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Our movements grew frantic, like we couldn’t keep up with the need that was running through us. Fingers were digging into skin, pulling at clothing, tangling in hair. I was sure the emotions I was feeling would consume me if they weren’t expressed in some way, and it seemed that Tommy felt the same way.
He made quick work of my clothes, leaving me naked as I undressed him. As Tommy held me in his arms, it felt like he was making a mark on my heart in the shape of him, and I was terrified that I’d have to cover it like a bad tattoo. But a much larger part of me pushed that thought away, too concerned with how perfect he felt nestled there in the spot beneath my rib cage.
Maggie
The sun coming in through the curtains of Tommy’s room the next morning woke me up from my deep sleep. I pulled the comforter up around my body, trying to keep any chill away from me. My clothes still lay in a pile on the living room floor downstairs. I reached out a hand toward Tommy, only to feel a cool, empty bed.
I pulled the covers back and padded over to his dresser. The first drawer had a stack of his T-shirts and some sweatpants. I grabbed one of each and threw them on. The shirt came down to mid-thigh and I had to cinch the sweatpants as tight as they would go so they wouldn’t fall off my hips. As soon as I walked out of the bedroom, the smell of food hit my nose. My mouth instantly watered. Tommy was stationed in front of the stove, a pair of pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. His chest was still bare, and just the sight of it made me want to go for round two on the kitchen island.
“Good morning,” I rasped, sleep still clinging to my voice. Tommy turned around in surprise, spatula in hand.
“I was hoping to bring you breakfast in bed.” My heart melted at the disappointed look on his face.
“I can go back.” I pointed a thumb back up the stairs, a playful smile on my face.
“Then I’d miss this view in front of me.” Tommy set the spatula down and came over to lift me onto the kitchen island.
Maybe my daydream might actually come true.
“You look so sexy in my clothes,” Tommy growled into my ear, sending butterflies flying all over my body.
He went back over to the stove to flip the pancake he was making, giving me the perfect view to watch him at work. My eyes roamed over the strong muscles of his back that were covered in black ink. The tattoo sleeves on his arms flowed into the tattoos that spread across his chest and upper back. They were bold, full of thick lines and sharp patterns. His body was a true work of art.
“When did you start getting tattoos?” I asked him as he flipped another pancake onto a stack next to him.
“When I was eighteen, right after I got drafted. I started on the sleeves first.”
“How did you decide on them?”
“I designed them myself, actually. I created the patterns in high school and desperately wanted them tattooed on me.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I definitely hadn’t expected him to tell me that he had made them.
“They’re amazing.” My eyes traced each line, curve, and design that flowed effortlessly into the next. They helped define the hard planes of his muscles that made my mouth water just looking at them.
“Thank you,” he told me as he brought a plate of pancakes over to me. A bottle of syrup was already on the counter, and I dumped an unhealthy amount onto the stack of fluffy goodness in front of me.
“Shooting for a sugar high?” Tommy asked as he leaned against the kitchen counter across from me, digging into his own stack of pancakes.
“How could you not want to smother your pancakes in an absurd amount of syrup?” Tommy shook his head at me with a smile on his face as he stabbed another piece of pancake with his fork.
“So how do you think the season is going?” I asked him.
“I feel really good about everything right now.” Tommy set his plate on the counter next to him and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I’ve done enough to really cement myself as an asset for the Cougars, and I feel good about this season. I’ve kept to myself, kept my head down, worked hard, and tried to focus on baseball.”
“With extenuating circumstances,” I added with an awkward smile. He could have had less stress in his life if he hadn’t offered to take me home from the club those few months ago.
“I don’t see a single thing I’d change about this season.” His eyes stayed glued on mine and again made it feel like I was glowing from the inside out. “I have a lot to thank you for with how this season is turning out, honestly.”
I waved him off, busying myself with the pancakes that were left in front of me. “What about you?” he asked me after a moment.
“What about me?”
“Do you feel like this season is going well for you?”
I had to actually stop and think about what he had asked me. How had this season gone for me?
Of course, I had aspirations for my career and was trying to gain as much experience as I could to achieve them, but had this season actually moved me toward those goals? Photography was my passion in life and always would be, but it had opened my eyes to different directions mys career could take me. After a few years in professional sports, I knew this was where I wanted to be. But the idea of running my own media department one day and becoming a mentor for other young photographers and media experts excited me.
“I know I’ve taken some great shots this season.”
