20. Boston

TWENTY

boston

As we approached the bar, the music’s bass bounced through the walls. It was a country bar with smashed peanuts on the ground, and the crowd was filled with cowboy hats.

"Should've known it'd be crowded on game night," Parker commented, his eyes scanning over the sea of bodies packed in the dimly lit space.

Weaving through the crowd, we made a beeline for the bar where the bartender was already pouring shots. We shouted our orders and waited, shoulder to shoulder, packed uncomfortably tight against the other patrons.

"Let's grab that booth before someone else does," Willow suggested, pointing toward the back where Reese and a couple of other guys had claimed space.

"Good call," Chandler agreed, taking the lead as we navigated through the crowd, drinks in hand.

Willow and Chandler slid onto the cushioned seats, settling into the booth. The rest of us stood around the perimeter talking about the game, but then we were interrupted.

"Hey, isn't that the pitcher from today's game?" A high-pitched voice pierced through the noise, turning heads as a trio of girls approached. They were overly excited and confident—a little too confident.

"Oh my gosh, it is!" another squealed, her gaze locking onto Reese.

One of the girls slid next to him, making her presence known. "I couldn't take my eyes off you when you pitched today," she purred, her admiration was evident. "Literally, the hottest pitcher I have ever seen."

"Is that so?" Reese replied, taking a casual sip of his drink. "Happy to keep the game entertaining for you."

The girl basked in his attention, oblivious to his sarcastic remark.

"Shortstop's more my speed," said the girl who had positioned herself beside me and Reese, leaning in closer than necessary. As she did, I noticed Chandler and Willow look up in my direction.

"Whoa, check out the muscles on this one," the third girl cooed, her fingers dancing over Parker's forearm with an audacity that left him blinking in surprise.

"Hey now," Parker chuckled, stepping back with a good-natured grin, "hands off the goods, ladies. This merchandise isn't for sampling."

The girls, undeterred, continued, giggling amongst themselves and attempting to flirt with us. The girl who had practically crawled on top of Reese was the most forward. “That little dinosaur tat on your wrist is adorable!” she squealed.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Reese excused himself, escaping quickly.

"Great game," the girl next to me beamed as she inched closer.

"Thanks," I replied, trying to keep the conversation light, all the while noting Chandler's subtle shift. Her drink clinked onto the table, and her posture straightened.

"Must take a lot of practice to hit like that," the girl continued, her gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "You make it look so easy."

"Uh, yeah, lots of practice," I said, glancing back at Chandler whose eyes were now fixed on her hands, an obvious sign of discomfort.

"Hey, Parker!" I called out, hoping to redirect the attention, but I caught a different sort of distress unfolding. The girl next to him was practically draped over his shoulders, admiring him a little too closely.

"Wow, I just can’t get over these muscles. Guess you’d have to have a good arm to be a catcher," she cooed, her hand boldly sliding across his bicep again.

The look he shot Willow then was deadly. His mouth formed a silent “help,” and Willow let out a loud snicker.

"Sorry, honey," Willow finally chirped, standing up with a playful roll of her eyes. "I need to steal this one for a dance."

The girl huffed, obviously put out, but relinquished her grip as Willow tugged at Parker's hand. She guided him away from the booth and toward the dance floor where others were swaying to “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”.

"The way you grab the ball and launch it at the first baseman is so impressive," the girl beside me flirted. "I mean, you’re just impressive."

Before the words fully registered, Chandler's presence cut through the conversation. She slid between us, her hand finding its way to my stomach, holding me assertively.

"Sorry," she interjected smoothly, giving the girl a tight smile. "I'd like to dance with my boyfriend."

The girl shot Chandler a glare but said nothing. Chandler, meanwhile, took my hand and led me toward the dance floor. We maneuvered our way to an unclaimed space against one of the dark walls at the back, away from prying eyes but still surrounded by others dancing.

Chandler wrapped her arms around my neck, and I drew her closer by the waist. Leaning in, I whispered just loud enough for her to hear over the music. "It's so sexy when you're jealous."

"Maybe I wasn't jealous," Chandler retorted, her breath warm against my ear. "Maybe I just thought I was saving you."

"Uh-huh." I grinned, knowing the truth.

Bodies moved all around us, creating an intimate bubble in the crowded room. As we moved together, my fingers traced patterns across her lower back, sending a shiver that I felt even through the fabric of her dress. Leaning closer, I whispered, "You in that dress... it's making me think things I probably shouldn't."

The corners of her lips curled up into a shy blush, yet she continued to match my rhythm step for step, our bodies syncing to Morgan Wallen’s “Cowgirls.” The heat between us was building with every sway. Chandler's body moved against mine in a way that was both teasing and insistent, pressing into me, inviting my hands to explore her.

As the bass reverberated through our bodies, she spun around and pressed her ass against me, a motion that had me biting back a groan. It was a slow, sensual grind that had us both breathing heavily. I could feel myself growing harder by the second. I kept my hands firmly on her hips—it was all I could do to keep myself in check. The dim lights cast a seductive glow over her features as she looked back at me, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Chandler," I breathed out, my voice a ragged whisper as my palms roamed over the contours of her body. "Every inch of you is so sexy."

My hands drifted down her body, then up the hem of her dress, teasing her soft thighs. She took my hands and slid them to her ass, pulling me closer still. I involuntarily tightened my grip in response. The sensations were almost too much. My mind raced with thoughts of what I wanted to do to her.

She must have sensed my desire, because she began to grind against me more insistently, her movements becoming more deliberate and sensual. I almost couldn’t resist running my hands beneath the fabric of her dress sliding against my skin. I wanted to tease and torture her the same as she was doing to me, but I held back.

I leaned in, my chin brushing against her smooth cheek as I found the delicate shell of her ear. I nipped at it gently. "You have no idea what you’re doing to me," I murmured.

Her laugh was low, seductive. “I’m just dancing," she teased, as she continued to move against me.

I groaned in response, my fingers tightening even further as I cupped her ass, pulling her harder against me. She let out a moan of pleasure, her body trembling as she grinded against my growing bulge.

I wanted to rip her dress off and take her right there on the dance floor. Instead, I continued running my hands over every inch of her body that I could reach, exploring the curves and valleys of her form.

The heat between us felt like it could have burned the place down, and as she turned to face me again, our eyes locked, and I saw the desire in her eyes, and it mirrored my own.

I swept her off her feet, then, hooking her leg around my waist as I lifted her effortlessly. She gasped, her body pressed against mine, heat radiating through our clothes as I held her, I lowered her back down slowly, my hands gliding up her body, relishing every inch of her soft skin along the way. I could feel her nipples hardening through her thin dress, and I knew she was just as turned on as I was.

"Oh my gosh, look at them!" Chandler exclaimed, eyes wide. I turned to look at what she’d spotted, what had pulled us out of the moment. "Willow has Parker line dancing! We have to go see!"

I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. I rearranged myself, trying to hide my erection before I let her tug me forward, weaving through the crowd that had gathered around Willow and Parker. As we made our way closer, I grabbed my beer from the table where I'd left it.

"Look at him go!" Chandler beamed, leaning back against the edge of the booth. Her amusement lit up her eyes. Those eyes were alive with the kind of warmth that drew people to her, a natural magnetism that made her the center of any room she entered.

Willow's laughter rang out above the music as she guided Parker through the dance steps, her arm locked in his. She moved with easy grace, her blonde hair swaying with each step. Parker gave it his all, trying his best to be a good sport despite his two left feet.

His foot caught on hers, and he stumbled backward, barely catching himself before taking a tumble. Chandler laughed so hard she cried.

"Love that goofy grin on his face when he’s with her," I said once I caught my breath, watching as Parker shook off his near-fall with another burst of laughter.

Chandler let out a long sigh. "I know. They'd be such a cute couple." Her gaze lingered on the pair, soft and thoughtful.

Parker swaggered back to the booth, a grin still plastered on his face as he reclaimed his drink, condensation beading down the glass. Willow trailed behind him, her cheeks flushed with laughter.

"Man, if I wasn't balls-deep into baseball, I think I'd make a fine cowboy," Parker said, tilting his beer back to drink.

I cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Really? You do realize cowboys do more than just look pretty. There's actual work involved."

He snickered, leaning back against the booth. "Who said anything about work? I'm talking about riding my horse shirtless, maybe sporting nothing but a cowboy hat, rounding up all the ladies."

"Because that's exactly what being a cowboy is," I shot back, sarcastically.