The Perfect Game: A Complete Sports Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  “Have I told you how stunning you look, Sweet Caroline?”

  “Only about ten times.”

  “I just want to make sure you know it,” he says.

  “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  “We look good together,” he says. “In fact …” He pulls out his phone and leans over as he takes a selfie. “Why should everyone else get all the good pictures?”

  He shows me the picture on his phone.

  “Will you send it to me?” I ask.

  He taps around on his phone for a second. “Done,” he says, putting his phone away and wrapping his arm around the back of my chair. He rubs his thumb on my shoulder. “Things may change tomorrow, Murph. As soon as it gets out who you are, your life will change. Are you ready for that?”

  “I spent the better part of this year trying to get my face on the cover of magazines,” I say, jokingly. “This may not be how I planned it, but then again, life doesn’t always go as planned.” I twist Kelly’s ring around my thumb.

  Caden watches the rhythmic motion. “Did your dad give you that ring?”

  I shake my head. “No. It was Kelly’s. And she didn’t so much give it to me as I stole it.”

  He furrows his brow. “You stole a ring from your best friend?”

  “I did. Kelly knew I loved the ring. She got it when she went on a mission trip to India several years ago. She always teased me that she would leave me the ring in her will. And then, well … after we got to the hospital and they brought me in to say goodbye …”

  He takes my hand in his. “She wanted you to have it, Murphy. It was the right thing to do.”

  I nod. “It makes me feel close to her.”

  “Excuse me,” a woman says, looking embarrassed to be bothering us. “I don’t want to intrude, but my grandson is a big fan. He’s not here because he’s in the hospital, but I was wondering, when you are done with your dinner, if I could take a picture of you with his grandfather.”

  The woman motions across the restaurant to an older gentleman who looks like he wants the floor to swallow him up. He waves awkwardly when we all look over.

  “Can I ask why your grandson is in the hospital, ma’am?” Caden asks.

  “He’s got cancer. Neuroblastoma.” She shows us a picture of a bald little boy who can’t be more than ten years old.

  “Oh, Caden,” I whisper, studying the picture.

  “What’s the boy’s name?” he asks. “Is he here in the city?”

  “Jonathan, and yes, his parents live here, thank God. I couldn’t imagine not being able to support them through this.”

  “Is Jonathan allowed to have visitors?”

  “Yes, as long as he hasn’t just had chemo,” she says.

  Caden grabs a napkin and writes down a number, handing it to the woman. “This is Melanie’s number, she’s my assistant. Please call her tomorrow and work out with her when I can go see him. I’ll bring him a signed ball and a few other things if that’s okay.”

  The woman covers her mouth in a sob. “You would do that?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  She reaches out and touches Caden’s hand. “Bless you, Mr. Kessler. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  “I’ll see you in a few days, then, Mrs. …”

  “Murphy. Donna Murphy. Thank you again. I hope you have a wonderful dinner with your beautiful companion.”

  The lady walks away and Caden turns to stare at me. He doesn’t have to say it. All the coincidences. Are they just coincidences? Or is it fate?

  The waiter brings our dessert, but I can barely get a bite or two down after the spread we’ve eaten. “I’m stuffed,” I say. “If I eat any more, my dress will split in two.”

  Caden laughs, pushing the dessert plate to the other side of the table. “While I wouldn’t mind your dress coming off, I’d rather it be me who removes it.”

  I blush under his heated perusal. The sexual tension between us has been off the charts. We’ve been a couple for almost a week, yet we’ve not been able to be alone together because my mother has been around. And I’ve been able to think of nothing else but what will happen when we finally are.

  He squeezes my hand. “I love your mom and all, but I have to say I’m glad she’s not crashing at your place anymore.”

  “My mom is better in small doses,” I say. “Especially now that she’s got it bad for your father. God, Caden, I never heard the end of it.”

  “I’m pretty sure they had lunch together yesterday,” he says.

  “And today,” I tell him. “Your dad drove her to the airport.”

  He looks surprised. “I thought he and Scott left early this morning.”

  “He changed their flight, Caden. Postponed it to coincide with her departure time.”

  He laughs, shaking his head.

  “What?” I ask. “This is seriously twisted, don’t you think?”

  “You want your mom to be happy, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely. She deserves to be happy after all these years.”

  He caresses my knuckles. “Are you happy, Murphy?”

  I glance outside at the view. Then I look at him, remembering the conversation we had under the stars. I trace the angles of his face with my eyes. I think about everything that has happened to me since moving to New York. “Happy isn’t a strong enough word.”

  A slow smile turns up the corners of his mouth. Then he bites his lip and groans. “I need to get you home. Right now.”

  I smile back at him and lean close to his ear. “Everything under the dress is blue, too. Well, what there is of them.”

  “Shit, Murph. Now I won’t be able to stand up.”

  He motions for the check as I take the last few sips of my wine. Then while he pays the bill, I pour what’s left of the bottle into my glass and drink that, too. Because I think I’m about to make love with New York’s hottest sports star.

  And suddenly I’m scared to death.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Caden

  I can’t get her clothes off fast enough. But this dress—it has about a thousand buttons down the back. “You’re really making me work for this, aren’t you?”

  She laughs. “Blame yourself, Kessler. You’re the one who said it had to be this exact color. Well, this is what you get.”

  I turn her around and look at the deep V between her breasts. “Oh, I’m not complaining. In fact, I think the anticipation is half the fun.”

  I’ve anticipated this moment for days. Hell, months if I’m being honest. And the cab ride home was torture. All I could think about was what she would look like in small scraps of blue beneath the dress that matches her eyes. We both teased each other in the back seat, our hands wandering up arms, down legs and between thighs. We pushed it as far as we could without becoming indecent.

  But now that we are safely in my apartment, indecent is exactly what we are going to be.

  I finish with the buttons and her dress falls to the floor. She steps out of it, still in her heels, and I have a hard time controlling my deep, carnal groan. Holy God, she’s incredible. I’ve seen her before in a bra and panties, but this—with her standing up before me—I can’t believe she’s not gracing the cover of every major magazine in the world. She’s perfect in every way.

  And she’s mine.

  My dick is becoming painfully hard as my eyes trace every curve of her.

  I see her shiver and it concerns me. “Are you cold?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Are you nervous?”

  She nods.

  “Babe, you have nothing to be nervous about. I told you. We can wait as long as you want.”

  “It’s not that.” She shuffles her feet anxiously. “It’s just … Caden, why me?”

  I blow out a breath in frustration. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “This isn’t about beauty or self-confidence. I really want to know. Girls throw themselves at you. You could have your pick of anyone. Why
break your rules for me?”

  I nod because it’s a valid question. So, I try to give her an honest answer. “For one, because you don’t throw yourself at me. Sometimes I get the feeling you couldn’t care less that I play baseball. It’s a huge turn on, Murph. But I think the biggest reason is how tough and resilient you are.” I walk up to her and run my finger across her scar. “So many women would have been crushed by what happened to you. But you never once felt sorry for yourself. You never once asked ‘why me’.” I shake my head and laugh. “Okay, until now, but that doesn’t count. You take everything in stride and don’t wallow in self-pity. You made buckets of lemonade out of lemons. I’m in awe of you. Don’t you know that?”

  A smile creeps up her face. “What are you waiting for then?” she says, looking up at me through her lashes. “Take me to bed, Caden Kessler.”

  I sweep her into my arms. “Nothing would give me more pleasure, Murphy Cavenaugh. And believe me, we’re in for a mountain of pleasure.”

  She giggles into my neck as I carry her back to my room.

  After I place her on my bed, I realize I have far too many clothes on. I remedy the situation by stripping off my jacket and tie. Her eyes follow my every move, and then she crooks her finger, beckoning me closer.

  “I want to unbutton you like you did me,” she says.

  Then she slowly, almost painfully, undoes each button, tracing her fingertips down my abs as she goes. When she reaches the bottom, she pulls my shirttails out and pushes my shirt off my shoulders so it falls to the floor. It’s the most seductive removal of a shirt I’ve ever experienced.

  When she focuses her attention on the fly of my pants, I’m the one who starts to shiver. Not because I’m cold. Not because I’m nervous. But because every time this woman touches me, she sends bolts of electricity down my spine. Right to my balls. To my toes. To my goddamn heart.

  When my pants fall down around my ankles, I hastily remove my boxer briefs right along with them, leaving me standing naked before her. She’s getting her first look at every part of me.

  I can almost see her heartbeat through the wall of her chest. She stares at my cock as it jumps under her heated perusal. And when she reaches out to touch me, I think every fantasy I’ve ever had about being with the most gorgeous woman in the world is coming true.

  “Jesus, Murph,” I groan as her hand strokes me just so, as if she can read my mind and knows precisely how I like it.

  She’s had her hand on me for two seconds and I’m about to blow. I reach out and lower the cups of her bra, trussing her up so I can fondle her as she is me. I caress her gently. I knead her soft, voluptuous mounds. I pinch her stiff nipples. She throws her head back and strokes me faster, every tug of her hand bringing me closer and closer to where I need to be.

  Her other hand reaches down and cups my balls, just as they start to tighten. Waves of painful pleasure coil my insides as I build up higher and then explode as I call out her name in guttural shouts.

  Holy shit.

  I sit on the bed beside her and catch my breath. “And that’s number three,” I say.

  “Number three?” She looks at me, confused.

  “The third answer to your ‘why me’ question.”

  “Oh.” She pinks up as she giggles.

  Once I gain my composure, I lean her back, climb on top of her, and cage her to the bed. “My turn,” I say, looking deep into her eyes before I kiss her.

  I kiss her until her hips buck under me. Until she squirms so hard it’s like she’s begging for more. Then I run my lips and tongue down her neck, stopping to suck on the skin covering her throbbing pulse. When I travel south, taking a nipple into my mouth, she calls out my name.

  I smile against her skin as my fingers wander down her stomach and under her thin scrap of panties. When I feel how wet she is, I start getting hard again. I rub her wetness around with my fingers, coating her tiny nub and working it around in circles. I slip a finger inside her, then two. She arches her back into my hand and moans in pleasure.

  She’s very responsive and it’s a huge turn on. But I don’t want her to come this way. I want to send her over the edge with my tongue. So I crawl down her body and remove her panties, inch by slow inch, torturing her with my light touch as my fingers graze every erogenous zone from hip to foot.

  Then I slowly climb back up, holding her eyes with mine as I make it clear what I’m about to do. When I smell her, I’m grateful I just came myself, otherwise it would be my undoing. I spread her silky folds and put my tongue on her, feasting on her as she looks down on me from propped-up elbows. It’s damn sexy the way she’s watching me pleasure her.

  When I add my fingers to the mix, sliding them up her slick channel, her head falls back onto my pillow and her hands grab my hair, pulling it hard as she pins my head against her and comes apart beneath me.

  I tongue her until she stops shuddering and pushes me away because she’s too sensitive.

  “Wow,” she says to the ceiling, looking satiated.

  I hover over her and smile. “If you liked that, wait until you see the second act.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Kessler.” She reaches around and pinches my ass.

  I laugh. “Not cocky. Just confident,” I say.

  I lean down and kiss her neck, her shoulders, her temples, her lips. When I pull away, I look into beautiful blue eyes that are burning with carnal desire. “I want to make love to you so badly, Murph.”

  “I want that, too,” she says, running her fingers in a trail down my spine.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nods. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

  I reach over into my nightstand and pull out a box of condoms. When she eyes them, I feel the need to explain. “You are the only girl I’ve ever had in this bed, Murphy.”

  She grabs the box from me, opening it. “Caden, I know you weren’t a monk before me. And as long as you don’t use these with anyone else, we’re good.”

  “You can bet on it,” I tell her.

  She puts the box aside and hands me two square wrappers.

  I take them, tossing one to the floor. “One will do.”

  “But—”

  I put my finger on her lips to shut her up. “But nothing. I told you you’re different. Everything is different with you.”

  “Everything is different with you, too.”

  She watches as I roll on the condom. I like the way she studies every move I make. I like the way her hands need to be touching my flesh at every moment. I like the way she makes me a better, stronger man than I am.

  I more than like it.

  I more than like her.

  Damn.

  I hover over her, waiting for her to give me the final okay before I enter her. I hover over her, wanting to tell her what just hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. I hover over her, needing to be with this woman as badly as I need air to breathe.

  She grips the globes of my ass and raises her hips in invitation. I don’t even hesitate a second before savoring the feeling of slipping inside her. She’s snug and the friction is amazing. I take it slow at first, enjoying every small movement as I glide in and out. I watch every nuance of her face, figuring out how she likes it best.

  I put my weight on an elbow and reach up to fondle her nipples. The sounds that come from her implore me to increase the pace of my thrusts. I know she’s close. I’ve made her come twice now and if I know anything about her, I know she bites down on her bottom lip right before she comes.

  I move my hand lower so it’s right between us. I circle her pulsating clit as we pound our bodies together, each needing something from the other. Each giving as much as we take.

  She screams out my name, spiraling me into my own orgasm as my husky voice echoes off the walls.

  I collapse down onto her, my body languid and raw. My mind overwhelmed with feeling.

  When I can finally rise up, I push her hair out of her face and smile down at her. “I think I just fo
und my new pre-game ritual.”

  She laughs.

  She has no idea what I really wanted to say.

  She pulls my face down to hers and kisses me with as much passion as I’ve ever known.

  Then again, maybe she did.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Murphy

  “Tell me about it,” I say, settling my head onto his chest as he wraps an arm around me and holds me close. “Your pre-game ritual. I’ve often wondered what it is you do.”

  “It’s no big deal. And not nearly as interesting—or as illegal—as some people I know.”

  “Illegal? Really?”

  He shrugs. “People do strange things if they think it will help them succeed.”

  “But yours isn’t strange?” I ask.

  “I listen to music.”

  I find it hard not to laugh. I had pictured him putting on his lucky underwear and meditating. Or maybe doing some weird handshake with the guys. Perhaps eating the same thing for breakfast. But music? It’s so … benign.

  “What?” he says, feeling my silent giggle.

  “It’s just so normal,” I say. “Everyone listens to music when they are stressed.”

  “Yeah, well, everyone doesn’t listen the way I do.”

  He has my attention now and I turn my body, perching my chin up on his chest. “Oh?”

  “I listen to the same music before every game.”

  “That doesn’t seem all that unusual. Do you have a pre-game playlist?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s on it?”

  He sighs. “The entire Beatles White Album.”

  My jaw drops. “You listen to the entire Beatles White Album before every game?”

  He nods. “All ninety-three minutes of it.”

  “How do you have time for that? Don’t you guys have to warm up or something?”