Chapter 26

[Ross]

If Vee won't sleep in my bed with me, maybe she'll sleep in my bed without me, which shouldn't sound as nefarious as it does. I don't have an ulterior motive. Having Vee in my life is the only win I need. There is just something about the idea of her in my bed that makes me rest easier. Like she'll be safer or more comfortable or whatever the word would be to account for this feeling of wanting her in my home.

With back-to-back road games, Vee and I will be separated for another seven days, and we're in a fragile place. She doesn't trust me or the feelings I've confessed to her. I'm strictly in the friend-zone.

So, I'm surprised when a text comes through first thing in the morning as I'm walking to the locker room pre-game to our match up with Milwaukee.

If the offer still stands, I'd like to take you up on a change of view.

Nothing makes me happier than envisioning her in my home, and I'm quick to respond.

Mi casa es tu casa. Or mi cama es tu cama. I chuckle to myself as I repeat what she once said to me. My home is her home. My bed is her bed .

When she only responds with a smiley emoji, I'm crestfallen.

Then minutes before the game begins, waiting on warmups to start, another text from Vee comes through.

Can't figure out the remote. Want to watch the game.

My chest swells again. Chandler never watched the games, and even when she attended them in person, she was more interested in being seen and who she would see than the game itself. Vee is actually invested in the games for me .

With quick instructions, I explain the remote.

Got it. Now, get your eyes on the ball, Coach. moral support ass-slap

With a chuckle, I click off the messenger app and slip my phone into my pocket. When I glance up, Kip is watching me.

"You called her, didn't you?"

"Maybe." I brace to defend myself. "Why?"

Kip and I have gone a few rounds about Vee. He felt I'd been unfair, bringing her into my superstitious nonsense, and then letting her leave so easily after Arizona. He didn't understand the scope of my conflict. Letting Vee go had been one of the hardest decisions. I wasn't good enough for someone like Vee, someone who didn't want anything from me. Someone who is more of a giver than a taker.

Now, the playing field between us felt a bit leveled. For research . Yeah, I'd answer any fucking question she had, and use all the props for examples until she learned this wasn't about baseball rituals. We are more.

"Because you've got that goofy grin again, like you get whenever she's texting you or you think of her. And it matters because your head needs to be here." He taps his head and points toward the ball field we can't see yet. "Not there." He aims his pointed finger in the vicinity of my phone.

Instantly, my mood shifts. Kip is a good guy and a great friend, but I don't need him questioning where my heart and head are at as the head coach. He knows as well as anyone that heart and head can be divided at times. Family comes first. Romantic matters come next. Vee is in that second category for me. But I'm present.

"I'm here," I tell him. My feet firmly planted in this locker room in Milwaukee. Rooted even more deeply knowing Vee is at my house, preparing to watch the game, because she believes in me.

+ + +

Hours later, I return to my hotel room and check Vee's status, hoping she took up my offer to spend her nights at my place, not just use my home during the day.

In my bed, nightlight ?

Vee: Is this my new nickname? It might work better as a code word.

Me: I'm calling you.

Vee answers on the first ring and a sigh of relief escapes me. "Do we need a code word? And where did nightlight even come from?"

"Cee-Cee." Vee chuckles, the sound like a beacon in my dark hotel room. "My best friend has a strange sense of humor."

I smile. "Our word should be happenstance."

"Oh, do we need a word for something?" She laughs again. "And I thought you preferred happy chance ."

I laugh quietly. "You remember that."

"I remember everything," she says in a poor imitation of me. Still, her voice is playful, and I smile wider, something warm and comforting washes over me.

"Happy chance is my phrase for you. To describe you giving me a second one."

The phone goes quiet a second. I've been trying to keep my feelings more to myself, not wanting to overwhelm Vee again and not able to make her promises yet. I just want to see where we go. She explained to me her characters lead her writing, tell their own story, and I want to see where my story takes me with Vee. Still, I worry that I've said too much, and I clear my throat. "Anyway—"

"I'm in your bed," Vee softly interjects, and I freeze. I'd been pacing back and forth before the hotel window like a caged animal.

"Yeah?" I swallow hard, picturing her in the dark blue sheets. The light on the nightstand dimly illuminating my room. Her soft curves in one of my T-shirts.

"Yeah." Her voice is quiet.

"What are you wearing?"

Vee laughs loud and hard. "Oh, are we doing that?"

I don't know what we're doing, but I want to know so I can picture her even better. "Tell me."

"I'm wearing an Anchors tee."

Yes. Mental fist pump. "With my number on it?" I choke, imaging the 33 on her back, or maybe on her chest, the top loop of each number curling around her breasts. It's been too long since I've seen those beauties.

"Nope. This is just a generic one."

"Still. A good visual."

"A good visual of what?"

I hear the smile in her voice.

"You, sweetheart. In my bed. Wearing an Anchors tee." I've put her on speaker phone, so I can tug off my shirt and shrug out of my pants. Then, I settle on the bed. "Vee, how would you feel about me answering question number two on your list? Might help you find some writing inspiration."

She's quiet a second, before she softly says, "I don't remember what question number two was."

"You wanted to know what it's like to touch a woman from a man's perspective."

Vee lightly coughs before her voice tightens, sounding professional while inquisitive. "Yes. How do you feel about the experience? Like does one vagina look like another, taste like another, or is one more memorable than others?"

I choke. "Holy shit, Vee. Just jump in with both feet."

She clears her throat again. Through the phone, I hear the rustle of sheets and wonder if she's settling beneath them or if she's sitting upright and grabbing a notebook. In Arizona, she kept a flower-covered spiral one on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Okay. So tell me—"

"I'd really like a visual aid for this one."

"No." Her tone is so adamant, I don't press.

But even if I'm not a writer, my imagination is good enough that I can picture her. Legs spread, pussy pretty, pink and swollen, wet and ready for me. I'd had a similar vision in my head when I stood in her shower back in Arizona. When I was fisting myself, preparing to release the pressure. Kissing Vee led to a buildup that ached, and to steady myself before I saw her each of those nights that we kissed like hungry teens, I took care of myself to ease the ache before I saw her. Still, she'd made me rock hard with only her mouth on mine and we'd often break apart breathless and greedy, needing a break before we could settle into her bed. That night , thanks to Valdez, I'd been late and needed that shower before my mouth hit Vee's, knowing I'd be hungry for more. I was surprised I'd heard her soft gasp over the roar of the shower.

Then again, I'm grateful I did because what a night we had.

With my hand flat on my belly, my dick twitches, eager for me to touch myself again. The reality of Vee is fresh in my head. But I'm not following through with any plan unless I get Vee on board.

"Okay. First, touching. For me, I like knowing that I'm giving you pleasure. That pressure point might be a trigger on you, but it makes me feel powerful as well. My fingers touching you there will be what gets you off. My tongue on your clit will tip you over."

"I . . ." More throat clearing. "We aren't talking about me directly. This is for research."

Ignoring her restriction, I continue. "Just touching that delicate skin. Edging around those folds, teasing you, flirting with entering you."

"Ross." Her voice strains around my name .

"Then, there's that tight nub, knowing it's the switch. But it's not just touching your clit. It's watching you light up. Your eyes brighten. Your lips part. The way your hips want to move, chasing my touch." I hum.

Vee moans.

"Your scent. Sexy. Musky." I inhale deeply, like I can catch a whiff of her from my memory.

"I like feeling how wet you get, almost greedy for me. Your slit slick. Your pussy eager."

"Ross." The struggle in her voice affects me. I want to feel her.

"My finger slipping through those slippery lips, dipping into you."

Her breath hitches.

"Then there's the sounds you make. Like that one. Where your breath catches. Or you hum. "

She recreates the sound for me and my dick jolts.

"You touchin' yourself, Vee?" My voice is tight, but low. I prepare for her to protest, to tell me no again, but I cut her off before she can answer. "I want you to touch yourself, sweetheart. Do it for me because I miss touching you."

"Oh, Ross." She purrs again in that sound she makes. Her voice is breathy when she says, "It only happened once."

"Twice." I recall our night together. The rush of finding her watching me from outside the shower. The thrill of kissing her. Then touching her. Tasting her. We came together two times that night. "And it wasn't enough."

I slide my hand lower. "Now tell me what you feel."

"I'm everything you said." She whimpers. "Wet. Greedy. Slick."

"Fuck, sweetheart. Tell me more."

"Are you touching yourself?" she whispers.

Hell, yes . "Do you want me to?"

"Yes." Another breathless plea. "Tell me what you feel."

"I'm hot and hard. Long and leaking from the tip. And greedy for you, too."

"Oh, God."

I picture her hand between her thighs, knees bent to the side. Her head tilted back. Her eyes lidded.

"Yeah? You like that? Like knowing you have power over me as well? You make me hard, Vee. You make me ache." I fist myself and stroke upward. "You're all I think about."

"I am?"

"Yes," I grunt, because Vee consumes me. "And how I feel when I touch you is incredible. Powerful. Invincible. You make me want to be better."

"Ross," she chokes.

"How ready are you for me, sweetheart? I want to taste you," I admit.

"What did I taste like?"

Mine . "Honey and musk. "

She hums.

"And what did I feel like?"

Mine . "Like you fit me."

"Ross." Her sigh shifts, soft and sweet, but I want her as desperate for me as I am for her.

"Two fingers, sweetheart. Rub that spot. Feel how wet you are. You want my fingers to touch you."

"Yes."

I squeeze myself harder. "And my tongue to lick you up."

"Oh God, yes, please."

I yank faster at myself.

"And then you want me inside you, filling you up and—"

" Yes! " The sound of her breaking has me tipping over as well, spilling over my fist and dripping onto my belly.

"Fuck, Vee," I groan, continuing to fall apart from just the sound of her cries. I'm breathless and spent, and wishing she was here beside me.

Eventually, Vee quiets, her softening breaths whisper through the phone.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah." Her voice is sweet once more, relaxed but distant. She's too far away when I want her here with me in this bed. The next best thing is her there in mine.

"I'm glad you're in my bed, sweetheart."

"Me, too." She chuckles softly. "Think the Anchors will win tomorrow."

My brows pinch. I don't like her doubt, and I know that I've done that to her.

"That's not what tonight was about." This was so much more. She trusted me to have this experience with her over the phone. I wanted to help her find inspiration, and I'm fucking thrilled she's in my home, beneath my sheets, taking her pleasure with me.

She doesn't respond to my comment, and I wish we'd video chatted. I need to see her face, but I don't press. Instead, we say goodnight after she wishes me good luck for tomorrow's game .

And when the Anchors win the next night, I try not to let guilt, or superstition, seize my chest.