23
Corey walked around the front of his truck, attempting to get to Taran’s door before she got out. Of course, she didn’t wait for him, and she was shutting her door when he finally stood beside her. The ride had been almost silent. But every time he looked her way, he saw eyes full of the questions that had been there since she opened her front door to him.
Corey needed to say a few more things, but he wasn’t sure exactly what they were. The look asked: What are we doing here? Was this more than just a quick one-off? Are we going to try to make this work? And he didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.
Corey had given her space to finish her job with the team without any unprofessionalism on account of him. She had every right to be taken seriously as a journalist, and he wanted to be someone who helped her with that goal, not someone who took it away from her. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been thinking about her.
Even on the mound, she drove his consistent pitching. In his head, pitching a good game became second to figuring out how he’d get her to spend time with him. So instead of stressing about his game, he relaxed about it. He was getting praise all over the place about how loose he was lately. However, if anyone knew that he cared less about pitching, they probably wouldn’t be praising him.
Tonight, from the moment after the game when Tillerson said Taran’s article was done, all Corey wanted was to find her. Hell, his shower and post-game interviews were almost painful; he just wanted to get to her house. He hadn’t planned to take her against the wall, but damn, that might have been the best sex he’d ever had. Still, none of that meant he had a plan of where they were going.
Back to the bedroom would be high on his list, but he meant what he said about liking her. He didn’t want this to be a sex only thing.
Beer night was an easy reason to hang out with her because the family loved Taran and she was comfortable with them. Maybe that would put them both at ease, and hopefully, it would give him some time to figure things out by letting her make some choices. Starting with the choice to join him tonight and including every move going forward.
He’d been pushing Taran without really asking her what she wanted.
So instead of just taking her hand, Corey held his out to her. Her eyes flicked from his face to his palm and back again before she linked her fingers with his. Holding her small hand shouldn’t have made his gut clench, but it did.
Her soft floral scent filled his senses. He wanted to bury his nose into her hair, the crook of her neck, run his face over her collarbones, down the valley between her breasts, rest his ear against her heart, kiss her stomach. His pulse pounded. He wanted the experiences that a quick fuck against the wall didn’t give him.
“Corey?” she asked quietly.
They hadn’t moved a step.
He swallowed thickly. “Right, we should go in.”
They moved off the circular driveway and onto the front steps. He juggled the bag in his hand as he opened the front door.
“What’s that?” Taran glanced at the brown paper bag.
“You don’t like beer.”
Her eyes flew to his face in sweet surprise.
“You told me that the day you stole my car,” he said.
The sweet smile disappeared, and a glare came back. Now it was his turn to smile. She was cute when she got all mad. She yanked her hand from his to cross her arms.
“It’s not theft if it’s forced on you.”
“Keep telling yourself that, munchkin.” He chuckled.
“You don’t need to hide tonight, Corey. You pitched well again,” Marc called from the back of the house.
“I’m not fucking hiding,” he yelled back.
“Corey!” Beth’s voice chided.
“Shit,” he mumbled, shocked he’d let that slip because he never forgot Beth’s rule. Then he looked down at Taran. “You can’t curse here. Did I tell you that last time?”
Taran shook her head. “Clayton did. Beth’s strict about it.”
Corey nodded and placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the kitchen. Her spandex white Sideline tank top stopped about two inches shy of her cutoffs, so two of his fingers once again got to touch warm, soft skin. They moved along the silky flesh, and Taran shivered.
Yeah, me too. Me too.
“I brought company,” Corey said as they passed through the archway from the foyer into the house’s open concept kitchen and living room space. Marc and Beth were standing at the island, while Danny and Will sat at the table, drinking beer.