Home Plate (Easton U Pirates 2)

When I heard a quiet knock, I stiffened. “Yeah?”

Girard pushed through the door, concern in his features, and I wanted to swipe the pity right off his stupid, gorgeous face. “Just checking on you.”

“What for?” I snapped. “Don’t worry, I don’t even have a buzz going on.”

In fact, coming up here had pretty much sobered me. And besides, two beers didn’t do much after years of partying with these guys. I straightened to prove my point, then balled my fists to keep them from trembling. Yeah, I was a piece of work.

He quietly shut the door and came up behind me, and I trembled. “I know you’re hurting. You’re just pretending you’re not.”

I held my breath and shook my head, attempting to ward him off.

I needed him to leave. I desperately wanted him to stay.

So when I felt his hand slide over my forearm, I held back a sigh from the warm, firm contact.

No way could I let him see me like…this…this wounded version of myself.

“I told you not to touch me,” I said in a strangled voice as a mix of emotions rose to the surface and began twisting inside me like a cyclone. Next thing I knew, I was shrugging him off and turning, my arms flailing in an effort to push him away or maybe cuff him, or who the hell knew what. My limbs were operating on autopilot, but they weren’t very good at making any contact.

Or Girard was just too quick on his feet. He forced me back with a little shove, and I stumbled over my own two feet and fell against the bed, still trying to get my body and my head to cooperate.

“Not gonna let you give me another bloody nose, accidental or not.”

“Whatever. Screw you.” I faltered briefly, feeling that same guilt from last year wash over me. That allowed him the time to pin my wrists against the pillows, just in case I decided to clock him good. And maybe I would’ve if I had my faculties together.

I struggled against him, and he straddled my thighs and looked down at me in anger and disbelief, his heavy breaths washing over my skin and making me shiver.

I noted his plump lips and wondered if they’d be as soft as pillows against mine. That only served to make my jeans feel tighter.

“I hate you,” I muttered under my breath.

“Yeah? Well, maybe I hate you too,” Girard said, and it felt like he’d poured salt into my open wounds. I shut my eyes, trying to rein in all the sensations pelting my body.

I growled in frustration at my body’s reaction to him, overwhelming feelings bombarding me at once, fury and pain and bald affection for this guy who’d turned my every fucking fantasy—and nightmare—upside down.

“If you keep touching me like this, I’ll…” I trailed off, averting my eyes. What was I even saying?

“You’ll what?” Girard bit out.

“I’ll…die,” I whispered. No. I absolutely did not say that aloud. But when his gaze softened, I knew I definitely had. Fuck my life.

“You’ll die?” His fingers reached down to gently push my bangs out of my eyes, and I nearly melted into the bed. “Unless I’m reading you wrong, you’re starving for it.”

“Starving, my ass.” My defenses shot way up again as I struggled against him, my arm now loose but feeling too heavy, like all the blood in my body had rushed to my groin because of the solid pressure of his warm thighs against me. Too warm.

“Yeah, starving, same as me,” he replied, easily able to grasp my wrist again. I went completely still. “Dying for your touch too.”

I whimpered. Actually fucking whimpered. “It’s too much.”

“What’s too much?”

“You, so close. I can’t do this…we can’t…”

He leaned closer. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

My gaze swung toward the door. “The team could find out.”

“Unlikely. And if they do, so what?”

“I’m not ready for any of that.” I glanced at the point where our hips made contact. Or any of this.

“We can deal with it, together.”

I shook my head almost violently, trying to thrust his words away even though I liked the sentiment behind them. And then another thought seized my chest. “My dad could find out.”

“And?” he asked.

“I’d probably be even more of an afterthought.”

When his face fell, I squeezed my eyes shut, frustration welling up again from a deep, dark place inside me.

“Don’t you pity me,” I growled. “Mr. Perfect Family. No doubt, they’d totally still accept you.”

“I can only hope, but I’m afraid too.” His voice sounded vulnerable, and when our eyes latched, I felt that reedy thread of connection between us again. Thin but getting stronger by the second. “But this is just you and me right now. Nobody has to know. We’re just figuring stuff out.”

“No…I can’t.”

“Yeah, okay, but I think your dick says different.” Girard started to pull back, but I gripped his thigh, keeping him in place.