“Maybe next time we won’t need it,” she says in a sultry bedroom voice. “I’m going on birth control.”

I jolt with pleasure at the prospect of fucking her bare. But fucking her covered is a gift too.

I hold the base of my dick, offering it to her. She moves over me, gripping my length at the same time then rubbing the head against her center.

Her eyes flutter closed, and a soft groan falls from her lips. “Feels so good,” she whispers as she takes me in the slightest bit.

Then more.

Inch by inch, she lowers onto me, her pussy like a tight glove.

My body shakes as she drops down.

We both gasp at how good this feels, how close we’re connected, how much we want this.

Shuddering, she draws a deep breath, her hands gripping my chest, her fingers playing with my nipples. She’s quiet at first, and still. Adjusting maybe.

Or possibly savoring, judging by how her eyes darken, float closed, then open again. How her breath stutters.

Then, she bends closer.

Moving and swaying, taking and giving.

As my body heats up, I let her set the pace, let her find the rhythm that she needs.

Because I’ve got everything I want right now. I’ve got her, on me, with me.

Soon enough, we’re moving in tandem, gasping and grunting, sweat slicking between us, skin burning up. Her noises intensify, pitching up, lasting longer, her moans like a dirty song, like filthy music to my ears as she rides me.

My hands slide up and down her back, traveling along her soft skin, threading through her hair.

As we tangle together, I’m grateful, so damn grateful, that we’re here tonight, before I leave, enjoying every second of loving and fucking, fucking and loving.

And coming as one. That’s what we do, reaching the edge, blasting off, a blur of heat and pleasure, of sounds and cries. Of bodies and hearts crashing into each other.

After we both gasp and laugh and pant, I let out a long, happy sigh. “Even though we’re not doing the friends-with-benefits thing anymore, I want you to know I have never enjoyed the benefits as much as I do with you.”

Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe that’s because we’re friends and lovers.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s why. And there’s nothing accidental about that.”

A little later, she falls asleep in my arms, something I hope she’ll do every night when I’m in town. That’s how I want this to be with us. This new us. Every day, every night.

In the morning I wake at the crack of dawn, take a quick shower, and pull on my clothes. She’s brushing her teeth as I zip up my jeans.

Seeing me dressed, she spits out the toothpaste. “So, I guess this is it?”

I look at my watch, my heart heavy because I have to go but full because, well, we’re in love and it is fucking awesome. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”

She turns off the faucet, sets down the toothpaste, and walks over to me, sliding her hands up my chest. “So, this is us? We’re, like, a thing now?”

I grin, beyond confident when I tell her, “You’re mine. Don’t even try to get out of it. I’m going to call you and text you from Arizona every day. When I get back here, I am going to be so goddamn horny and wound up that I’m probably going to spend the entire night going down on you, fingering you, fucking you, making love to you.”

She shimmies her hips. “It’ll be more than a month, so I’ll pretty much be like a virgin again.”

I laugh, cup her cheek, and kiss her mouth. “I love you, Wild Woman.”

“I love you too, All-Star.”

Three hours later I’m at the airport, duffel checked. I walk to the gate where the team plane is parked.

Lily Whiting, the reporter from the Sports Network waits, press pass around her neck. She’s here to interview some of the team before we head to spring training.

Good. I’ve got something I need to say on camera. When Lily strides over to me and asks if I’m ready, I say yes.

Her camera guy mics me up, then Lily asks me a few questions about the upcoming season. As Chance and Grant wait a few feet away, arms crossed, watching intently, I tell her the things I want to work on, what the team needs to do to win, what I’m most looking forward to. Then I make good on my promise.

“And mostly what I’m looking forward to, Lily, is working with Chance Ashford and Grant Blackwood,” I say, gesturing to my teammates. “Have I mentioned that those guys are absolutely the most talented players in all of baseball? And so is Holden Kingsley of the San Francisco Dragons. They’re the best. They’re better than me,” I say, since those were the terms of the pact. The one that I broke. The one I’m damn glad I broke.

Lily gives me a curious stare. “Those are things you don’t hear very often from athletes about other players, especially their rivals.”

I meet the eyes of my friends, who are slack-jawed but clearly amused.

“True. But sometimes when you know the truth, you’ve just got to say it aloud. And they are the absolute best.” I grin, grateful to be giving this confession because of what it means. What I have because of it.

She turns to the camera. “And there you have it.”

I thank her and head onto the team plane with my guys. Grant claps me on the back as we walk down the Jetway. “So, we’re the best?”

Chance cuts in. “He said it. He must mean it.”

“Of course I mean it,” I say as we step into the galley.

Grant shoots me a skeptical look. “Or maybe you’re just madly in love.”

I toss a glance at my teammates, shrugging, smiling, owning it. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. I absolutely am.”

Soon the plane takes off. I glance at my feet and tense when I realize I forgot to pick out a pair of lucky socks for today. I’m wearing basic, ordinary dress socks with my suit pants.

But then I relax because that’s okay. Because socks don’t make the luck. You make your own by finding what you love and making sure you’re not too superstitious to let it get away.

I send a text to the woman I adore.

Crosby: Just so you know, I’m not crediting the corgi butts for the way I feel for you. It’s you. I am crazy in love with you. Also, your butt is cuter than any corgi’s.

Epilogue

Nadia

About A Month Later

Here’s the other issue I have with dating sites.

Nowhere do they mention that long-distance love affairs are worse than dental exams.

Okay, fine. There are a few benefits. The first time you have Skype sex is crazy hot.

And okay, the second, third, fourth, and fifth times are incendiary too. I have a family of little darlings and big darlings, and Crosby likes watching me use them all. Maybe I’m shameless, or maybe I just know what I like, but this show-and-tell does the trick for me along with his words as he urges me on, as he talks dirty to me and sends me over the bunny-hopping cliff.

Plus, in his hotel room on the other end of the camera, my boyfriend looks smoking hot when he takes his thick cock in his hand, slides his fist up and down, and gets himself all the way off, telling me the things he wants to do to me when he returns to San Francisco.