"It tastes like pussy, Trevor. Like my pussy. Why aren't you here to make me come?"
"I wish I was. Now you have to do it. Make yourself come. Let me hear it."
She was so ready, so far gone, she plunged her fingers back into her pussy and lifted her hips, grinding the heel of her hand against her sex. "I'm going to come for you. Are you ready?"
"Fuck, yes. Do it."
She felt her pussy squeeze tight around her fingers as the first stirrings of orgasm wrapped around her, chilling her skin, blinding her to everything but the bolts of intense pleasure lighting her up.
"I'm coming, Trevor. I'm coming." She let out a harsh cry as her climax blasted through her. She heard every one of Trevor's coaxing words as she rocked through her orgasm, shuddering until she fell to the mattress, spent and perspiring.
"That, Haven, was incredible."
She smiled. "Thanks for the coaching."
"And now if I don't get into my room and jack off, I'm going to burst out here in the hall."
"Think of me when your hand is wrapped around your cock, okay?"
"Honey, you're all I'm going to think about. And I'll probably bite my tongue clean off trying not to shout when I shoot my load."
She grinned. "Good. But don't bite your tongue. I'll see you tomorrow, Trevor."
"'Night, Haven."
She hung up, and spent the next few minutes just lying there, imagining Trevor stroking his cock and getting off while thinking about her. They were some very fun, very hot thoughts.
She finally got up, cleaned up, then climbed back into bed, a lot more relaxed and ready to go to sleep.
She couldn't wait until tomorrow.
TWENTY
TREVOR--HELL, THE ENTIRE TEAM--HAD NEVER PLAYED three worse games.
The three games they needed to be at their very best, and they'd sucked. They couldn't manufacture runs when they needed them the most, they'd made stupid mental errors on defense that had cost them runs, and they'd lost close games they shouldn't have lost.
They won only one game in Atlanta, and that one by only one run, which meant they'd been eliminated from postseason play. And they had no one to blame but themselves.
Trevor's own production had been shit. It was like his bat had taken a vacation. He'd left runners on base, couldn't get on base when it had been most critical, and he'd struck out with the fucking bases loaded.
God, he'd been terrible. Hell, the whole goddamned team had played badly.
He'd never felt shittier, even though Manny had given them a pep talk after tonight's game in Atlanta, telling them sometimes tough losses came at the worst possible time, and this year, the worst possible time had come now, at the end of the season when they'd needed to win.
Trevor had planned to play in the postseason, had already made plans to talk to Tampa about delaying his start with them.
Now, his baseball season was over, and he wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with that.
Even worse, Haven hovered in the locker room with her camera crew. And while he was happy to see her, the last goddamned thing he wanted right now was another fucking camera stuck in his face.
He saw the sympathy on her face, and he knew she wanted to hug him, but she had her job to do, just like he'd had his to do.
Though he'd royally blown his.
And still, she hovered, as if this were the last place she wanted to be right now, too. Well, he wasn't going to invite her over to talk to him. He wasn't feeling particularly generous at the moment. She was going to have to either grow some balls, stick the camera in his face, and do her job, or hide in the corner all night long. Either way, in about five minutes he was headed to the shower, and her opportunity to do the interview would be lost.
He unlaced his shoes and bent over, but couldn't resist taking a peek at her from the corner of his eye.
She was still there, avoiding everyone.
Sink or swim, sweetheart. Come on, Haven, where's your courage? Finally, she pushed off the wall and came toward him, the cameraman directly behind her.
"Trevor."
He lifted his gaze to hers. "Yeah."
"I'm sorry about the loss, and I can't even imagine how shitty you must feel right now, but I'd like to get a few minutes of you on camera."
"Sure."
With an audible sigh, she motioned to the cameraman, who started filming. Haven sat next to him.
"This was the last game of the season for you and for the Rivers tonight, Trevor. How do you feel about the loss?"
"How do I feel? Right now I feel like--" He was about to say shit, but he knew that wouldn't fly. "I feel bad. I feel bad for the team. Like I let them down."
"It wasn't just you out there playing, though. Why do you feel personally responsible?"
"I didn't do my part. I played like shit." She could edit that out later. Or maybe she wouldn't. At this point he didn't care.
"You take the game seriously."
He shot her a look. "Hell, yes, I do. This is my career. I love this game. Every guy on the team does. We hate losing, especially when getting into the postseason was within our grasp."
"There were some tough calls out there, and every game was close."
"And we made a lot of mistakes. I made a lot of mistakes. I struck out with the bases loaded. That right there was the potential to turn that game around."
"So you take personal responsibility for losing tonight's game."
"I do." He looked around. "Talk to any guy on the team tonight and every one of them will say the same thing." He paused to take a breath. "Look, I know I tout myself as some kind of superstar. That I play two sports and I like to think I do both of them well. But at the end of the day, we're a team. We win as a team and we lose as a team. And right now we the team think this sucks. And we're going to continue to think it sucks until the start of next season, when we get together again, bound and determined to take the team all the way to the postseason again."
She didn't say anything else, so he stood. "I'm going to hit the showers."
HAVEN FELT AWFUL FOR TREVOR--FOR THE ENTIRE Rivers team. It had been a grueling series with Atlanta. Both teams played tough. Both had exhilarating highs and both made mistakes. It could have gone either way. Unfortunately, this year it had gone Atlanta's way, and they would be heading to the postseason, while the Rivers players would be going home.
The first thing she'd wanted to do in the locker room was put her arms around Trevor, tell him she knew how it felt, and commiserate with him. But with her camera guy in tow, she had to keep her professional face on and grill him about the game, about how it felt to be on the losing end this year.
She'd hated every minute of it, but it was her job and she'd had no choice. She told her camera guy to send her the film and she'd edit it later, then she waited outside for Trevor.
It was a while before he came out--before they all came out. Alicia and Liz were waiting out there with her. Liz had the baby with her, and oh, God, she was so precious, with red hair and the biggest green eyes Haven had ever seen. Liz even let Haven hold her, and Genevieve just looked up at her with those beautiful eyes.
"You don't mind if I kidnap your daughter and take her with me, do you?"
"Not at all. But I will kill you," Liz said. "And so will Gavin, who's going to be in a bad mood for a month at least after that loss."
"No, he won't," Alicia said. "Because you have Genevieve to take his mind off losing the postseason."
Liz smiled. "That's very true. I'll remind him he has more time with his daughter now."
"She's an incredible consolation prize," Haven said, handing Genevieve back to Liz.
"Thank you. I'm glad she's with me on this road trip. I hesitated bringing her along, but she really is going to be a great comfort to her daddy right now."
The guys spilled out. It was a quiet group, all of them going to their families for comfort. Garrett slung his arm around Alicia, who gave him a big kiss. Gavin took Genevieve from Liz and cuddled
her close, kissing the baby on the top of the head before brushing his lips across Liz's. Trevor finally came out and met Haven.
They visited with everyone for a few minutes, then said their good-byes and headed toward the team bus. Trevor hung outside with her.
"I'm sorry about the interview," she said.
He frowned at her. "Never apologize for doing your job. You did what you had to do."
"You could have refused. But it was an insightful interview into a player's emotions after a particularly tough end-of-season loss. I know it was brutal, but you were very honest and I appreciate you giving me the time."
"You're welcome. And you need to toughen up."
"Excuse me?"
"I thought you were going to hide in the corner of the locker room all night. It was a perfect opportunity to interview some of the players. As well as me."
"You were all down."
"And easy prey for a reporter. A lot of us were vulnerable and ready to spill our guts about how we felt right then. You could have swooped in and gotten some great interviews. You blew it."
She sighed at the realization. "I know. I need to work on that."
"Yeah, you do." He looked toward the door. "I have to go with the team."
"Yes, you do. And I need to catch my flight back to St. Louis. I'll see you back there."
"Okay."
She watched him get on the bus, then got in her rental car and headed for the airport. She worked on the flight, writing some copy from her notes. By the time they landed, she was tired. She took a taxi back to the house.
Trevor wasn't back yet. She knew his flight left after hers, and they probably had some team stuff to deal with, so she didn't expect him back until late. She unpacked and got into bed, turned out the light, and was asleep within minutes.
She woke to the feel of a warm body next to hers, a hard cock brushing up against her butt, and a very large callused hand massaging her breast and teasing her nipple.
She stretched, rubbing her butt up against Trevor's cock, arching against his hand. He pulled the strap of her tank top down, exposing her breast so he could tease and pluck at her nipple.
She was still only half awake, and this was a languorous, decadent interlude. She let Trevor take the lead while she rode along in hazy pleasure.
He seemed in no hurry, playing with her nipples until she writhed against him in desperate need. Only then did he slide his hand inside her panties, cupping her sex. Her clit was tingling, and the touch of his warm hand sent every fiber of her body into overdrive.
He never said a word to her. It was just touching, and the sound of their breath--hers ragged and panting as he took her right to the edge of orgasm. And when she plunged over she gripped his arm, holding him there while she shattered with loud moans. It felt so good to have him make her come, to feel his hands on her body while his was stretched out behind her.
While she recovered from that amazing orgasm, she heard him tear the condom wrapper open and wriggled out of her underwear. He lifted her leg, resting it on top of his, then entered her from behind, capturing her breast once again in his hand as he thrust his cock inside her.
And still, no words had been spoken between them. She didn't need him to say a word, because they were communicating with their bodies, with the way he captured her nipple between his fingers and tugged, sending shocks of pleasure straight to her core while at the same time pulling his cock partway out and then slowly inching his way inside her again.
It was sweet, slow torture. She felt every inch of him as he entered her and withdrew, over and over again. And when she reached down to strum her clit, all she heard was his satisfied "mmm" of approval.
This was just what she'd needed, what she craved the most. Not a fast, frenzied fucking, but this easy lovemaking, the way his hands made a slow map of her body as if he had all night to touch her, to kiss the nape of her neck and take a love bite that sent chills coursing over every inch of her skin. She increased the pressure on her clit and her body responded, tightening around his cock.
In answer, he groaned, gripping her hip and pushing deeper into her. Only now, toward the end, did it become something harder, something more than just two people lazily fucking. Now, they were reaching the end, both of them searching for their climax. And as she bucked back against him and he used his hand to push her forward so he could thrust deeper inside her, she craved it, needed him to thrust, to give her exactly what she needed to come.
And when she did, she tilted her head back, crying out as her climax gripped her in the throes of ecstasy. And as Trevor clasped her tightly to him, his body shuddering with hers, she'd never felt anything like these lightninglike pulses that shocked her with such incredible pleasure.
After, he kissed her shoulder, her back, and they returned to utter laziness. Part of it was the depletion of her energy reserves. The other part was a genuine joy to feel him holding her again. She'd missed him while they were apart. She didn't dare tell him that, though, because it implied she cared about him in ways even she couldn't admit--wouldn't admit.
This was just fun and games. This was just for now.
So she'd leave it at that.
She half turned and wound her arm around his neck, offering up her lips for the kiss she needed. He gave her that and more, cupping her face and kissing her until her world spun.
"Welcome home," she said when he finally pulled back.
"Thanks. I missed you." He withdrew and gave her a playful slap on the butt, then disappeared into the bathroom.
The words spilled from his lips so easily.
Why had they been so hard for her to say?
TWENTY-ONE
HAVEN HADN'T BEEN HOME IN A WHILE. SHE'D LEFT Oklahoma when she'd gotten the job offer from the network, had settled into her apartment in New York, and had stayed there, determined to make it work.
She'd almost quit, had almost packed up her things several times, determined to find a job back home. It had been her mother who'd forced her to stay in New York, had told her she should at least try before she gave it up.
And then the assignment to do Trevor's feature story had come up.
Now, she still wasn't certain this was the job she wanted to do for the rest of her life, but at least she was working.
"Excited to see home again?" Trevor asked as they pulled off the turnpike.
"Yes." She was looking forward to seeing her mom. And dreading the visit home at the same time. For so many reasons, including reliving her father's last days. She couldn't help but feel the shroud of overwhelming sadness wash over her, remembering the last time she was here. She'd left a couple of weeks after her father died. She'd had to go back to Dallas--back to her job. She'd wanted to stay longer, but her mom had insisted she start working again. And then she'd gotten the new job in New York, and it had been a whirlwind of packing and travel, forcing her to put away her grief to deal with later.
Life went on, her mom said. And so did work. Even her mom had returned to work. It's what we do, she'd said.
But Haven hadn't felt much like working. All she'd wanted to do was be with her mom and try to make sense of a world without her father in it.
Nothing had made sense back then.
It still didn't. Not without Dad. She still missed his counsel, still couldn't believe she couldn't pick up the phone and send him a text message, or call and talk to him whenever she felt like it.
He'd have been devastated about the Rivers' loss. She'd have commiserated with him. They'd have talked about what went wrong, what the Rivers could have done better, and how they'd come back stronger next season. Her dad would have likely called Trevor as well, would give him a pep talk and tell him how well he'd played this season.
She wondered if Trevor was missing her dad. She wouldn't ask him.
She took a deep breath.
"You okay over there?" Trevor asked.
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"Oh, come on. You can't be tired. Let's get pumped he
re. I'm looking forward to seeing your mom."
She liked his enthusiasm, but she knew why. "You're looking forward to eating my mom's cooking."
Trevor grinned. "Yeah, there's that, too."
The camera crew was going to meet them down here tomorrow. Today, they'd have a reprieve, and she could focus on seeing her mom.
When they pulled onto the campus and she saw the familiar buildings and the streets where she'd grown up, she felt both a sense of calm and a melancholy she couldn't shake. Everything was the same, and yet it was never going to be the same again.
She used to look forward to coming home, mainly because it was home. Mom and Dad were there, and she'd always felt safe and welcome here. The one thing she could always count on was a sense of family, of routine.
Now? It just felt . . . lonely. She didn't know how her mother dealt with this every day.
But when they pulled into the driveway and she saw her mom come outside, her lips tilted.
Yes, this was still home. Mom was here. As soon as Trevor put the car in park, she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. Her mom came down the driveway and Haven threw herself into her mother's waiting arms.
A hug had never felt so good.
"Oh, Haven, I missed you so much."
She might never move from the comforting, welcoming feel of her mom's embrace.
"I've missed you, too."
Her mom took her hands and took a step back. "You look good. But you've lost weight."
"No, I haven't."
"Yes, you have. A mother knows these things."
A mother--her mother--always thought she wasn't eating enough. It was just her way of wanting to feed her constantly. Not that Haven minded that, since she loved home cooking.
As she stepped back, she realized her mother was the one who'd lost weight. But not in a bad way. "You look awesome."
Her mother grinned. "Thanks, honey."
"And you," her mom said, turning her attention to Trevor, who'd been patiently standing by Haven's side. "You come here and give me a giant hug."
Trevor scooped up Haven's mom into a giant bear hug. "Hi, Miss Ginger. It's good to see you."
"Oh, you, too. You look amazing as always."
"So do you," he said after he set her down. "I'll grab our bags while you two go inside."