There were a lot of things on my mind when I came home tonight.
There was the fact that I lost my first start of the season. And I didn’t just lose. I gave up eight runs in one inning. I couldn’t get out of the fifth inning. I wound up getting pulled early, and my teammates avoided looking at me for fear of catching the yips.
I had to grit my teeth and bear the media crowding around me directly after the game, the ones who particularly hated me almost grinning as they asked me what happened to cause such an “epic disaster.”
I had to sit there, staying outwardly calm as I gave them the usual canned replies.
Bad games happen.
It was a bad performance.
No excuses. Next time.
Those were the answers I stuck to, because I couldn’t say anything resembling the truth. Not that I wanted to confess that a woman – a damned near stranger – had weaseled her way into my head and for once, I couldn’t manage to get her out. I couldn’t say that I spent the game hating the fact that I had to go home to her, because she was finally moving in with me tonight.
It was bad enough without a reporter asking me about the Lillards.
“Do you think you’re finally feeling the effects of losing the mother figure in your life? My condolences by the way.”
Yeah.
Your condolences my ass.
There was a lot to be pissed about when I got home today, and that wasn’t even counting Iain’s texts to rush home to Evie’s bullshit. It wasn’t counting the soreness in my muscles. The aching in my bones. The bruise on my shoulder from getting hit by a line drive.
I was in bad shape, both physically and mentally, and I was convinced tonight would be the night that I quit on this contract by kicking her ass out.
But now I sensed I’d be breaking this contract in a different way. Because while I prided myself on having no limits, I’d apparently found my first one.
Resisting this damned woman.
“Drew, what...”
The shocked words barely made it out of those lips. Those pouty fucking lips.
They were pink and swollen, frozen in a little “o” as Evie watched me reach under my sweats, gripping the hard base of my dick. Her mouth fell open as I flipped my erection onto my abs, tucking the pulsing tip under the waistband of my boxers.
I knew she’d been seconds from blowing up at me, but once she realized I was just adjusting my hard-on, she somewhat relaxed.
Key word: somewhat.
“Figured you didn’t want a tent pitched in your face.”
“No, yeah.” Her lashes fluttered as she spoke fast. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
“You should probably stop that now,” I muttered since her hands were still pressed flat on my thighs, not far from where my cock was swelling fully hard.
It was begging for attention by now. Thanks to the game, I’d neglected it all day. And now that I was sitting here, hard as a rock with Evie kneeling at my feet, I couldn’t wait a second longer.
My jaw tightened when she finally dropped her hands from my thighs.
“You should probably go upstairs now, too,” I said, unapologetic as I stroked my cock over my sweats. I wet my lips as her gaze dropped like a brick.
Goddamn. Her eyes glimmered as they traced every inch of my erection, and I swear I watched those pink lips get even pinker and plumper, like they were just waiting to wrap themselves around the swollen tip.
Come on, baby girl. Suck on it.
Give it a little lick.