to the point that my muscles begin to turn into mush and my heart begins to hammer so hard in my chest that I have to pull away to catch my breath.
He keeps his head close so I can feel the smile on his lips. “You taste so good. I should have been doing this a long time ago.”
“If you did this a while ago, you never would have fixed your swing. You would have been too busy trying to count my teeth with your tongue.”
“Nah, I would have wanted to impress you. I would have fixed my swing, but I wouldn’t have parted so easily after we were done practicing.”
“Are you saying you can concentrate in the cages and not get distracted by touching me?”
“Hell yeah. When it comes to baseball, I’m all business, Coach.”
“Uh-huh,” I say skeptically. “Do you want to practice tonight?”
“Are you challenging me?”
“I might be.” I press a chaste kiss across his lips then step aside, leaving him with both hands pinned against the wall and looking over his shoulder. “Cages tonight, after your practice?”
“I’ll text you. Bring some electrolytes, we’ll be working our asses off.”
“We . . . or you?” I give him a quick wave then take off toward the main campus, but not before he calls out my name.
I turn to see him with his arms spread and a cocky grin on his face. “No goodbye kiss?”
Walking backward, I say, “You already took enough this morning. See you later, Stone.”
Pleased with myself, I pull my phone from my pocket to text my brother just as a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and spin me around.
My breath knocked from my lungs, I glance up to see Carson lowering his head to mine. Then his mouth is claiming mine in the middle of the walkway just outside the dining hall.
If anyone was questioning our relationship, they’ll have no questions now.
His mouth covers mine in hungry nips and languid strokes. My hands fall to the back of his neck as he grips the base of my spine, just above the swell of my ass. He holds me in place, groans when my tongue slips past his lips and quickly pulls away.
On my tippy-toes, I rest my forehead against his and grip his cheeks. “I’ll see you later.”
“Let me walk you to your class.”
“Don’t you need to eat and get to class yourself?”
“Nah, came to see you, and then I’m going to get a quick run in.” He releases me and slides his hand into mine. He brings our connection to his lips and presses them softly against my knuckles. “Come on.”
And just like that, Carson walks me to my class. My stomach swirls with joy and wonder that this man is completely and utterly infatuated with me. Even more incredible? Carson Stone is holding my hand. Holding my hand.
Milly: I know you can’t talk right now, but I have to tell you something.
Cory: Getting my muscles unknotted. I might cry soon. They’re using the devil’s tools on me. What’s up, sis? Did you finally finish your proposal for the boys?
Milly: No, still working on that, coming close to finishing though.
Cory: Good. Once it’s finished, send it to me and I’ll look it over. Do you need more leggings?
Milly: No! OMG, my dorm room is flooded in leggings. I have every color ever made. I’m good. Thank you.
Cory: Just making sure you’re all set. Did you get the bike shorts too? Cheryl said they’re comfy.
Milly: They’re really short, like, barely cover my butt short . . . Huh, maybe I’ll wear them today.
Cory: Please don’t be showing your ass off.
Milly: We’re getting off topic. I have something huge to tell you.
Cory: I’m all ears.
Milly: Carson kissed me last night, like a lot, and now we’re dating.
Cory: . . .
Cory: . . .
Cory: WHAT?!
Cory: Wait, seriously?
Cory: Carson, the guy you’ve pretended not to crush on kissed you? Wait . . . did he hold your hand?
Milly: He did, and I cried.
Cory: Ah, Mills. Fuck, I love you so much. I wish I could call you right now, but I’d be grunting in pain the entire time and that would be awkward. He finally got a clue and realized my sister is fucking amazing.
Milly: Honestly, I didn’t believe him at first. I was quite clueless, but yeah . . . he really likes me and has for a while now.
Cory: I have a huge smile on my face. That’s great. I’m really happy for you, and he’s a smart man for asking you out. You’re keeping things exclusive, right?
Milly: Yeah, his idea. Seems like he’s all in.
Cory: He better be. You’re a catch and he’s lucky to have you.
Milly: I’m lucky too. He’s really sweet and funny and attentive.
Cory: Damn, Mills. You’re totally crushing on him.
Milly: Guilty. I like him a lot.
Cory: I could tell when you first started working with him, but I let you figure it out on your own. I do have a serious question though.
Milly: We haven’t had sex.
Cory: That was not my question, and Jesus, don’t talk to me about that shit.
Milly: LOL. Sorry. What’s your question?
Cory: The World Series, if we were playing against each other, whose jersey would you wear?
Milly: What is with you two? He asked me a similar question but I’m not answering this one.
Cory: I demand an answer.
Milly: That’s cute . . . not going to happen.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“What?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes as I pick up a ball and toss it in my hand.
With his bat, he points at my smooth legs and says, “What the fuck are those shorts?”
“These?” I glance down at the bike shorts that barely slip past my butt and then back at him. “Cory sent me some new things. These are super comfortable. Do you not like them?” I give him a quick spin.