37. Willow

Willow

The stadium is packed, every seat filled with enthusiastic Tridents fans, and a few Eagle fans, as well. The atmosphere is electric, with the hot July sun shining down, music pumping, and everyone ready for a great ball game.

Nervously, I smooth my hands down the front of the jersey Ronan gave me.

I don't think he realizes how big of a deal this is for me. Wearing his jersey where anyone and everyone can see it is taking our relationship public in a much bigger way than just the other players and Tridents staff knowing about us.

I'm the new head of media relations. I run the press conferences. There's bound to be questions. Yet, I feel ready to face them, knowing I've got my man, my uncle, and my team ready to support me. Aside from a little teasing, the guys haven't seemed to care in the slightest that I'm dating Ronan. And my own team is just so happy to have Lydia out of the way, I don't think they'd mind if I was dating every single player all at one time.

"You look good, darling girl."

I look up to see Uncle Mike standing in the doorway of my office, a soft smile on his face. He walks in and places his hands on my shoulders.

"Your dad would be so happy to see you like this. In love with a good man, I mean."

Crap. My eyes start to feel damp. "He'd like Ronan, I think."

"I know he would." Uncle Mike pulls me in for a hug. "He'll treat you right, Wills. And if he doesn't, I'll sever his contract and send him packing."

I choke out a laugh and clutch him tighter. "Don't do that, the team needs him."

"Well, I don't give a shit what the team needs. I need you to be happy."

I look up at my dad's best friend, the man who practically helped raise me. The man who has helped me build the life I've always wanted. "Thanks, Uncle Mike. For everything."

"You've earned it. You deserve every happiness." He drops his hands and tilts his head toward the door. "Ready to watch the game?"

I give him a watery smile and a nod, and we make our way up to Uncle Mike's suite where Pam and Peyton are waiting, thanks to a personal invite from Uncle Mike to watch the game from here. I find them sitting in the lower level of the box, where they've got the perfect view of home plate.

"Hello, ladies," I say brightly. Peyton bounces out of her seat and throws herself into my arms.

"Hi, Willow! Look, we're matching." She proudly sticks her thumb at her chest, showing off her own Sinclair jersey. She leads me over to her grandmother, who gives me a welcoming smile.

"Can I get either of you anything? We can have snacks brought up from concession if you don't like what's here," I say, suddenly nervous. First the matching jersey with his daughter, now I'm watching the game with his mom and his daughter in my uncle's box. Maybe it shouldn't feel like such a serious step, but it does to me.

This is the first game in years I'm not officially working. And clearly, Pam can tell I'm at a loss.

"Just sit down and relax, dear. We've got all the snacks we could possibly want." Pam indicates the seat on the other side of Peyton.

I sit down just in time for the players to hit the field. The cheer that goes up around the stadium is deafening, and Peyton and Pam join in as Ronan jogs over to first base. He looks up, scanning the boxes until he sees us, and even from this distance, I see his face light up.

"Daddy!" Peyton screams, waving wildly. She grabs my hand. "There he is!"

I give him a wave, smaller than Peyton's, but there's no shrinking my grin. There he is.

The game is fast-paced, and as I predicted, the Tridents pull off an easy win. Ronan scores two runs, and I'm pretty sure Peyton has no voice left by the end with how much she was cheering and screaming.

To my surprise, when we part ways — me to grab my bag from my office and Pam to take Peyton home — I get a hug goodbye from both of them.

"Thanks for watching the game with us, sweetheart, it was lovely to spend some time with you."

"I had a great time," I answer honestly. "It was nice to just watch the game and not be worrying so much about what I need to do for work."

Pam laughs. "I can only imagine. What are your plans for tonight?"

Out of nowhere, I feel my cheeks heat up with a blush. Because the plans I wish I had involve her son in my bed.

Instead, I reply, "Oh, probably not much. Go home and get ready for tomorrow."

She just nods and takes Peyton's hand. "Alright, well, don't let us hold you up. Have a lovely night." The enigmatic smile on her face puzzles me slightly, but as soon as they're gone, I dismiss it.

When an unexpected knock on my apartment door occurs less than half an hour after I get home from the game, I find myself frowning at it. I'm tired and just want to go to bed. And I didn't miss a call from someone trying to buzz in, so I'm also a bit baffled as to who it is. Belting my satin robe even tighter around my middle, I pad over to the door and look through the peephole.

Then I'm throwing open the deadbolt, wrenching open the door, and hurling myself into the open and ready arms of my boyfriend.

"You're here?" I gasp in between kisses. He carries us inside, not missing a beat between closing and locking my door. "Is that a bag?" I look down at the medium-sized duffle he just set down.

Ronan just grins, his hands still clutching my ass as I cling to him like a spider monkey. "Yeah, I was hoping you wouldn't be opposed to a sleepover?"

I stare at him, trying to catch up mentally to what he just said. "Like, all night?"

He nods and starts moving in the direction of my bedroom. "All. Night. I got home, and Mom looked at me and told me to get out." He chuckles. "It's a little weird, my mom kicking me out of my own house so I can spend the night with my girlfriend, but I'm not going to complain."

We reach my bedroom, and I wriggle out of his arms, keeping mine looped around his neck. "You're telling me Pam Sinclair is playing cupid?"

His hands come to the tie of my robe, and he slowly starts pulling it undone. "Mm-hmm."

He pushes my robe off my shoulders, letting the satin garment fall to the floor, leaving me in a skimpy set of sleep shorts and a tank top. My nipples are already hard pebbles, and I'm guessing there's a damp spot on my shorts. The way this man turns me on should be criminal. His lips find my collarbone, brushing feather light kisses across my bare skin.

"I think I love your mom," I gasp, my head falling to one side as his lips trail back up my neck. He tugs my earlobe between his teeth before kissing his way over my cheek and landing on my mouth. I come alive under his kiss. There's no way to ever get enough, but tonight, maybe we can try.

"We're not talking about my mom right now, Cherry." His voice is a mixture of amusement and barely controlled lust. Suddenly, I'm airborne again, then dumped on my bed. Ronan steps back and quickly strips off his clothes before coming back over me, kissing his way up from the waistband of my shorts, lifting my tank up and off as he goes.

"We've got all night. All night for me to make you come on my tongue, and then on my cock. Over and over again. I want to worship your fucking perfect body and make it so you never forget you're mine. All you have to decide is which one you want first. Tongue or cock."

"Decisions, decisions," I murmur as he toys with my nipple, rolling it between his fingers and thumb. "I choose…tongue."

"Excellent choice." His lips wrap around one nipple and he sucks, hard, making me cry out as my fingers find purchase in his hair. He lavishes attention on one breast before moving to the other, his hands roaming my body. I can feel his cock, heavy and long, with only my satin shorts as a barrier. And I don't want anything between us. Squirming underneath him, I try to push them off, but he grabs my hands and pulls them up above my head.

"Don't move."

He slowly trails his hands down my sides, but I do as he says and keep my hands over my head. Slowly, agonizingly so, he drags my shorts down to my feet and tosses them behind him. I'm already breathing heavy with anticipation, the lust-filled looks he's giving me making my head spin. How is it possible that every time we're together, it's hotter? Somehow more intense, more powerful than the last?

I don't know if there's an answer to that question. And right now, with his lips kissing their way up from my ankle to my knee, then tickling the inside of my thigh, I don't fucking care.

His breath ghosts across my core, where I know I'm already drenched with desire.

"Mmm. All this for me? Good thing I'm hungry." He gives me a wicked grin before flattening his tongue up my slit, making my back arch off the bed.

My hands come down, and he stops, lifting his head. "What did I say about those hands?"

I whimper, but put my hands back above my head, clutching the pillow in a death grip. His tongue lands on me again, and my hips start to rock. One arm comes up and bands over me, holding me still.

"Oh, fuck, Ronan, I need to move," I cry out in protest, my toes curling into the mattress. He's only just begun, but I'm already desperate. Needy. Ready to come.

"No, you don't. You need to lie back and let me devour you, Willow. That's what you need to do," he growls against my flesh. "Let go and let me take care of you."

Jesus Christ, this man.