The Baseball Card Boyfriend (Starrycard Creek Bachelors #3)

Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

MAGGIE

I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy.

Maggie gazed at the words she’d penned in the margin of one of her recipes as a wave of pure contentment washed over her. She might not remember who she was, but an extraordinary man loved her with his every breath and being. And this love was uncharted and electrifying.

Of course, it was nothing like anything she’d ever known. She’d lost her memories—she didn’t know anything.

But with each touch, kiss, and heartfelt proclamation, his actions filled the void left by the disappearance of her memories. With every passing minute, she worried less about who she was and dreamed more about who she could be—who she could be when she was so utterly and so completely adored. She closed her notebook with a contented sigh and admired the scratched stone and Christian’s baseball card on the bedside table. Placing her pen and notebook beside them, she gently touched the corner of the card and traced her fingers over the two lines carved into the surface of the shimmering starry quartzite. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Thank you for being here,” came the gravelly voice of the sexiest ex-baseball player on the planet.

Her entire body buzzed with a sudden, irresistible thrill. She turned her attention from the nightstand to the man lying beside her. The fading light filtering in through the curtains accentuated his sharp cheekbones and chiseled jawline. She brushed a few stray strands of his dark hair away from his eyes and read the words tattooed above his heart.

Give what you love everything you’ve got.

She nestled into the cozy disarray of the unmade bed. “Did I wake you, Number Eleven?”

He stroked her cheek. “No, TBD, I’ve been watching you write for a while now. Did you remember another recipe?”

“I did. Rosemary pumpkin pie, and I also wrote about…” She could feel her cheeks heat.

He ran his knuckles down her jawline. “Here it comes. The shade of pink that is my undoing.”

And talk about undoing. His voice. His deep, sage-green eyes. And that sleep-sweet half-grin. Her core clenched, and her breath grew uneven at the sight of him. After a buffet of orgasms over the last couple of days, getting hot and bothered by Christian’s presence had become an involuntary reflex.

“I’m a new fan of the two o’clock nap. Now, come here, TBD, you’re too far away,” he said and patted his bare chest.

“I’m right next to you.”

“I want you closer,” he replied in a gravelly rumble as he welcomed her into his arms.

Between bouts of sweaty, vigorous sex and prepping for the culinary club, they hadn’t gotten much rest. But time waits for nobody—not even the perma-horny experiencing mind-blowing orgasmic bliss.

Today was day one of the pie-making grind, and the culinary club was slated to arrive at four.

The countdown had begun.

She had until Friday—at the very latest—to come up with a winning recipe for the Saturday contest.

Now, should she be lounging in bed with Christian? Yes and no. It wasn’t like they’d spent the entire day like this. They’d gotten up early to make the final preparations. The house was spotless—even all the bedrooms.

Well, not all the bedrooms.

Christian’s room had become their go-to space for a little mattress dancing. And sweet heaven above, they’d been going to town between the sheets.

So, when she’d finished making the last batch of pumpkin puree and her sexy number eleven sauntered into the kitchen and suggested they take a catnap before the group’s arrival, she’d agreed, knowing there would be little rest involved. And sweet Orgasm City, she was right—but it wasn’t exactly his fault. She’d stripped in front of him, then donned his college jersey. And nothing got him harder than her wearing his number. And she loved this power. She’d embraced this boldness, this confidence, this feeling that she’d found her path. She’d barely taken a step toward him before he’d had her on her back, his cock lined up and ready to rock her world.

Christian kissed her temple. “You’re still wearing my jersey, and you know what that blush does to me.”

“Every inch of my body knows what my little pink cheeks do to you.” She rested against him, careful she was on his right side, his good side.

“Every inch? That’s a bold claim,” he purred. “As a person who prides himself on going the extra mile and breaking as many records as possible, I better make sure I truly have attended to every single inch of your body. I need to make sure I’ve still got it,” he added with a devilish twist of his lips.

She bit her bottom lip as his words sent a delicious tingle down her spine. “I don’t know if my body can take it after our naptime romp and after what we did this morning when…”

He shifted to his elbow and gazed down at her. “When you rode my cock like a professional cowgirl, and I finished you off, fucking you hard and fast against the wall.”

Now, that was a way to greet the day.

“Oh, TBD,” he said, trailing his fingertips down her belly, “you can handle what I have planned for you.”

The heat from her cheeks could probably power the town of Starrycard Creek for the next month. She exhaled a ragged breath and glanced at the clock. “We only have forty-five minutes until they arrive.”

“I only need five.” He tugged the edge of the open jersey, his gaze hungrily tracing the contours of her breasts. “Maybe less.”

Her perma-horny brain kicked in. “What exactly do you want to do for less than five minutes?”

Carnal mischief shimmered in his darkened gaze. “Grab a little snack.”

“And what do you want to snack on?” she asked, arching her back and putting on a show because little ole Maggie TBD knew exactly what this man was craving.

“You,” he growled. He maneuvered his body and had her legs parted faster than a lightning strike. The man settled between her thighs. “How fast do you think I can get you there?” he asked, squeezing her ass as he grazed his teeth across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

She purred like a satisfied cat and donned a wicked grin. “I don’t know. I’ve never timed it.”

“Look at that. A new record for me to set. You’ll want to brace yourself, TBD. I’m going to make this fast, dirty, and so damned good, you’ll see stars.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off the breathtaking man. One thing was certain with him. Failure was not an option. “Someone’s feeling awfully cocky,” she said, absolutely loving his confidence.

“Can’t help it. It’s how I feel when you’re the first thing I see every morning. Sets the tone.” He grabbed a pillow from the mess of bedding and pinned her with his hooded gaze. “Now, lift your pretty little ass and let me get to work.”

What gal could say no to that?

“What about you? We don’t have much time. Don’t you want to…oh, God,” she whispered on a tight breath as Christian licked her like she was a triple scoop.

“This is for me as much as it’s for you, TBD. Do you know how turned on I get when I find you wet and aching for me?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to show me.”

His glittering gaze darkened. “This much,” he said, holding her hips in place as he lowered his head and feasted between her thighs.

She bucked her hips, greedily receiving everything he was offering. He extended his tongue, the tip grazing her most sensitive place, then teased her as he traced a path around it. Each lick was deliberate. Every glide of his tongue savored her as she melted into a pool of titillating goo. Christian intensified his efforts, building momentum, and this man and his magic mouth had her reeling.

“Forget baseball. This is what you were meant to do,” she said on the cusp of losing the ability to speak as she watched him work.

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and he kicked up his pace, going from teasing her to tormenting her and holding her on the brink of ecstasy in the space of one heated, writhing breath. The tension built, winding her tighter and tighter until it couldn’t be contained. Unable to hold back, she threaded her fingers in his hair.

Her breath had grown heavy and ragged, the air escaping her lips in warm, trembling moans. “Christian…Christian…” she cried, the words barely escaping before the coil burst. “I’m there. My God, it’s so good.”

Her release engulfed her like a surging wave. And as quickly as she went under, the earth shifted on its axis, and she was floating, rising, riding the ripples of sensation, joining the energy sweeping her into a state of pure exhilaration. Her questions vanished, and her worries dissolved. It was only her, Christian, and a universe teeming with infinite possibilities. She sighed, a dreamy, feathery sound, and relaxed into the buttery-soft tangle of sheets and blankets.

“One minute, eleven seconds. My number. I still got it, baby,” Christian boasted, grinning up at her, his lips slick with her arousal. “Who’s the King of Oral?” he hooted. He zeroed in on her. “You don’t have to say a thing, TBD. Your sexy-as-hell blush is telling me everything I need to know.”

Knock, knock, knock!

The sharp sound pierced the room like a whip crack, snapping them out of their orgasmic revelry.

“I don’t know who the King of Oral is, Christian,” a man announced from the other side of the door, “but you’ve got guests.”

She gasped and stared wide-eyed toward the source of the sound.

“Grandpa Rex, what are you doing out there?” Christian called.

She locked onto the King of Oral’s gaze. Now, they both sported pink cheeks.

“We’ve been knocking on the front door for a good five minutes. I decided to use my key,” Rex said, raising his rough voice—and the man sounded slightly irritated.

Yikes.

“We?” Christian repeated.

“Yeah, me and the culinary club.”

Oh, no! Maggie’s heart was in her throat.

“You’re not in the culinary club, are you?” Christian asked.

The old man laughed. “Hell no. Do you think your grandmother would allow me to bake? I caught a ride up with them for the booze.”

“I should have figured.”

Maggie checked the clock and waved Christian closer. “They’re early, but we can make this work. First, you’ve got to tell your grandpa that you didn’t say King of Oral .”

“What do you want me to tell him?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

She nibbled her lip. “Let me think, but don’t let him leave.”

“Um…Grandpa?” Christian called.

“Yeah, kid?”

“I think you misheard me. I was cheering because I’m the King of…” He looked at her.

“Floral,” she whispered. “You’re the King of Floral.”

“I’m the King of Floral, with an F , like flowers. And I’m the King of Floral because…” Christian paused, giving her the international expression for help me .

She pressed her lips to the shell of his ear. “Floral, because the wildflower honey in Stumble Juice is such a prevalent flavor.”

“I was thinking about Stumble Juice and how I’m getting pretty good at making it.”

She nodded and gestured for him to keep going.

“And…how there’s wildflower honey in it, and the bees that make the honey must go crazy over the wildflowers in Starrycard Creek. And another word for flowers is floral, so yeah, I’m the King of Floral ,” he said, then cringed as she pressed her lips into a hard line, doing everything in her power not to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, all right, kid, whatever you say.” The thud of steps signaled Rex’s departure, but then he stopped. “Hey, where’s Maggie? I didn’t see her downstairs.”

Double, oh, no!

Rex’s question knocked the giggles clean out of her. She scrambled off the bed and tiptoe-ran into her room—and holy moly, she silently gave thanks to McKenzie for insisting she stay in the Donnelly bedroom connected to Christian’s. She slipped off the jersey, put on a robe, and tossed her hair into a towel. She exhaled a slow breath, attempting to compose herself, and mustered a grin, hoping it wasn’t the expression of a woman who’d just experienced a mind-blowing orgasm. She opened the door. “Oh, hello, Mr. Starrycard. I thought I heard something out here while I was getting ready in my room. Alone. Not another soul in there with me. I washed my hair. See the towel.”

There’s her crazy-talk mouth.

Rex looked from Christian’s bedroom door and then back to her. “You can call me Rex, and are you two kids doing okay? I heard Christian yelling about flowers.”

She plastered a grin to her lips, praying she didn’t look like a serial killer or someone who’d had an orgasm in seventy-one seconds. “I can’t speak for Christian because I am in my room— alone —but I couldn’t be better. I’m raring to figure out a winning pumpkin pie recipe.”

“And get in some rejuvenating mobility exercises,” Christian added, skidding out of his room and into the hallway in gray track pants and a white T-shirt that accentuated his ripped abdomen.

Yummy!

No, no, no. Not yummy. Her amnesia-induced perma-horny brain needed to calm down.

Rex eyed his grandson. “What’s on your face, Chris? Is that petroleum jelly? Something wrong with your lips? Are you drying out in the fall air?”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with your grandson’s lips,” she purred—and darn her brain, but the words flew out of her mouth. “It must be lip balm,” she blathered, trying to make up for sounding like a sexual deviant. “You must have gone downtown—I mean to town with that new lip balm we found at the farmer’s market.” Maggie, stop! “Here, use this to clean up,” she offered, whipping the snow-white towel from her head and wishing she had a piece of duct tape for her mouth.

“Your hair is dry?” Rex observed. “Didn’t you say you just got out of the shower?”

Her plastic smile was about to snap. “Um…”

“There’s a reason my towels cost a fortune, Grandpa. They dry anything in seconds. Really fantastic linen or cotton or whatever the hell they’re made of,” Christian chimed, accepting the magical towel to wipe the remains of her release off his face. He passed the miracle-drying towel back to her with the barest ghost of a cocky grin on his lips. “Must be the lip balm. It is my favorite.”

This man.

All she could do was nod and try not to combust into a million sexually charged pieces.

“I’ll welcome our guests and lead them through some mobility exercises while you finish up getting ready,” Christian said, clearly back in control.

The men headed down the hallway, and she closed the door and leaned against it. “That went about as badly as it could go,” she murmured, but she couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face. Still, she couldn’t stand there and moon over the man who made her as giddy as a schoolgirl. There was a contest to win and work to do.

She dressed quickly, throwing on jeans, boots, and a sweater from the haul of clothing Christian had purchased for her while they were out shopping. She tiptoed back into his room to retrieve her notebook and took a second to take in the bed. She picked up his pillow and inhaled his clean, earthy scent. “How could a girl not love you, Christian Starrycard?” she whispered.

While he’d made his love and adoration clear, and she’d confirmed she felt the same way, she hadn’t said those three words to him.

Why was that?

Was it because she’d spoken those words to someone else—was in love with someone else?

She’d been missing for ten days. Surely, if someone out there loved her, like Christian said, they would have tried to find her or gone to the authorities.

She looked in the mirror above the dresser, taking in her strawberry-blond hair and the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. “This is your life, at least until you remember who you are.”

She twisted her hair into a bun and headed downstairs. As she reached the first floor, Christian’s voice drifted down the hallway. He must have taken the group to the gym. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and smiled, listening as he instructed the participants in a knowledgeable, reassuring tone.

“There you are,” Rex said, his voice low and stern.

She gasped and peered into the cavernous gathering room—the lobby, as Christian called it. His grandfather sat on one of the over-stuffed chairs, an unlit cigar in his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” she said and headed his way. “I was about to make sure everything is set up in the kitchen. I also made a few pies for the group. Are you hungry?”

“Hungry and thirsty. Do you know if Christian’s got any Stumble Juice on hand?” the man asked as he tucked the cigar into his breast pocket.

“There’s some in the kitchen.”

“That’ll do,” Rex said, grimacing as he tried to get up.

Maggie tucked her notebook under her arm and hurried to his side. “Easy. I’ve got you,” she said softly, placing a steadying hand on his arm as he rose.

“My damn hip has good days and bad days. I’m not as spry as I used to be,” the man offered with a pained chuckle.

“You should join Christian and the culinary group for the mobility exercises. I’m sure it would help,” she suggested, her grip still firm on his arm.

“Maybe I will next time. But I need a word with you.” His voice grew firmer, and his eyes narrowed as he fixed her with a penetrating gaze. “And what I have to say is for you and you alone.”