Tempt University: Year One: A College Romance Collection

  “You call that a slide?”

  I cross my arms and eye him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

  “I want to run the bases, too.” He says it like it’s a normal thing to communicate with me after practice. I give him a look of disbelief. “You’re not the only one trying to stay fit,” he says. At that, I have to roll my eyes. If he gets any fitter, he’s gonna turn into a fiddle.

  “Whatever,” I mumble, putting my earbuds back in.

  Garrett follows after me, matching my jogging pace. After a few moments of silence, he says, “You’re not gonna talk to me?” I ignore him. But I can feel his eyes on my ass.

  Crap.

  It’s exciting to know he’s looking at me and upsetting at the same time. This cannot happen between us. He doesn’t actually want me, it’s probably just his male instincts taking over after realizing I’m a woman. I let him pass so that I’m following from behind.

  But immediately I learn this is an even worse situation. Because now I get to watch his perfect ass in front of me.

  “How many times do you run the bases?” he asks over his shoulder. I can tell he’s slightly out of breath, but he’s trying to hide it.

  “Until all I can think about is trying not to throw up.”

  “Well shit, I’ve been thinking that for the past ten minutes.” We round the corner from third base and head toward home, and Garrett takes the opportunity to slide. It’s a perfect slide, I’ll admit, but the moment he turns and says, “That’s how you do it,” I want to smack him.

  “Actually, I think you could use a few pointers,” I say, walking past him toward the dugout.

  “Oh really? And I guess you think you’re the one fit to be giving the pointers?”

  I turn to him and put my hand on my hip, unable to prevent the sassiness from coming out. “I’m just saying, you’re not the only one who can slide.”

  Garrett stands and dusts his pants off. He takes a few steps toward me so that now we’re only two feet apart. Garrett looks into my eyes, and there’s a twinkle in them I’ve never seen before. “I think we need to settle this,” he says.

  “What?”

  “The argument of who’s the better slider.”

  It’s quiet between us for a long moment as I contemplate the situation. Part of me says this is a bad idea, especially after our last encounter. I know deep down that he was checking me out. There’s definitely some kind of fire between us, but fanning that flame will only lead to problems, problems, and more problems.

  But then he flashes me a smile, a mischievous grin that says he knows I can’t resist a challenge.

  Crap. He’s right.

  “You’re on.”

  Chapter Six

  Cassy

  Sliding to home plate has never been so fun. I mean, sure, it’d be great if there were an audience to cheer me on, but it’s the best feeling to see Garrett’s face when I beat him at something. It’s like he’s impressed and pissed off at the same time. Honestly, I’m addicted to making him make that face. It’s probably why, even after totally annihilating him in our slide-off competition, I agree to a pitch-off with Garrett.

  And after my arm is totally dead from pitching, we somehow get into a hit-off! But I don’t even notice how tired I am or how my stomach aches for pizza because the sassy remarks and witty comments are flowing like wine between us. It’s like this every time I’m with him, and I think I might be addicted to the confusing ways he makes me feel.

  On the one hand, Garrett has always treated me like an annoying teammate. You know, just one of the guys. Exactly how I wanted it to be, even though I’ve secretly always been attracted to him.

  But now, every time he smiles at me it’s like pulling me into some kind of secret that only we know. And the more he smiles like that, the more I want to smile back, which makes it really damn hard to keep up this whole “I hate you,” act.

  Plus, I do love the way his body fills out that uniform…

  “Hellooooo, earth to Cassy!” Garrett calls from the pitcher’s mound.

  I realize I’ve just been imagining what the rest of his body looks like underneath his outfit. Jeez! I need to snap out of it. Garrett is just my teammate, and that’s all he is to me.

  “Get ready for a curveball, girl,” he says, winding up for a pitch.

  I shake my head and grip my bat, trying to focus on the ball and not on the fact that he just called me a girl. Not that it’s a big deal or anything, but he’s never addressed my gender before. Is it a sign that things are changing between us like I’ve always feared? Agh! I’m so caught up in my thoughts that by the time the ball reaches me, I’m entirely off my game. I swing and miss the ball completely, letting it smack me in the arm. I grit my teeth and will the tears to suck back into my eyeballs.

  “You good? That looked pretty bad,” Garrett says, heading my way.

  I nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He steps into my personal bubble and eyes my arm as I cradle it. He’s far too close for comfort. “I said I’m fine,” I snap, turning away from him.

  Garrett chuckles. “I can see a bruise forming already. Here, let me see.” He gingerly takes my arm in his hands and brushes over the big red spot. Sure enough, a bruise is already forming. But all I feel is the flames where his fingers touch my skin.

  “Maybe if you weren’t so distracted by my good looks, you’d still have a normal colored arm,” he teases, not knowing just how spot-on he is. A blush spreads on my cheeks, and I turn away from him with a severely clenched jaw.

  “Jerk,” I mutter, punching him in the side. It’s like hitting a marble statue.

  He smiles and lets my arm go. “That looks like it’s gonna hurt tomorrow. Maybe you need some lessons from a pro.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Ha! You mean you? No, thanks.” I stalk toward the dugout, unbelievably mad at myself. This is precisely what I didn’t want to happen. My damn feelings got involved and affected my game. I’m such an idiot.

  “No, for real. I’m serious, Cassy. I noticed your swings could be a bit fuller.”

  The nerve of this guy! I turn on my heel, ready to give him the glare of all glares and a piece of my mind, but all I can do is let my jaw drop as Garrett takes his shirt off right in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” I sputter.

  He shrugs and tosses his shirt toward the dugout. “It’s hot.”

  It sure is.

  “I don’t need your help, thanks. In case you forgot, my RBI is higher than yours.”

  “Must have been a typo, ‘cuz we both know that’s a lie.”

  I set my jaw and plant my hand on my hip, but Garrett just flashes me that knowing smile.

  Damn it.

  “Fine. Show me your moves.” I regret that choice of words the moment they spill from my mouth.

  * * *

  I’ve got both hands on my bat, holding it underhanded and up to my chest, and my feet are a little wider than hip-distance apart. Garrett stands to my side, guiding my movements in what he’s calling a “Full Swing” drill, which I’ve never heard of before. I’m supposed to keep the bat up close to my chest, so the knob faces my right, and stride like I usually would, then pause just as I reach my launch position.

  “Nope, do it again. You forgot to pause,” Garrett says, shaking his head.

  I roll my eyes, wondering how they haven’t popped right out of my head yet. “Okay Coach Garrett.” I do as he says, pausing just before the launch. “What exactly is the purpose of this again?”

  “You’re supposed to feel the shift in balance in your body, and your lower half ready to explode. Like this.” He grabs my bat, steps back, and demonstrates for me, and boy, does he look good doing it. Especially now that I can see every chiseled muscle on his torso as they ripple through the movement.

  “Okay, got it,” I say, motioning for him to return my bat. I fix my stance and go through the motions, pausing just before the launch.

  “Perfect,” Garrett says with a smile, lighting m
e up inside. Why does it feel so good to have Garrett’s approval? I don’t care what he thinks, I remind myself.

  I clear my throat. “Now what?”

  Garrett steps behind me and places his hands on my hips. “After the pause,” he says, his breath tickling my neck, “your lower half should be ready to explode through the swing. So you rotate your hips through and finish the motion.” He gently guides my hips with his rough, warm hands, engulfing my entire body in scorching heat.

  Oh, my lower half is ready to explode, alright.

  His hands are still on my hips after I finish the movement, and just when I have the terrifying realization that I don’t want him to let go, Garrett’s hands fall from my sides. He steps around, so he’s facing me.

  “Good work,” he says, looking down at me with soft eyes. He sounds sincere when he asks, “Do you feel any difference?”

  I nod silently, noting that much more than my swing feels different.

  Garrett and I look at each other for a long moment, longer than I’ve ever looked anyone in the eyes before. His expression goes from a twinkling mischievous look to a thoughtful, contemplative one. “Why don’t I ever see you at any parties?”

  I furrow my brows together in confusion. “Where’d that come from?”

  He shrugs, his hands still on my hips, mind you, and says, “Yesterday I realized I never see you off the baseball field.”

  Now it’s my turn to shrug. “Parties just aren’t my thing.”

  “Bullshit. Everyone loves a good party.”

  “If the party involves baseball and a foot long, I’m there,” I say, hoping he takes his hands off me before I melt, but not exactly eager to remind him to.

  He lowers his voice. “You know there’s more to life than just baseball, right?”

  “Not really.”

  He considers my response for a moment, and then his expression changes, like he’s just had an epiphany. “Wait a minute… Cassy, do you do anything besides school and baseball?”

  “Pfft,” I say, shoving him away. He drops his hands from my sides, leaving my hips feeling cold and craving his touch. “Puhlease. I do things. I have friends. I hang out with you and the boys,” I say as if that proves I have a life.

  Garrett gives me a look of disbelief. “That’s so lame! You never hang out with us outside of practice.”

  “That’s not true,” I argue, thinking back on the last time I actually did join them for dinner. Truth is, I haven’t hung out with anyone in a while. Ohmygod, he’s right. “Sometimes I do,” I say defiantly.

  “I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word’ friends.’” I purse my lips at him. He gives me a sincere look. “Why don’t you join us to watch the next Angel’s game?”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t need your pity.” An involuntary shiver races down my spine at the thought. Garrett, feeling sorry for me? This has to be the worst twist of events.

  He laughs, and his eyes catch on my breasts. I look down to find they’re perky as ever.

  Oh, hell, no.

  I glance up at him, wondering what I’m supposed to do now. My heart rate increases to a disconcerting level as Garrett moves closer with a satisfied half-grin spreading on his face. I want to run away and melt into his arms at the same time.

  He places his hands on my hips once more, and I’m helplessly burning alive as he pulls me close. Ohmygod, is he going to kiss me? I think I want him to. No—I definitely don’t want him to. But the closer he gets, the more I’m dying to know what his lips feel like, to let him touch me and make me feel like a woman through and through. But a tiny voice in my head holds me back.

  Don’t do this, it says.

  Why not? I whine. But I know why not. This is a terrible idea. Kissing Garrett might feel amazing, but it’s just attraction and nothing more. What happens after the kiss? Exactly. Everything gets ruined, that’s what. A kiss isn’t worth losing everything for.

  Our lips are just inches apart when I push him away. “I-I have to go,” I stutter, making a beeline for my bag. I don’t even turn back to see the expression on his face. Determined to get my mind right, I grab my stuff and head for my car, worrying about all the confusing thoughts swirling through my head.

  “Goodnight, Cassy,” Garrett calls after me, but I ignore him as best I can, even though our almost-kiss haunts me the whole way home.

  Chapter Seven

  Garrett

  I don’t know how many times I’ve counted the popcorn on this ceiling, but it isn’t helping me fall asleep in the slightest.

  I had fun with Cassy tonight, and all we did was the same shit we usually do. Giving each other crap and trying to one-up the other. But tonight felt different. Cassy felt more… open. More playful. Dare-I-say, flirty. And there’s so much about her I don’t know. Why does she keep her distance from everyone she calls her so-called “friends”? Why didn’t she fall prey to my shirtless tactics? What does she do for fun? But most importantly, why didn’t she kiss me?

  I know she wanted to. Her eyes told me she wanted more than just a kiss. And so did I.

  Ever since I saw her on campus the other day, it’s like Cassy doesn’t just exist in the vacuum of baseball practice anymore. She’s everywhere in my head. Am I really attracted to her, or is it just because Coach told me I couldn’t be?

  All I know is, I’ve never seen anyone make jean shorts look so good. The way the sunlight lit her from behind that day seared the image into the backs of my eyelids.

  I sigh, wondering what it’d be like to take her on a date. I imagine us laughing together and sharing hot dogs at an Angel’s game, sharing a candle-lit dinner at the fancy restaurant on Main Street, walking down the beach, kissing her under the mistletoe at the Tempt U. Christmas party... All these images swirl around in my head until suddenly I’m picturing the two of us fucking like wild animals on a baseball field. Cassy’s curly hair is sprawled out on the pitcher’s mound, her perky breasts full and ready for me to devour them, and I ravage her like the beast I wanted so badly to unleash on her tonight.

  I try to shake the images from my mind, but there’s way too much testosterone in my system to let me fall asleep now. I stroke my steel cock and jerk myself off as the best dream I’ve ever had plays out behind my eyelids. When I’m done, a shocking realization keeps me wide awake.

  I want to make Cassy mine.

  Chapter Eight

  Cassy

  I stand in the stream of hot water from my shower for what feels like hours, trying to wash away all the uneasy feelings running amuck in me. Every time I close my eyes, scenes from tonight replay in my head, awakening every part of my body as if I’m there on the field with Garrett all over again. I had an absolute blast with him. It all felt like so much more than just a competitive evening. It almost felt like… a date. Could you call it a date? There were no candles or perfume or romantic walks on the beach, but it had everything I’d want in a date.

  Besides food.

  I sigh and let my head fall back into the water. I’m not even hungry anymore. I replay the night again, scenes flashing behind my closed eyes like a private drive-in movie. Garrett’s little twist move was pretty genius, now that I think about it, and if I weren’t so distracted by his hands on my hips, I probably would’ve put it to good use tonight. Which is what teammates should do. Help each other out, not turn each other on.

  I roll my eyes at him, even though he isn’t here. Why’d he have to go and take his shirt off? Ugh. He must have known what he was doing. There’s no denying my attraction to him, which really sucks because remember that lie I was telling myself? The one where I hate Garrett? It’s not working anymore. And I think it’s because I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I mean, I was wearing how many layers of clothing and my freaking nipples were still as apparent as ever?

  I look down at them disapprovingly. What would Garrett think of my nipples if he saw them now? Would he say they’re too big? Too dark? Ugh, I shouldn’t even care! But I do. />
  What would he think if he touched them? I slide my fingers over the tiny nubs, erect as ever just thinking of him. What would it be like to be with him? I massage myself, imagining his hot hands on my body, pushing me up against the shower’s cold, wet tile. God, it would be amazing. I slip my hand between my legs and thrust a finger, then two inside myself, wishing it were Garrett’s hard length inside me. Not even a minute later, I reach my climax, pulsing with the need to be with him.

  Holy shit. What did I just do? I turn the water to cold, hoping it’ll shock some sense into me. But I know it’s too late. I want Garrett.

  There’s just one problem.

  He’s still my teammate, and I still need to prove to my team and my coach, and everyone else watching for that matter, that I can handle being the only girl. That I deserve to be on this team. The best way I can prove it is to not let my feelings for Garrett distract me.

  From this moment forward, I need to get serious. No more looking at Garrett, no more thinking about him, and definitely no more flirting with him.

  Chapter Nine

  Garrett

  The next day at practice, I’m shocked at the lack of flack I get from Cassy. I was sure she’d give me all kinds of shit for what happened the night before. She always gives me a hard time for even the smallest inconveniences I cause her, so after almost kissing me, you’d think she’d be all over it.

  But I don’t get anything from her. Not a word, not a look, not even a sassy eye roll when she beats my team in the Battle of the Best. I thought she was into me. No, I know she is. She must be playing hard to get. I try to push her buttons during practice, but every time I come near her, she moves away from me like we’re opposite ends of a magnet.