Perfect Game

by Collette West

  I try to coax her to let down her guard again. "Then I wouldn't be holding your hand now, would I?" Then I take the tip of her finger into my mouth. "Oh, c'mon. Don't pull away. Try and avoid me all you want, but I'm not gonna drop it. I wanna know all about you."

  She sighs, taking another sip of wine. "All right. I grew up in Manhattan."

  "Oh man. Did you go to a private school where you had to wear one of those sexy schoolgirl kilts?" It doesn't take much to kick my imagination into overdrive.

  "Yep. I went to Spence, the whole nine yards."

  "Now that's hot." I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table and shifting my weight—anything to ease my aching cock.

  "But I went to Fordham for my communications degree."

  "Slummin' it, huh?" I bust her. "What, Columbia wasn't good enough for you?"

  "No, I liked Fordham's program better. I felt more at home there. And it was closer to the stadium…"

  My ears perk up at that. "What'd you always have your sights set on working for the Kings?"

  "Something like that."

  Why is she getting so tightlipped all of a sudden? I thought she was finally going to start opening up and sharing stuff about her life.

  I press on. "What part of the city do you live in now?"

  "Same place I grew up. I'm still at home with my parents. I never left." She shrugs. "I figured why rent a place of my own when, half the time, I'm not even there." She smiles, pointing a finger at me. "And if you think I'm gonna give you my address, you're out of your mind."

  Shit. She lives with her parents? That's an X in the negative column, but it's the only one so far.

  "What? Don't you want me showing up on your doorstep in the middle of the night?"

  "I don't think you'd make it past the doorman."

  Okay, make that two Xs in the negative column. What, do her parents keep her under lock and key?

  I try to keep my cool. I don't want her to know that I don't exactly like what I'm hearing. "Pretty swanky digs, huh? What do your parents do for a living?"

  "My dad's in sports management, and my mom keeps busy with her charity work."

  Fuck. I'm officially screwed. Parents like that are never going to let me within ten feet of their daughter once we get back to New York.

  "You're a bona fide debutante, aren't you?"

  "That's not how I'd define myself, no." She shakes her head adamantly, the candlelight reflecting off her hair. "Yeah, I come from money, but I've had to work hard for everything I've achieved in life. I never want to feel like anything's been handed to me."

  "Poor little rich girl." I stick my bottom lip out, giving her a comical pout so she'll laugh at me, but we're interrupted by the return of our friendly waitress.

  "Here are your appetizers. Oh, it looks like I only grabbed one serving plate. I'll be right back."

  "That's okay. We'll share," I say, sending her away before she can say anything else.

  It's an intimate gesture, eating off the same plate, but Carrie doesn't fight me on it. Instead, she starts questioning me.

  "Didn't you go to a prep school yourself?"

  A satisfied grin stretches across my face. "I knew you Googled me."

  "Only to prepare for the interview."

  "So you already know I went to Seton Academy in Southern Cali."

  "It looked pretty intense, like a mini boot camp. Why didn't you go into the military instead of baseball?"

  The same question my father's been asking me my entire adult life. "Because I'm a much better ballplayer than a soldier."

  Now, I'm the one holding shit back from her. This "getting to know you" crap always blows.

  "You don't like following orders, do you?" She spears a stuffed mushroom with her fork.

  My knee inadvertently hits the leg of the table when she places her lips around it, sliding it into her mouth. Fuck, she even makes eating look sexy.

  I take a long pull of my beer, finishing off the bottle, before replying, "Not if I can help it."

  "Is that why you are the way you are? Because you went to an all-boys school?" she asks between bites, a smile tugging at her lips.

  "Ouch. That's harsh."

  "Sorry. It just seems like you're extra competitive when it comes to women. Like you always have to stand out from the pack. Like you have something to prove."

  We clink our forks together over the last jalapeño popper, but I let her have it. I don't have to compete over everything—and I'll back her away from talking about my brother any way I can.

  I don't know if she's being polite by not bringing it up or if she really doesn't know about the virtual meltdown my brother had at the end of last season. That's why I have to change the subject, abruptly if necessary. I don't want to take that chance in case she does know about it and tries to get me to talk about what happened. That's something I cannot do—not when I still feel that stabbing sense of guilt every time I think of him.

  "Yeah. I'm not a relationship kinda guy," I bluster. "I never was. And I don't plan on settling down any time soon."

  "Well, I wasn't asking you to."

  She looks disappointed, but I promised myself that I'd be honest with her tonight, and I intend to keep my promise. I'm not going to lie to her just because the stars are out and there's a dude on the pier strumming a guitar.

  "I hope not, 'cause I don't wanna get your hopes up. This is nice and all, but it's not me."

  "So, tonight, you're bending the rules, making an exception?"

  "Like you said, this isn't a date. It's just a business dinner between colleagues."

  "So we're finally on the same page, then." She glances at me questioningly, probably wondering what made me suddenly back off when things were going so well.

  But I don't talk about my family. I never do.

  ***

  "I don't think I can move I'm so stuffed," Carrie groans, clutching her stomach.

  I chuckle to myself because we just walked three blocks down the beach, back to the hotel. "I like a woman with a ravenous appetite."

  "Feel like carrying me to my door, then?" she asks, kicking her high heels off.

  I admire the view as she bends down in her tight skirt to dump the sand out of them. "Only if you invite me in."

  "Not gonna happen." Although, she seems pleased that I asked. She's practically glowing, and not because she's bathed in moonlight. "I didn't get much sleep last night thanks to you, and now, there are a bunch of Kings' fans camped outside my window who are bound to keep me up all night."

  "Don't you know devotion when you see it?" I tease her, glad that the beachside entrance is for hotel guests only and we're able to avoid that whole mob scene.

  The Kings came to Panama to capitalize on the tremendous popularity of our catcher, Pedro Gonzalez. He's originally from here, and I think the whole country turned out to see him. Plus, I gotta hand it to our front office. It's a smart scouting move, throwing the door wide open when it comes to recruiting baseball talent throughout Central America. No other Major League Baseball team has ever played in Panama—only the Kings.

  "But we're editing your interview tomorrow when we get back to the studio in New York, and I need a good night's sleep." She rebuffs me again, and I curse inwardly, hating that I have to share a room with Jake.

  "Trust me. It won't take me long to make you come." I flirt with her, remembering how I swallowed her moans of pleasure with my mouth. I loved the sexy noises she made, and I desperately want to hear them again.

  She glances at me over her shoulder, getting her key card out of her purse. "You're so full of yourself."

  "Like I said. I know you."

  She hears me say what have already become three very special words for us, and her bare feet come to a halt outside her hotel room door. I can't stop my eyes from traveling up her legs, and when she turns around, her eyes meet mine and I know she wants me too.

  But instead, she says, "Well, Scott, thanks for a wonderful evening. I can't believe I'm sa
ying this, but I actually had a really good time tonight."

  "Don't sound so surprised."

  "You're not so bad when you aren't trying to impress me so much."

  "And you're not so bad when you quit feeling the need to put me in my place."

  "Somebody has to keep you in line, Harper. It might as well be me."

  "I told you. I don't do long-term relationships," I spit out. It's my standard line, but for the first time, I don't really mean it.

  "But what you're offering just doesn't work for me."

  She stands with her back to the door, and all I want to do is lift her in my arms and take her against it.

  "Scott, we spend one incredible night together and then you expect us to pick up and go our separate ways? We're in each other's lives now. It's not that easy. Sex complicates things."

  Honesty. Here goes nothing. "All right. Fine. I don't wanna have a string of one-night stands with you, either. I want more than that."

  Her mouth falls open. "You do?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  I feel her resolve wavering, so I move in for the kill, tossing her over my shoulder and shoving the key card out of her hand and into the slot.

  "Yikes! What are you doing?" she cries out.

  "You said you wanted me to carry you."

  "You're crazy."

  "Crazy for you."

  "I told you. I can't invite you in."

  "I'm already in." I put her down, kicking the door closed behind us.

  "Why are you doing this?" she asks, her cheeks flushed.

  "Because I need to feel you in my arms again."

  She thinks I only want sex, but it's about more than that now. I'm fuckin' trembling over what this could mean. This is new to me. I'm in uncharted territory. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to sort it all out so that it makes sense. Let's just see where it goes. Right now, I just want to be with her and fall back into what feels familiar, what I know I'm good at—not making her any promises and satisfying the heck out of her.

  Because I'm not going to last. If we're doing this, it has to happen now.

  Her breath hitches when I slide her off my shoulder. I lower her down my body, stumbling forward until her back is pressed up against the door. Then I hold her there, her face even with mine. She looks at me, licking her lips, and I about lose it. I slam one hand against the door, shifting her ass onto my other arm to keep her aloft. She's not exactly light as a feather, but I've bench-pressed a lot more than this, so I can definitely manage. I bend my knees and hoist her up as she struggles to curl even one of her legs around me.

  "What's wrong?" I pant, nuzzling my nose against the peak of her cleavage.

  "It's this damn skirt," she groans. "It's too tight. I can't move."

  I immediately let her feet drop to the floor and get to work tugging at the side zipper. But my hands are too big and I can't grasp it with my fingers.

  "Fuck!" I fight with it some more before I feel her hand on my face, urging me to stop.

  "Let me get it," she says softly, pushing my hands away and making short work of what seemed like a monumental task.

  She giggles, pulling the fabric away from her hips, letting the skirt fall around her ankles. Then she steps out of it, kicking it aside, before grabbing the bottom of her shirt and hoisting it up over her head.

  "You're killing me right now," I mutter through clenched teeth when she's standing before me in nothing but a sheer, red bra and matching thong. It's like she knew she was going to get lucky tonight.

  "Then let me help you with that," she says seductively, shimmying onto her knees.

  I lean forward and brace my hands against the door, closing my eyes. Her hands find the button then the zipper of my pants before tugging them all the way down. I bite down hard on my lower lip when she snaps the band of my boxers.

  "Don't play with me," I growl, burying my hand in her hair.

  "Oh, I'm gonna have some fun with you first." She glances up at me, cupping my dick through the cotton flap before running her hand back farther and squeezing my balls.

  I spread my legs apart, the muscles in my arms shaking as I splay my palms flat against the door, trying to hold on. She laughs again, a deep, sexy laugh, and I groan in frustration. But then, in one swift rush, I feel the air hit me as she frees me from my boxers.

  Then I'm in heaven when she takes me into her mouth, all the way, until I'm hitting the back of her throat. She's sucking and licking and biting while I wrap my hand in her blond locks, grunting in pleasure. I thrust my hips against her lips while holding on to her hair. She is so good at this, her full lips sheathing me, working me over. I feel her tongue swirling around the head of my shaft, before she releases me to take a breath and I know what I have to do.

  I slide my hands under her arms, lifting her up. I reach down, shoving my thumb under the connecting string of her thong and pull on it until it comes apart in my hand. Like a pro, I unclasp her bra one-handed, throwing it aside. She whimpers when I take her nipple into my mouth as I hurriedly unbutton my shirt, getting as naked as she is.

  Her eyes never leave mine when I bend down to root through my pants for my wallet before pulling a condom out of the billfold. I tear the wrapper open and quickly slide the condom on. She gasps at the sheer size of me, her eyes widening in appreciation when I stalk toward her proud of what I have to offer.

  My hands span her waist and I pick her up. I don't waste any time, guiding a finger into her hot, wet folds while my thumb massages her tender clit, paying special attention to her tight, little nub, knowing it drives her absolutely insane. She jerks against me, lolling her head back against the door and bucking against my fingers.

  "Oh my God, Scott…Scott…Scott!" she screams in ecstasy.

  I smile to myself. Uh huh. That's right. Ladies first.

  She rides the wave of her orgasm, the first of several I plan on giving her tonight. She falls limply against my chest, and I cradle her for a moment before grasping her hips and lowering her onto my swollen cock. She's a tight fit. I go at it, slowly at first, but it's not long before I'm unable to resist pounding into her, slapping her naked ass wildly against the door. She finds the strength to wrap her arms around my neck, and I'm free to give it my all, slamming into her again and again, filling her completely.

  "Harder, Scott. Harder," she whispers near my ear, and I can't believe she's going to come again when I feel her inner walls start to clench all around me.

  "Al—most there…" I groan, drawing in a ragged breath as our sweat-slicked bodies collide with each other.

  She clasps her ankles against the small of my back, drawing me in all the way. With one final thrust, I release into her, groaning into her shoulder, nipping her skin with my teeth.

  Utterly spent, I stagger backward, collapsing butt-first onto the bed with her on top of me. I'm still inside her, and I make no move to pull out because her tight pussy's exactly where I want to be.

  "That was incredible," she murmurs, smiling into the crook of my neck, her fingers absently stroking the stubble along my jaw. "I don't think it gets any better than that."

  "Well, then, that's gonna be a problem," I state.

  She turns her face to look at me. "Why's that?" she asks.

  I flip her onto her back and bury my face between her luscious breasts. "Because I'm so not done with you yet."

  Chapter Six

  Carrie

  "Morning, Care Bear. Sleep well?"

  Scott sidles up next to me inside the coffee shop at the Tocumen International Airport, knowing full well that I didn't get a wink of sleep last night thanks to him.

  "Pass me the sugar, would ya?" I ask, pretending like we didn't just shower together a little over an hour ago.

  "So, we're back to this again?" he sighs.

  "No. It's just that I don't know how I'm supposed to act around you now." I take a step away from him, aware of what we must look like as his arm brushes up against mine. "Just so you know, my boss is sitting
over there by the window. Not to mention there are New York Kings milling around everywhere. It was drilled into my head when I got hired that sleeping with the players is off-limits. So we gotta keep our distance from each other."

  "But don't you know how hard it is for me to stay away from you?" he says, bumping his crotch against the side of my hip.

  I bite down hard on my lip, and he leans in to grab a napkin, giving me an enticing hint of my mango-scented body wash on his skin. My cheeks start to burn when I picture everything he did to me when his body was covered in suds.

  Somehow, I find my voice. "Well, you're gonna have to. I'm not losing my job over you by having anyone find out that I've joined your long list of conquests. C'mon, Scott. It's embarrassing."

  His eyes darken when I tell him exactly what he doesn't want to hear.

  "Fine. I was really enjoying getting to know you, but if you want me to stay away, I'll stay away," he huffs, pushing off the counter with his hands.

  "C'mon, Scott. Don't be like that. Yeah, I want to see where this is going too, but you have to knock it off with all the sexy talk. It's inappropriate."

  "But I like making you blush, and I like kissing you even more." He steps toward me again before freezing mid stride.

  "Sorry to be reachin' over you two. I just need to grab a stirrer." Jake intrudes, sticking his body between us.

  "How are you doing this morning, Jake?" I try not to appear as flustered as I am.

  "Sick to my stomach, actually, but that's a good thing. It means tomorrow's Opening Day. Time to get the competitive juices flowing." Jake cracks his knuckles, bending his neck from side to side like he's about to engage in a championship prize fight.

  "You still get nervous?" I ask.

  "All the time. I'd be worried if I didn't," Jake admits, giving me a wink.

  "I never get nervous," Scott interrupts.

  "Says one of the most superstitious guys in baseball," Jake laughs, smiling at me. "Carrie, do you know this guy won't even change his socks if he's seeing the ball well? That's how hardcore he is."

  "Can you blame me?" Scott continues. "Last year, Pete the ball boy took them out of my locker and sent them to the laundry and I didn't get a hit in my next thirteen games."