Page 80 of Imperfect Player

I do it again. And again. I set the pace, my body backing against his as his fingers torture my nipples.

My breaths come out in pants. My body tenses, my pussy tightens. I claw at the glass as my orgasm hits me, wave after wave.

“Holy fuck,” Ethan cries out.

Even through the condom, I can fill the warmth of his cum fill me.

His head falls to my back as he feathers kisses along my spine.

“Time to hit the showers,” he says as he pulls out of me.

Scooping me in his arms, he carries me to the bathroom and sets me on the counter so he can turn on the water.

Hand extended to me, he says, “Join me?”

As if I could ever say no to him.

Chapter 22

Ethan

The room smells of vanilla. Like her.

I roll over, my arm draping over Everly, and I smile.

Yesterday’s events are as fresh in my mind as the scent of vanilla in the room. Every glorious moment.

Having her here is helping to keep the bad moments at bay. My father being here. Him telling me I have a brother. The drinking.

As much as I hate that she saw me like that, I needed her more. The alcohol wasn’t enough; it wasn’t doing the trick. Everly did, though. Fuck did she ever.

The things we did, the way I spoke to her. Dirty sex is great, and while I’d want to get us there at some point, last night may have been a little soon. Enough so that I know in my heart I would never have done or said those things to her had I not been drinking.

The recollection of how much she enjoyed it though does put a smile on my face.

“Want to talk about it?” she asks.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” I admit, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“I was just enjoying being here with you. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay.”

“So? Do you?”

“Do I what?”

Avoidance is key when it comes to my past—my drinking.

“Do you want to talk about whatever you were trying to drink away?”

“Why do you assume that I was trying to drink something away?” I ask.

I ask the question as if her suggestion is absurd when it’s actually spot on. The fact that she can see through me, read me, is fucking terrifying. Something I’m not ready for.

“The man who opened the door last night was not the same man that kissed me at the batting cages.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, sunshine, but that was very much me.”

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