Page 81 of Bad Ball Hitter
“Yeah, I think all those laps got to you.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“Let’s pretend they did and get your bath,” I say at his protest.
He lets out a frustrated sigh and marches to the bathroom. It isn’t long before I head back into the living room and find Drake putting away the last dishes.
“I could’ve gotten those.”
“Nonsense. This is your day.” He shakes his head, a playful smile gracing his lips. “You’ve worked hard for this achievement, Lila. Let me take care of things tonight.”
There’s a softness in his eyes I haven’t seen before, and it makes my heart ache. I swallow hard and nod, turning my gaze away from him. I don’t know if I’m ready to face what’s behind that look. Not yet.
“I … thank you, Drake,” I say. My voice sounds foreign, choked with countless unsaid words.
A silence descends between us, thick and heavy. But the silence is comfortable in its own weird way. It’s not awkward or uneasy. It’s more like the calm before a storm, expectant and full of anticipation.
Drake walks over to the couch and sits down, looking thoughtful. He pats the spot next to him in a silent invitation for me to join him.
I hesitate for a moment before sinking into the soft cushions next to him. He turns to look at me, his deep-set chocolate-brown eyes searching mine.
“We should talk about us,” he starts off gently but firmly. “I’m sorry?—”
“Stop,” I interrupt. “Drake, I know you’re sorry. And I meant what I said on the phone. I forgive you. I don’t know what I was madder about—you withholding information or my best friend betraying me.” My voice breaks as a sob breaks free. “I don’t want to be mad at my best friend. She’s not even here for me to yell at.”
He grabs me in his arms and holds me against his chest. Resting his chin on my head, he says, “If I had done nothing that night, I wouldn’t be hurting you.”
“The betrayal would still be there on her part,” I murmur, my words muffled against the fabric of his shirt. “But … I also wouldn’t be hurting over you.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. I can feel his heart thudding in his chest, matching mine beat for beat. We’re both guilty, both hurting and healing in our own ways. But beneath it all, an undeniable bond tugs us together, no matter how hard we try to push it away.
“I’m here now, Lila,” he murmurs into my hair. “I want to fix things. For us, for Jake.”
“My Wild Child.” This man, who caused chaos in school and was deemed selfish and self-centered by everyone, has never shown me that side, even now.
I pull back and look up at him. “Where do you see this going?”
“Lila, you’ve always been my someone to go the distance with. That will never change, no matter where I end up.”
And that crumbled the last piece of resolve holding me back. I crash my lips into his, and he responds instantly, his hands moving up my back and tangling into my short, blonde hair. There’s a desperation to his kiss, a longing that mirrors my own. His lips move over mine, coaxing me open and deepening the kiss.
The world disappears, leaving only the two of us lost in this moment of intimacy. But it’s not just a physical connection; it’s emotional. It’s the lingering feelings from our shared past, the unspoken regret for the time lost, and a silent promise for a better future.
Suddenly, I pull back, gasping for air. My heart pounds against my chest as I take in his tousled hair and flushed cheeks. He’s always been handsome, but he’s breathtakingly beautiful right now.
“Drake,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as I trace the tattoo on his arm absentmindedly. “I want you.”
His eyes darken, and a guttural need flashes through them. He lifts me off the couch and puts me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me to the bedroom.
CHAPTER FORTY
Lila
Drake slowly lowers me down onto the bed, eyes never leaving mine. The longing in his gaze, the intensity, is as if nothing in the world matters except me. He aligns his body with mine as our breathing blends. Nothing compares to having this sexy man above me. His thighs sandwich my hips, pinning me in between him and the soft mattress.
There isn’t anywhere else I want to be.
My breath stutters as he glides a hand up my side, stopping at my shoulder and moving up to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes away a stray lock of hair from my forehead, sending goosebumps all over my skin. Our lips reluctantly part until they bump together in a soft kiss that tastes like pasta and red wine. It’s a slow, tantalizing kiss as his lips move gently against mine, coaxing the taste from my mouth with his tongue before diving in deeper. A moan escapes my throat.