Page 10

After breakfast, I head up to the suite I was supposed to sleep in last night with my friends while Cooper heads to his room to make a phone call.

When I open the door, my six closest friends are all awake and lounging around, and they all look a little hungover. I, on the other hand, have a wide smile gracing my lips.

“Where have you been?” Mia asks, leaping to her feet with an accusatory finger pointed in my direction, anger all over her face.

“I was with Cooper,” I say, my voice all dreamy even to my own ears.

“Haven’t you checked your messages?” she asks.

“I was with Cooper,” I repeat. “Sorry, allow me to amend that. I was getting banged like a drum at a marching band parade by Cooper.”

Mia’s jaw drops open. “You had sex with him?” she whisper yells.

“Yes. And I’m just here to grab my suitcase so I can get back to his room and have some more sex with him. Have I mentioned how good he is at the sex? He’s got this tongue that’s, like, unreal, and he—”

“Gabby!” Mia says, fisting my biceps. “Do you know who he is?”

My brows draw together. “He’s Cooper,” I say. I think back to the semi-fuzzy walk last night when people seemed to recognize him as they called him by his full name.

“He looked familiar to Chelsea, so we looked him up. He’s Cooper Noah. He played third base for the Dodgers for seven years before an elbow injury took him out of the game.”

My eyes widen as my palm moves toward my forehead. “A baseball player? For the Dodgers?” I think I might be in shock as her words hit me. Why would a megastar baseball player have any interest at all in someone like me?

The t-shirt I’m still sporting makes a hell of a lot more sense now.

I don’t follow baseball. My mother hated the game, so we never watched it when I was growing up, and it wasn’t until much more recently that I took an interest in it at all.

I still don’t know much about the game, but I’m learning.

Maybe Cooper can teach me a thing or two. And if he’s been out of the game a few years, I guess it makes sense that I wouldn’t know who he is since my interest in the sport is very recent. Our timelines just didn’t overlap, I guess.

I wonder why he didn’t mention it, but I don’t want to be the one to bring it up. Maybe he prefers it this way, and I think I do, too. If we see each other beyond this weekend, I’m sure it’s something that will come up at some point, but I don’t want him to think I’m just after him because of who he is.

And I really don’t want him to find out who I am, either. I don’t want what we’re starting to be tainted by things completely out of our control. Not when our dynamic together is so good.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I admit. “I’m supposed to just come up and grab my bag so we can spend the day together.”

“Well…how was it?” Becky asks.

I sigh dramatically as I drop down into a vacant chair. “I can’t even come up with the words, to be honest. It was…” I shake my head. “It was like I’ve known him my entire life. It was like we were destined to sit next to each other at that blackjack table, like our paths were meant to cross.”

“But he’s like, in his thirties, isn’t he?” Kelly asks, scrunching up her nose. “Doesn’t he have wrinkly old balls?”

I nod. “When the connection is this strong, age is just a number,” I say, citing the same words he used as a cliché. Maybe it’s a cliché, but it’s also the truth. “And there’s nothing wrong with his balls. They’re quite firm, as a matter of fact, and they seemed to be working just fine as they slapped against me last night.”

Mia’s still narrowing her eyes at me like I’m a child who needs scolding, but Chelsea lets out a loud laugh. Chelsea’s the resident perv, so I know she’ll be on my side. She probably wishes she was the one in my shoes right about now.

Proving my point, she sighs. “You’re so lucky. He’s hot, even if he does have wrinkly old balls.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “He is pretty fucking hot. His abs are just…” I lick my lips as I think about those abs. Damn, I want to run my tongue along every ridge.

I miss him.

I already fucking miss him and we’ve been apart all of four minutes.

This isn’t good.

I’m in deep. Way too deep for how little we know about each other. He didn’t even tell me he used to play baseball, but he did shake his head with silent laughter when I asked him if he was a Dodgers fan. I guess that makes a little more sense, too.

It’s fine. I’ll let him keep his secret.

That way I can keep mine, too.

I bid my friends goodbye, grab my suitcase, and head back to Cooper’s room. He throws the door open and basically attacks. “Shower with me,” he demands once we come up for air.

“Can I brush my teeth first?”

He laughs. “Be my guest.”

“I’ll go fast. Promise.” I brush my teeth in record time, and as a fun surprise, I decide to strip naked. I open the door and step out into the living area of our hotel room, and his jaw falls open.

“I think I want to marry you,” he says, and heat floods my core at his words.

We’re nowhere near that yet, and it was obviously a joke, but now it’s in my head, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to move on from the former professional baseball player who just told me he wants to marry me.

He stalks toward me, the hunter as I wait quietly as his prey, and when he gets to me, he runs his palms along the sides of my torso, grazing the sides of my breasts before sliding them around to cup my ass. He squeezes as he pulls me against him, the fabric of his t-shirt rough against my nipples as his mouth crashes down to mine.

We stand there kissing a few beats, our tongues dancing in a hot, intense battle, and then he pulls back suddenly. He rips his shirt off and slides his shorts down his athletic legs, and then he grabs my hand and pulls me into the bathroom. He starts the shower water and peppers kisses along my neck while we wait for it to warm up, and I pull the tie out of my hair. He steps in first and pulls me with him, and then he wraps his arms around me and kisses me in that deep, intense way he has as we stand under the spray of water together.

I’ll be honest. I’ve never taken a shower with a guy before.

It’s not that I’m totally inexperienced, but my most serious relationship was Jace, and college dorm showers aren’t exactly built for romance.

But this shower clearly was. It’s all encased in glass, and it has two showerheads—one which happens to be detachable. There’s plenty of room for two people, and there’s even a bench that’s probably designed for towels or shower gel but also would work as a seat.

He lets me go and spins me around. I turn to watch as he pumps some shampoo onto his hand then massages it into my hair, and I lean back as I let his fingers work his magic. I moan at the feel of his hands on me anywhere—even my hair—and he thrusts his very hard dick against my ass.

I grab the bar of soap and lather up my hands while he works his magic, and then I reach behind me, fisting his dick with my slippery hands.

“Jesus,” he grunts, and I grin. I can’t help it. Hearing him make sounds like that because of what I’m doing to him might be the biggest turn on of my life.

He pulls his hips back out of my reach then grabs the detachable shower head to help me rinse the shampoo out of my hair. I shampoo his hair next, and even though I ran my hands through it last night, I love the feel of the thick strands between my fingers. He’s quite a bit taller than me, so he bends down as I reach up to scrub, and he moves in to latch his mouth onto my nipple.

Have you ever tried shampooing someone’s hair while they’re sucking on your nipple?

It’s quite the distraction.

I manage to finish the job, and then we wash each other with the bar of soap. Our bodies slide together in a sensual way as we work, and once we’ve rinsed each other, he orders me to sit on the little bench.

He pulls the detachable showerhead down. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” he says, and I do as requested. “Now lean back and enjoy.”

I lean back and watch as he sinks to his knees, and then I close my eyes as I wait for the sensations to hit me.

He doesn’t disappoint. He aims a burst of water right at my clit as he grabs a nipple between his fingertips with his other hand, tweaking and pulling in painful pleasure. He pulls the water away and licks his way through my entire pussy, stopping to suck on my clit before dipping his tongue back in, and then he pulls his finger from my nipple to thrust it into me. He aims the water at my clit again as he drives his finger in and out, taking a nipple in his mouth again.

It's too many sensations. Pleasure on top of pleasure on top of pleasure.

I spiral out of control as wave after wave of bliss careen through my entire body.

And as the pulses start to slow, he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. I’m writhing on the bench, need and desire pummeling through me even though he literally just sated that ache, and he keeps going .

Jace would always stop as soon as I hit my peak.

Cooper wants to do it again. He makes me feel like he could spend the entire day in here with the sole purpose of making me come.

But I want to make him come, too.

I shift, and he gets the hint as he pulls his fingers out of me.

“I want to see you come again,” he murmurs. “It’s the most gorgeous vision I think I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Your turn first,” I pant. “Stand up.”

He does, and he places the showerhead back in its cradle. When he turns around, I don’t get up, but I do grab onto his thighs to pull him closer to me. I fist his cock and pump it a few times before I suck it into my mouth, and he reaches onto the wall over my head to brace himself as I suck and pump and lick.

He groans through his pleasure, and I pick up speed, wanting to give him the same type of bliss he gave me. “I’m close,” he warns, but I don’t care. I keep sucking, pulling him as far back as I can, and his thighs tremble as he starts to lose control.

The hot jet hits the back of my throat, and my automatic reflex is to swallow. A few more pulses hit the back of my throat, and I keep sucking, keep doing what I’m doing as he fights his way through an intense, brutal orgasm.

When the pulses slow, he pulls out of my mouth and collapses on the bench beside me. He tosses an arm around me, and I settle into his side, the perfect placement as our bodies just seem to fit together, like we were each missing a piece of ourselves until we found each other. We both sit in quiet bliss as the water streams down in front of us, and eventually he stands and shuts off the water.

He silently exits the shower and grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist, and he steps back in with a second towel. Instead of handing it to me, he starts to dry me off. Something about it is intimate and sweet. We’re both quietly lost in our thoughts, quietly lost in the afterglow, quietly lost in each other.

He pulls me to a stand and wraps the towel around me, and I grab another one to towel dry my hair while he finishes drying himself, too.

We comb our hair together in the bathroom, me fighting through the tangles while he makes quick work of his hair. I put a little make-up on, and we each get dressed, both of us comfortably quiet as we work through our individual routines together.

Once we’re ready, his gaze lifts to mine. His eyes look a little tormented—something I haven’t seen from him in the short time I’ve known him, a reminder that we have a long way to go. “When can I see you again?” His voice is low, and I’m not sure how to lighten the sudden somber mood in here.

My chest warms as I think about the fact that he wants to see me again, and it tightens at the same time as I think about how this blissful time with him will inevitably come to an end. “Depends on when you’re back in town.”

He presses his lips together, slinging one arm around me as he crushes my body to his. “That’s not good enough.”

I’m not sure what to say. My instinct is to tell him to stay, but I worry that’ll just show my age. He has responsibilities. I’m not even sure if he has the ability to just pack up and move to Vegas with the snap of a finger.

But I want him to.

“Then stay,” I finally say because it’s the only choice I have. Fuck naivety. Fuck my age. All that matters is how we’re both feeling right now, and the desperation in his tone is the exact same thing I’m feeling down to my core. “Take the job, whatever it is, so we can see if this powerful thing between us is as big as we feel like it is.”

He drops a soft kiss to my lips rather than responding, and when he pulls back, he heaves out a heavy sigh. “Let’s go get you a daiquiri.”

I blow out a breath, too, and then I slide my hand into his and follow him down to the Strip.