Perfect Game

by Collette West

  "Shit," he mutters.

  "But I'm not letting him give up on her. They're gonna talk it out," I declare adamantly. "That's why I told her to stay with him at the bungalow."

  "She's there with him alone?" he asks, a note of trepidation entering his voice.

  "Yeah. They're alone. Bobby's not gonna hurt her, Jilly," I reply angrily.

  "And Carrie's cool with it?" he inquires, sounding surprised.

  I toss the bottle aside, reaching for another. "Alex doesn't need her big sister's permission."

  "But is she even qualified to deal with him? Does she know what she's taking on?"

  Man, Jilly's relentless.

  "So far, she's been able to handle him better than anybody," I inform him.

  "I'm all for love conquering all, but all of this must be really doing a number on Carrie's heart," he responds, and it feels like a kick to the stomach.

  "It's just that, whenever someone targets Bobby, no matter who it is, I lose my shit. I can't help it." I rub my forehead, feeling a massive headache coming on.

  "You gotta stop blaming her for something she didn't even do or you're gonna lose her," Jilly warns me. "Take your own advice and don't push her away."

  "Why are you doing this, man?" I groan, falling back on the bed.

  "Scott, I've watched you play for years. I know when you're pressing, and that's not how you play the game, and that's not how you live your life. Just let go and have faith," he says so earnestly it makes me sick.

  I come back at him, all ego. "I'll remember to put that on the back of a T-shirt when I break the streak."

  "You do that. Just be sure to give me half," he says, falling into our familiar line of banter. "See you on SportsCenter, superstar," he rags on me.

  "Not if I see you first. God, I wish I were still with the Kings. You guys are friggin' demolishing the AL East. Thanks in no small part to you," I respond, letting him know I've been following him in the box scores.

  "Yeah. I'm back firing on all cylinders," he brags—and rightfully so. "But you're five friggin' games away from doing the impossible, dude. And I can say I knew you when."

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. "I'd give it all up if I could just play in New York again."

  "Hey, you're whittling down your magic number. You might break this record and show them all," Jilly says, giving me a boost of encouragement even though we both know that the odds are stacked against me.

  I'm so close, but no one's ever been able to do this. So why would I be any different?

  "Now, if I could only straighten out my love life," I say, trying to make a joke out of it even though it hurts.

  "It's good to know you're human after all."

  "Clueless is more like it."

  "I think it's time you learned how to grovel. For real this time."

  "No way."

  "Dude, it's time to strap on a pair of Pedro's knee pads," Jilly teases me. "'Cause I have a feeling you're gonna be spending a lot of time down on your knees."

  An image of my mouth between Carrie's legs floats through my head, and I grin to myself. I'd gladly get down on my knees for Carrie McKenzie anytime, mad or not.

  Maybe Jilly's right. Maybe it is time to grovel.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Carrie

  "I need you to kiss my bat, Care Bear."

  Scott strolls up to me, the night of his fifty-third game, holding his bat out with a sheepish grin on his face. He's trying to act like there's nothing broken between us, when I can still feel the jagged edges of my heart cut into me every time I breathe.

  However, my stupid body betrays me while being this close to him. I fight to remain upright when my knees start to tremble.

  "Scott, we're not doing that anymore. Besides, I already gave you more than enough kisses to see you through to the end."

  "But I miss our little routine," he says, his voice getting all husky.

  "Sorry. I don't work for Gayle anymore. That was her thing, not SportsTV's."

  "Funny, I thought it was our thing," Scott whispers, and I bite my lip as my cheeks fill with color.

  "What? Are you through blaming me for everything?" I snap back at him.

  He looks deep into my eyes, leaning into me. "Yes."

  "Well," I bluster, "you made me feel like crap, so thanks a lot."

  "I'm sorry."

  I look away, but I can't hold my emotions in anymore—not when he's standing right there. "I hate to break it to you, Scott, but I'm a person. I have feelings. I gave up everything for you, and this is how you treat me?"

  "That's why I came to see you," he levels at me, and I stare at him, letting all my pain show through. "To beg for your forgiveness," he responds, putting his bat down and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. When he lifts his head, his gray eyes find mine. "I shouldn't have blamed you for what happened with Bobby. I was wrong." He takes a step forward, closing the gap between us.

  I cross my arms in front of me.

  "Carrie, you gotta understand why I overreacted. I don't even recognize what my life looks like anymore." He walks toward me, and I keep stepping back until I'm up against the wall. All I can do is listen as all of his fears come pouring out of him. "I'm not the face of the game. I'm not somebody's boyfriend. I don't play in San Diego. I miss New York. I miss the Kings. I miss how easy my life used to be. I'm sick of all this unwanted attention from the selfies to the hitting streak to my brother. I never wanted any of this. I don't know how to handle it. But…" He rests his hands against the wall on both sides of my face.

  I close my eyes, and when I open them, he's staring at me so ardently, his face inches from mine.

  I take a shaky breath. "But?" I ask, the word nearly dying on my lips.

  He cups my face in his hands, his eyes brimming with tenderness. "But I want you."

  I sigh, and he continues on, his voice quivering with emotion.

  "And if all of that other stuff comes along with it, then I'll just have to learn how to deal. Because out of all of these changes, what I miss the most is not having you pressed up against me when I wake up in the morning."

  I reach up and place my hands on his wrists. "Then this has got to stop, Scott. Our love is not a game. I'm sick of the two of us worrying that the entire future of our relationship depends on all of these outside forces that are out of our control. We have to promise each other that nothing's gonna come between us—not ego, not family, not the demands our jobs place on us. Nothing's going to get in the way of what we have."

  "I don't care where I'm playing or what lengths I have to go to—I'm not letting you walk out of my life. You're too damn important to me," he responds, his voice so sure and deep that it makes me tingle all the way down to my toes. "I want you to know that, no matter what happens over these next few days, I'm keeping my apartment in New York, and I want you to move in with me."

  As far as apologies go, this is epic. Yeah, I know a lot of women would make him work for it and stride away in a huff to get him to beg at their feet. But I've doubted him enough that I don't have the right to get all bent out of shape that he had doubts about me too. He's overcome them, and that's all I could ask for. I can feel how much he loves me. There's no way I can walk away from him—not now.

  I take a deep breath to still my heart. "Are you serious?"

  "I am," he whispers, nuzzling his nose against mine.

  We stand there for a minute, not saying a word, just soaking in the moment in each other's arms.

  When he finally draws back, he chuckles down at me, his breath warm against my face. "Just don't tell your dad."

  "Hmmm. That doesn't sound like the cocky baseball player I fell in love with," I goad him, a smile tugging at my lips. "The one who's not afraid of going after what he wants…" I nudge myself up against him and whisper suggestively in his ear, "And takes it."

  His breathing is ragged as he presses the length of his hard, chiseled body against mine. He pins me where I stand, making me moan. He pushes h
is hips against me, but my skirt's too tight and he can't get between my legs.

  He growls in my ear before shoving himself off the wall and holding his hand out to me. "C'mon."

  "Where are we going?" I whisper, feeling lightheaded.

  He doesn't answer. Instead, he tucks his bat under his arm before leading me through the underground passages of the stadium, practically at a run. I struggle to keep up with him.

  He bursts through a swinging door, and the eyes of a very startled rookie look up at us from the bench.

  "Sanders, is there anyone in the weight room?" Scott asks, his voice rough and impatient.

  "Nah. Everybody's out on the field for BP. Why?" Sanders gives us a puzzled glance, holding the cleat he was scraping the mud out of in midair.

  "Make sure we're not disturbed," Scott barks at him, pulling me toward a side door.

  "Uh…okay, Harp," Sanders replies. He looks at me all flustered. "Ma'am." He nods his head in greeting.

  I don't have any time to respond because Scott drags me straight into the other room.

  "Did he just call me ma'am?" I giggle while Scott turns the lights on and locks the door.

  "Yeah," Scott says, hurriedly pulling his batting practice jersey out of his pants. "But he's a good kid. He didn't mean anything by it."

  Scott's number fifteen is soon lying on the floor between us while I watch him strip off the T-shirt he had on underneath. I get an eyeful of him flexing his toned muscles as he lifts his arms and pulls it over his head.

  I groan when he stands before me all bare-chested, in nothing but the skintight pants of his uniform. "We're not seriously going to do this in here, are we?" I glance around the weight room at all the dumbbells and spotter stands.

  "I have to have you, Care Bear." Scott stalks toward me, a hungry look in his eye. "And I'm not about to take no for an answer."

  I squeeze my legs together as tight as I can when a surge of pure desire hits between my thighs.

  "Too bad you're not in pinstripes," I taunt him.

  "Why? So you could do this?" he asks.

  My pulse skyrockets when his long, sexy fingers roughly fist his dick through his pants, pumping it hard.

  I lick my lips. My eyes are glued to what he's doing to himself. Mesmerized, I slip out of my shoes, crossing my ankles and biting down hard on the inside of my cheek while I watch him.

  His hefty erection is shifted horizontally inside his pants, running parallel to his belt. My mouth waters because he's not wearing a cup. He gives himself a final tug and raises his arms, a seductive smile playing on his lips.

  "Take these off me," he commands, and I feel myself soak right through my panties.

  "Gladly." I step forward with the uncontrollable urge to make him give me the best makeup sex a girl could ask for. I want his hardness inside me, filling me, stretching me out, pounding into me repeatedly.

  I unbuckle his belt and yank it out with one sharp flick of my wrist. His eyes darken to a steely silver, exciting me, daring me to keep going. I bend down and lower his zipper with my teeth. My lips are so close to him that the tip of my nose bumps against his impressive hard-on as I make my way down.

  "Carrie…fuck!" he cries out, grabbing my hair.

  I lower his pants to his ankles, and he kicks them off, making them fly across the room. I sigh because he's absolutely breathtaking in his jockstrap. Out of habit, he reaches down to adjust himself so that the front panel that was shifted to the side when he was trapped in his pants bulges forward, snugly cupping his stiff, hot length. Once he's done, I glide my fingers along his inner thighs, making him groan.

  Men may not have lingerie like women do, but a jockstrap comes pretty darn close. I grasp his hips, spinning him around until his naked ass cheeks greet me, two sexy strips of spandex running above and below them. I snap the bands against his skin, making him jump, smiling when they leave a red mark against one of the only pale areas on his hard, tan body. I grope his tight ass with my fingers, loving how firm it is, both in and out of uniform. I slowly and enticingly lower the jockstrap from his family jewels, and he springs forth from the tiny scrap of fabric that was holding him prisoner. I grab his balls, massaging them with my thumbs, crawling around him until my mouth is in line with his erection.

  I look up at him. "You said you wanted me to kiss your bat again." I giggle before taking him deep in my mouth.

  He curses as I work him in and out, sucking on him, swirling my tongue, thrusting him between my lips. I hold on to his hips, gliding my teeth over the silky smoothness of him, tasting him, devouring him.

  But he stops me, pulling out of my mouth. "If anyone's gonna be on their knees for this, it's gonna be me."

  I feel his long, sexy fingers on my ass as he finds the zipper before he shucks my skirt and panties off my body in one swift motion. He spreads me wide, settling his face between my thighs. I grip his shoulders when he starts paying special attention to that one particular area that's always throbbing for some lip action.

  "Oh!" I yell when he slides his tongue around and around.

  He raises his head, panting, "Jesus. You're so wet."

  "Scott, we have to be quiet," I whisper when we hear a thump on the other side of the wall.

  "Too bad," he mutters. "I like hearing you moan for me, but"—he gives me a saucy wink—"if you wanna hurry this up I'm more than ready." He gets to his feet and quickly shoves his long, hard dick inside me, making me gasp in surprise.

  "Oh, God!" I shout when he moves all the way in.

  He lifts my leg up, hoisting it over his hip, his body slamming against mine. "Hold on to me. I'm not gonna last, babe. Fuck…"

  "God…I've never felt you this deep before." I throw my head back as he props me up against him. "Keep going, Scott. Please don't stop… Don't ever stop…" I feel myself start to tighten around him.

  "Almost…there…" he grunts, slamming into me harder and harder.

  And I spiral into that state of bliss where only he's able to take me. I could never come so hard or so fast for anyone but him.

  I feel the sweat dripping down his back as I grab on to him, no longer capable of standing on my own anymore. His sheer arm strength is the only thing that's keeping me on my feet, his powerful legs grounding the two of us as he strives within me, grunting with exertion. Suddenly, he goes still, groaning loudly. I grip his biceps as he releases his warmth inside me.

  "Oh, how I've missed that," I sigh against his shoulder.

  He breathes heavily. "It's always good to get back to our beginnings, isn't it?"

  I hide my face against his chest. "I think Sanders knows what we were doing in here."

  "Good. Let him take notes," he grumbles, running his nose along my jaw.

  "Scott, you're terrible," I laugh against the side of his mouth.

  "But I'm not done with you yet." He quirks an eyebrow at me. "Ever have sex on a lifting bench?"

  "Save something for the game, Harper," I tease him, running my fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

  He gives me a sweet kiss on the lips. "Can I come to your room tonight?"

  "Only if you promise that this was just the first game of the doubleheader you have planned for me." I smile at him, lowering my leg and sliding it slowly down his.

  "Oh, darlin', you can be damn sure I'm gonna hit it outta the park for you tonight," he groans, kissing me again, long and deep.

  I struggle to catch my breath. "I can't wait to see that."

  He kisses the tip of my nose then dusts a trail of kisses down my neck before gently sliding himself out of me. He holds on to my waist, resting his head against mine, breathing deeply. I kiss his cheek, caressing his arm before bending down to pick my skirt up.

  "Here. Let me help you with that," he says, steadying me as I step back into my panties.

  "Do I look presentable?" I ask, brushing my skirt off once he's zipped up the back for me.

  "Your hair is falling out. Your lips are swollen. Your eyes are glowing." He stand
s back to appraise my appearance with a cocky grin on his face. "Yeah, you look like you've been thoroughly fucked by someone who knows how."

  "Great. That's just the look I'm going for." I wink at him, reaching down for his T-shirt and getting hot when I see him fiddle with himself while moving his jockstrap back into place.

  He looks up, catching me watching him, and I feel like my face is on fire.

  "There." He juts his chin at me, indicating my blush. "Now, you look perfect, but God, the last thing I wanna do is send you out onto a field full of horny jocks."

  I hold my hands to my face, hoping to cool my flaming cheeks. "Let's just get by Sanders first."

  "He's my roommate on the road," Scott says, hoisting his pants up. "He'll be sure to cover for me later on. He owes me one."

  "For what?" I ask, holding his jersey out for him as he slips his head through and then his arms.

  "I stepped in when Reisenberg was jerking his chain," he replies, tucking it in.

  "I really don't like that guy," I mutter.

  "Yeah, me neither," he responds, giving me a searching look. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

  "Just some wiseass comments." I shrug, downplaying it. "Nothing I can't deal with."

  "Well, if he bothers you again, you let me know, all right?" Scott insists, his eyes refusing to let mine go.

  I smile at him, brushing his big, broad shoulders off and straightening his collar. "I'll be sure to tell my strapping bodyguard of a man if anyone bothers me."

  He kisses me, drawing me to him, and I let my fingers roam over the embroidered numbers on the back of his jersey. He slowly pulls away from me, taking my hand and unlocking the door.

  Sanders's head pops up, guiltily. "Hey, guys. No one came."

  "I wouldn't say that," Scott corrects him, shooting me a naughty smile.

  "Scott!" I slap his arm when Sanders's ears turn bright red.

  "Yeah, umm…" Sanders stammers, not knowing where to look. "Harp, we'd better get out there. We don't wanna have to do laps for being late."

  "Let me just grab my batting gloves out of my locker." Scott kisses my hand before releasing it, his eyes burning right through me. "You go on ahead."

  Sanders hustles off the bench. He sprints for the door before smacking his forehead and turning around. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. See you…see you later, ma'am."