Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love)

My body is hyperaware of Nova as she stands between my legs blow-drying my hair. She hums under her breath as her fingers massage my scalp. We’ve spent two hours rinsing out the medication, then combing nits out of each other’s hair. Since hers is long, it took a while. I enjoyed it, showing her the comb, then watching her gross out. We laughed until tears ran down our faces. Lois brought over tea tree oil shampoo, and we each shampooed our hair three times. She also gave us tea tree, mango, and rosemary oils for future use as repellents. Those little fuckers better be dead.

“I could have dried it myself,” I say when she clicks off the dryer. Hers is already dry, lying smooth and straight down her shoulders. I reach up and rub the glossy strands between my fingers. I love her hair.

“It gave me another chance to make sure your scalp was good,” she murmurs.

I look up at her from the vanity seat. My hands land on her hips, my thumbs caressing her skin through the shorts. I can’t stop myself. I’m in Nova overload, drunk on her proximity.

“Was that the only reason?” Did you want to be as close to me as I want to be to you?

She bites her lip. “Let’s get your place cleaned up.”

I stand and stretch. I’m wearing loose joggers and a black tank top. I picked it out of the bureau on purpose, knowing it shows off my jacked forearms. I’ve caught her gaze lingering there several times since we started this “fake” relationship.

Right now, her gaze lands on the tent in my crotch, and I laugh sheepishly. I really don’t care if she sees I’m turned on—which is the exact opposite of how I should act. Apparently, the primitive side of me has taken over my brain.

My arms fall to my sides. Must do better.

“Thank you for helping me out.” It’s one of the things I like about her personality—her willingness to help others.

“It’s called teamwork, darling,” she says sweetly. “And you’re going to help me after we’re done here.”

“Deal.”

She’s a bundle of energy as we sweep through the house, tossing linens and my duvet in the washer. She’s wiping down my bedroom while I vacuum, humming “Jolene” under my breath. I finish and flip it off. When I turn, she is behind me and pulls her phone out and takes a pic. “‘Coach Cleans after Lice Scare at Blue Belle.’ This will go viral on social. Gives you a real homespun appeal.”

“You better not.” I walk over to her and reach for her phone, but she tucks it behind her back and twirls away from me, laughing.

“You didn’t know it, but I snuck some pics of you with the plastic cap on your head.”

I hated that cap! “You didn’t!”

“I did, and I’m going to tag the Huddersfield coach. He’ll love it,” she calls as she runs out of the room.

I chase her down the stairs as she hits the bottom, turns the corner, and disappears.

“I’m going to find you,” I sing out. “And when I do . . .”

I check the extra bedroom downstairs, looking under the bed and in the closet. I move to the bathroom and rip back the shower curtain.

I stalk to the den and circle the perimeter. Dog barks from the sofa, then jumps down and trots to my office door. I pet him. “You’ve got some use after all.”

I ease the door open and step inside. The place is spotless from when we both cleaned earlier.

I check under my desk, then the shadowy corners behind the recliners. I half expect her to jump scare me.

There’s a crash from the kitchen, and I run out, bumping into Dog. I glare at him. “You’re helping her? That’s it. We’re over, Dog.” I slide past him and run my gaze over the kitchen. Nothing looks out of place, so what fell? I do a systematic patrol, then check the cabinets under the sink, then laugh under my breath. Where is she?

Dog trots to the pantry door and sits. I narrow my eyes at him. “This better not be another one of your lies.”

He sneezes, throwing slobber everywhere.

I move him out of the way, then fling the door open. It’s a big pantry, lined with shelves on either side. Lois organized it—canned goods in order on the left, dry goods on the right.

Nova reclines on the back wall, not a flicker of surprise on her face as she munches on a vanilla wafer.

“Found you,” I growl.

She pops another one in her mouth and chews. “Took you long enough, jock. These are so good. My mama used to use them to make the best banana pudding. I think I want to try her recipe.”

I plop down next to her, and she hands me the box.

“How many can you get in your mouth at once?” she asks. “I did three. Nearly choked. That’s when the can of peas fell. I guess you heard it?”

I pop an eyebrow. “Yep. Let’s see. I bet I can get five. You on?”

“Stakes?”

“A boon.”

Her full lips curl up. “You’re on. You have to eat them all at once.” She hands over a water bottle. “You’ll need this, which I stole from your amazing pantry. You could throw a small party in here.”

“I’d call my pantry . . . lavish.”

She snorts.

“Let’s do this.” I take her water and twist off the top.

She hands me five, and I open my mouth and cram three in, then four, then five. My cheeks puff out, and she giggles as I tilt my head and chew and chew and chew.

“I’m here if you need the Heimlich,” she says.

I swallow and guzzle the water. I stick my tongue out, and she claps.

“I’m a badass,” I say.

Her eyes roll. “God, you’re so easy. I knew you’d get five. Don’t be so arrogant.”

“So you just wanted to see me make a fool of myself?”

“I should have asked you to put a bra on first.”

“When is everyone going to forget that?”

“Never ever, ever, ever.”

I toss an arm around her shoulders, and she leans against me. A feeling of contentment rises as the moments tick past. “I’m ready for my boon.”

“What is it?” She gazes up at me.

“You never told me your secret the night of the dart game.”

Her chin gets a defiant tilt, one I’ve come to recognize. “That was an emergency—my foot hurt, and then I saved your ass from the sheriff—so that boon is null and void. You can’t repeat it.”

“Look at you. Getting all territorial over one little secret. You must have hundreds. I don’t see what the big deal is . . .” I grin.

“Technically, I told you about accidentally stealing Ryan Reynolds’s toilet thingy. No one knows that.”

“Accidentally, right.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t even tell your old roommate?”

“No.” She winces. “What if it’s worth money, like it’s fourteen-karat gold? What if it was a family heirloom? What if—”

“Damn, you’re cute. I should call him up and tell him.”

“You know him?”

“Hmm. I know lots of famous people. He follows me on Insta.”

“Pompous ass.”

I smile. “Have you ever wondered why we keep meeting in closets?”

“Technically, this is a lavish pantry.”

“Feels the same. Just me and you, and the whole world is out there. Like we’re alone,” I murmur and trace my fingers over her shoulders.

“Technically, we are.”

“Smart-ass.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“Tell me another secret. I insist.”

Her fingers trail down my forearm to my hand, light teasing touches over my fingers but not quite taking my hands. Tingles ripple over me.

“Okay, here’s one: I’m kind of disappointed in you,” she murmurs.

“Why?”

Her fingers dance back up my chest, then toy with the neck of my tank top. “You asked for a boon, and all you want is a silly secret.”

“I want to know you.”

“Hmm, but knowing me is a dangerous thing, isn’t it?”

I pause, seeing that serious glint in her eyes. “Yes.” I stare at her lips. “What should I ask for, then?”

She moves her body and settles herself gently in my lap.

I groan, long and guttural.

With her hands on my shoulders, she swivels her luscious ass over the bulge in my joggers. “If I were you, I would have asked for a kiss . . . or something else . . .”

My breath hisses out. “Jesus . . .”

She puts her fingers on my lips, her voice husky. “Think hard, Ronan. What does the man in you want?”

I arch my cock up to grind against her center, the heat of her making me dizzy. “I want to fuck you.”

A shaky breath comes from her lips. “How do we begin? Tell me.”

My lids lower as I wrap my arms around her waist, my hands tracing under her shirt to tease the skin around her ribs. Fuck. So soft. “Take your top off.”

Her blue eyes dilate as she pulls the Pythons shirt up from the hem and over her head. Her hair cascades around her slim shoulders. She’s wearing a black lace bra, the tops of her breasts creamy as her chest heaves.

“Goddamn, you’re sexy,” I groan.

“What else?”

“The bra. Remove it.”

She reaches behind her, unsnaps the clasp, and then eases it off, tossing it over her shoulder. “Sorry, but you can’t wear this one.”

I growl, and she tosses her head back and laughs, joy radiating from her.

My heart stutters in my chest. She’s magnificent. Proud and uninhibited.

I drape my eyes over her tits, the red nipples that stand erect, as if aching for me to touch them. I don’t. Not yet. This is her game, and I’m playing it.

“Take your shorts off. And the underwear,” I demand.

She stands up and toys with the waistband of the shorts, a smile curling her lips. “You sure? Once these come off—”

“Take the motherfucking clothes off.”

She eases them down to her ankles. With deft fingers, she separates her thong from the shorts and twirls it around. “Off.”

My hand pushes down on my dick at the sight of her. The lights are bright and show every perfect curve of her body, the line of her throat, the fullness of her curves, the flat stomach, the arch of her hips, the pussy between her legs.

“What now?” she asks, watching me with heavy eyes.

“Spread your legs, and stand over me. Put your hands on the wall behind me.”

She steps over, with her feet on either side of my legs. Her palms slap the wall. I shove my joggers and underwear down to my knees, and she gasps, her lashes fluttering.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me as I finger fuck you,” I say, arching my neck up to stare at her, my tone guttural. I pump my cock as my other hand brushes over her pussy. She swivels her hips as I tease over her outer folds, then delve into her center, my fingers coming out drenched. I stick them in my mouth and lick them slowly. “Better than vanilla wafers, babe.”

In this position, I can see everything—her swollen clit, her wet entrance, which is grasping for more of me. I touch her with both hands, spreading her gently, then stroke inside to her dampness with one finger, then two. I spin her clit with my thumb, my gaze searching her face. I want her to come hard. I want to watch her fall apart.

Goose bumps rise on her legs as she rides my hand. Her pants and moans fill up the room as I pump in and out of her, looking for that sensitive knot on her upper walls. Finding it, I stroke the area softly, satisfaction rippling over me when she clenches around my fingers, spasming.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” I purr as I adjust her position, my hand on her ass as I tug her down. Scooting down, I lie on the floor, and she follows, placing her knees on either side of my head.

I trace little designs up and down the silky skin of her legs as I give her a cocky grin. Fuck, I love this position.

A nervous chuckle comes from her. “My vagina is, like, right in your face.”

“It’s an exquisite pussy,” I murmur. “Want to ride my face, Princess?”

She starts to laugh, but at the first touch of my mouth, she shudders, a sharp cry of need erupting from her.

I eat her greedily, with relish, like a man starved. My tongue flicks at her clit slow at first, rubbing over the stiff top and the sides, learning her body, then faster as my teeth bite gently. My fingers piston in her entrance, rubbing her G-spot. My other hand palms her ass, guiding her into a back-and-forth rhythm. Breathing heavily, she glides against my mouth as I groan, the reverberation of the sound making her shiver.

“You like that?” My lips trace over her pink skin.

“Yes,” she gasps.

Fingering her, I flick at her nub, my chest humming a low, long growl. “Fall apart for me.”

Stiffening, she grabs my hair and yells my name as she comes. Time stretches as she rides the wave, her channel sucking at my fingers as I skim over her.

Fuck, I like how she orgasms. Wild and needy.

We’re breathing heavily as she moves away and leans against the wall. “That was incredible,” she whispers. “I’m still vibrating.”

“Come here,” I say.

Sitting up, I put my back against the wall. She climbs in my lap, facing me, and I put my hand on her nape.

“Kiss me.”

She grabs my face and takes my lips hungrily, urgently, her teeth nipping at my bottom lip. She slips her hands around my neck, and we turn ravenous as I make a meal of her mouth, twisting and fluttering with her tongue, tasting her teeth, the sides of her mouth, the roof. I want to inhale her until we’re one. I trace the outline of her lips, then bite her top lip and suck it into my mouth. We’re dirty and rough, licking and biting at each other. I drag my mouth to her jawline, to her throat, an invader, hungry to own every part of her. I roam to her ear. “Fuck me.”

She leans back, her hands on the floor for balance as she rubs her wetness on me, tracing over my cock. Small motions, soft, then faster. She’s completely exposed to me, mouth parted, desire on her face. My hand goes between us and thrums her clit. I feel a bead of come oozing from me, and I dig my fingers into her legs and lift her and mount her on my crown. Holding her tight, I push in, then out, barely inside her.

“More,” she begs and sinks farther down.

A blaze of fire washes over me, and my heart pounds so hard I’m sure she can hear it as I slide all the way home and grind against her. Our fit is exquisite as I stay where I am, relishing the tightness.

“I want you desperately,” I whisper in her ear.

When I move, it’s with no holds barred. My mouth meshes with hers as my hands clasp her lower back, and we fuck. I thrust inside her, deep and hard, the pleasure vibrating over every inch of my skin. Our breaths are loud, gasping, as I pump in and out. She tightens her muscles around me, and I groan.

“Do that again.”

She rotates her hips and tightens her pussy as I tilt her face up and kiss her. Again and again.

This is what I’ve wanted. That primal part of me that recognizes its prey. Her.

“I want to fuck you every which way I can,” I growl.

She kisses down my neck, then bites me. “How?”

“Against the wall. I’ll stand.”

I slip out of her, my dick swollen and red, aching. We stand up, and I pick her up as her legs lock around my hips. I flip her around to the wall, then push inside her. She groans as I delve deep in her channel, angling my hips to rub against her upper wall. A bead of sweat drips down her face, and my tongue takes it. My head lowers to her neck as I breathe in her scent. Shivers dance down my spine as she tugs my hair, pulling my lips back to hers.

She slips a hand between us, her fingers moving.

“You’re mine,” she breathes into my mouth as she orgasms, and the fact that she says such a possessive thing is so hot it sends me over the cliff. My cock expands inside her, then jerks, my body shuddering as I wring it out, diving into her depths, not wanting it to be over. Juices drip down our legs as electric pulses skate over me. My arms quake, and I ease her to the floor and lie down with her over my chest. My heart pounds erratically as I try to slow my breathing.

We don’t speak for several minutes, our bodies tangled together.

She props her head up and gives me a wry look, one that makes me smile.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m sticky, and this floor has got to be killing your back.”

“I’m fine.” I ease up and reach over, grab some unopened paper towels, and tear off a few. I slide down to her waist and clean her gently, then toss them in the trash by the door.

The floor is uncomfortable, yet we lie side by side and look at each other. She has a glow on her face, a satisfied look in her eyes, one that I put there, but something else takes front and center. I want to enjoy this moment, but . . .

“I didn’t wear a condom,” I say, grimacing.

She chews on her lip. “I know. I’m, um, on the pill . . .”

I exhale. “I haven’t had sex without a condom in years.”

“Oh. Okay, so you’re good?”

“If you mean if I’ve had an STD test, I have. Have you?” I ask.

“After Zane, yes.”

My mood darkens. I hate that bastard, and it has shit to do with football.

And why is that? the logical side of my brain asks.

A slow panic builds in my chest like a heavy boulder, growing bigger and bigger. Sure, part of it is about the lack of a condom, but the other side . . .

My head races with thoughts as I lay out the facts: I’m insanely jealous of Andrew, of any man who’s had her attention, and I look forward to our games in the teacher lounge. Hell, I rush from class to get there first just so I can watch her walk in. Honest? If it took lice to have her in my house, dancing and singing, then I’d do it all over again. It’s not even about the sex, which is intoxicating; it’s the emotional, needy side of me that’s humming for more.

As that kernel of truth hits me, the air in the room thins as my anxiety turns to full-blown fear.

My hands tremble, and I tuck them behind my head, hoping she doesn’t notice. Reaching for control, I suck in deep breaths, wrestling with my head as I battle an undeniable tug toward her combined with this awful, sinking dread . . .

I mean, let’s be honest. I’m no good for Nova. I’m no good for anyone.

Point blank: I’m not what a girl like her deserves.

I can’t be relied on. I can’t protect people. I’m leaving!

She’s trying to start a new life, and here I am, screwing it up. I’m going to hurt her. I am!

I swallow and find my voice. It sounds normal. Thank God. “I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, the pill isn’t one hundred percent effective . . .”

Our gazes cling, and she’s quiet, scanning my face. Okay, maybe my voice shook a little.

I drop my eyes. She’s an intuitive person. She knows.

“You should have said something before,” she says in a tight voice.

“There wasn’t time, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Really.” Her eyes narrow.

I scrub my face. “Will you let me know when you start your period?”

She eases up. “Huh. I see. Okay, well, it’s due soon. I’ll be sure to keep you updated on my menstrual flow.”

I try to take her hand, but she evades me. “Hey,” I say. “Don’t be upset.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel.”

I sigh. “I’m not prepared to be a father, Nova. I don’t want a surprise baby or entanglements—”

“I told you I’m on the pill, so chill. You won’t have any entanglements from me.” She stands and jerks up her thong and shorts, sliding them on. Then her bra and shirt.

“Nova—” I sit up.

She holds her hand up. “No. We finish some spectacular sex, and you immediately . . . ugh. You really suck at pillow talk.”

“It’s a valid topic. We shouldn’t have—”

“Regrets already, Ronan. How predictable.” Her lips twist.

I groan. “I said I was sorry for New York, Nova. It’s bothered me for years, wondering who you were and if I hurt you. I know I did, and I hate it, okay, hate it. I’m not that kind of guy. I was with you that night. Totally. What we did, it was all us. Did I regret it? Initially, yes. It came at a weird time, and I felt guilty, but in the end—”

“Stop talking.” She tosses my shirt at me, and I catch it before it hits my face.

I pull it on, then put my hands on my hips. “Okay. You talk.”

Her jaw clenches. “I don’t like that you’re pulling away mentally five minutes after we’ve had sex. We both know exactly what this was. A get-it-out-of-the-way fuck. Hey, there’s one to add to my list. No need to repeat it, especially since you regret it.”

Shit. “I never said I regretted this.”

“You didn’t have to!” She heads to the door, her eyes shiny.

There’s a burning sensation in my chest. “Nova . . . wait . . .” I open my mouth to try and explain my anxiety, but nothing comes out.

She pauses and looks over her shoulder at me, her hair messy and tangled, her lips bruised. “You want to know my real secret, Ronan?”

My heart stutters at the emotion in her eyes. “Yes.”

She breaks my gaze, her eyes darting around the pantry as if looking for answers. She comes back to me, a resigned expression on her face. Her hands clench. “My secret is . . . that night at the Mercer Hotel . . . by the time we got to your room . . . I was already half in love with you. The way you danced with me, the way you kissed me in the elevator—boy, that was the clincher . . . and now you’re here in my hometown, and we’re spending time together.”

Then she whips out the pantry door, and I lean back against the wall, winded by her words.

Half in love with me . . .

You fucking know what it means, Ronan. Feelings.

Adrenaline spikes as my heart races, nearly exploding. Fear rushes, that sensation of things moving too quickly for me to process. Somehow, I follow her out of the pantry, and she’s at my front door.

I watch her, hating myself. My head flashes with images of what could be with her, and part of me yearns for that, wants to run to her, but my limbs won’t move, frozen in the foyer. I feel dizzy, my head spinning.

Stop her, stop her.

If I do, I’ll slip toward something dangerous, toward an ocean I can’t swim in. I’ve drowned before. I loved and lost. I ruined it. And that pain is excruciating.

She clicks the door shut.

My eyes close. My heart truly is made of stone . . .