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  Georgie dipped, her legs losing their ability to keep her upright. She caught herself on two powerful, hair-covered thighs, her face level with Travis’s lap. His scent was earthy and masculine, musky from their run—and hell if that didn’t turn her on more. The filth of it. Having her bare knees in the dirt, perspiration still cooling on their skin, while a curtain of rain sealed them tight in the darkness. It was wrong and forbidden, and she craved it.

  Travis reached out, riding his thumb along the crease of her lips. “Give me somewhere sweet to put this.”

  She’d imagined this scenario so many times. Driving Travis to the point of pain with her mouth, then relieving him. Such power in being on her knees. Her stance widened in the dirt, her hips tilting in a need to draw his eyes. After a breath for courage, she wrapped her hands around the ruddy base of his erection, her mouth closing over the head in a drawn-out pull, her grip twisting like a locking mechanism, the way she’d seen women do in videos.

  “Oh. Fuck,” Travis gritted out, his thighs jerking, feet lifting and landing back in the dirt. “Go easy, Georgie baby. Jesus. You’ve got a fucking mouth on you.”

  Go easy? Easier said than done. The taste of him, salty and raw, hit the back of her throat and she couldn’t get enough. His hair tickled her wrists and cheeks as she delved in for another hard suck, her right hand pumping busily. A spurt of liquid landed on her tongue and she moaned, taking him deeper, seeking more.

  “Hot, wet little mouth. You’re killing me with it.” Travis came to his feet with a shout, one hand on the back of her head, the other wrapped around a dugout rafter. His thighs crowded either side of her face, half of his smooth bulk buried in her mouth. He rolled his hips back, bringing all but the tip of his arousal out of her mouth, before pumping back in slowly, deeply, her lips stretching around his flesh. “That your limit, baby girl?”

  Georgie saw the underlying concern in Travis’s gaze and nodded, nuzzling her cheek in the hair on his thighs. Encouraging him to thrust into her mouth again—and Lord, he did. With a guttural sound, he fisted the hair at the back of her head and started a soft pound, never going past the line they’d drawn, but taking filthy advantage of everything leading to that point. His hips punched, filling her mouth with sex, and every inch of Georgie—inside and out—reacted to the perfection of it. With her head tipped back, knees in the dirt, a man using her mouth, she’d never felt more like a woman. The more his fist tightened in her hair, the more she took of him, letting him invade her throat. Listening to him bark dirty words, the force of them echoing in the dugout. “Need” was a pitiful word for the state she entered and became immersed in, her thighs shaking, belly hollowing.

  “Up,” Travis shouted, jerking Georgie to her feet. He ripped the shirt over her head, desperate hands shoving the sports bra up to her neck. Their panting mouths met and molded as he fell onto the bench, ripping a condom from his sagging pocket and rolling it down his arousal. He grabbed Georgie’s bottom and urged her onto his lap, shooting forward to take one of her nipples into his mouth. “Fuck me. Ride me.” His right hand came down and delivered a mean slap to her backside. “Do it now.”

  His hand moved between them, and Georgie sobbed when the thick head of Travis’s erection found her entrance, wedging inside. She was a little swollen from last night’s first time, the intensity of it, but she worked her hips and took Travis’s full length, sinking down and down until her backside hit his thighs. “Oh God. So big.”

  “That’s right. I got big . . .” Eyes glazed, he licked at her mouth. “And you got tight. That’s why you’re going to spend a lot of time with your panties hanging off one ankle.”

  Out of necessity, Georgie shifted to find a comfortable position, gasping at the zing of friction on her clit. She rubbed herself against his hard flesh again, her mouth open and moaning on Travis’s shoulder. The movement naturally rode her up and down on Travis’s pulsing erection, and his enjoyment was on full display, his head tipped back, eyes blind. Something didn’t quite allow Georgie to drop into the moment, though. Just like that time in Travis’s bedroom, she ached for the thrill of being pinned.

  “I don’t know if I can . . .” She broke off in a whimper when Travis began kneading her bottom, coaxing her into a slick, erotic rhythm, her sex riding up and down his length. God, it felt so good, the give and take of soaked flesh, their shallow breaths mingling with the pelting rain, his chest hair abrading her nipples. But her mind wouldn’t turn off the way it did when Travis was on top. She wanted him to hold the reins. “I don’t think I can . . . like this.”

  “The hell you can’t.” Travis sat up straight, yanking her hips closer. He took her face in his hands, breathing heavy against her mouth. “You might be on top, but I’m still in charge, aren’t I?” He kissed her long and hard while those words sunk in. “If I wanted to flip you onto your back on this bench and break you off, I wouldn’t ask permission.”

  While he spoke, Georgie’s hips began to move of their own accord. Out of pure necessity. Her thighs flexed, bringing her up, body rolling, ears dying to hear more. Because he was right. She wasn’t running the show. On top or not, her pleasure was Travis’s to give.

  “Hey.” He caught her chin in a firm hand, tilted his hips with a groan—wicked intention in the set of his jaw, the curl of his lips. “My dick aches so bad. Make it stop.”

  There was no hesitation after that. Only deep, wild lust. This was the part she needed so desperately to play. The embodiment of relief. The only one who could make him erupt. Georgie closed her eyes, using her index and middle fingers to toy with her nipples, all the while lifting and twisting back down on Travis’s thickness. His choked sounds, the chafing of his hungry, calloused hands on her thighs and bottom, all turned her desire up to the highest decibel. He grew larger inside her with every stroke of their joined bodies, his groans turning to punctuated grunts—and already she knew that signaled the end of his tether.

  And that’s what broke her, along with the mind-blowing friction, the pressure in her nipples and clit—Travis giving in to the inevitable. Not being able to stand the pleasure. His arms flew wide to grip the bench, his teeth clamping down hard on his full lower lip. “Can’t hold it in. Can’t hold it in. Fuck, you’re working my cock so good, baby girl. Spoiling me.”

  Georgie pressed her naked breasts to Travis’s heaving chest, letting her mouth linger a breath away from his. Lapping at him once. “I want to make you come so hard.”

  “Motherfuck.” Travis’s grip returned to her backside, supporting it as he lunged to his feet—and he proceeded to bounce her like a puppet with no strings on his rigid arousal. Sweat slid down one side of his face, their lower bodies slapping together while the rain hammered home on top of the dugout. “You make me so fucking crazy. I can’t take it. My God.”

  Those gruff words pitched Georgie over the side of the precipice, her sex seizing with enough intensity to make her scream, the sound swallowed by Travis’s fevered mouth. It bit at her and exploited her tongue while her knots untied, tension draining out of her in hard, trembling degrees, her thighs shaking around Travis’s hips. “Travis, Travis, Travis.”

  “Coming,” he rasped mid-kiss, his groan filling her open mouth. In this position, there was no way to escape the quaking aftermath of what she’d done to him. He stumbled to the right, jaw dropping, his manhood jerking inside of her, leaving a flood of moisture behind. The sight and sounds stitched themselves onto her memory, where they would remain for all time. Travis silhouetted by the concrete dugout, rain falling in her periphery, his male growl of pleasure filling the air. And eventually his comforting, calming kiss, the stroke of his reverent hands as he sat back down, cradling her against his chest. “Sweet girl. So beautiful.”

  She’d splintered apart at her peak, but those pieces drew back together now, stronger than before, glowing with contentment. “Sweet man,” she whispered, cheek resting on his shoulder. “So strong.”

  Travis’s pulse was already gallopin
g, but it stuttered at her words, his arms wrapping around her in an unbreakable hold. “You make me believe that.”

  Georgie lifted her head to find Travis watching her with a thoughtful frown, and something passed between them. Something she didn’t know enough to name and was too afraid to explore. Contentment spread like jam on bread in her belly, though, which made it twice as frustrating when her phone started ringing, tangled in her yoga pants somewhere on the dugout floor. “I should get that. Just in case something’s wrong.”

  He gave her a final kiss and nodded, letting her stand and keeping his attention on her as she answered. “Hello?”

  “Georgie. I need you at my house like yesterday.”

  She glanced down at her naked-in-a-dugout body. “I’m kind of busy.” Travis grunted his agreement, tugging her closer to nibble on her hip. “What’s all that noise?”

  “Oh, you noticed?” Bethany’s sarcasm pierced Georgie’s afterglow. “Our sister-in-law told the whole town about the Just Us League. And now every woman in Port Jefferson is in my kitchen, demanding to join.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Just . . . help.”

  Georgie sent Travis a regretful look. “I’ll be right there.”

  Travis hovered in her periphery as they both got dressed. “The dinner with the network exec is tomorrow night.”

  That contentment she’d been feeling nose-dived. “Right.” Along with the reminder of the end of the line came a need to protect herself as much as possible when she was in love with the man standing five feet away. “Actually I was thinking of heading over to Westbury early. There’s a wholesale furniture shop in town I want to check out. For the new office.” She shot him a smile. “Meet you there?”

  His jaw twitched. “You want to arrive separately at this dinner when we’re supposed to convince the network we’re together?”

  “Never mind,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Travis’s stony gaze told Georgie he knew exactly what she’d been attempting to do. Distance herself, even though she wanted to dive into him feetfirst. She tucked some haphazard strands of hair into her ponytail and backed toward the stairs, grateful the rain was letting up.

  “Dinner is at seven, right? I’ll be ready to go at six.” Her smile felt stiff. “See you then?”

  “My truck is at your place, Georgie. We’re running back together.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  After what felt like an endless staring contest, they jogged back in silence.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Georgie gaped as she stepped out of her car.

  Chaos reigned inside Bethany’s house. Women spilled out the front door onto the porch, shielding their heads from the rain with umbrellas and newspapers. A deliveryman with a stack of pizzas pushed through the throng, holding up the bill like a white flag of surrender. Among the women, Georgie recognized her ninth-grade physics teacher, Boutique Tracy, and several other familiar Port Jefferson faces. Including her mother.

  “Mom?”

  “Georgie.” Vivian paused mid-conversation to wave her closer. “Will you pay for these pizzas? I don’t have any cash.”

  Right. It was well known that Vivian carried everything she owned in her pocketbook, but couldn’t manage to slide out cash or credit cards, thanks to her acrylic nails. “Who ordered them?” Georgie called, leafing through her wallet as she reached the front yard. “Where is Bethany?”

  “Inside, talking about stuff.” Her mother shooed some women aside so Georgie could tunnel through. “Come on, move. Make way for the founder.”

  “I’m not the . . .” Georgie shook her head. “I just came up with the name.”

  “Founder! Founder!” Vivian chanted. No one joined. “What took you so long to get here? You weren’t home on a weekday morning?”

  Suddenly, everyone on the porch seemed interested in their conversation. “I was out for a run with Travis,” she said, cheeks burning. “I had to shower and change.”

  “Must have been some shower,” Vivian remarked, juggling her eyebrows.

  “Yeah.” Georgie cleared her throat. “Um. So everyone is here to join the Just Us League?”

  A cheer went up around her, followed by a single shout of “Fuck them all!”

  Once the clapping and whistling stopped, Georgie said, drily, “We’ll see what we can do about that,” handing some twenties to the pizza man and pausing on the threshold of the house to take in the scene.

  It was standing room only in the living room and everyone was talking at once. Bethany was perched on the fireplace and seemed hell-bent on bringing order to a conversation, and thus she didn’t notice Georgie’s arrival. In the kitchen, Rosie shot like a gorgeous Ping-Pong ball between the oven and the marble island, dishing what looked like empanadas onto serving trays. Bottles of champagne and orange juice were everywhere. It was brunch meets insane asylum.

  “Where should I put these pizzas?”

  Wordlessly, Georgie took the stack of pies from the pizza man and ambled toward the kitchen. “Rosie, you need some help?” Georgie called over the noise. “Where’s Kristin?”

  “I’m here!” singsonged her sister-in-law on her way down the stairs, a bright smile on her face. “Isn’t this fabulous?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “I’m good in here,” Rosie finally answered, sliding the tray of empanadas in her direction. “Just . . . will you try one?”

  When Georgie’s stomach roared, she realized she was starving. Although she found it pretty difficult to regret skipping cereal in favor of orgasmic stand-up sex with Travis. Yeah. That was definitely her preferred method of sustenance, even though her reservations crowded in afterward. What did it say about Georgie that she was beginning to need Travis’s touch, whether it was emotionally healthy for her or not?

  Unable to dwell on her current predicament, Georgie shooed the rain cloud above her head away. “Sure.” She snagged a meat-filled pastry off the tray and took a small bite, blowing at the steam before taking another. Flavor exploded in her mouth. It was the single best thing she’d ever tasted. In her life. There was richness and spice and texture, all surrounded by perfectly crisped dough. “Oh my God, Rosie. You made these? From scratch?”

  “Yeah.” The other woman smiled into her wrist. “Bethany said there was a crowd and she didn’t have any food in the house, so I made a quick pit stop at the store.”

  “I could live off these. I want to live off these.” Maybe it was the clarity that came from the best sleep of her life, followed by the best sex of anyone’s life, but Georgie was gripped by a sudden idea to push her friend’s dream a little closer to reality. “Rosie, can you whip up some more?”

  She moved around some plastic bags on the counter. “I have enough ingredients to make three more batches.”

  “Do it.” Georgie turned to her sister-in-law. “Kristin. You’re responsible for this mess. You can redeem yourself by making sure everyone in this room puts one of these empanadas in their mouth.”

  Kristin sputtered a little, then relented with a chin lift. “Fine.”

  Rosie caught her eye across the island. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking once everyone tastes what you can do . . . and wants more?” Georgie shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe we can crowdsource enough funds to open the restaurant.”

  A hand clapped down on Georgie’s shoulder, forcing her to look away from Rosie’s stunned yet hopeful expression. “Where the hell have you been?” Bethany whined, shaking her. “Our church choir director just mooned the pizza guy through the living room window. My neighbors are going to call the cops.”

  “Sorry, I was showering. I’ll get everyone under control.”

  “Just showering?” Bethany narrowed her gaze. “I call bullshit.”

  Their mother waded in between them. “Girls. This is about uniting us ladies, isn’t it?” She clucked her tongue. “Bickering sends the wrong message.”

  “Mom,
our meetings are ninety percent bickering.”

  “It’s how we communicate,” Bethany agreed.

  Vivian shook her head. “Sad.”

  More women swelled in from the porch, squashing everyone closer together. Above their heads, Georgie could see the white serving tray coming back empty. Kristin appeared a moment later, looking out of breath. “Well, those went over like a house on fire, Miss Rosie! They’re hankering for more.” A glint of steel flashed in her eyes. “Meanwhile, no one has even touched my corn muffins.”

  Bethany swiped a hand through their huddle. “Look, I’m glad so many women are interested in joining the club, but we have to whittle down the pack. We can’t accommodate this many people effectively.”

  “On it,” Georgie said, climbing onto a stool and giving a two-finger whistle. When every head whipped in her direction, self-consciousness tried to nudge her back down. A few weeks ago, she would have been terrified to stand up in front of all these women. But then she thought of all the progress she’d made with her entertainment company. Thought of how she’d spoken up at family dinner and made her opinion matter. Lastly, she thought of Travis and how they’d formed a team. It might not be forever, but right now she could feel his presence at her back. “First of all, thank you, everyone, for your interest in joining the Just Us League.”

  “Fuck them all!” someone yelled from the back of the room.

  Georgie gestured to her mother to make her a mimosa. “This is going to be tough to hear, but I need everyone to be honest.” She paused. “I’m not sure how Kristin lured you here. But if you’re here for the free food, please take a slice of pizza or an empanada and go about your day. No lookie-loos.”

  Half the room headed for the door, slices in hand.