Perfect Game

by Collette West

  "That's it. I'm right behind you, baby," I moan, slamming myself in and out of her with abandon, hearing my glistening body smack loudly against hers. She somehow finds the strength to wrap her legs around my waist, driving me in deeper, and then I lose it, collapsing on top of her and calling out her name.

  I'm still struggling to catch my breath when she whispers, "Welcome home, Harper," while brushing my hair away from my face.

  "Glad to be back where I belong." I kiss her nose and swirl my hips a little while still lodged firmly inside her.

  She digs her nails into my shoulder, and damn it if I don't start to get hard again.

  I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Carrie

  "So, what the heck is going on with your brother and my sister?" I question Scott, running my fingers over the tiny freckles on his shoulder.

  I figure now's as good a time as any to bring it up, now that we're in a post-coital state of bliss.

  "What? Don't you approve?" Scott asks, playing with my hair.

  Ever since he caught me fast asleep in his room, all curled up in his bed, he's kept touching me, and I've kept touching him. We can't get enough of each other after having gotten through the longest stretch we've ever been apart.

  "It's not that." I shake my head, my hair falling across his chest. "I don't know. It's just bizarre."

  "Why do you say that?" He shifts his weight to the side, resting my head on his massive bicep.

  I look into his gorgeous, gray eyes. "Because my sister isn't serious about anything."

  "And that's exactly what Bobby needs right now," Scott replies, a smile forming on his lips. "A little fun to take his mind off things."

  "So, you think it's just a harmless flirtation?" I ask, running my fingers through the hair on his chest.

  "Bobby hasn't been feeling too good about himself lately. His confidence is shot to hell because he thinks no girl wants to be with a double amputee. The poor guy hasn't been on a date since he came home," Scott tells me.

  I know that Scott trusts me enough to be open with me about his fears and share what's been troubling him about his brother. It's not something I take lightly, and he doesn't have to tell me that what he's conveying is just between us, that he doesn't want it traveling any further than this tent. He knows I would never betray his confidence.

  He's been really worried about Bob, and while I may not agree with the way he's gone about doing things, I can see a glimmer of hope flicker in his eyes while he talks to me, and I can't bring myself to take that away from him.

  He continues, his eyes lighting up. "But when I met Alex, I knew she'd be perfect for him. She's laid back, with a good sense of humor, but most importantly, she has a great heart, just like her sister."

  He lowers his head, giving me a gentle kiss on the lips, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. It's the type of kiss a woman gets when a man really loves her, and I've never experienced anything like it with anyone but Scott.

  This past week, we said that we love each other on the phone, and we just had crazy-hot sex. But this is different. This is special. He knows I'm here for him. I'm the one he can turn to. It's not just fun and games anymore. This is his life, and I take the responsibility not to fuck it up seriously. That's why I have to be honest with him now.

  I place my hand on his cheek and stare intently into his eyes. "Then why didn't you ask me first to see if I thought it was a good idea?"

  Scott sighs, briefly closing his eyes and moving his head against my hand. "I know how girls are. If she heard it coming from you, she would've thought you were hitting her up for some kind of favor. I didn't want her to view Bobby like that. I wanted her to see him for the badass he is, not as some crippled dude in a wheelchair."

  He gazes down at me imploringly, and my heart just melts—for him and for Bob. Whether he realizes it or not, Scott Harper has me body and soul. I could never say no to this man. Not when his heart's in the right place.

  I smile up at him, dragging my thumb over his lips as he gently kisses it. "I hate to admit it, but it worked. I've never seen Alex so excited just to talk to a guy on the phone."

  "If things keep going as well as they are," Scott whispers, lowering his hand and caressing my face, "I'd really like them to meet."

  "When were you thinking?" I peer up at him, turning on my side as his hand glides over my hip.

  "Probably after the season. I'll invite everybody down to Florida or something." He furrows his brow, and I can tell that he hasn't fully thought this through.

  "And you really think that Bob will hold my sister's interest for that long?" I kiss his bicep before sitting up and lifting my head off his arm, the flightiness of my sister suddenly making me very uncomfortable.

  Scott sprawls out against the pillows, reaching forward to massage my back. "You said she majored in physical therapy, right?"

  "Yeah. With no immediate plans to use her degree," I moan, pressing my aching muscles into his long, sexy fingers, letting him alleviate the tension in my body from having lugged the mattress all the way up here by myself.

  "I told Bobby about what she's going to school for." He sits up, going to work on my back when he feels how sore I am. He rests his head against mine, leaning forward to whisper in my ear, "And it got him interested in looking into his rehab possibilities again."

  "You mean like getting fitted with prosthetic legs, stuff like that?" I turn my head and feel his warm breath against my cheek.

  "Exactly," he replies, bestowing a quick kiss on my neck. "He's been wallowing in that chair for so long, giving up on everything, Alex could be just the spark he needs to get him going again."

  "I just hope she doesn't flake out on Bob in the meantime," I grumble, turning around to face him.

  Scott shakes his head, giving me a tiny smile. "I don't think she will."

  "How can you be so sure?" I ask, my breath increasing when he cradles my backside in his large hands before depositing me in his lap.

  "Because us Harper boys are irresistible," he says, his voice low and sexy. "Once you've had a taste, there's no going back."

  "Is that right?" I laugh against his lips, my heartbeat increasing.

  "Uh huh." He nods, nuzzling his nose against mine and wrapping my legs around his waist.

  I feel how hard he is for me, and I jut my hips out to meet him. "Then I think I'm going to need to have you again."

  He slides into me with a satisfied groan. "I thought you'd never ask."

  ***

  After a night of multiple orgasms, I kind of thought we'd cuddle in Scott's bed through the morning and well into the afternoon, after he carried me back down the fire escape last night. But it looks like that's not going to happen.

  I lift my head off the pillow and ogle his naked butt as he strides toward the dresser for a fresh pair of boxers. The early light of dawn is cascading over his broad shoulders, and I feel a quick jolt hit me right at my core. I squirm, feeling the heat building between my legs, and I can literally feel my pulse throbbing down below.

  Scott turns around, catching me watching him, and he gives me a sexy, little grin.

  "Why are you up so early?" I mumble, wanting nothing more than for him to come back to bed with me.

  He stands in front of me, fully naked and not the least bit ashamed. And why should he be? He's gorgeous—all muscle, not a trace of fat on him. He's tight and toned, with bulging biceps and a ripped torso that descends into a sexy, trim waist, his long legs firm and powerful.

  A lean, athletic build never fails to turn me on. I've always had a thing for a baseball player's body. It's a physique I love clinging to while getting off, but I can honestly say that no one I've been with comes close to the physical perfection that is Scott Harper. He's in a mouth-watering category all by himself.

  "I have someone I gotta see," he replies, stretching his arm behind his head to scratch the back of his neck, giving me an even be
tter view of his aroused state.

  But I know him well enough now. He always scratches his neck when he's avoiding something, and I can't be distracted by how much I want to have sex with him. I need to focus on what's going on.

  "Gonna tell me who it is?" I ask, hoping he'll be straight with me.

  "Nope." Scott shakes his head, and a wave of disappointment hits me. "It's better if you don't know."

  But I don't intend to be so easily deterred. "Now you know an answer like that isn't going to fly with me, Scott." I recline against the headboard, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "So why don't you try it again? Who are you meeting?"

  "Care Bear," he groans, shuffling his boxers from hand to hand. "If I tell you, you're gonna try to talk me out of it and I can't let you do that."

  Which is how I know exactly what he's up to.

  "Scott, stay away from the Kings." I move toward him, letting the sheet drop, not even caring that nothing's covering my body anymore. "Let me take care of them, all right?"

  "I gotta do what I gotta do," Scott says firmly, and I know he's serious when he pries his eyes away from my boobs and concentrates on my face. "I'm only in New York for a few days. I need to take care of business while I'm here."

  I get out of bed to face him, our naked bodies almost touching, but not quite. I put my hands on my hips and question him point-blank, "You're going to see my grandfather, aren't you?"

  "Carrie," Scott sighs, unable to resist running a hand up my arm.

  "You'll never get in to see him without me," I respond, taking a step closer until my breasts are against his chest. "So you might as well tell me the truth."

  With his eyes blazing, he takes a step back, holding me at arm's length. He bends down and tugs his boxers on in front of me, and I bite down hard on my lip, well aware of the pleasure he's denying me. He doesn't want the temptation of having me so close. He really wants to talk this out.

  He runs his hands through his hair, looking as frustrated as I do, and I take some comfort in that. He's not rejecting me because he doesn't want me. He just feels like he has to do this for some reason. Scott Harper, the playboy with the naked selfies, is turning into an honorable man before my very eyes, and I kind of like the transformation.

  He takes a deep breath, locking me in his gaze, before he starts spelling things out for me in no uncertain terms. "Gayle knows that Terry's been behind a lot of the crazy shit that's been going on. She just isn't sure if he's carrying out your grandfather's orders or acting on his own, and I intend to find that out."

  Needless to say, I wasn't expecting him to say that. "What are you saying?" I demand, feeling so damn exposed now that I'm the only one naked. I cover my nipples with my hands before I'm able to glare back at him. "That my grandfather hired that hacker to embarrass you?"

  "That's just it." Scott moves toward me when he sees me shiver, pulling me into his warm, hard body. "I don't know."

  But I push him away. "Scott, how could even think such a thing? My grandfather wouldn't go after his own players. That's insane!"

  "Is it?" he questions with such absolute surety that I know there must be some truth behind it.

  I back down, my lip trembling as he goes on.

  "I hate to say it, but it's all about the bottom line for him. I don't think he really cares about any of us."

  "My grandfather bleeds pinstripes." I raise my hand to my forehead, trying to make sense of what he is telling me. "His loyalty knows no bounds. He'd do anything for the guys on his team. There are a lot of things he's done behind the scenes that you don't even know about."

  "Like what?" he presses, his eyes boring into mine.

  "He helped get Pedro's parents out of Panama and into the United States. He agreed to pay for Pete the ball boy's college education. He flew the oncologist that Chase found for Grey's mother to her house to examine her." I throw my hands up, and still, Scott's eyes never leave my face. "He's not some mastermind of evil. He's done a lot for people. He just doesn't scream it from the rooftops."

  "Nobody's all good or all bad." He gives me a sad smile. "I've been around the block long enough to know that a man like Arnold Heimlich didn't get to where he is today by being a nice guy. He knows how to work things to his advantage. That's why he is who he is—the owner of the Kings, the one calling the shots."

  "But how do you know that Terry's not doing these things behind his back?" I challenge. "Terry might have thought Grandpa's more vulnerable now after his stroke and he thinks he can get the upper hand on him."

  Scott squares his shoulders, his sheer physicality seeping into my every pore. "That's what I intend to find out, darlin'."

  "Well, you're not going alone," I reply, going toe-to-toe with this big, strapping man of mine. "I'm coming with you."

  "Care Bear—" he groans, tossing back his head.

  "Don't make me laugh, Harper." I reach for his T-shirt that's lying on the floor and smack his chest with it. "You'd never get past Roberta."

  "Who?" he asks, crinkling his brow at me.

  "Very funny." I smack him again.

  Because let's face it, I'm willing to put myself on the line right along with him. I've fought my entire adult life not to let my family name pave the way for me. So I'm fine with sacrificing any comforts that name affords. It doesn't control me, and it never will.

  I know that the mission Scott's determined to embark upon is in no way going to be easy. In fact, it just might upend my entire family, but after what they did to him, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get him back where he belongs. I don't need all the privileges attached to being a baseball heiress.

  I just need him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Scott

  "Great. Just what we need," Carrie mutters as we make our way across Arnold's continent-sized lawn.

  I whistle under my breath. "That is one big-ass swan."

  "He's usually down by the pond." Carrie grimaces. "I don't know what he's doing all the way up here."

  "He must know I'm an animal lover." I wink at her.

  "I never figured you for being such a softie, Harper," she teases me, lacing her fingers through mine.

  "Maybe you can explain to my dad that that's why I couldn't cut it in military school. I'm just not tough enough." I chuckle as the swan approaches us. "Easy, big guy. Yeah, that's it. We're not gonna hurt you. We're just here to see Big Daddy Arnold."

  Carrie looks up at me with a wry grin. "I don't think Grandpa'd like you calling him that."

  "Somehow, I'm not afraid of him anymore," I admit, squeezing her hand. "Not with you by my side."

  "Don't lower your guard too much," Carrie warns before returning the squeeze. "I love him to death, but he even makes me nervous."

  "Nah. I think your dad is more of the blowhard of the family. He has a lot more pit bull in him." I cast a sidelong glance at her.

  "And Grandpa's as sly as a fox," Carrie replies, gazing worriedly up at the house. "Having that combination stacked against us doesn't bode well, and that's without bringing Terry into the mix."

  "Talk about an Axis of Evil," I groan.

  "You're not kidding." Carrie nods at me, snickering. "Just be glad you're not related to two-thirds of it."

  "Maybe someday," I respond softly.

  She whips her head back to me. "What did you say?"

  "Swan's gone," I reply, distracting her. "C'mon. Here's our chance."

  "Scott, are you shaking?" Carrie lets my hand go and slips into the crook of my arm, hugging me with all her might. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "Yeah. I'm ready to fight for what's important to me." I feel a lump rising in my throat. "And, Care Bear, you're it."

  She tucks her body against mine, resting her head on my shoulder, and I can feel that she's shaking now too. She's emotional. I'm emotional. Man, I never knew being in love would mean I'd feel so much, all the damn time. Before, I was a pretty chill, laid-back sort of guy. Being responsible for someone else's happiness
is new to me, and it's friggin' scary as hell.

  We don't say another word to each other as we trudge across the manicured lawn, collecting our thoughts. The immense scale of Arnold's property is meant to impress and intimidate, and it sure does. I have a feeling my life is about to change the minute we walk through that big, red door. I just hope it's for the better, and I don't end up dragging Carrie down with me, causing an irreparable rift in her family by making her choose sides. I hate the position her father and grandfather have put me in, because right now, it's looking like a no-win situation.

  Carrie hits the buzzer on the intercom even though it's a formality. The security guard at the gate let Arnold know we were coming. He's had advance warning to prepare for our arrival. If he's going down, he's going down swinging.

  The door opens, and I clench my jaw when I see who's standing there.

  "Good morning, Carrie," is the extent of Roberta's perfunctory greeting. She gives me a steely glare, her lip curling up in distaste. "Oh…it's you."

  I look over her head to try to dispel some of the awkwardness. "Yeah. Umm, hey, Roberta."

  Carrie plunges ahead, ignoring our mutual discomfort. "Is Grandpa busy?"

  "Now's not such a good time," Roberta responds, attempting to shut the door on us. "He's very agitated this morning."

  But Carrie props it open with her foot. "What the heck is that?" she asks when we hear what sounds like a male version of Siri jabbering away from somewhere inside.

  "Mr. Heimlich's new voice box," Roberta sighs as Carrie pushes her way in.

  I follow behind, hating that I have to brush up against Roberta in the process.

  "Voice box?" Carrie questions, looking down the vast hallway.

  "The doctor was here yesterday, setting it up," Roberta says with a frown, reluctantly closing the door behind her. "Mr. Heimlich saw on TV how Stephen Hawking uses a similar device to communicate, and he was determined to get one for himself."

  "The scientist with Lou Gehrig's disease?" Carrie asks. "The one who speaks through a machine like a robot?"

  "A brilliant robot," I retort.