Grand Slam (The Boys of Summer 3)

Her fingers are in my hair while I grind against her. She pushes down on me, and I moan. When she whimpers, I thrust my hips, dry humping the fuck out of her so she doesn’t forget about me when she’s sleeping tonight.

“Fuck, Saylor, I want you so bad.” She tightens her legs around my hips, using her crossed ankles to push me harder into her. Her head falls back, giving me access to her neck. With each bite and kiss I place, she mewls louder, and her hips buck. She needs this as much as I do.

The slamming of the door has her squirming out of my hold and both of us in a panic. I turn, angling my body to protect her as I face the newest visitor. It’s the off-season, and hardly any of the players are in town, which is why I came here today. I wanted to be alone and not have to answer questions from my peers.

“Kidd,” Wes Wilson, the manager of the Renegades, says as he comes around the corner. I hide my bloodied hand behind me and use it to continue to touch Saylor.

“Hey, Skipper. Didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Wilson came on last year, about midseason, after our manager suddenly retired. I’ve never had any issues with him, but I have a feeling that is about to change. He’s angling his body, trying to see past my shoulder to find out who is hiding behind me. Thing is, if he wants to know that bad, he’s going to have to come and force me to move. Embarrassing Saylor isn’t high on my priority list. She may be willing to fight the pull that we have toward each other, but I’m not.

“Vacation was cut short.”

I nod, understanding exactly what he means. He’s here because of me. I open my mouth to tell him I’m sorry, but I don’t want it to be an invitation to stay and talk. He takes my silence as his cue to leave.

“We have a meeting in thirty. Make sure your plaything is gone.”

My blood boils at his comment calling Saylor a plaything. She’s anything but, except she won’t see it like that. Not now. If I made any progress with her, it’s disappeared. I wait until the door closes again before walking around the corner to make sure he’s gone.

“The coast is clear,” I tell her, coming back around the corner. She’s fixing her hair, even though she didn’t need to. That’s a part of her that I hadn’t gotten to yet because I was too consumed with kissing her and feeling her rub against my dick to even put my hands in her hair. Next time, though.

Saylor brushes past me without

making eye contact; I reach for her, grabbing her wrist as she walks by. She stops, keeping her back to me.

“Saylor.”

“That was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I counter, trying to keep my voice from carrying. “Look at me, please.”

She shakes her head and pulls her arm from my grasp. “I came here to tell you that we were meeting with Wilson and Stone. What we did—”

“What we did was perfect. I don’t know why you keep fighting it.”

Saylor turns and looks at me, her eyes cold and her stance rigid. “There’s nothing to fight. I won’t lie and tell you that I’m not attracted to you. I am, but I shouldn’t act on it. It’s unprofessional, and you’re…” She takes a deep breath. “You’re Travis Kidd, and that is enough to make me run the other way.”

Before I can rebut anything she’s said, she’s gone, and the door is slamming, leaving me alone with my thoughts, with a bloodied hand and a hole in the wall.

Defeated, I hang my head and ask myself what the fuck is going on with my life. Up until the other day, my biggest worry was finding a place to eat dinner while my housekeeper is on vacation. And now? Maybe I should run off to Florida and bask in the sun. Live like a bum on the beach and hide from everyone. I’m not under arrest, so technically I can leave, but what does that do? It makes me look guilty as fuck, and I’m not.

After a quick shower, a shitty hand job to ease the tension left over from my make-out session with Saylor, and a half-assed wrapped bandage on my hand, I find myself sitting at a long table with the Renegades general manager Ryan Stone, Wilson, Saylor, and Irvin. I have a team of legal beavers, all meant to protect me from people who want to take advantage, and yet here I am.

“Now that Travis is here, we can get started,” Saylor says. I’m hoping that she’ll look at me, but she doesn’t. Her eyes are focused on Stone and Wilson. “We think it’s best that Travis make some special appearances. I’ve gone through a few of the events coming up in the area and am confident that I’ll be able to secure him an invite.”

“Even with the news that more women are coming forward?” Wilson asks. I liked him up until now, and now I want to smash his smug face into the table.

“Mr. Wilson—”

“Hold up,” I say, interrupting Irvin. I adjust in my seat to face Wilson, making sure he knows I’m speaking to him. “This accusation is only that. A made-up fucking story because I didn’t want to take her home the other night. I never touched her in any inappropriate manner whatsoever. I rebuffed her, and she got pissed. And suddenly there are all these other women supposedly coming forward? Why now? I’ve never had to beg for sex.” Everything I’ve said is true, minus the begging part. I’d get down on my knees and crawl if that’s what it took to get Saylor back into bed with me.

The room grows quiet, and I like that I’ve stunned everyone. I fiddle with the pen in front of me, pushing the top up and down. The clicking is annoying, but I don’t care. Right now it’s soothing.

“Saylor, you were saying?” Stone says, breaking the silence.

She clears her throat. “Obviously, my plan will change if the DNA test comes back positive, but I don’t believe it will.”

I glance up immediately and find her looking at me. I try to smile but fear it’s more like a grimace than anything. She believes me, and I wonder if she’ll ever know how much that means to me.