Catching Zia (Spring Training Book 1) Read online

  Her shoulders slumped lower. Her gaze fell.

  Brett commanded his legs to move forward. He inched toward Zia, not wanting to scare her off or send her running back down the hall if she wasn’t ready for him to advance on her or get in her space.

  She didn’t move. She lifted her gaze to his slowly, and then she bit her lower lip between her teeth.

  All he could think was God give me the opportunity to have a second chance with this woman.

  As he continued forward, she held her ground.

  He stopped inches from her and slowly lifted one hand toward her face. When he cupped her cheek and rubbed the pad of his thumb across one line of tears, she tilted her head into his touch, closed her eyes, and sighed softly.

  The sweetest sound.

  He had no idea where Monica went, but he didn’t sense her nearby anymore. He would owe her a lengthy apology later, but for now, he thought she would understand. He needed to make things right with Zia first.

  She lifted one hand and set it on his forearm next to her face. “I missed you,” she whispered.

  “You have no idea,” he murmured in response. And then he closed the gap and hauled her into his arms.

  He held her so tight it had to hurt. This slip of a woman who’d warmed his bed for only one night weeks ago but left a permanent mark on his soul.

  He kissed the top of her head and swayed with her in his arms, threading his fingers in her hair and pressing her cheek against his chest.

  She felt so right. So perfect.

  He buried his face in her soft curls and inhaled her scent.

  When they finally pulled apart, her eyes were wet with renewed tears, but she smiled up at him, setting her chin on his chest. “Maybe we could start over?”

  “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

  She shoved off his chest and lifted a hand between them. “Hi. I’m Zia Sharpley. I’m an unemployed nanny with a temporary job to hold me over while I make the shift to being a starving artist. I have no family. And my mother is so fucked up that she saw a tiny picture of me with some rich guy in a tabloid and tracked me down to hunt for gold.” She pasted on the fakest, cutest grin he’d ever seen.

  He took her hand in his and shook it. “I’m Brett Michelson. You might have heard of me? No? Well, I play second base for Miami. My season is about to start, and dating me is a royal pain in the ass because paparazzi tend to track me down no matter where I go or who I’m with.

  “I’d love for you to come on this ride with me, but I’m warning you, you could end up as tabloid gossip that drags even the most unwelcome relatives out of the closet, hoping to make a buck off your good fortune.” He added a smile that matched hers—equally cheesy. And then he pulled her back into his arms, needing to feel her against him and ground himself. Was this real?

  For long moments, neither of them moved.

  And then Zia pushed on his chest. “I can’t breathe. And I need to wash my face.”

  He lifted her chin with one finger. “You’re so beautiful. Even red and swollen and splotchy. I missed you so much.”

  She hesitated, and then she leaned back to face him more fully. “Brett, I have baggage. Maybe I should have given you a chance to explain, but I couldn’t see past the deceit. I spent my childhood with a liar who said and did anything she could to get what she wanted and to antagonize me. Years of therapy have helped me straighten my head, but I’ll always be fearful of lying.” She took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to slow down. Give me some time. Trust is built.”

  “I get that.” He stroked her hair. “It was a shit move on my part. But I’m going to prove myself to you. Give me a chance. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  He let her go, but only enough to take her hand and lead her around the corner to the guest bath. When they entered, he grabbed her waist and lifted her onto the vanity. He handed her a tissue while he located a washcloth.

  She blew her nose while he wet the cloth. And then he wiped her face. Gently. Desperately trying to convey all the emotion he felt. No way in hell was she getting out of his sight again for the next eighteen hours, because that’s how many he figured he had left before he had to be back at work.

  Maybe he could talk her into coming with him.

  But shit. Monica needed her.

  The thought tightened his chest, but he shook it off. She was here now. And so was he. One hour at a time.

  “You should spend some time with your niece.”

  He smiled. “I will.” He set the cloth on the counter and put his hands on her knees. Even in worn jeans and a white T-shirt, she was stunning. The thought that her mother had ever told her otherwise made his gut clench.

  If he ever met the woman, there was no telling what he would do. Not give her money. That was for sure. The audacity of that woman.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I think so. Exhausted. Shocked. Shaky.” She lifted a hand to show him her tremble. “But also happy. Excited. Hopeful.”

  “Good. I like those things.”

  “You said really nasty things to your sister. You should go find her. I’ll check on Emily. Go apologize.”

  He nodded, hating the thought of letting Zia out of his sight, but knowing she was right.

  He lifted her off the vanity and set her on the floor. For a moment, they stared at each other again, her gripping his biceps, him holding her waist. So much conveyed in that look. It was going to be okay. It had to be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was late before Zia shut the door to her bedroom and leaned against it as butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  Brett hadn’t seen any reason why they couldn’t stay at his sister’s, but Zia knew as soon as they were behind closed doors they would have sex. The tension had grown between them all evening. She wasn’t about to have sex under Monica’s roof.

  Monica most have sensed the strain too because she practically shoved the two of them out the door, insisting she could handle the night feedings.

  He had suggested going back to his house when they left, but she wasn’t ready for that, either. She needed to brace herself before she stepped into his world more fully.

  Her apartment was familiar to her. Comfortable. Home. It was also closer to Monica’s house.

  Brett sat on her bed, leaning back to rest on his palms. His head was cocked to one side, and he had a grin on his face that was impossible to misinterpret.

  “Do you think she’ll forgive you?” Zia asked.

  “She has to. She’s my sister. Blood and all.”

  She giggled. “I’m not really worried. You hurt her feelings, but I think she understands. Maybe if you name your first child after her…”

  “You want to talk about making babies already, or do you want to get your ass over her and remind me how good we are together?”

  A chill raced down her spine. She’d anticipated this moment from the second she’d stepped into the hallway and heard his soliloquy. Maybe he hadn’t meant for her to hear him. And maybe he hadn’t had a clue she’d been behind him, but his words had come from the heart.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked, pushing off the door and sauntering in his direction.

  “I was thinking you could take off some of those clothes first, and then maybe let me explore your sexy body again. I might have forgotten some of the details.”

  She reached him and set her hands on his thighs. For some reason it seemed harder to unveil herself to him this time. Last time, they’d been in a lust-filled rush to fuck. This time, there were feelings involved, some of which she was afraid to explore or acknowledge yet.

  Brett sat up straighter, his face growing serious. He set his hands on hers and then lifted them both to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

  Her heart raced at the contact. She wanted those lips on hers. She wanted them all over her body. Every inch. But communicating that wasn’t something she was good at.

  He lowered her hands between them
and leaned closer. “Relax. I’ve got you. Gonna kiss you now.” His lips found hers, taking, exploring, testing.

  She sighed into his mouth, feeling so right. Better than she had since the moment her world was turned upside down when Tasha held that tabloid in front of her face.

  She wanted more. She wanted everything.

  Brett released her hands, flipping them over so her palms rested on his thighs again. He stroked up her arms until his fingers spread across her neck and collarbone.

  He deepened the kiss until she gradually relaxed into his touch.

  Her pulse picked up as she got more comfortable.

  When he finally tore his lips from hers, he smiled at her. “I missed you.” He held her gaze while he lowered his hands to the hem of her T-shirt and drew it over her head.

  She lifted her arms for him.

  He chuckled lightly, shocking her.

  Then she watched him trace the edge of her white bra with one finger and remembered his guess about the color of her undergarments. He’d been right.

  He snapped the front clasp and drew it reverently over her shoulders until it fell to the floor. And then he worshipped her with his gaze and his fingertips, letting both dance across her nipples until they puckered under the subtle assault.

  She swayed closer, wanting more. No. Needing more.

  “No rush,” he whispered. “We have all night.”

  “I feel kinda bad about abandoning your sister.”

  He chuckled again. “I’m betting Monica can handle her this one time. I’m pretty sure she knows what the stakes are here. We could have stayed in her guest room where you normally sleep.”

  Zia flinched. “She didn’t hire me to fuck my boyfriend in her guest room.” She cringed after those words came out. She might have been able to select them better.

  Brett leaned forward and kissed a nipple while he gently teased the other one between two fingers. “Boyfriend, huh?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “And fuck? I like the way this night is looking already.” He switched his torment so that the opposite nipple was in his mouth and the other one was tugged away from her chest with his fingers.

  She loved the way he fucked. And yes, she would call his brand of sex fucking. In a good way. A touch of control. A bit of dominance. It set her on fire.

  She clenched the walls of her sex as she enjoyed his attention to her chest. When she moaned, he let her nipple slip out with a pop. Cool air hit the wet tip. “Brett…”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  She smoothed her hands up his thigh, stopping to cup his impressive length until she felt the warmth, and then she slid her fingers under his shirt and drew it up over his head. She needed to see his chest. Feel it. Taste it.

  “I should have realized you weren’t just some buff accountant,” she whispered as she explored the plains of his pecs.

  “Hey, accountants work out too. I could be.”

  “I can’t see you as an accountant.”

  “Well, I didn’t lie about that. My degree is in accounting.”

  “Seriously?” She lifted a brow.

  “I never once told you a lie. I simply left out the one detail.”

  She gave a snort. “One tiny little detail.”

  He drew her closer until their chests touched, her nipples abrading against his smooth hardness simply because they were so sensitive. “I’m so sorry. It was selfish.”

  “You already apologized. I forgive you, Brett.”

  “I know, but I want you to understand what I was thinking.”

  “Okay.” She eased her hands up to cup his strong jaw.

  When she met his gaze, he continued. “I was so enamored with you. And I just wanted something normal. When you didn’t recognize me right off the bat, I hoped I could enjoy one evening with a woman for the first time in my life without wondering what her motives were for being with me.”

  “That makes sense. I didn’t look at it that way.”

  “I’m not making excuses. There are none. It was selfish. But God, it felt good to enjoy an entire dinner with you looking at me, really seeing me. Not the second baseman for Miami. Just Brett. Just a guy who liked a girl.”

  “You were never ‘just Brett’ to me.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “I meant to tell you. I had no intention of sleeping with you that night. I got carried away. You were so soft. So perfect. So willing. I stuffed my poor choice to the back of my mind to face later, and for the first time, I had sex with a woman who was enamored with the man I am underneath the uniform and ball cap. Does that make any sense?”

  “Yes.” It did. It made perfect sense. Suddenly all her anger fled. Why had she reacted so harshly to his omission? Oh right… Trust… “I…” She licked her lips. “I guess I went into a place in my mind I thought was buried. An insecure place where I told myself you’d made the biggest fool out of me. I visualized you joking at my expense about that stupid girl who didn’t even know who you were and let you fuck her in her own apartment on the first date.

  “It was a dumb place to go in my head, but I couldn’t stop it. And the more days went by, the more convinced I was that you had played me and won.”

  He gripped her face tighter. “Baby, no. Oh God. I never once thought anything like that about you. Can’t say no one knows, though. Some of my teammates ribbed me for moping. My coach called me out on it because I couldn’t hit or field a ball to save my soul.”

  She nodded. “I get that.”

  He smirked. “You get that I played the worst ball of my life for the last few weeks?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Well, not that part. I wouldn’t know what bad ball looks like. I barely know the rules of the game.”

  A serious expression fell over his face. “Baseball is my life, Zia. From my earliest memory, all I ever wanted to do was play baseball. When I can’t play anymore, I intend to coach. When my kids are born, I’ll stick a glove on one hand and put a bat in the other before the nurse has a chance to clean them up.”

  He was so serious. And she understood. She felt that way about art sometimes. It filled a void. It had from an early age. It was a way to escape, to run away in her mind. It made her feel. It brought her peace. “I get you.”

  “Will you let me share it with you?”

  “Of course. Do they have a manual or something?” she teased.

  “Thousands of them, but I’d rather explain it all myself. I want to sit in the stands with you and hold your hand and share my passion.”

  “I’d like that. Very much.”

  He set his forehead against hers. “It would mean the world to me.”

  “Then it’s done.” She’d slipped into another dimension. Agreeing to learn every detail about a professional sport? That was so unlike her. And yet, it warmed her to know how much it would mean to him.

  “Can we be done rehashing now?” His gaze roamed down to her breasts again. “I’d really like to move on to the part where I make you scream my name.”

  She squirmed as he spoke, arousal flooding her panties to soak through to her jeans.

  “Mmm.” Brett suddenly cupped her sex, pressing upward with enough force she lifted onto her toes.

  Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The air left her lungs.

  “Oh yeah. That’s what I remember. Unbridled passion. Your body and face tell me everything I need to know. You’re so horny.”

  “Yes,” she blurted.

  He stroked his fingers across her sex, making her hotter even with the denim barrier. “I want you to come on my mouth and then around my cock.”

  God.

  Something about his words… Sex with him wasn’t a simple act. It was more of a choreographed production. Every instant was carefully plotted. Every line was scripted to elicit the highest passion.

  And he was the master.

  He released her sex, but only so he could pop the button on her jeans and draw them,
along with her panties, down her legs.

  She kicked them off in a frenzy, wanting more. Needing him to touch her everywhere at once.

  “Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He held her by the biceps, a foot away from his chest.

  She shivered under his perusal. Heady. Sexy.

  A second later, the room spun around as he stood abruptly, lifted her, turned around, and nearly tossed her naked body on the bed. She rose onto her elbows as he shrugged out of his jeans.

  And then he froze. “Fuck.”

  “What?” She stiffened. What could possibly be wrong?

  “Didn’t come to my sister’s prepared to have sex.” He glanced around, running a hand through his hair in an endearing way that made her hesitate to set him at ease.

  “Brett.”

  He met her gaze.

  “On the pill. Stop worrying.”

  He hesitated and shook his head. “I would never do that to any woman, especially not you.”

  “Do what? Have sex?” she joked. She knew what he meant.

  “Unprotected sex. Pregnancy is the least of my concerns with you. It’s disrespectful not to use protection.”

  “Disrespectful? Do you have an STI?”

  He flinched. “Of course not. Just got tested when the season started. Haven’t been with a woman since you.”

  That made her chest swell and her sex clench again. “Well, me neither. I mean, I don’t have any diseases. I’m clean. You’re clean. Let it go. I want to feel you bare inside me.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Okay… But there’s another problem.” He took his erection in his hand and stroked it leisurely.

  The act drew her attention to his impressive length. What now? “Tell me.”

  “Never had sex without a condom before. Haven’t had sex in weeks. I’m going to come before I get inside you.”

  She pushed herself to sitting and wiggled her ass to the edge of the bed. When her knees touched his thighs, she slid her feet to the floor and dropped in front of him onto her knees. Before he could protest, she wrapped her lips around his erection and sucked him into her mouth.