Fix Her Up: A Novel
Fix Her Up: Chapter 22

Travis had spent the night. In her house. In her bed.

Probably, definitely by accident, but the fact remained. He’d lost consciousness with his arms wrapped around her and he was still there. They might not have eaten much of the chicken parm, but it was a heavy meal. That had to be the explanation for him passing out curved around her so protectively. So big and beautiful and male . . .

A sigh slipped out of Georgie’s mouth, but she gobbled it back up. She was not going to lose sight of reality here. As far as Travis knew, she was nothing more than a consenting adult engaging in a temporary sexual relationship with someone of equal mind. No sticky feelings or thoughts of white picket fences to be found. She’d been so confident in her ability to remain realistic. To know this situation was going to run its course. But she hadn’t counted on him rising to the occasion quite so fast. And spectacularly.

Georgie closed her mouth tight around the toothbrush, trying to keep the scrubbing noise from waking him up. Damn, the man could sleep. He was facedown, legs and arms sprawled in four directions, his taut, naked ass a sight for sore eyes among the sheets.

This view. She could charge admission.

There was a fuzzy koala doing somersaults in her stomach, tickling her ribs and pressing down on her unmentionable parts. Although Travis had surely made mention of them last night on the couch. So many times. Each time better than the last. Who knew she was such a sucker for a filthy mouth?

Who knew you were such a sucker, period?

She was beginning to feel like she’d set herself up for one epic fall. What if she succeeded in making him believe he was worthy of a healthy relationship . . . and he went and found a different one? With someone else who wanted a future filled with fewer rug rats? After all, he had been the one to insist their fake-dating plan remain in motion even while they slept together. After being with her like this, could he really foresee ending it so easily?

What would she do then?

Unable to shake the encroaching gloom, Georgie dipped back into the bathroom to rinse out her mouth, stowing her toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. She’d already laid out a packaged spare on the sink for Travis when he finally woke up. Hopefully that wouldn’t freak him out, having his own toothbrush. Maybe she should put it away and suggest he brush with his finger. That’s what a cool, casual chick would do, right? Not present her Costco contraband after night one.

There was a low groan from the bedroom, followed by the creaking of bedsprings. Georgie’s sex clenched, causing a twinge of minor soreness. She’d expected her first time to be more painful—especially after seeing Travis’s erect penis. But she’d been so worked up and . . . damp . . . there had only been urgency. To be pushed down and filled. To please. To get pleasure herself. Mission accomplished.

Georgie turned to fix her ponytail in the mirror and found her face bright red. She fanned her cheeks, commanding herself not to be awkward. So he spent the night. Didn’t change anything.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Georgie?”

Her nipples turned to points at Travis’s gruff, post-sleep rasp. “Yeah?”

Travis’s pitch dropped. “You mind getting back in bed?”

Oh wow. She’d been worried he’d wake up like a cornered male, realizing he’d spent the night. Turned out, she’d been way off. With a calming breath, she toed open the bathroom door, coming face-to-face with a fully nude male marvel. “Good morning.” Nerves jangling in her limbs, she busied her fingers stuffing a stray hair into her ponytail. “I would ask how it’s hanging, but I can see for myself.”

Completely unconcerned about the erection jostling around between them, he backed her into the bathroom. “Why are you dressed?”

As she reached the sink, she remembered the packaged toothbrush and oh-so-casually shoved it into the wastebasket. “I promised myself I would start training for the Tough Mudder today. I don’t want to disgrace the family name.”

Without missing a beat, Travis leaned past her and took the toothbrush out of the trash. He popped it open, sliding the red object into his hands, tossing it from one to the other. “I’ve got sneakers in my truck. Give me a few minutes. I’ll come with you.”

“Sure, sure.”

Travis applied toothpaste to the brush, ran it under the water, and stuck it in his mouth. “You’re doing that thing again where you don’t touch me. Which is funnier than usual seeing as how we spent the whole night plastered together.”

“Did we?”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed his teeth and spat. Like a damn baseball player. “Is that why you’re acting weird? Because I forgot to leave?”

“Am I acting weird?”

He gave her a look of pure male exasperation. “You’ve got until I finish brushing my teeth to stop freaking out on me. Otherwise . . .” Dramatic pause. “We’re going down to tickle town.”

A tingle of alarm ran down her spine. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” Brush, brush. “Bottoms of the feet, right?”

“We’re adults now.” Trying to be inconspicuous, she sidestepped toward the bathroom door. “You can’t use a weakness against me you learned when I was a child. That’s unethical.”

He rinsed and spit, nestling his toothbrush alongside hers in the cabinet. Thunk-thunk-thunk went her heart, waiting for him to respond. “I gave my best friend’s sister her first time on the couch last night. Didn’t go easy on her, either.” His attention dropped to the apex of her thighs, his jaw flexing. “Trust me, I didn’t think of ethics once.”

“Good,” she said in a shaky whisper. “I’m more than the youngest Castle sibling.”

“You’re telling me.”

Oh God. Her knees wanted to collapse. “All of this is irrelevant, because I’m not freaking out anymore. No need for tickling.”

He sauntered toward her like a rangy-hipped cowboy. With a chub. “Why did you throw the toothbrush away?”

Her laughter was hysterical. “I think the court will agree that was an accident.”

Travis stopped and crossed his arms. His big, buff arms with shadowed cuts and mouthwatering valleys. Boy, this bathroom had seriously great lighting. “You still haven’t touched me. I’m starting to get annoyed.”

“You can be aroused and annoyed at the same time?” She shifted on the balls of her feet, preparing to run. “There’s one for the résumé, right?”

Her words were still hanging in the air when Travis lunged and threw her over his shoulder. Disoriented, she somehow managed to deduce where they were going—the bed—and she yelped on the way down, landing on her back. “Don’t do it!”

“You had your chance.” Travis shook his head, planting a hand on her chest and easily holding her down while he pried off a running shoe. “I didn’t want to visit tickle town, but you left me no choice.”

“Stop calling it that.” Georgie half laughed, half squealed, attempting and failing to twist onto her belly. “Oh my God. A naked man is tickling me by force. I never want to hear clowns are scary again.”

She peeked up to replace his fingers poised above the arch of her right foot. “This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Travis, please.”

The gorgeous jerk had the nerve to wink. “There’s that word I love so much again.”

Her skin was on high alert, waiting for the dreaded sensation. “The anticipation is the worst part,” she wailed. “Just do it or don’t.”

“There’s only one escape.”

Hope caused her to jackknife, but Travis pushed her back down. “What is it?”

“I want a proper good morning from you, and I’m not even sure what one looks like. Just know I wanted you lying there when I opened my eyes.” His mouth was in a smirk, but his eyes were deadly serious. Dark. Her thighs turned watery in response. “I want your hands all over me. Your mouth on mine. And next time you get out of bed without giving me both, I’m going to replace you, pull your pants down, and backhand that little tush you had tucked up in my lap all night. We clear?”

Georgie’s pulse thundered in her ears, her intimate muscles searching for their counterpart, wanting to clamp down. Wanting friction. “Yes.”

Travis watched her from under hooded lids for another second, then freed her foot. He sunk back on the bed in a kneeling position and waited while Georgie scrambled up. Intuition told her a single hesitation would earn her a one-way ticket onto her back again, so she didn’t wait. She climbed him. She locked her thighs around Travis’s waist and ran her palms up his shoulders, stopping when they were framing his face. And they fell into a groaning kiss, his hard flesh lifting and prodding the seam of her yoga pants. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, gripping her waist on each side, calling attention to their size difference.

Mint and male assaulted her senses, sending a rush of moisture between her legs. She scooted closer on Travis’s lap and he broke the kiss to watch her—intently—as she writhed on his erection. As she moved, he gripped the nape of her neck and looked down, watching her. Watching their lower bodies slide and grind together.

“I say we skip the run,” she gasped, as Travis captured her earlobe with his teeth.

“We’re going.” He slid his hand down to her ass and squeezed, thrusting his hips up into her at the same time. “Now you’ve got an incentive.”

Denial seeped in. “But—”

Travis cut her off with a drugging kiss, but it was mixed with something else. Yes, there was lust, but she knew this man. And she was starting to think she’d hurt his feelings. Or made him worry. “I’m not used to waking up with other people, either, Georgie.”

“I know.”

He searched her eyes. “If it’s too much, I won’t do it next time.”

In that moment, she couldn’t think of anything but banishing the insecurities she’d caused. “Don’t tell my siblings or I’ll kill you, but . . . I always check under my bed for serial killers before I turn out the light and go to sleep. It didn’t even occur to me to check for the ghost of Ted Bundy last night.” She tilted her head. “I didn’t worry about a thing with you snoring in my face.”

A laugh boomed out of him. “Way to tarnish the moment.” He studied her. “You really felt safer with me here?”

“Safe as houses.”

He looked satisfied as he brushed her bangs back. “I like knowing that.”

Georgie’s heart was in her eyes. She could feel it. How much she showed him in that moment. Ten years of nursing an all-consuming crush she’d assumed was love, when she’d had no idea that this was what love felt like. This. This was it. So heavy at times it couldn’t be lifted, so light at others it made you capable of floating. Protect yourself, a voice whispered in the back of her head. He doesn’t love you back. Then or now. With a tight smile, Georgie was off his lap. She hit the ground running, her voice unnatural when she called over her shoulder. “We leave in five minutes. Think you can keep up?”

The route she took on their run brought them past the high school. Honestly, Georgie didn’t plan it. But after that, it seemed only natural to cross over through the baseball field. Since the season wouldn’t start for months, the expansive green sat deserted beneath a cloudy gray morning sky, automatic sprinklers ticking and spraying in the distance. Without looking at Travis, she could feel the tension creeping into his frame—his reluctance to go toward the diamond.

He’d started talking to her more about baseball, especially since he’d started gunning for the commentating job with the Bombers. But the idea of actively playing the sport again seemed to make him uncomfortable. As if he wouldn’t allow himself full enjoyment of baseball unless he could be the best at it. Sadness settled over her. Made loss spread in her belly. She could blink and see him in his starched gray Port Jefferson uniform, standing at home plate and tapping the metal bat off his cleats. Trash-talking the catcher. Absorbing love and excitement from the crowd—especially her. He’d so obviously been the best, no one ever questioned his superiority. They celebrated it. Add to that the fact that Travis Ford practically glowed while holding a bat, and Georgie couldn’t help but miss watching him play. The sport was a part of him.

Jogging beside him through the outfield and remembering the deafening cheers from the crowd, Georgie’s gut told her not to stop pushing him. It could be something he loved, even if he couldn’t make millions of dollars playing. More importantly, like she’d told him last night, he didn’t have to be the best baseball player to be the best Travis.

With these thoughts dancing in Georgie’s head, it couldn’t have been a coincidence that the gray light happened to glint off a bat that someone must have left propped against the dugout. No. Coincidences that perfect didn’t exist.

She veered right, praying she was doing the right thing.

“Where are you . . .” Travis stopped following her around second base. “Georgie.”

She didn’t let his warning tone deter her. “I’m just going to grab this bat. I’ll drop it off at the lost and found later.”

“Someone will probably be back to look for it before then.” God, he looked so uncomfortable, rolling his shoulders in that stressed-out manner he broke out only when truly out of his comfort zone. “You should leave it.”

Georgie hummed. “Okay.” She started to return the bat to its original position, but swung it up onto her shoulder instead, bending her knees in a pitiful stance. “Too bad we don’t have a ball.”

“You don’t have a hope in hell of hitting a ball standing like that.” He made an absent gesture that wasn’t really absent. His eyes were zoned in on her. “Choke up, Georgie. If you swing like that, you’re going to knock yourself out.”

“This is how Stephen taught me,” she returned with a frown.

“Stephen was always better at hockey.” Travis took a few steps into the diamond and sighed. “Bend your knees, weight on the back leg.”

She locked her knees and leaned forward.

Travis groaned up at the sky. “You’re killing me, baby girl.”

When he stomped toward her, crossing over the pitcher’s mound and looking like the cover of Sports Illustrated, Georgie took a bracing breath. But she could do nothing to stop the flood of excitement that pooled in her stomach. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing.” He leaned down and growled into her neck. “Come here, anyway. You’re mocking the baseball gods.”

His front curved to her back in such a delicious fashion, Georgie had to close her eyes. His strong, capable arms bracketed her, the scent of male sweat and mint toothpaste giving her no choice but to sway. “Um. Who are the baseball gods?”

“Ruth, DiMaggio, and Gehrig. No question.”

Georgie dropped her voice to a whisper. “Are they watching us right now?”

“They’re too busy spinning in their graves. Slide your hands up, grip tight—and try not to make a sexual innuendo about it.”

She giggled like an honest-to-God middle school girl but somehow managed to follow the dictate, even with pheromones having a rave in her bloodstream. “Like this?”

“Good girl,” he said huskily against her ear, bringing his flexing thighs up against hers, securing her backside tightly in his lap. “Now drop that beautiful ass a little. Weight on your back leg.” He groaned as she complied, thanks to her bottom dragging right over the swell of his manhood. “God yeah, just like that.”

Oh boy.

It was safe to say the situation was getting away from Georgie. She’d chanced picking up the bat in an attempt to draw Travis back into his happy place. But the longer this went on, the greater the chance they would end up in an entirely different venue of happiness. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass, though. Who knew when she’d have another chance like this?

When his hand traveled beneath the front of her shirt to massage her breast, his lips leaving an openmouthed kiss on her neck, it was now or never. “I think I got it,” she said in a tremulous voice. “But could you show me, just so I’m sure?”

Travis’s breath sighed out onto her neck. Above them, the sky darkened further, blurring their shadows on the ground, releasing a hint of salt into the air. “I think we’ve done enough for one day.”

Knowing she played dirty, Georgie gave Travis an innocent yet beseeching look over her shoulder. “Please?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Why is this important to you?”

It was so hard to keep the love hidden. This morning in bed. Now. Every time they reached this point where her heart ached to come clean, she drew back, afraid he might catch on. Right now, though, with something so vital on the line, she pushed through the nerves. “I used to sit in the bleachers and watch your games.” She turned and eased away, casting a look at the seating area in question. “By the time they were over, I’d have little moon-shaped nail marks on my palms . . . and they wouldn’t fade for hours. That’s how exciting you were to watch.” She rolled her lips together. “Not because of your batting average. Just because you made everyone want to love something as much as you loved baseball. To feel what you felt.”

Travis seemed frozen. Or maybe they both were, because she couldn’t attempt movement until he gave some sort of reaction. Finally, his chest lifted and fell on a heavy shudder. “When I used to play, we always kept a stash of balls in the eaves of the dugout. There’s probably a ball or two.” He sniffed and took the bat from Georgie, weighing it in his hands. “Better hit a few before the sky opens up.”

She had already turned and was walking at a fast clip to the dugout, a cheer going up in her mind. It was happening. She’d done it. Her foot skidded on some loose dirt as she rounded the corner onto the dugout steps, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the row of balls. Using her T-shirt as a carrying device, she gathered as many balls as she could and waddled back under the weight, probably resembling a harried duck. “What should I do?”

Travis took a practice swing, tension riddling his shoulders, and Georgie had a moment of panic. What if pushing him backfired?

Instead of answering, he held up his hand.

Georgie tossed him the first ball. He caught it with ease, staring at it a moment. His narrowed gaze eventually drifted out to the fences, his sturdy frame expanding. Preparing. “Stand back, baby girl.”

She looked down to replace herself mere inches from the batter’s box. “Oh.” Quickly, she scooted back. “Right.”

Holding her breath, she watched as Travis tossed the ball up in the air. It had been months since he’d swung a bat, yet his body fell right into the familiar motion. His stabilizing leg bent, his arms carrying the bat back, his tongue tucking into his cheek. Muscle memory. And oh my God. Legs twisting, arms and torso flexing, he was magnificent. The ball cracked off the bat and went soaring, up toward the rapidly darkening clouds, and dropped way out in the outfield, rebounding off the fence with a ping.

Georgie could no more stop her loud whoop of pure joy than she could stop the rain that started to fall in gentle drips around them. Travis turned to her with stunned optimism, and she didn’t hesitate to throw him the next ball. And the next. One by one, they dropped into the outfield or roared down the third base line, every thwack of the ball meeting metal making Georgie’s heart sing louder. The rain grew heavier, soaking their clothes and hair, but they didn’t stop until all the balls were gone from her T-shirt. If she had a million more, she would have stood there tossing balls to Travis until the sun went down, watching him grow more confident with every swing, but she couldn’t have been any more victorious when he dropped the bat.

Tears blurred in her eyes as he strode toward her, lifting her into a bear hug. She laughed without restraint as he spun her in a circle around home plate, her arms clinging to his neck. “Show-off,” she breathed into his ear. “How did that feel?”

“Good.” He shook his head. “No. Great.”

She held him tighter, sensing them walking but uncaring of where they ended up as long as he kept her wrapped in his arms. Remembering their morning conversation about wanting her touch, a dam inside Georgie split down the middle and burst open. She licked a stream of rain off his neck. Her thighs itched to climb higher on Travis’s hips, so she let them and then twisted her fingers into his shirt collar to keep him in place for a kiss.

“Goddammit, Georgie.”

“What?”

“Thank you.” His eyes ran laps over her face, his fingers stroking the side. “How do you do that? You . . . accept me. Exactly as I am. But you still change me for the better.”

I love you. That’s how. She couldn’t say it out loud, so she leaned in for a kiss instead.

When their mouths joined, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was gratitude and adrenaline. Excitement and support and love. And it was frantic, rain-soaked glory. Georgie sank so deep into the kiss, she didn’t realize they were in the dugout until Travis fell onto the bench, her legs still fashioned around his waist, their faces a mere centimeter apart. Breathing heavy. The change in position brought her aching center down on Travis’s erection, catapulting her into a deep abyss of lust. She clung to his wide shoulders and worked herself up and back on the rigid flesh, encouraged by his biting curse.

“Please. Please, baby girl. Don’t grind that little thing on me unless your pants are off,” he growled against her mouth. “I need inside that pussy.”

“You can have whatever you want,” she whispered brokenly, drifting into that mind space that made her the hottest. Let Travis put his needs on display so she could be the one who took care of them. And after last night, she knew giving led to Travis worshipping her in return. Giving until his body couldn’t anymore. The promise of that made her all the more eager to match his hunger now. “Tell me what you want.”

Travis’s energy shifted and he lifted her off his lap with a harsh expletive, yanking down her yoga pants and practical white bikini underwear. Revealing her flushed sex. With a groan, he lowered the front waistband of his shorts, taking out his thick arousal, stroking it once in that big hand—never taking his eyes off her. “Get on your knees and suck this cock.”

Georgie dipped, her legs losing their ability to keep her upright. She caught herself on two powerful, hair-covered thighs, her face level with Travis’s lap. His scent was earthy and masculine, musky from their run—and hell if that didn’t turn her on more. The filth of it. Having her bare knees in the dirt, perspiration still cooling on their skin, while a curtain of rain sealed them tight in the darkness. It was wrong and forbidden, and she craved it.

Travis reached out, riding his thumb along the crease of her lips. “Give me somewhere sweet to put this.”

She’d imagined this scenario so many times. Driving Travis to the point of pain with her mouth, then relieving him. Such power in being on her knees. Her stance widened in the dirt, her hips tilting in a need to draw his eyes. After a breath for courage, she wrapped her hands around the ruddy base of his erection, her mouth closing over the head in a drawn-out pull, her grip twisting like a locking mechanism, the way she’d seen women do in videos.

“Oh. Fuck,” Travis gritted out, his thighs jerking, feet lifting and landing back in the dirt. “Go easy, Georgie baby. Jesus. You’ve got a fucking mouth on you.”

Go easy? Easier said than done. The taste of him, salty and raw, hit the back of her throat and she couldn’t get enough. His hair tickled her wrists and cheeks as she delved in for another hard suck, her right hand pumping busily. A spurt of liquid landed on her tongue and she moaned, taking him deeper, seeking more.

“Hot, wet little mouth. You’re killing me with it.” Travis came to his feet with a shout, one hand on the back of her head, the other wrapped around a dugout rafter. His thighs crowded either side of her face, half of his smooth bulk buried in her mouth. He rolled his hips back, bringing all but the tip of his arousal out of her mouth, before pumping back in slowly, deeply, her lips stretching around his flesh. “That your limit, baby girl?”

Georgie saw the underlying concern in Travis’s gaze and nodded, nuzzling her cheek in the hair on his thighs. Encouraging him to thrust into her mouth again—and Lord, he did. With a guttural sound, he fisted the hair at the back of her head and started a soft pound, never going past the line they’d drawn, but taking filthy advantage of everything leading to that point. His hips punched, filling her mouth with sex, and every inch of Georgie—inside and out—reacted to the perfection of it. With her head tipped back, knees in the dirt, a man using her mouth, she’d never felt more like a woman. The more his fist tightened in her hair, the more she took of him, letting him invade her throat. Listening to him bark dirty words, the force of them echoing in the dugout. “Need” was a pitiful word for the state she entered and became immersed in, her thighs shaking, belly hollowing.

“Up,” Travis shouted, jerking Georgie to her feet. He ripped the shirt over her head, desperate hands shoving the sports bra up to her neck. Their panting mouths met and molded as he fell onto the bench, ripping a condom from his sagging pocket and rolling it down his arousal. He grabbed Georgie’s bottom and urged her onto his lap, shooting forward to take one of her nipples into his mouth. “Fuck me. Ride me.” His right hand came down and delivered a mean slap to her backside. “Do it now.”

His hand moved between them, and Georgie sobbed when the thick head of Travis’s erection found her entrance, wedging inside. She was a little swollen from last night’s first time, the intensity of it, but she worked her hips and took Travis’s full length, sinking down and down until her backside hit his thighs. “Oh God. So big.”

“That’s right. I got big . . .” Eyes glazed, he licked at her mouth. “And you got tight. That’s why you’re going to spend a lot of time with your panties hanging off one ankle.”

Out of necessity, Georgie shifted to replace a comfortable position, gasping at the zing of friction on her clit. She rubbed herself against his hard flesh again, her mouth open and moaning on Travis’s shoulder. The movement naturally rode her up and down on Travis’s pulsing erection, and his enjoyment was on full display, his head tipped back, eyes blind. Something didn’t quite allow Georgie to drop into the moment, though. Just like that time in Travis’s bedroom, she ached for the thrill of being pinned.

“I don’t know if I can . . .” She broke off in a whimper when Travis began kneading her bottom, coaxing her into a slick, erotic rhythm, her sex riding up and down his length. God, it felt so good, the give and take of soaked flesh, their shallow breaths mingling with the pelting rain, his chest hair abrading her nipples. But her mind wouldn’t turn off the way it did when Travis was on top. She wanted him to hold the reins. “I don’t think I can . . . like this.”

“The hell you can’t.” Travis sat up straight, yanking her hips closer. He took her face in his hands, breathing heavy against her mouth. “You might be on top, but I’m still in charge, aren’t I?” He kissed her long and hard while those words sunk in. “If I wanted to flip you onto your back on this bench and break you off, I wouldn’t ask permission.”

While he spoke, Georgie’s hips began to move of their own accord. Out of pure necessity. Her thighs flexed, bringing her up, body rolling, ears dying to hear more. Because he was right. She wasn’t running the show. On top or not, her pleasure was Travis’s to give.

“Hey.” He caught her chin in a firm hand, tilted his hips with a groan—wicked intention in the set of his jaw, the curl of his lips. “My dick aches so bad. Make it stop.”

There was no hesitation after that. Only deep, wild lust. This was the part she needed so desperately to play. The embodiment of relief. The only one who could make him erupt. Georgie closed her eyes, using her index and middle fingers to toy with her nipples, all the while lifting and twisting back down on Travis’s thickness. His choked sounds, the chafing of his hungry, calloused hands on her thighs and bottom, all turned her desire up to the highest decibel. He grew larger inside her with every stroke of their joined bodies, his groans turning to punctuated grunts—and already she knew that signaled the end of his tether.

And that’s what broke her, along with the mind-blowing friction, the pressure in her nipples and clit—Travis giving in to the inevitable. Not being able to stand the pleasure. His arms flew wide to grip the bench, his teeth clamping down hard on his full lower lip. “Can’t hold it in. Can’t hold it in. Fuck, you’re working my cock so good, baby girl. Spoiling me.”

Georgie pressed her naked breasts to Travis’s heaving chest, letting her mouth linger a breath away from his. Lapping at him once. “I want to make you come so hard.”

“Motherfuck.” Travis’s grip returned to her backside, supporting it as he lunged to his feet—and he proceeded to bounce her like a puppet with no strings on his rigid arousal. Sweat slid down one side of his face, their lower bodies slapping together while the rain hammered home on top of the dugout. “You make me so fucking crazy. I can’t take it. My God.”

Those gruff words pitched Georgie over the side of the precipice, her sex seizing with enough intensity to make her scream, the sound swallowed by Travis’s fevered mouth. It bit at her and exploited her tongue while her knots untied, tension draining out of her in hard, trembling degrees, her thighs shaking around Travis’s hips. “Travis, Travis, Travis.”

“Coming,” he rasped mid-kiss, his groan filling her open mouth. In this position, there was no way to escape the quaking aftermath of what she’d done to him. He stumbled to the right, jaw dropping, his manhood jerking inside of her, leaving a flood of moisture behind. The sight and sounds stitched themselves onto her memory, where they would remain for all time. Travis silhouetted by the concrete dugout, rain falling in her periphery, his male growl of pleasure filling the air. And eventually his comforting, calming kiss, the stroke of his reverent hands as he sat back down, cradling her against his chest. “Sweet girl. So beautiful.”

She’d splintered apart at her peak, but those pieces drew back together now, stronger than before, glowing with contentment. “Sweet man,” she whispered, cheek resting on his shoulder. “So strong.”

Travis’s pulse was already galloping, but it stuttered at her words, his arms wrapping around her in an unbreakable hold. “You make me believe that.”

Georgie lifted her head to replace Travis watching her with a thoughtful frown, and something passed between them. Something she didn’t know enough to name and was too afraid to explore. Contentment spread like jam on bread in her belly, though, which made it twice as frustrating when her phone started ringing, tangled in her yoga pants somewhere on the dugout floor. “I should get that. Just in case something’s wrong.”

He gave her a final kiss and nodded, letting her stand and keeping his attention on her as she answered. “Hello?”

“Georgie. I need you at my house like yesterday.”

She glanced down at her naked-in-a-dugout body. “I’m kind of busy.” Travis grunted his agreement, tugging her closer to nibble on her hip. “What’s all that noise?”

“Oh, you noticed?” Bethany’s sarcasm pierced Georgie’s afterglow. “Our sister-in-law told the whole town about the Just Us League. And now every woman in Port Jefferson is in my kitchen, demanding to join.”

“Shut up.”

“Just . . . help.”

Georgie sent Travis a regretful look. “I’ll be right there.”

Travis hovered in her periphery as they both got dressed. “The dinner with the network exec is tomorrow night.”

That contentment she’d been feeling nose-dived. “Right.” Along with the reminder of the end of the line came a need to protect herself as much as possible when she was in love with the man standing five feet away. “Actually I was thinking of heading over to Westbury early. There’s a wholesale furniture shop in town I want to check out. For the new office.” She shot him a smile. “Meet you there?”

His jaw twitched. “You want to arrive separately at this dinner when we’re supposed to convince the network we’re together?”

“Never mind,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Travis’s stony gaze told Georgie he knew exactly what she’d been attempting to do. Distance herself, even though she wanted to dive into him feetfirst. She tucked some haphazard strands of hair into her ponytail and backed toward the stairs, grateful the rain was letting up.

“Dinner is at seven, right? I’ll be ready to go at six.” Her smile felt stiff. “See you then?”

“My truck is at your place, Georgie. We’re running back together.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

After what felt like an endless staring contest, they jogged back in silence.