Page 33 of The Run Home
I leaned down so that we were breathing the same air. “You want a man to fuck you ’til you claw at his back and scream for your maker, and then leave you alone the next day?”
Her breasts pressed against my torso as her breathing picked up. Her eyelids drooped just the tiniest bit. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but I’d made a habit of studying this woman from the time we were children. Her head tipped back even further, her long, thick hair falling down her back. Iwanted to wrap it around my fist and kiss the bad attitude right out of her until she forgot about this stupid hookup app.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”
Fuck me, her voice had gone as hot as her eyes, the velvet tone one reserved for lovers huddled under the blankets together, nothing but miles of naked skin.
I didn’t actually make a conscious decision to move, but I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I had her pressed up against the whiteboard behind her, my leg wedged between her thighs. My hands gripped her hips. I felt the puff of air that was pushed out of her lungs. I ate it up like she provided the very oxygen I needed to live.
There was nowhere for her to escape. Every inch of her curves was pressed into me, the heat of her pussy riding my leg like she could use it to get off in just a few seconds flat. She was so fuckin’ pretty, and smart, anddifferentthan any woman I’d ever dated. I wanted to see her hair disheveled and her glasses askew and her fucking sweater destroyed.
By me. No one else.
I leaned down, my lips just barely brushing across hers in a kiss so light it could have been imagined, heart thundering in my chest as I finally let myself taste Shae Fletcher. And then we both heard a shout in the hallway. I blinked again and everything came back to me. Where we were.Whowe were.
I reared back enough to see her eyes gone wide, the heat blanketed by fear of discovery. Hell, maybe fear of me. I squeezed her hips one last time, knowing this was not the time nor place.
My voice was strangled, coming out low and more dangerous-sounding than I wanted. But she had to know clearly what I was offering. “If you want that one thing, lovebug, you come tome.”
And then I let her go, stepping back, adjusting the hard-on that had no place on school grounds, and walking out of her classroom. Students were starting to flood the hallways as the period ended, roughhousing and generally being loud and obnoxious as they let off steam before sitting in yet another classroom to end their day. I, too, needed to let off some steam, so I headed for the place that had always felt like home: the baseball field.
Blueball High splurged for a pitching machine this year, mostly because I put up the funding. I got the beast set up, took some practice swings with my favorite bat, and let the balls fly. Every ping of the bat and arc of the ball headed to the outfield soothed something in my chest. Every twist of my torso and scream of my bad shoulder brought me clarity.
I fuckin’ wanted Shae.
I’d gone through the whole bucket of balls by the time the last period was through and my players started showing up, dressed out in their practice uniforms. I stopped the machine and nearly groaned aloud at the balls I now had to go collect. I’d never had to fetch my own batting practice balls when I was a professional athlete. Maybe the cleanup would be a good exercise. Mom was always saying I could do with a little humility.
Except I’d only collected a few of the balls when I saw my daughter in between the weight room and the baseball field. Talking to Tatum. And based on the blush on her cheeks and the way Tatum had his chest puffed out, this was more than talking. The captain of my baseball team was flirting with my daughter.
Oh, hell no.
I dropped the balls and stormed off in their direction. Kinsley saw me over Tatum’s shoulder and hightailed it to the safety of the weight room where she should have been. Tatum spun toward me and tried to pretend like nothing happened.
“Looks like you got a lot of time and energy on your hands, Tatum,” I snapped. His expression soon changed to terror.That’s right, motherfucker. I saw you.
“Yes, sir?”
I tilted my head toward the field. “Go pick up all the balls and make sure you get to the weight room on time.” I looked at my watch. “You have eight minutes, so I suggest you run.”
His eyes went wide, but he darted off, already faster than me, which pissed me off too. I whistled and waved for the rest of the team to follow me to the weight room where we’d be paired up with the girls’ volleyball team for training before our official practice. The mood was somber all the way around.
Tatum, red-faced and sweaty, slid into the weight room with only seconds to spare. Shae narrowed her eyes at me, then Tatum, then Kinsley as she helped a couple pairs set up their deadlifting station. I didn’t look at any of them. I couldn’t look at Tatum without wanting to shake him. Couldn’t look at my daughter without seeing the sweet, innocent baby she’d once been. Couldn’t look at Shae without wanting to drag her out of this room and press her up against the wall until she confessed she wanted me in return.
And apparently, I took out my bad mood on the kids because the second the hour was up and the kids filed out of the weight room, Shae spun around, hands on her hips, scowl at the ready.
“What bug crawled up your arse and died, bat boy?”
I scoffed, picking up a water bottle someone had left. When I straightened, she was standing right there. Way too close for how I felt right now. It annoyed me that she seemed completely fine after our moment in her classroom. Had I read everything wrong? Did she not find me attractive enough to scratch the itch she clearly had that sent her to a fuckin’ hookup app?
“Seriously, you were pretty hard on Tatum. Any particular reason why?”
I ground my molars together and tried to breathe out my frustration. “He was flirting with Kinsley.”
Shae’s lips wobbled and then she laughed. Fuckinglaughed.
“I’m glad this is hilarious to you.”
She sobered, giving me a look that told me she thought I was ridiculous. “Tatum’s a good kid, Boon. Kinsley is seventeen.”
