Page 66 of Imperfect Player

“Not funny, sunshine. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? Dreamed of this? Jerked off to this?”

The last part throws me for a loop, but only causes my body to burn hotter. He wanted me so bad that he thought of me while he masturbated? Not porn? Not some hot, young baseball groupie? Me?

Fuck if that’s not the highest of compliments coming from a man like him.

A man that is nothing but heart and heat.

“Can we go now?”

I breathe out the words, my voice, much like my body, filled with desire.

“Your wish is my command.”

As we drive, to his place or mine, I’m not really sure, his hand rests on my thigh. It doesn’t slide up; his fingers don’t graze my soaked panties. Nothing. He just holds onto me as though to make sure I’m not going anywhere and that this whole thing is real. I feel much the same way, needing some sort of connection to tell me this is real, he’s real.

He parks the car in the garage, and I half expect him to haul me out of my seat and pull me into his lap. Instead he rounds the car, opens my door, and extends his hand for me to take.

He takes me through a private entrance, an elevator that from the few glances around that I’ve taken doesn’t have a camera in it.

Every step we take I wonder when it’s going to happen. When Ethan’s restraint will snap. I worry too that maybe he’s changed his mind and that he’s taking me to his place to break the news to me.

Our silence becomes deafening in the elevator and even more so once we’re inside his condo.

It’s clean, that’s for sure. Good job, Veronica.

“Ethan?”

His name is a question because I’m not sure what to ask or how to ask it.

“Follow me,” he says, leading the way.

The moment we step into his bedroom, everything changes.

He stalks toward me like an animal to its prey, pressing me against the wall, his body pinning me there. Strong hands capture my wrists and hold them tightly above my head as he kisses the breath out of me.

Our lips meld together, parting enough to allow him access.

The silence we’ve lived in the past thirty minutes or so is replaced with the sounds of our mutual moans as our kiss deepens, our hands search, our desire swells.

I arch into him, pressing my body further against his, begging for more. More kissing. More of him.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks from under dark, hooded eyes.

Am I sure? Can he not feel my pebbled nipples against his chest? The heat of my body that’s caused by him? The desperation for him as I grind my hips against him best I can from the position he has me in?

If only I could touch him, I could show him just how sure I am. Under his control, I can only offer him the words, “I’m sure. God, am I sure.”

No sooner do the words fall from my lips than cool, calm, collected Ethan, my friend Ethan, is gone. Standing before me now is a sexually charged man.

Effortlessly, he sweeps me off my feet, tosses me over his shoulder, and carries me to the bed. Standing at the edge of the bed, he drops me. I begin to giggle until I see the look on his face, the one where he’s staring at me like he’s a starved man and I’m about to be his first meal.

I lie before him, sprawled out, wishing to high hell that I had worn a skirt instead of these shorts.

Ethan pulls his shirt over his head and discards it on the floor. He apprises me, eyes raking over every inch of my body as he runs his finger over his lips.

“I’m going to show you how you should be treated, Everly. I’m going to worship you. Fuck you. Make you scream my name.”

Oh, Christ.

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