14. Boston

FOURTEEN

boston

Caroline and I completed the last stupid task, and I headed toward the lake where everyone was gathered. I couldn’t even remember what we talked about, I couldn’t focus. I was looking for Chandler. A few people patted me on the back as I passed, their acknowledgments barely registering as I looked around for her.

It didn't take long to find her. But then it hit me—she was still wearing his jersey. My skin was tingling with heat and I was suddenly growling without realizing it. I wanted to rip that jersey off her, to show her who she really belonged to. She was sitting at a table with a few others when she noticed me approaching.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Can we talk?” It was more a demand than a question.

“Sure,” she said, rising from her seat.

"Why do you still have that on?” I asked, unable to hide the annoyance. “The game is over, Chandler.”

She turned to face me fully, the jersey hanging loosely off one shoulder. "It was just a game, Boston. It doesn't mean anything."

"It does to me," I said, my jaw set firm.

Her hazel eyes caught mine, a hint of defiance sparking in them. "Are you jealous?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Yes," I whispered, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "Yes, Chandler. Is that what you want to hear? I'm jealous.”

She tilted her head slightly, letting out a soft laugh. "Boston, you have no room to talk. What about Caroline's message about you today?"

"I'm sorry you had to see that," I said, finally breaking the brief silence. "I don't know why she did that."

She stopped walking and turned to face me. "I do," she said softly. "She likes you, Boston. I get why she likes you."

She wasn't just saying words, there was something behind them—something that told me exactly what I needed to know. It felt like a door cracked open, like she was finally starting to let me in.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out and gently lifted her chin, tilting it so that her eyes met mine. "That doesn’t matter. I want you."

She inhaled sharply, and for a moment there was nothing else but us.

A smile touched her lips. "Even when I wear his jersey?" A glint of humor returned to her eyes, challenging me.

I leaned in closer and growled in her ear. "I want to rip that damn jersey off you."

Her gasp was soft. "Why?"

"Because you're mine. You always have been," I said, nipping at the delicate skin below her ear. My hand slid under the hem of the jersey, drifting to the small of her back. "Not his. Mine."

She melted into me, her eyes fluttering shut as our lips hovered close, almost brushing against each other.

"WE WON! WE WON!" The shout ripped through our bubble, and we both turned toward the sound. Willow was jumping ecstatically beside Parker.

"Wha—?" Chandler’s mouth hung open, her earlier resolve forgotten.

Some of the other committee members nearby were shaking their heads with smiles as they finished double-checking that the photos submitted to the group chat had followed the rules.

"Come on," I said, motioning toward the commotion. "Let's go congratulate them."

We started to make our way back, me leading Chandler in the darkness. Laughter and cheers grew louder, but then there was a sharp, sudden crash. Chandler screamed.

I spun around to find Chandler on the rocky ground, one hand gripping her ankle. Tears welled in her hazel eyes.

I dropped to my knees beside her. "What just happened?"

Her lips pressed together in a thin line before she managed to speak. "I think... I just rolled my ankle on a rock."

"Let me see." My fingers brushed against her skin softly, feeling for swelling as she drew in a shaky breath.

I’d known injuries over the years playing baseball, had sprained everything possible. "Does this hurt?"

"Sort of." She winced as she tried to move it.

Exhaling a heavy breath, I slid one arm under her knees, the other around her back. "Okay, come here," I said, hoisting her up into my arms.

"Hey! What's going on?" Willow's voice carried over the party noise as I walked toward the high-fiving crowd, Chandler in my arms.

"Someone took a little tumble," I explained, shifting her weight so they could see her ankle.

Parker looked over, his brow creasing with concern. "What happened?"

"I'm fine," Chandler called out. "I think I just twisted my ankle."

"Trip on a heart-shaped rock?" Parker couldn't help himself, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

"Shut up, Parker," she shot back.

"Sorry, sis," he said, the smirk fading as he caught her glare.

"I'm gonna take her home, get her some ice," I called out to Parker and Willow.

"Boston, I can get home by myself," Chandler protested, her independence flaring even in discomfort.

"How? Are you going to hobble there?" I raised an eyebrow at her stubbornness.

"Fine." Her cheeks flushed, either from embarrassment or annoyance—I couldn't tell which. But it didn't matter. Right now all that mattered was getting her home safely.

“Hey, congrats on winning," she said, nodding toward Willow and Parker who were still riding a high from their victory.

"Thanks!" Willow beamed, her eyes already glittering with plans. "I'm going to take the longest bubble bath and enjoy every last second of that suite next week!"

"Can't argue with that," Chandler said with a smile. "You deserve it, Willow. And hey, Parker, congrats on your win too.”

Parker grinned, his arm slung around Willow's shoulder. "Uh huh, just make sure you get home safe, Chan."

Willow glanced at me, her expression softening. "Boston, take good care of her, okay? I'll be there later to check on her.”

"Will do," I assured her, adjusting Chandler slightly to ease the pressure on her ankle.

Reese leaned casually against the wooden beams of the pergola, as he glanced over at us. "Everything cool over here?" he called out.

"All good." She was fine with me, and I didn’t need his help.

Reese flashed a wink, his smirk suggesting he saw right through my facade.

I hoisted Chandler’s weight against my side as I carefully made my way to the truck. I helped her up and she laid her ankle gently across the dashboard. It already looked swollen.

"Comfortable?" I asked, starting the engine with a glance towards her.

"As can be," she said, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

When we arrived a few minutes later, I parked as close to the door as possible, killed the ignition, and scooped Chandler into my arms before she could protest.

"Really, Boston, you don’t have to carry me," she murmured with a mix of appreciation and stubborn independence.

"Chandler," I replied, leaving no room for arguments as I nudged the door open with my shoulder. "Just relax, okay? I got you."

Once inside, I carefully placed her on the couch, elevating her foot with a pillow. Then my gaze shifted to the jersey she was still wearing. It had been irritating me since the moment I saw it draped over her.

"Before you get too comfortable," I glared at the jersey, "can you take that off now, please?"

She rolled her eyes. "Men and their egos," she teased, attempting to push up from the couch with a grimace.

"Hey, easy there." I stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her efforts. "I got it."

Chandler sighed. “I just need to go to the bathroom. My pajamas are hanging in there."

"Alright," I conceded, scooping her up into my arms as her fingers gripped my shirt. Her closeness was intoxicating, but I focused on the task at hand.

"Thanks, Boston," she said, softly. "I can take it from here."

With her ankle now the center of my attention, I made my way to the kitchen in search of Advil, water, and an ice pack. I found everything fairly easily, then set the items on the nightstand next to her bed. Crossing back to the bathroom, I leaned against the wall in the hallway. The sound of fabric rustling and drawers opening filtered through the door. After a few minutes that felt much longer, she emerged. The sight of her took my breath away.

She stood there in striped pajamas with short shorts that hugged her in all the right ways. Dark hair spread over her shoulders, framing her face like she was some kind of bedtime goddess. It was just pajamas, but damn she made them look good.

"Are you happy now?" she asked, pointing down to her pajama shirt.

"Ecstatic," I said sarcastically, but the sight of her without his jersey eased the tightness in my chest. "Stripes suit you," I said, offering my arm.

"Shut up," she laughed, taking the support and hobbling alongside me to her bedroom.

I helped her onto the bed before hoisting her ankle onto a pillow, then gently tucking the covers around her.

"Seriously, Boston, you don't have to do all of this.”

"You’re talking to someone who has sprained everything capable of being sprained." I gently placed the ice pack on her swollen ankle.

"Ouch!" she winced, then softened. "Thanks, though. For everything."

"Hey, I still have making up to do," I said, with an easy smile. "Does this gain me any points?"

“I think you’re at about two points now."

"I’ll work on that," I said with a playful wink. "But for now, try to get some rest."

"I’ll try," she muttered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. She settled into the pillows, looking cozy and warm. "Night, Boston."

"Try not to roll off the bed and break something else," I said, half joking as I leaned in to press a kiss on her cheek.

"Ha-ha, very funny."

I backed toward the door and flicked off the light. Chandler's room glowed softly from the streetlight shining through the curtains. “Good night,” I said as I pulled the door closed behind me.

I left through the front door and shut it behind me then slid into the leather seat of my truck. I ran a hand through my hair as I let out a long sigh. Today was one of those days that seemed to go on forever, especially with Caroline testing the limits of my patience. With a turn of the key, the engine rumbled, shaking off the silence of the quiet street.

My hand hovered over the gear stick just as my phone buzzed in my pocket. Chandler's name flashed on the screen.

Chandler

Is it true?

Me

Is what true?

Chandler

You know. What she said… Caroline.

I killed the engine, taking in the silence of the quiet street again. I couldn't leave like this—not without making sure Caroline’s stupid comment didn’t get to her head. I swung the door open and made my way back inside the house.

My knuckles tapped softly against her bedroom door. "Yes?" she squeaked.

I inched the door open, revealing her sitting up on her bed. There was an unmistakable look of surprise on her face, as if she wished she could disappear inside the depths of her comforter.

"I thought you left already," Chandler murmured, almost pulling the comforter up to cover her eyes.

"Almost did," I admitted, leaning against the doorway. "I need you to know... She doesn't mean anything to me, okay? What she thinks doesn’t matter."

"Okay," she said, lacking conviction. It was clear there was more weight to her thoughts, worries that even my reassurance couldn’t reach.

She drew a breath, her words tumbling out hesitantly. "Caroline, she’s popular, she has all this experience and I haven't even..."

I crossed the room, the distance between us closing with each step until I settled onto the bed beside her. The mattress dipped under my weight.

"You haven't even what?" I asked, searching her face.

Chandler's hands shot up from under the blankets, covering her face. Her voice was muffled but her embarrassment was palpable. "Boston, I'm just not that experienced, and you have this history with her... and probably lots of other girls."

I hesitated for a moment, then let out a small laugh. My hand reached out, gently pulling her hands away from her face. "Chandler, you have no idea how cute it is that you're acting jealous right now."

She blinked, confusion mixing with the red tinge of embarrassment on her cheeks. "What?"

"Seriously," I continued, not being able to keep the smirk off my face. "In some weird way, I think it's hot because it means you like me enough to be jealous."

"Shut up," Chandler scoffed, her hazel eyes darting away from mine. "It's not hot." She fidgeted with the hem of her blanket, creating little ripples in the fabric. "And now it’s even more embarrassing that you know I've never... done that before."

"It’s not embarrassing," I said softly, catching her gaze and holding it.

Her expression faltered, vulnerability flickering across her features. "It isn’t?"

"No," I confirmed, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "It would be so fucking hot to do something with you no one else has."

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, surprise etched into every line of her beautiful face.

"What?" she asked, hopeful. "You think it'd be hot to do that… with me?" A blush crept over her cheeks, her question hanging between us like a delicate secret.

I couldn't help but smile at the innocence and earnestness in those bright hazel eyes. Leaning closer I whispered, "Chandler, I'd do anything you wanted me to. You just have to ask."

She glanced up at me through thick lashes, a hesitant smile playing on her lips. "How would someone ask for that? I wouldn’t even know..." she trailed off, fingers still fidgeting with the fabric.

"Just be honest with me," I said softly. "Tell me what you want."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain. The look she gave me next was vulnerable, but I could see her trying to muster the courage to tell me what was going on in that head of hers.

"Okay," she whispered. "I guess I'm curious to try it.” Her words tumbled out in a rush of breath.

"You guess?” I asked. I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I'm not going to do anything with you if you aren't sure. It’s okay if you’re not ready. There's no reason to rush it."

She nodded slowly, absorbing my words but then her eyes sparked with determination, stopping me mid-breath. "Boston, I want to try it," she said decisively. She bit her lip, a small, nervous gesture of hers that drove me wild.

"Try what exactly?" I asked, even though I knew what she meant. I needed to hear her say it, clearly, without any lingering doubt.

She drew in a sharp breath, her hazel eyes fixed on mine. "I want you to..." her voice trailed off for just a second before she found her courage again. "...Go down on me."

A smile broke across my face, for the strength it took her to finally say it. "All you had to do was ask," I said softly. My thumb grazed her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw gently as I pulled her toward me.

"Are you sure?" I whispered against her lips, needing that final confirmation.

"Yes," Chandler breathed out. "I'm sure."

With a confident nod, I traced my thumb along her lower lip, reveling in her softness and warmth. I pressed my lips to hers, the kiss growing from tentative to hungry as we found a rhythm belonging to just us. She tasted so good, so sweet, like the cranberry drink she’d had earlier.

"Is your ankle alright?" I asked, gently laying her back on the bed.

She nodded then grasped the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, tossing it to the floor. Her glossy eyes roamed over my abs approvingly.

I leaned over her, pressing kisses on her neck, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin. My lips pressed against her fluttering pulse, a delicate beat that urged me on. My mouth grazed her collarbone and she made a small sound of pleasure. I’d found a sensitive spot, and my own desire soared.

"Keep making those noises for me," I said, my breath hot against her throat. Her moans and sharp inhales would tell me everything I needed to know. The way her breath caught, a sign to linger; her quiet moans would urge me on. And it wasn’t just about understanding what she liked and what she needed. Knowing her body’s language, the way she reacted to me without having to say it—it was about the connection between us. Both of us knew there was nothing else like it.

My fingers trailed over her silky pajama shirt, deftly undoing each tiny button with one hand. My lips followed as I worked my way down, savoring her soft skin against my mouth. When I reached her breasts, I grazed my thumb over one nipple. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and I responded, flicking my tongue over her peaks before drawing one into my mouth, then the other. Her flesh between my teeth was intoxicating. Her hands roamed my body, gripping my back, pulling me closer as she moaned softly.

"Do you want me to keep going?" I whispered, tracing a line of fire down her abdomen, stopping where her hips curved.

She moaned in response, a simple affirmative “mhm” that vibrated through me, fueling me.

With tantalizing slowness, I peeled her wickedly short bottoms away, revealing her panties, drenched. I groaned, I couldn't take it anymore. My mouth was watering at the sight of her, my thoughts racing with what it would feel like to slide myself deep inside her. Her eyes were still wide with desire and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip as she watched me shift myself between her legs.

"You're so wet," I grumbled, licking my lips, captivated by the sight of her. "So fucking hot.”

I traced the edge of her soaked panties with my fingers, teasing her sensitive skin. Her hips arched involuntarily, begging for more. My dick was rock hard, straining against my pants as I complied, pressing a soft kiss against her clit still hidden beneath the wet fabric of her panties. She let out a low moan, squirming.

I slowly slid them down her legs, finally giving me a clear view of her, glistening. My heart pounded in my chest, my own breath growing thick. I couldn't resist sliding my hand down, running my fingers through her wetness. She gasped at my touch as I circled my thumb around her clit, teasing her relentlessly.

“You’re perfect,” I whispered, as I lifted her good ankle and placed it over my shoulder.

I lower my head, my tongue tracing a path along her inner thigh with open mouth kisses. She moaned as I inched closer to her center, my breath hot against her. I teased her with my tongue, flicking it gently against her clit before taking it into my mouth and sucking.

“Oh god, yes,” she gasped.

"Fuck, you taste so good," I whispered against her skin before slowly licking her from top to bottom.

I continued to kiss and suck, starting slow and gentle before building the intensity. I couldn’t help it, I wanted to devour her. She let out breathy moans as she bucked her hips against my mouth. Her body trembled beneath me.

"What do you need?" I breathed out.

“More,” she moaned, squirming.

"You want my hands?"

"Yes," she begged.

I slowly slid a finger inside her, feeling her warmth and wetness envelop me. Her tight walls clenched around me and I groaned in response, waves of need surging through me. She pushed herself further onto my hand, gasping and arching her back. My own body was screaming, my throbbing dick begging to be freed, but I pushed the thoughts aside. I continued working her with my finger, licking up every last drop of her with my tongue as she moaned, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Look up at me," I instructed. "I want to see how much you want this."

She obeyed, her gaze locking onto mine as I teased and tormented her with my fingers and tongue. Her pupils dilated with lust, her breath came in shallow pants as she pressed her hips against me.

“Boston,” she panted out, “That feels—so good.”

I slipped another finger inside her.

“Fuck!” she squealed.

“You okay?” I asked, gently pumping once, twice.

“Yes. Don’t stop,” she urged.

She was so tight. She clenched around my fingers and I curled them upward, searching for the spot I knew would send her over the edge.

“Oh shit,” she cried out.

“That’s my girl,” I coaxed.

Her body tensed as I sucked and licked her swollen clit, my tongue moving in time with my fingers. Her hands gripped the sheets as she moaned in pleasure, growing louder as I intensified the pressure and depth.

I could feel her body responding to my every movement. Her hips rocking and grinding against my face threatened to undo me. Tension was building in her body. I knew she was close, and I was determined to send her over the edge—to give her everything she deserved, every bit of pleasure she’d hoped this would be.

“Keep talking to me, pretty girl.”

“Boston, please, don’t stop.”

My name tucked between her soft moans was the sexiest sound I had ever heard.

"I think… I’m going to..." she panted, digging her nails into my back.

“That’s it. Come for me, Chandler.”

I could feel her fluttering and pulsing around my fingers as she came, her body shaking in waves of ecstasy as she threw her head back, moaning and gasping. I slowed my movements, drawing out her orgasm for as long as I could. She collapsed back onto the bed, her body limp and spent, a satisfied smile playing across her lips.

"Are you alright?" I asked, desperate to hear her voice.

"More than alright," she managed, the words tumbling out on a broken sigh as she reached for me, guiding me back in close.

“You’re so beautiful,” I breathed, planting a kiss on her lips.

Her hand trailed down my chest, fingertips tracing the lines of my muscles before reaching the waistband of my shorts.

Her touch sent a jolt of desire straight through me, and I found my body responding with an urgency that could barely resist her. But as her fingers trailed lower, I captured her hand, lifting it to my lips and pressing tender kisses along her wrist.

"Not tonight," I whispered.

"You don’t want me to touch you?"

"I am dying for you to touch me. You have no idea... but you're not just some girl to me. You’re more than that, and tonight needs to be about you. I need you to know, no matter what happens," I said, the depth of my honesty surprising even me, "with me, you'll always come first—even if you hate it."

Then I pulled her close, our bodies pressed together as I held her.

Her lips curved into a small smile. "Always putting me first, just like when we were kids," she reminisced. "The first day we met, you didn’t even know me and you gave me your jar of fireflies."

I smiled at the memory. "Couldn't stand seeing you upset—even back then," I confessed. "Plus, couldn’t let Parker think he had you beat."

“He was so mad. I don’t even know how you collected that many," Chandler giggled, then her laughter faded into a contemplative sigh. She laid her head back down and looked away for a moment, lost in thought before bringing her eyes back to me with a hint of mischief. "So about Caroline,” she said, and my heart sank. “She was definitely telling the truth."

I let out a breathy laugh. "You drive me crazy."

She drove me crazy, but she made me feel alive. There was nothing I could compare it to. The rush of being on field, the adrenaline of the game—none of it compared to this. None of it compared to her.