Page 121 of The Third Baseman

Jupiter Reeves, my first love. The man I knew for certain was my only real love; my true love.

My love, who knew me better than I knew myself; knew what I needed, what I liked. How to make my body respond in a way it never had in anyone else’s hands. Or mine.

There was no question I’d never find anyone or anything better than him.

Which was the problem.

For every single night since our first night, over the past few weeks, I’d stay awake after he’d fallen asleep. I’d stay awake and watch him sleep, watch him dream; sometimes listen to his soft snoring, and other nights listen to the conversations he’d have with himself.

But I wouldbe awake.

I would sync our breaths to rise and fall.

I would trace the constellations over his shoulders, and watch the stars shoot across his chest.

I would run my lips across his biceps, link our fingers together, and relish in his thick arms slung across my belly.

But as the night darkened and shadows appeared, I would need to push away the terror slowly taking hold of my insides at how much I wanted him. Then I would ignore the unease creeping through my bones like a dense fog at the start of a horror movie.

I would have to remember my breathing exercises; and if I was lucky, once the hours had past and the sun was getting ready to rise, I would finally fall asleep.

“Well, you can give me a special wake up tomorrow morning,” he winked, setting off a fresh flurry of ripples in my core.

“I’ll remember that when you’re snoring away,” I teased, and his eyes widened in the way that I knew I was about to get it. I held my palm up, a futile attempt to stop him. “No, Jupiter. Don’t even think about it. Do not!”

I couldn’t step back because I was already pressed hard against the door. I was trapped, and a fight was useless, but I’d try and put one up none-the-less.

“I mean it. Do…nnnaarrghh!” His thick finger found my ribcage, and tickled hard.

I was gone.

That feeling of his fingers rubbing against the delicate bones always had me wheezing with laughter like I was an eighty-year-old woman smoking sixty a day which set him off too, without fail, because our laughter was contagious, and there was nothing funnier than the two of us laughing together.

It took a minute, but I finally managed to escape his clutches when he bent over double, laughing so hard he nearly lost balance; especially when I shoved him to one side.

“Fuck, you’re so funny when you’re laughing.” He was still wheezing as he wiped away the tears streaming down his face, and stepped toward me.

“Don’t come near me!” I shouted louder than I needed to from where I was now standing, using the metal desks as protection. “You’ve lost your touching privileges.”

His bottom lips protruded like a naughty boy, but I wasn’t going to be swayed. “No, I have to get these shirts organized. If you’re going to stay in here then you need to be a minimum of six feet away, and you have to be working.”

“Oh, Doctor Matthews, you drive a hard bargain,” he grinned, but stayed where he was. “Want to bring your lab coat home and play naughty patient and doctor? I could pretend to pull my hamstring during the game tonight, and you could make it better by sucking my dick.”

I couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter, especially as it was clear he was being deadly serious. “Oh, dear God.”

He winked then held his hands up in surrender and resumed the position I’d found him in. Iknewhis feet had been on my desk. “Hey, something to think about.”

I nodded to the white wall, where the list was now extensive thanks to my daily visitors. “I created a spreadsheet to log all the phases, and where we can monitor the results. You could input the new ones; that would be helpful.”

I waited for him to answer, but when I looked up it was clear he either hadn’t heard me, or he’d chosen to ignore me. Probably the latter. “Jupiter?”

He put down his phone and whatever he’d been reading on it. “Oh, you’re serious? You want me to work on a spreadsheet?”

“Yes! Aren’t you supposed to be helping?”

“Noooo…” he drew out. “I mean, yes, but we’re back together now, and you’re doing a great job, so you don’t need my help any more. My visits to your office are purely recreational. That’s why I brought you a bagel and coffee.”

I frowned. “So you’re not going to input my data into the spreadsheet for me?”

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