“The horse got me all wet,” I begin.
“That’s not the only reason you’re wet,” Chase whispers so only I can hear.
Ignoring the quiver in my stomach, I continue on like he never spoke. “So Chase gave me his hoodie since I don’t have any clothes to change into before the game.”
Miller hums and smirks like he wants to call me out. I flip him off and head down the tunnel to the closest bathroom. My bra may be covered, but I still need to dry off. And I need a moment to myself after doing a fucking striptease in the middle of the hallway where anyone could have seen us. What the hell was I thinking?
I lose my mind when Chase Bennett is around, and I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it.
Instead of going back out to the concourse after gathering myself in the bathroom, I distract myself with work until it’s time for the opening celebrations. Chase catches the ceremonial first pitch as planned. The police department’s color guard takes the field for the anthem, and the Horse Patrol Unit is properly introduced and thanked for their contributions to the city.
I’m still wearing Chase’s hoodie and surrounded in hisleatherwood and bergamot scent as I watch in the stands with Ivory. His name isn’t on the back, but it doesn’t make me feel any less like his. A foreign concept I suddenly don’t mind. I’d never been anyone’s before. Never been made to feel like I was desired and worthy at the same time. Not since the single night spent with a perfect stranger while he told me I was both vixen and princess.
His words from that night echo in my memory as I watch him step into the batter’s box.“You’re not a vixen, you’re a princess, hidden in the tower, begging to be set free.”
I wanted to be set free. But only with him.
He swings on the first pitch, driving it deep over the right field wall. A home run. As he rounds the bases, more words assaulted me. “I know what you need. Someone to fall to his knees for you. You were made to be worshiped.”
I want to be worshiped, but more than that, I want to fall tomyknees.
As he crosses home plate, he tents his jersey with his thumbs and forefingers. The Troubadours logo on the front flutters, making it look like a declaration for the team, but when he throws up a heart symbol with his hands and winks, I know it’s for me.
My resolve snaps. Where’s my damn trench coat?
A win never felt so good. I was on fire. Two home runs and one RBI. The Troubadours were on a streak, and I was happy to be back and contributing.
Some of the guys went out after the game and asked me to join. Any other time and I might’ve gone with them, especially since they were doing me a solid by not treating me like a fuck up, but I was determined to keep my promises. No going out. No drinking. No fights, antics, or anything to undermine the deal Bree negotiated for me and the promises I made to her.
Seeing her standing behind home plate wearing my hoodie during the game was the icing on the cake. I wished I could celebrate tonight’s win with her instead of sitting here alone in my condo.
A soft knock at the door has me muting SportsCenter, questioning who would show up unannounced. With all the women who tried to pass me their number tonight, it’s not out of the question one of them could’ve figured out where I live. It’s never happened to me, but I’ve heard it’s happened to some other players. Part of the reason I moved into this building was because you need a key to access the floor.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table. Bree’s name lights up the screen. Please Lord don’t let a random woman be at my door when my fantasy come to life is texting me.
BREE
Open your door.
I immediately spring into action at those three words, so reminiscent of when I showed up at her door a few weeks ago. Surveying the room, I make sure it’s clean and doesn’t look like an eighteen year old’s college pad. My bag is in the hallway where I dropped it on my way in tonight. No clothes or shoes are strewn about the room and my kitchen is actually pretty tidy.
A louder knock draws my attention back to the door. My heart rate notches up the closer I get to the door. I’m nervous. The last thing I said to her tonight was clouded in lust and innuendo. Has she changed her mind about keeping this professional and being friends? Has she forgiven me for being an idiot and getting myself arrested causing her to bail me out?
The sight that greets me at the door has my breath catching in my throat. Bree stands on my threshold with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Her glasses from earlier are nowhere to be seen, which means she put her contacts in when she touched up her makeup. Her lips are painted a bright red, matching the red corset bra she flashes under her black trench coat.
Her tits are barely covered in the red lace material. I want nothing more than to taste and tease them. The thought of running my tongue around the swell of her cleavage has my mouth watering.
She shifts on her feet, drawing my attention lower. Past her exposed abdomen, toned and tight in all the best ways, and to the small swatch of matching red lace covering her perfect pussy. Her heels from earlier are still on her feet and I’m just noticing the red polish accentuating her toes.
“Princess, what did I say about the next time you put on a show?” My eyes retrace her body from feet to head, and my cock hardens in my sweats at the sight.
“That it better be in private and just for you.” she says, asmirk on her full lips and her head held high. The confidence on this woman is fucking hot.
“A hallway doesn’t seem very private.” I quirk a brow at her, and she shrugs.
“I didn’t expect to be standing in the hall this long.”
Reaching out, I wrap an arm around her back and lift her off her feet. She squeals with surprise but latches on. “You better come in then so I can get my private showing.”
