Page 9

eight

Cole

Another day, another depraved shower.

I’m going to sprain my hand if I keep jacking off at this rate.

That won’t stop me, though.

Water is pouring down on me as I fist myself, stroking my shaft up and down as I picture Rory, my dream girl, right where I want her—on her knees in front of me as she chokes on my cock.

She’d look so fucking beautiful as she takes me in, brushing me against the back of her throat as she moans around my dick, swallowing every drop of cum I give her.

That fantasy does me in, white heat consuming me as I explode, coming all over my shower floor.

As always, it only takes the edge off my desire for Rory.

My longing for her grows deeper the more time we spend together. We’ve always been friends, but we’ve become even closer this year. We started hanging out together more as we’d talk about Harlow and Knox when their fake relationship started, taking bets on how long until it was real.

Rory won.

I didn’t believe Knox would actually fall in love with my sister, but he sure as fuck did. Excluding myself and maybe Josh, I’ve never seen a man more infatuated with somebody, willing to do anything and everything just to make them smile.

The difference, though, is that they both have their girls. I’m left wanting.

I turn off the water and open my shower door, steam billowing out into the bathroom around me. I grab my towel and dry myself off before getting dressed in a pair of light gray joggers and a black T-shirt.

My hair falls to my shoulders as I run my fingers through it, laying it out just the way I like. I’ve had my hair long since I started in the majors five years ago. At twenty-eight, I should probably look into cutting it and go for a more professional look. I’m at the age now when everyone starts settling down.

But Rory likes it; she’s told me as much, even if she does fuck with me for it. For that reason alone, there won’t be a pair of scissors near my head anytime soon.

Yep, I’m pathetic.

I can’t dwell on that, though, as I hear Harlow knocking at my door.

I love our sibling time on Wednesday mornings, but I’m happier than usual today. I really want to talk to her about everything, even if it gets awkward.

Jogging to my entryway, I take a breath to settle my nerves before letting Harlow inside.

“Hey, Cole!” she exclaims, strutting inside all chipper. Because, of course, she’s chipper. She’s always chipper. But what I don’t want to know is if that attitude has anything to do with the activities she gets up to with one of my best friends.

“Morning, Lo,” I say, meeting her at my kitchen island, where she’s started unpacking the food she picked up for us from our favorite diner.

Harlow went with her usual—French toast. I switched it up, though. The season’s over, and my mind is a fucking mess—I’m not keeping myself from indulging, which is why I have an order of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and a large side of bacon.

“So,” she says, sliding up onto a stool as I take the one next to her, two mugs of coffee in hand. “What made you deviate from your usual spinach omelet?”

I have to stifle a moan as I take a bite of my pancakes. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Harlow asks, eyeing me.

“Actually, I think it does,” I smirk. “This is fucking delicious, and it’s the offseason.”

“Fair enough,” she replies, pushing her hair behind her shoulder and taking a bite of her French toast.

“How’s domestic life treating you, Lo?”

The eye roll I get in response is exactly what I expected. “Everything is good,” she says, smiling brightly. “I’m really happy.”

“Good,” I say, smiling back. “I always want you to be happy.”

Harlow sets her fork down now, her look turning more serious. “I want you to be happy, too, you know.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I’d like that, too,” I admit. “Not sure romance is in the cards for me right now, though.”

Harlow nods in understanding. “Want to talk about that?”

I breathe out a laugh. “How could you possibly know I wanted to talk to you about it?”

“I’m your sister,” she shrugs. “I know you. And I know you’ve been acting a bit off since the World Series when you and Rory disappeared together.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mumble, pinching my brow. “Is there anybody that didn’t notice that?”

“Outside of our group of friends, I don’t think anyone noticed.” Harlow takes a sip of coffee before continuing. “Did something happen?”

“Not quite,” I admit. “There was an almost moment that I will not be giving you the details of, but nothing actually happened.”

“But you wish it did?”

“Why am I talking about my sex life with you?”

“Because you aren’t giving me details,” she shudders, “and I sure as fuck don’t want them.” I laugh now, relaxing some from the tension I’ve been feeling. “What exactly is going on between you two, though?”

“I don’t fucking know,” I sigh. “You already know I’m into her since you worked it out over the summer. But I’m really starting to think it’s not one-sided.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not one-sided,” Harlow laughs. “Before you ask, no, she hasn’t said anything to me, so I’m not divulging secret information. But you should have seen her in the box with me during game seven. She wouldn’t take her eyes off you, Cole.”

Heat creeps up my neck and spreads across my cheeks. Harlow laughs lightly before I can compose myself. “Interesting,” is all I can mutter.

“So, what do you like about Rory?”

“What’s not to like?” I smile. “I love the way she gives me shit. She always says what’s on her mind. She’s funny and thoughtful, and she’s so fucking beautiful. She’s the entire package.” I take a breath before noticing Harlow trying to hide her smile. “Shit, I’m so fucking gone for her,” I groan.

She looks at me sympathetically. “You know Paul can’t dictate her love life, right?”

“No, he can’t,” I reply. “She’s her own person. But it would be career suicide for me. I’d get benched and probably traded. I’ll fucking retire before that happens. I don’t want to play anywhere else.”

“I know you don’t. But if you ever decide to stop holding back…” Harlow eyes me. “You know I’ll support you both.”

“Thanks, Lo,” I sigh, head in my hands. “I appreciate that, but nothing will happen. It can’t happen. There’s just too much at stake.”

Harlow gives me what I believe is meant to be a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t do anything for me.

I fucking hate this.

I’ve never dated much, being so busy with baseball. I’ve had my share of fun, especially before I came to play for the Stars, but since I arrived back in New York, fun isn’t the only thing I want.

I could claim that it’s just me getting older and wanting what my friends have—Josh and Ella are getting married next month, and Knox just had my sister move in with him.

But I know that’s not the real reason.

The real reason is because Rory Fisher has taken up permanent residence in my mind. She’s always there, reminding me that the life I now want is one I only want with her.

I’ve tried to fuck her out of my mind, but no random woman has ever been enough.

She’s still there.

She’s always there.

I might as well just take a vow of celibacy now because I’m not sure my dick will be getting action ever again because there’s only one woman it wants.

And it’s the one woman forbidden to me.