Grand Slam (The Boys of Summer 3)

“What if I want more?” she asks, grinding into me.

“Fucking, dirty vixen.”

She nods and raises her arms so I can take her shirt off. Her breasts bob up and down as she rocks against me.

“Keep your panties on, please. I don’t have much willpower when it comes to you.”

“No promises, Travis.”

I

fear that I have unleashed a horny beast by the name of Saylor, and if I’m not careful, she’s going to slay me.

Twenty-Two

Saylor

My body is sore, but not in the way you feel after a hard workout at the gym or after running a marathon. Not that I would know what the latter feels like, because I’ve never done one, but the discomfort in every muscle in my body is a stark reminder of what I did last night. What we did last night.

And I don’t regret it.

Those words are easy for me to say while I lie snuggled in his embrace. The feelings of warmth, satisfaction, and, dare I say, love keep me safe and calm in this bubble. I know that once I step outside of it, life will be different. Reality will set in, and Travis and I will have to answer the blaring question “What comes next?”

How easy would it be to fall into a blissful routine with him? Easy, that’s how. And let’s not forget dangerous. I don’t care that he’s facing this ridiculous charge of rape, which in my opinion is dragging on for far too long. The DA is hell-bent on making an example out of any sports figure he can. Anything he can do to pad his election results. At least that’s my view.

The streetlights still shine through the slats of my blinds, and the red numbers on my clock tell me that I need to get up soon. I’m already fretting about what to say to Lucy when she wakes up. She’s far too observant and has already pointed out that Travis left his coat here. I roll my eyes at the thought of having to hide him from her, knowing how she feels about him, but she’s far too young to understand adult needs and why her mommy had a sleepover.

Travis pulls me closer and snuggles into my neck. I’ve never been one to cuddle while sleeping, but being held in his arms last night was something I could see myself getting used to. I felt like he was protecting me from everything that we’re going to face, now that we’ve done this. And as much as I’d like to say this wouldn’t happen again, I’d be lying to myself. I like this man—a lot.

My fingers trail up and down his forearm as I prepare to say the words I dread. “You have to leave,” I whisper.

He groans in response before sighing. “I know, and for the record, I don’t want to. I want to get up, make my girls some breakfast—and by make, I mean order in—and sit on the couch with Lucy and watch cartoons.”

My eyes grow misty as I fight to keep the tears away. What he wants to do is my picture-perfect Saturday morning, and it’s mocking me, waving its hands to show me that it’s there, but I can’t have it. I want it and the moments that come with having a man around.

Travis must sense my anguish, because he moves me underneath him and is kissing away my fears. “We’ll be fine,” he vows, breaking me even more on the inside. How he can be so confident when his own life hangs in the balance is beyond me.

He slides out of bed and quickly starts dressing. Part of me feels dirty for ogling his butt, and instead of calling him back to bed, I get up and change into some sweats. Travis meets me at the end of my bed and gives me a searing kiss, morning breath and all, before nodding toward my door. This is the ultimate walk of shame, hiding from your five-year-old daughter.

As soon as we enter the hallway, I hear her bed squeak, and the pounding of my heart seems to echo throughout my apartment. Travis tiptoes as fast as he can out of sight, and I pray that he’s able to get out before she sees him.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Morning,” she says through a yawn. I spread my arms out for a hug, but she bypasses me and heads straight to the living room. I follow and collide with her when she stops suddenly. “Did you bring me pancakes again?”

I look up and see Travis frozen in the doorway, the hallway light illuminating him.

“What are you doing here so early?” I ask, trying to play it off.

“I…uh…”

“He forgot his coat, Mommy.”

“Yes—see, I forgot my coat last night and was coming to pick it up,” he says, stepping back into my apartment.

“But you didn’t bring pancakes?” she asks with a shrug.

“I wanted to make sure you were awake first. I didn’t want them getting cold,” he tells her.