He merely shifted his body over the top of hers, his chest against her spine. “It’s because I was honest with you and pissed you off.”

“Okay, yes. That, too.”

“You want me to trust you, but you don’t have to trust me. That sucks, Holly.”

She spit a strand of hair out of her mouth and shifted her head to the side so she didn’t suffocate, which wasn’t to say that she didn’t like the way his weight felt holding her pinned to the mattress, because she did.

A lot.

And she especially liked the way he thrust a thigh between hers, using it to spread open her legs. She just didn’t want to like it.

He nuzzled the back of her neck. “You, Holly Hutchins, are a conundrum.”

Dammit, so was he. He was supposed to be just a big, sexy jock. What the hell was he doing using a word like conundrum, whispering to her in that soft, sexy voice, using a powerful thigh to hold hers open as his mouth found the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder that she loved, loved, when he kissed. “I’m really mad at you right now.”

He slid a hand down her body, slipping it between her and the sheets, cupping her between her legs, feeling exactly how not mad she was. “Mmmm,” he said in a voice thick with appreciation as he played in her slippery heat. “Tell me you still want me to leave.”

She opened her mouth to do just that but his fingers—God. She moaned instead.

“Yes or no, Holly.”

“Stay,” she managed.

He pulled out another condom from the box, put it on, and then slid inside her from behind as he kissed his way along her shoulder to her neck.

She opened her mouth to tell him that they were doing this but she was still mad, but only moaned as he gave a slow thrust, filling her deeply, so deliciously that her hands fisted the sheets on either side of her head to hold on tight. She bit her lip to keep her next moan in, but she couldn’t stop herself from arching for the next long, slow thrust. “Still mad,” she gasped.

He covered one of her fists with his hand, entwining their fingers, while his other slipped beneath her, stroking her where they were joined, slowly driving her straight to heaven without a seat belt. “Then I should stop.”

Her toes were already curling, her thighs quivering. She only needed one more thrust, maybe two . . .

“Don’t even think about stopping, not until—”

“Not until,” he promised, and pulling her up to her knees, set about making good on his promise.

Chapter 18

I’ve come to the conclusion that the two most important things in life are good friends and a good bullpen.

—Bob Lemon

The next day, Pace entered the Heat’s facility for a lower-body workout before his team meeting, torn between terror over his impending surgery and feeling damn good about the night he’d just spent with Holly.

Red was in the bullpen barking orders at Ty, but brightened at the sight of Pace. “It’s not the same without your ugly mug around here.”

“Yeah.” Pace stood next to him and watched Ty throw, wishing he was the one out there.

“You’ll be back in no time,” Red said.

They both knew that was likely an empty platitude. Ty was doing a good job, throwing tight and fast. “He’s coming along.”

Red nodded along with that, then kicked at the ground. “A month, tops.” He coughed at the dirt he’d stirred up, and pulled out his inhaler.

“Are you—”

“Fine.” He pushed away Pace’s concern. “Get to your meeting.”

Pace headed inside and found Wade on his laptop. He was skimming the blogs, but he took one look at Pace’s face and nodded. “Nice.”

“What?”

“You finally stepped up to the plate. Was it good? Never mind, she’s hot, so of course it was good.”

Pace grabbed a Dr Pepper with an utter lack of guilt since he was done playing for a while—Christ—ignoring Wade’s knowing grin as he popped it open.

“Want to talk about it?” Wade asked.

“No.” He nodded to the laptop. “What’s up?”

“Not you. It didn’t get out yet.”

“Yeah, well. Holly knows.”

Wade leaned back in the chair. “So?”

“So . . . she’s a reporter, in case you missed that.”

“Maybe she’s not wearing her reporter hat with you. You ever think of that?”

“I don’t think the hat comes off just for me.”

“Then she would have reported it in her blog by now, but she hasn’t.”

“Not yet.”

Wade shook his head. “You know, I thought it was your shoulder that was f**ked up, but really, it’s your head.”

“You’re that sure she’s not our leak?”

Wade was quiet a moment. “Actually, I thought you were that sure. Look . . . you keep waiting for her to screw up so you can be over her, but she isn’t screwing up, at least not that we know of, so what’s next? How will you push her away now?” Wade shook his head. “Hope you have a parachute for that fall, buddy.”

“What fall?”

“The one you’re taking for her. You’re falling hard and fast.”

Which was just true enough to scare the hell out of him. And suddenly, the cool clubhouse felt hot, way too hot. “I need a water.” He set down the soda.

Wade handed over his Nalgene water bottle, which was only a quarter full but Pace took it. Downed it.