The Sweet Spot

CHAPTER 6

WHILE IN CLEVELAND, Chase called Amanda every day. When she was too busy to talk, he also began to text. He sent a random stream of amusing anecdotes about his travels or questions about how her day was going. His texts were playful but benign, no requests for sexting or even a hint of impropriety. But before her day was over, without fail, the same text arrived, often right before she got into bed: “Sleep well, angel, miss you.”

She spent all her free time researching him. As soon as she entered his name in her browser’s search engine, she had a plethora of ways to peek into his world. Countless glimpses into his history and his lifestyle were made available with a single keystroke. Like her, Chase was an only child, which seemed unusual for a farmer’s son, unlike her upbringing, which Amanda had surmised was a case of two career-driven people who thought procreation was expected of them, at least once. Upon further investigation, she uncovered that while he was growing up, his parents ran free summer camps out of their farm for urban youth designed to introduce them to animals and teach them about agriculture. They took in foster children and sponsored local athletic programs. His mother won national awards for her volunteer work. On his own, he was charitable almost to a fault, his focus mostly on family issues; literacy, terminally ill children, and wounded veterans in particular. There were no stories of mayhem or debauchery, no reports of him partying too hard or getting into bar fights. He was never busted for drunk driving or trashing a hotel room. He had no axes to grind with other baseball players or team management or celebrities. As far as Amanda could tell, Chase Walker appeared to be the offspring of Gandhi and Mother Teresa.

It was maddening. The flaw had to be somewhere. It seemed silly to take comfort in thinking that maybe he was a Satan worshipper or spent his off-season participating in human sacrifices.

He did seem to like his women, though, and there were plenty of pictures to prove it. She scrolled through hundreds of photos posted to the web. There were dozens of him with the actress she already knew about, but there were also ones with pop stars, models, and baseball fans, his arm always curled around their waists and his smile a clear indicator that he didn’t mind the closeness. And at the end of that arm was the same hand that had held hers when they danced and brushed against her cheek.

It was terribly disconcerting that she did mind. As the days wore on and she continued to peruse the women he’d dated, Amanda realized that she minded very much. Maybe that was it? He really was a womanizer who collected orgasms like he did awards. But while he had all the makings of a playboy, it was completely contradictory. He was just too attentive and accessible. That could be his modus operandi; shower with attention until the mission is accomplished, then on to the next conquest. And then she thought that maybe it would be best if she got her fling over with so she could be free of him. Amanda did have several casual hookups on her sexual resume, the result of her being single-minded on the success of the Cold Creek and unwilling to commit to potential long-term boyfriends who were too eager to give her unsolicited business advice. When she was first starting out, it was easy to shake her. She was too strong in her business decisions now to ever consider a man’s opinion a challenge, and had several failed relationships to prove it. But she had made an error. She should’ve had her one-night stand that first night, before he started turning on the charm. When he stopped doing all the little things that had romance written all over them she knew the outcome wouldn’t be the same. And overruling all logical thought was, she wanted to try out his kiss again. She got the distinct impression that letting Chase have her body would result in her wanting him to have her heart and soul, and that was a losing proposition.

As she continued to browse and discover, she began to conjure mental images of Chase seducing and deflowering virgins and swinging from the rafters with prostitutes, all with Earth, Wind & Fire playing in the background. Jealousy mounted and then turned irrational. By the time he surprised her and showed up on his way to the stadium before his Friday-night home game, unwilling to wait until after it to see her, she didn’t know whether to throw herself into his arms or slug him.

Because the restaurant was already open and there were witnesses around, she refrained from doing either.

“If you’re in this to add me to a list of conquests, turn around and leave right now,” she hissed quietly at him from across the podium where she was standing as soon as he walked in.

He looked momentarily shocked, and then the smile appeared.

“Either you’ve been doing some homework while I was gone or your workstation is the portal to hell.” He chuckled, delighted by her outburst. “You get pretty brazen behind that thing.”

He got as close as he could to her, much closer than the last time he did it with the podium still between them. “Over the years, I’ve gotten very good at reading signs. You sound jealous, and I think it’s adorable,” he whispered, then pulled back enough for her to see him raising both his eyebrows, daring her to dispute it.

She didn’t answer him because she didn’t know how, and he had just prevented her from making a scene. She did sound jealous, because she was. It was unsettling, having to acknowledge that whenever she was in his presence, she was so willing to forsake her good manners and instead become bitchy and shrewlike. Since meeting him, she had slowly become a walking contradiction. One she had moved to blaming on that first kiss, which still made her tingle. Why was she so dead-set denying the attraction to him? Maybe it was time to just sit back and enjoy the attention, but be mindful that it was most likely temporary. If promiscuity was his flaw, it was sure to show itself. And if she didn’t just hop into bed with him, it was likely to show itself sooner rather than later. He had already wedged himself into her life.

“I can’t keep fighting you, Chase, but I’m scared to death you’re going to use me,” she said, finally blurting out the confession.

He straightened back up and looked down at her from across the podium, shaking his head. “What’s it going to take for me to prove to you I’m not that guy? I think I’m in this one for the long haul.”

He had already proven it, in every conversation they’d had and every overture he’d made. She glanced past him and saw a party of four waiting patiently to be seated. She could tell they knew exactly who he was, with only having the back of him to go by. She saw the two camera phones ready for when he turned around.

“I need to go slow,” she murmured.

“However long it takes,” he promised.

“Will you be back after your game?”

He merely smiled before turning and getting ready to have his picture taken. “Silly question.”

THEY BEGAN DATING AND THE game changed. She dropped the attitude and focused on enjoying his company. That following Monday and Tuesday, she tagged along with Chase on some of his routine. She went with him to the gym, and won what she secretly named “the eye-candy sweepstakes.” Chase’s friend Logan Montgomery was also his personal trainer. She used a treadmill while the pair worked out in Logan’s private Englewood facility, and she tried to keep from ogling the men as they pumped iron. Not that the beautiful Logan could hold a candle to Chase’s rugged athleticism. But it couldn’t be denied, the view was spectacular. It also confirmed that he really was strong enough to hold her over his head. Chase knew how to beast up a weight bench. The only way it could’ve gotten any better was if the whole workout was done with both of them naked; however, seeing them in shorts and T-shirts gave her imagination a good sweat.

She went with him to his games Monday and Tuesday night. She had her picture taken from yards away by questionable-looking characters while he was on the field. He answered a question at his postgame about whether they were an item with a boyish “Yep.” He picked her up early before his Tuesday-night game and took her on a road trip to nowhere, just drove a few hours in a random direction to check out weird stuff, then turn around and headed back, the GPS at the ready if needed. She enjoyed that for all sorts of reasons. At sixty miles an hour, she had him all to herself since he shut off his phone. And he wasn’t able to concentrate on giving her all the looks that made her question her ability to keep her hands off him. She wasn’t going to be able to hold him off much longer. She was losing all her motivation to try. She wanted to make out. A moving car gave her an advantage, but only a slight one. Because as he drove, he touched her always, mostly stroking her forearm with his free hand, sometimes taking her hand and lightly playing with her thumb. If he was able to incorporate the look into that, she’d be hard-pressed not to start ripping his clothes off. By the time they got to the stadium for Tuesday night’s game, Amanda had determined that the next overture he made, she was taking him up on it.

She loved to watch him play; he was larger than life. As soon as he stepped onto the field, the fashionable, polished luminary celebrated his truest essence. Not an act, but the ultimate extension of everything he was, minus the baggage of being a role model. He played hard but he wasn’t intense. He didn’t punch or throw things, never mouthed an obscenity or took on an umpire past a polite inquiry. He was carefree and playful, enjoying every moment of being a grown man lost within a boy’s game. It was incredible to witness. Amanda roamed the stadium, finding her way to the bleachers and the upper decks to watch him on the big screen, secure in the knowledge he had no idea where she was. It gave her the opportunity to let her guard down and observe him in his element without any regard to his focus being on her. He always watched her. Whenever they were together, she was always in his sight line, often with the same look he wore the first night at the Cold Creek. But from the cheap seats, she was able to spy on him with thirty thousand other people; only the rest of them had no clue as to what they were seeing.

She was there waiting for him when he came out of the locker room, because she liked the thought of his seducing her most of all and couldn’t wait to clue him in. First, she had to dutifully fade into the background while he met his responsibilities to be accessible to his fan base. She offered to take some of the pictures in the spirit of being a good sport. She ignored the rush of peevishness that accompanied watching him do the familiar arm curl around another woman’s waist. Having to endure the few women who insisted on kissing him presented more of a challenge.

Chase didn’t kiss back, but graciously presented his cheek. Then his eyes met hers and he gave her a little wink, the affectionate reminder that he appreciated her tolerance. It teasingly conveyed that he knew about her jealous streak. It also reminded her that he was thrown temptation on a regular basis, and by the time they finished dinner, she had waffled on the topic again. But after he walked her to her door and gently drew her into his powerful arms it was impossible to think of anything at all. Each kiss was more electrifying than the first had been, since he had started brushing his tongue across her lips and sometimes into her mouth, all smooth and warm and soft. His fingertips traced down her spine and came to rest on the small of her back. Both nights she was dizzy afterward and was left wondering if the entire day had been a dream and her gentle giant nothing more than a mirage. But the text would soon arrive afterward, confirming her reality: “That was fun. Can’t wait to see you again.”

He left that Thursday for a short stint in Boston, and in his absence, Amanda gave herself the “fish or cut bait” lecture. He was who he was, and nothing was going to change that. She couldn’t keep viewing women coming on to him as a roadblock. If they were to have any hope at a relationship, she would have to get used it. He had kept his promise and was willing to abide by her timetable. He couldn’t keep that promise and hit on her at the same time. She was going to have to make it obvious she was ready. Whatever his flaw was, it was becoming less important. On a balmy Sunday evening in June, while he was finishing up game three with the Sox and she was still feeling the afterglow of a particularly romantic phone conversation from the night before, Amanda impulsively referred to Chase as her boyfriend.

The repercussions soon followed.

Luckily the following stormy Monday changed the game again.

She hadn’t answered his call all day or the night before, either. Vexing but not surprising. Amanda often neglected her phone. Still, he wasn’t used to people ignoring his calls and definitely not women. As soon as word came down that the game had been officially rained out, Chase quickly showered. Then he went straight to Amanda’s apartment, knowing the Cold Creek was closed. He would surprise her, offer to take her to dinner. Have her for dessert. Four days with nothing but her occasional voice over the phone only heightened his resolve. And he decided the weeks he spent at the restaurant winning her over counted as time served. He had just about reached the end of his rope when it came to waiting her out. She’d put him through his paces longer than any woman before her. He’d been patient, respectful. She was a good girl, not a tramp, he got it. But even he could tell there was more passion building up when they were together. She had to be convinced by now that he was more than just a muscle-bound overindulged jock. Tonight Chase had every intention of breaking through the cool exterior to what he just knew was a sex goddess underneath. She might even find herself on the receiving end of a hand tattoo. He jumped out of his car and, whistling his way through the building, stopped in front of her door and knocked.

The door opened as far as the chain lock would allow. Round blue eyes widened in surprise as they peeked through the gap in the door.

“Chase!” she gasped, and then failed at the recovery with a stammered, “H-hi.”

“Hi yourself.” His smile was strained. She was still behind a fully chained door and hardly appeared happy to see him. “My game got rained out. I thought maybe you’d like to go have dinner.”

“I-I wasn’t really expecting you.” Amanda continued to stutter, making no move to unchain the door. “I wish you had called.”

He did call. About fifteen times. His face clouded over with the realization. She had no intention of letting him in. Then his eyes flashed with anger. Maybe she was entertaining. He still couldn’t see anything past the crack in the door and her dismayed cobalt blues. For all he knew, she was buck naked behind that door, ready to get busy with someone less “complicated” than a playboy baseball player. That would certainly be a reason to avoid calls and be so distressed by his arrival. He could feel his blood starting to boil.

“You’re right, of course,” he said, stiff and restrained. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. This was a bad move on my part. Good night, Amanda.” Chase turned on his heel to make a hasty exit out of the building before he did something he knew he’d regret.

Amanda quickly unchained the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the hall.

“Chase, wait!”

Chase stopped. He clenched, then unclenched his fists before turning around, determined not to let her see just how furious he was. Damn, he cursed himself, why didn’t he just keep walking? Because he knew even now, there was just no way to deny her.

His jaw went slack as soon as he pivoted and got a decent look at her.

“Holy hell,” he breathed, rushing back toward her. “What happened to you?”

Amanda peered up at him sheepishly, still keeping her head down in the effort to continue hiding the damage. “I committed the cardinal sin of the restaurant business last night. I tried to go in the out door.”

He cradled both sides of her face in his hands and tilted her head upward for a thorough inspection. Her upper lip was swollen and split. It looked raw and painful. He could forget about kissing her any time soon. He whistled through his teeth.

“Wow. Good one. I had no idea your job was so dangerous.”

“It didn’t help that thanks to Freddy’s height, his tray was perfectly level with my face. An inch or two in either direction, I probably would have been okay. Or lost an eye. Amazingly, he didn’t drop the dishes. It was in the middle of the dinner rush, it was just so hectic.” She laughed weakly and flat-out lied about the dinner rush, which had already petered out. She had no intention of telling Chase that she had been watching him turn a double play from the TV over the bar when her lapse in good judgment occurred and she collided with the waiter at full speed. It was bad enough she had to endure the endless teasing of the staff, many of whom were instantly suspicious of any reason she would give for faltering. She blinked up at his concerned face again, whispering, “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

He studied her a minute more before planting a solid kiss on her forehead and proclaiming, “Nope. Still beautiful. Is this the reason for the locked door and the dead phone?”

“Yes,” Amanda admitted bashfully.

“Don’t ever hide from me again,” he said sternly before releasing her. “Do you still want me to go?”

Amanda was all at sixes and sevens. She had been having trouble thinking of anything besides him. Now he was here, in the flesh. Barking orders and being generally domineering. It was a departure from his seemingly limitless tolerance and definitely hot. But she didn’t want their first time to be like this. It was going to be extraordinary. She was supposed to look like a temptress, not a platypus. Whisper words of love, not sound like Mushmouth from the Fat Albert cartoon. But he was still as charming and sexy as sin. She must have been crazy to think she could avoid him until she was more presentable once he showed up at her door. His affection had become addictive and impossible to fight. She shook her head. “Of course not.”

There was no mistaking the look of relief that passed over his face. She turned and he followed her back into her apartment.

“Amanda Cole,” he said from behind her after closing the door, his voice full of barely contained delight, “what exactly are you wearing?”

Amanda froze, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She had completely forgotten. He wasn’t talking about her jeans or her bedroom slippers. She waited for the first wave of the flush to pass through to her hairline.

“Angel girl,” she heard him breathe softly from behind her. He had gotten closer. “You’re wearing my number.”

She couldn’t deny it. Figures it would have to be the one with his name stitched in bold letters across her shoulders as well. She certainly wasn’t expecting him to show up unannounced when she bought the jersey from the local Modell’s the day after their first real date. She wasn’t about to admit she had been wearing it exclusively for the better part of a week when home alone, either. She struck an overly casual pose and then turned back around to him.

“This old thing?” she asked breezily in spite of her flaming face.

He was staring at her, eyebrow and head both cocked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Caught,” he mouthed to her.

“Don’t go overboard, Walker. It’s just a shirt,” she scoffed, then added a tsk. “Of all the arrogance.”

In the fractional moment of silence that hung in the air before he could respond, his name was said loudly and clearly. They turned their heads in unison to her high-definition fifty-two-inch flat screen mounted on the wall. For several seconds, they both watched the image of Chase filling the screen, adjusting his gloves, the bat neatly tucked under his arm. He tapped the bat one time against each of his spikes and took several practice swings while masculine voices talked about him in the background using words like impressive and stellar. His batting stats appeared in a box on the bottom of the screen. Chase turned back to Amanda, his eyes wide and bright with wonder.

“This game is from four days ago.” An ecstatic, boyish smile took over his face. “I had a really good night. I think I dove into the stands.”

Amanda hastened around the couch to reach for the remote, her face already feeling the rush of heat making its way up and into her cheeks. Hell’s bells, the television got me again. She internally whined. There was no point in continuing the façade anymore. Any chance of pretending she wasn’t preoccupied with him was dashed. She looked at him a second more on the screen, in the batter’s box, where ten minutes ago she’d been safe to admire him without his knowing it. She pointed the remote at the television and turned it off. She looked back to him timidly, hoping he would go easy on her.

“So caught,” he whispered, his eyes aglow. Then they began to devour her, one blink at a time.

“I DVR them so I can see you up close,” she offered up feebly, her mouth suddenly dry. His gaze was hypnotic. Playing hard to get was no longer an option. Neither was lying to him. Not when he was looking at her like that. And he hadn’t run away when he saw her all banged up, like that jerk did to Marcia when she broke her nose on The Brady Bunch. Chase Walker looked like the only taking off on his mind involved their clothes. “When they show you before you’re getting ready to swing, you get a look I like. I certainly can’t see it from any seat in the stadium.”

Chase casually stroked his chin as he slowly took several long strides to join her near the couch, his eyes never leaving hers. “A look you like? And just what sort of look might that be?”

Amanda felt like melting under the heat of his stare burning into her. It should be illegal for a man to be that handsome. He was going to laugh at her after hearing her silly reasoning. He was going to know he had her hook, line, and sinker. The rain was pounding against the windows. Her heart was pounding in her chest. As if in a trance, she answered him, her voice soft. “The same kind of look you get right before you kiss me.”

But he didn’t laugh at her. Instead, Chase took another step closer, his gaze finally coming off her eyes and drifting down to her puffy upper lip again. He sighed and shook his head. “You’re so clever, Amanda. They both require the same level of focus. You’ve barely begun to see that look. But it almost pains me to say, if you’re intent on getting that look out of me tonight, you’re going to have to get more creative. That shirt is a pretty good start. I’m up to it if you are.”

She swallowed, but it was difficult with the lump that was now fully formed in her throat. She knew if she tried any sort of comeback, it would result in saying the only words that kept repeating in her head: I want you. She had pretty much given him the go-ahead to sweep her up and have his way with her, but he was just standing there, staring at her mouth, his arms casually flung across his chest. He appeared to be thinking. Dear God, if he didn’t touch her soon, she thought she might spontaneously combust.

He looked back up and dropped his arms. He began smiling, the same sort of smile that a cartoon cat gets when it eats the canary with one bite. She fully expected to see him hiccup and a yellow feather fly out of his mouth.

“Amanda, do you touch yourself while you watch me? Do I make you come?”

She dropped her head and began to blush furiously again, refusing to respond. She’d be taking that answer to her grave. The question itself was so personal and he asked it as though he had every right to do so. Chivalry was indeed dead, at least for the moment, and its replacement was oozing pure sexuality. Her skin began to prickle with excitement. He reached out and took her chin, lifting her head to meet his eyes.

“I think I feel cheated.” He grinned wickedly down at her. “I’m doing all the work and some vibrator is getting all the glory.”

With his strong fingers still on her chin, Chase carefully brought his mouth down to brush against her neck, just below her ear.

“No toys needed.” Amanda swooned, her eyelids heavy. His fingertips left her face and began to trace a path down the front of her jersey. Her hands ran up the solid wall of his chest before coming to rest on his granite shoulders.

He grunted in approval, his lips traveling farther down her neck and his hand to her jeans. He unbuttoned them without her even noticing. She barely heard her zipper going down. She was lost in the sensations of his mouth on her skin. It was all she could do to remain standing. Despite the size of his hand, he was able to nimbly and easily dip it inside her panties. Her breath quickened and her grip on him tightened. As soon as he heard her tiny moan of appreciation at his intrusion, he drove his thick middle finger inside her and exhaled a groan of his own.

“Shit, I wish I could kiss you,” he murmured into her neck as he began to move his finger in and out of her slowly, his hand snug within her silk and lace.

“Me, too.” Amanda nearly cried in frustration, squirming into him. Her lip was no longer the only thing throbbing. In fact, it paled by comparison. She tried to bring his head down to her mouth. “I don’t care.”

He pulled his head from her grasp to look down at her.

“But I do, angel,” he told her, carefully kissing the corner of her mouth while his finger continued its torment. It tickled at her soul while his other fingers toyed with the velvet lining that surrounded her. It soon left her witless. With the whispery pant of his name from her, Chase realized his wait was over. No ifs, ands, or busted lips, he was going to claim her as his own, once and for all.

His free hand moved to the small of her back, just in time to steady her as her knees started wobbling. They buckled completely when he abruptly withdrew from her. He caught her, lifted her, and raced the short distance to her bedroom, depositing her on the bed. He quickly removed his own shirt and unzipped his pants while kicking off his shoes. With the slacks open and slung low on his hips, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. From inside it, he took out a condom and held it up.

“Amanda,” he said in a rush, “I use one of these every time. I don’t want to use one now. I promise I’m disease-free. Are you protected and safe, and do you trust me?” Chase didn’t actually care if she was protected or not. He couldn’t think of anything he’d like better than holding the shotgun at the wedding. He didn’t really care if she was safe, either; the seed had already been planted in his mind that he’d be willing to die for her. But her trusting him meant everything.

From the middle of her bed, Amanda tried to concentrate on what he was saying because his tone was certainly compelling. But seeing him for the first time without his shirt was fueling her already overloaded senses. She had seen multiple pictures of him shirtless when she did her research; the spread from Fitness magazine instantly crossed her mind, followed by the same lust-producing chill. She saw his abs and pecs in at least one commercial for a well-known sports company. He didn’t need Photoshop to do any of it justice. He was beyond splendid. Hulking and muscular, he was tan and defined and smooth, except for the appealing pattern of light hair that started on his chest. It narrowed down his solid belly in an inviting path to the elastic waistband of his designer boxer briefs. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from them, until she noticed them swell further, fine baby blue cotton straining against the still-half-closed fly of his black, tailor-made Armani trousers, a tidbit of information she obtained courtesy of an extensive article in GQ. When it dawned on her that she was gawking at his arousal, she brought her eyes swiftly back up to his. They were smoldering and serious and waiting with hard-won patience for her answer. What was the question again? Her gaze shifted briefly to his raised hand, then back to his face, and she wordlessly nodded. He tossed the condom and his wallet in the direction of his discarded shirt. He pulled at her jeans, and in one fluid motion, they and her panties were off, like a magician pulling a tablecloth out from under a completely set table. But he wasn’t ready to see her out of his shirt, not yet anyway. She wore his brand so well. He joined her on the bed, unbuttoning her jersey without taking it off. He kissed her just above her navel while his hand took full advantage of no longer having to work around her panties. Chase lingered there, the sound of her breathless pleasure music to his ears. Her hands ran along his back, and her nails tickled him. She was sweet and soft; everything he had convinced himself was worth waiting for. But he was finished with waiting. His lips finally moved upward only to meet up with her bra. In a quick, efficient motion, the bra was unhooked and he pushed it aside to allow himself access to her generous breasts. He kissed each one and his fingertips toyed with hard, responding nipples. She moaned and his erection raged within his clothing. He stood up, encouraged by her involuntary sigh at his withdrawal and he quickly finished stripping down. The time to get her fully exposed had arrived.

Amanda sighed again, but this time in full appreciation. Any further comparisons to him resembling a Ken doll were permanently put to rest; Chase Walker was completely in proportion. She reached out, hungry for him to return and resume all the amazing ways he made her feel when he touched her most intimate places. He rejoined her and began peeling off her jersey.

“Ouch,” she whimpered when she couldn’t resist and her lips made contact with his jawline.

He instantly stopped and pulled back briefly, admonishing her with look.

“Boy, are you stubborn,” he said, his voice raspy with passion. “Not on my watch.” He finished removing her shirt and lingerie, gently turned her over onto her stomach, and took a moment to feel the rush.

He thought he had seen the best backsides the world had to offer. But he wasn’t prepared for the sight. Her cheeks were smooth and plump, feeding into curvaceous legs. He stared, captivated, his neurons firing full throttle as he envisioned all the sounds they and she would make as he ministered to them.

Amanda had turned into one raw nerve ending. She wanted him—no, needed him. It was as intense as the desire to kiss him was. The ache to feel his hands on her again, the ache to experience everything he had and everything he was. She needed all of him. It began to wane as seconds dragged on while he denied her and was then followed by a moment of gut-wrenching clarity. She peered over her shoulder at him from the pillows, suddenly wishing she could cover up. He was no longer turned on.

“You think I’m fat, don’t you?”

Chase wasted no time lying alongside her, covering half her body with half of his own, pinning her beneath him. She didn’t fight it; instead lowering her head back onto the pillow and facing the wall, his warm, hard muscles against her back and shoulder acting like a blanket. He ran his large strong hand from her leg and over her bottom, slowly dipping into the indentation at her waist, along her rib cage and under her breast, then down her arm before settling possessively on top of hers, separating her fingers with his own. With his mouth less than an inch from her ear, he meaningfully whispered.

“Please listen carefully, Amanda, because I intend to explain this only once. You take my breath away, as much right now as the first time I saw you. And now I’m seeing all of you, so you can imagine how hard it is for me breathe. I am almost six and a half feet tall. On a good day, I’m pushing two hundred and sixty pounds. My ego does not require I have a girlfriend half my size to make me a bigger man. I am already a monster. I do not want or need a woman I can bench-press. I prefer a woman of substance, with softness and curves. One I know is able to handle my passion, one that can nurture my babies. I have no desire to bang into your bones when I take you, which I am most certainly going to do, and soon.” He shifted, deliberately maneuvering his long, hard length down the crack of her behind to settle at the triangular juncture of where her treasures met. She spread her legs slightly to ensure him a better fit, and he was satisfied with the chill he felt blow through her. After her confirming shiver, he continued to breathe into her ear. “Do you feel that, Amanda? Do you think I want to worry about whether or not you can handle me? I was caught up in thinking how you were made for me. You’re so perfect I was taking a moment to give thanks for it. You should be spanked for even thinking anything else.”

It would have been right there that she would’ve given him the go-ahead. An insolent comeback, a coy giggle, an issuance of a dare; but there was nothing. Not even the feigned indignation that cleverly disguised encouragement for him to take the leap. It didn’t make any difference anyway—overruling everything else was the burning need to be inside her.

But she had stopped hearing his words long before then. Combined with the feel of him pressed against her, they had blended into one long buzz of yearning.

“If you promise not to try to kiss me again, I’ll turn you back over. I would much rather look into your beautiful face than the back of your head, but I’m serious, you have to let that lip heal.”

His voice was husky and authoritative, replacing all his prior crooning. She would’ve agreed to anything to be wrapped within his steel arms. She murmured in pledge while turning back over, and unable to wait a moment longer, he entered, then filled her, and they stilled. The tidal wave of sensation it caused left them both momentarily stunned. They stared at each other for a moment in awe, and then both blinked in mutual recognition. No words would do the feeling justice and neither of them bothered trying to say any. He began to worship at her altar slowly, but they both knew it couldn’t last. They had held back too long, teased each other beyond what either of them could tolerate. His movement within her rapidly increased and she clung to him, praying for him to release her and at the same time for it never to end. Her climax exploded into a kaleidoscope of uncontrollable tremors and her back arched in an effort to keep him securely inside her as they overtook her. As she repeatedly cried out his name, it was more than he could bear, and he began to stiffen above her. While continuing to hold her tight within his grasp, he joined her.