As agile-minded as he was able-bodied, he reached around her to hit the lock on his front door. “Best idea I’ve heard all morning.”

Chapter 24

The best way to catch a knuckleball is to wait until the ball stops rolling and then pick it up.

—Bob Uecker

Wade pulled Sam in, his eyes quietly and powerfully intense, all the more so because she knew what it meant. He wore that look when he was on the baseball diamond and going for the win.

And he wore it when he was making love to her.

And did he make love. He was good at it, so damn good.

“I dreamed you started your own PR firm and left us,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to her jaw.

She choked out a startled laugh even as she tilted her head to give him better access. “I’m thinking about it.”

He lifted his head and stared at her, then nodded solemnly. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great.”

“So in this dream,” she said. “I was gone. Did you miss me?”

His hand splayed over her hip, playing with the tie on her dress. “More than I can say.”

“Aw.”

“Fucking pathetic.” He pulled the tie until it gave.

“You’re still hurting,” she murmured, pressing a hand between her breasts, holding the dress together. “Probably you shouldn’t be doing anything . . . strenuous.”

He took her hands in his, spreading them out at her sides so that her dress loosened and unraveled, then slipped to her elbows, aided by his hands. He pushed her backwards until she bumped up against something.

The table behind the sofa in the living room.

On it sat a bowl with keys, a stack of mail, and Wade’s wallet. Clearly the dumping grounds for his pockets when he walked into the door at night. With one sweep of his hand, the entire contents were knocked to the floor.

She gasped. “But your ribs—”

“I’ll tell you when I need help.”

“Your head—”

“Is f**ked up,” he granted. “But mostly just on the inside.” He urged her up on the table, then stepped in between her legs, bringing himself up snug to her body.

With her dress hanging off her elbows, she could feel the soft cotton of his sweatpants on her inner thighs, the contrasting heat of his bare, hard abs against her softer body.

Then he kissed her. And Lord, the man could kiss. He slid his tongue to hers and kissed her until she was nothing but a puddle of pulsing need. She tried to go for his sweats but found her arms caught in her dress. “Wade.”

He dipped his head to take in the sight of her sitting there, arms held at her sides, legs spread wide around his hips, wearing only a plain white cotton bra and matching bikini panties with a single tiny pink rose in the middle of the elastic edging. He ran a finger over that rose, then straight down between her legs, and heat shot through her body like lightning, centering on that fingertip.

“Pretty,” he said, and unhooked her bra. He pushed it and her dress off her arms, sending both to the floor. Dipping his head, he kissed her neck, making his way over her collarbone to her breast.

Her nipple.

Her belly . . .

He dropped to his knees, running his hands up from her feet to her inner thighs.

She gripped the table on either side of her for all she was worth. “Wade—”

His fingers hooked in the sides of her panties, then kissed her hip, his mouth lingering. “I’m going to put my mouth on you, Sam. I’m going to lick you until you come.”

There was something about being na**d and literally spread out for him, something about him being so fully in charge of the situation. She shouldn’t like it. She really shouldn’t. She was sure of it.

A single tug and her panties were gone, which left her in nothing but her heels. Nothing between her and his hot gaze, which had a front-row view of exactly how much she liked what he was doing. She held her breath as he let out a low, rough breath of his own, one filled with heat and hunger.

And then he leaned in and put his mouth on her.

She’d had lovers, some of them even very good. But still it tended to take her awhile to cl**ax. It was because she had a hard time turning her mind off and completely letting go. And if it took too long, she’d been known to give up, even worse, been given up on.

She never had that problem with Wade. After the elevator episode, where she’d gone off for him in under five minutes, she’d attributed it to the alcohol, to the hotness factor that was Wade himself.

She hadn’t yet worked up a reason for the wedding bathroom incident.

Or the backseat of her car.

Or today. Because after only about two minutes of having his mouth on her, that clever, oh-so-talented, greedy mouth, her toes were already curling.

“Good?” he murmured against her skin, then did something amazing with his tongue.

She cried out and arched up, unable to stop herself. “Better than my showerhead.”

Letting out a soft huff of laughter, he slid his hands beneath her ass to pull her a little closer. “Nice to know.”

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Not even when she cried out his name and shattered.

Wade shifted his mouth to Sam’s inner thigh as her shudders finally slowed. He loved her like this, all hot and bothered and breathing like crazy. “You okay?” he murmured against her soft, delicious skin, kissing her because he couldn’t seem to stop.

Her fingers loosened their death-grip on his hair. “No. I’m blind.”

He tilted up his head and felt a smile curve his mouth. “Your eyes are closed.”

“Oh. Right.” She opened them slowly, leveling the dreamy, dazed orbs on his, which cracked his heart wide open.

It was a shocking feeling, a new feeling, and he found himself just staring up at her, a bit stunned. He went to stand and felt a stab in his ribs, and shocked at the pain, sat back on his heels instead.

Sam hopped off the table and in just her heels, crouched at his side, her hand on his abs. “Your head or your ribs?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re gray.”

He let out a careful breath. “It’s nothing. Christ, you should see how gorgeous you look right now in only those heels.”

“You are such a guy.” She helped him to his feet. “Come to the couch. Sit a sec.”

He allowed her to draw him around to the couch, and then held on to her hand when she would have moved off.

“I was going to get you Advil from my purse.” Her questioning eyes ran down his body, snagging on the tented front of his sweats.

“Advil isn’t going to help my condition,” he said.

“What will?”

“Looking at you.”

She let him tug her closer so that one knee hit the couch next to his thigh. Surprising him, she used her own momentum to lift the other leg over and straddled him.

His eyes met hers as his hands went to her hips. “I’m already feeling a little bit better,” he said.

“I think I can improve on that.” She tugged his sweats down enough to wrap her hand around him and stroked. “How’s this?”

He rocked helplessly up into her fingers, and pain speared through his ribs. He went very still and carefully didn’t breathe. He didn’t dare.

“Wade? Dammit—” She tried to lift herself off of him but he dug his fingers into her hips.

“No, don’t,” he grated out. “I just—I can’t move like I want to,” he admitted hoarsely.

“Then let me.” She lifted up, guiding him to her, slowly, holding his gaze as she sank down on him. “Okay?” she whispered, eyes locked on his.

He could barely speak as she held him inside her body. “Yeah.” He stared up at her, taking in her hair, long ago rioted from his fingers. She was still flushed, and she had a red mark on her jaw where he’d gotten her with his stubble. She looked like she’d been claimed, he thought.

As his.

And then she began to move, and as was usual when he was with her like this, he couldn’t think at all.

“So,” she murmured some time later. “Still mad at me?”

Cradling the warm, sated, na**d woman in his arms, Wade stirred. His face was plastered against her sweet-smelling neck, her hair drifting in his eyes, a strand of it sticking to his unshaven jaw. He’d just had an orgasm that had rocked his world. In truth, he couldn’t have summoned mad to save his life. “Let’s go to my bed.”

“I have a meeting,” she said.

“Be late.”

“Gage hates late.”

“Not if there’s a good reason.”

She smiled. “According to Gage, the only acceptable reason to be late is death.”

“Or sex.”

She laughed, the woman he’d only meant to play with, the woman who instead had become the only steady hold on reality that he had. “I’m pretty sure the only sex Gage would consider as an excuse would be his.” She rose off him and began to gather her clothes.

Watching a woman dress was usually fascinating for Wade, and one of his favorite pastimes. Well, actually, watching a woman undress was his favorite pastime.

But dressing was fun, too.

But now, all he could feel was the dull thump of his heart as he watched her pull on her panties and turn around, looking for her bra.

He scooped it off the coffee table and handed it to her, not letting go when she tugged. “It’s not the meeting,” he said.

“Of course it’s the meeting.” She yanked hard and he let go of the bra.

“It’s the bed,” he said. “I said bed and you got all flustered.”

She covered her gorgeous br**sts with her bra and hooked herself in without answering.

“Yeah,” he said grimly, some of his after-sex glow fading. “The thought of my bed scares you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What then? Tell me.”

She grabbed her dress off the floor. “Why would a bed scare me?”

“I don’t know, we’ve never done it in a bed. Maybe a bed represents something other than sex. Maybe a bed says we mean more to each other than just a quickie on a couch.”

“Or in a backseat,” she said.

“Yeah, or an elevator.” He held her gaze. “Or a bathroom.”

“Wade.” She covered her eyes and breathed in deeply. “Do we have to do this now?”

Quiet, a little unnerved at the urge he had to try harder to coax her into staying, he watched her nip and tuck herself together, then twist her hair up.

And voila.

In less than three seconds she went from sweet, warm, tousled Sam to all-business Sam.

Frightening how good she was at that.

She moved past him to the door, and he barely caught her hand.

She looked down at their entwined fingers instead of meeting his gaze, and suddenly he was forced to face an unsettling fact.

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t trying to figure a way to get rid of a woman he’d just slept with. He wasn’t running for the door. He wasn’t working up an excuse or a pretty lie about why he had to go. Because he didn’t want to get rid of her. He wanted more.

He honestly hadn’t seen that one coming.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He waited until she met his gaze, her own unusually bright. “I see that.” Still a little bowled over by his own thoughts, he dropped his hand from hers, watching as she stepped to the door.

“It’s not what you think,” she said, her back to him.

He’d never pushed for more with a woman, ever. It made him feel a little bit like he was standing balls-out-naked. Oh, wait. He was balls-out-naked. “What do I think, Sam?”

“That I don’t want to be with you. I do.” She paused, then turned to face him. “I do. But I know your terms, Wade. Light and fun and easy. Only sometimes something inside me forgets, and I have to back off to regroup.”

At her words, his chest ached. “Sam.”

“I just need to regroup,” she repeated softly. “That’s all. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, she was gone.

Sam ran into the meeting with one minute to spare. Gage looked up, then frowned. “You’re almost late and you’re . . . smiling. What’s up?”

She’d noticed the smile in the rearview mirror on the way over here. Even with the seriousness of the conversation she’d had with Wade after the whole couch-sex thing, she couldn’t get rid of it. Damn multiple orgasms. “Nothing.”

He looked her over very carefully, then let out a low breath. “I could use a nothingsmile like that.”

Sam survived the meeting, and then the phone call with her father as she informed him of her intention not to resign her contract when the season was over, that she’d instead be starting up her own PR firm. She’d sounded cool and collected as she told him that she hoped he would hire her an as independent contractor to continue to run the Heat’s PR needs, but that she’d have other clients as well, and would no longer be a McNead employee.

He’d argued. He was unhappy with her decision, and claimed that she was letting the family down, but she thought the truth of it was that he didn’t want her out from beneath his thumb.

But for her it was as good as done. Maybe she couldn’t choose her family, but she sure as hell could choose her own path.

And when she hung up, she was still smiling. Seems sex really did a body good.

She was still smiling that night over macaroni and cheese with Tag. But when she got up the next morning, the smile was finally gone. She lay in bed and thought about getting herself over to Wade’s for another twelve-hour smile, but she couldn’t come up with an excuse so she called him. “How are you?”