“Oh. Yeah, well, cool,” I say. I feel so chilled out today, and it’s no huge mystery why.
Yeah, I just had the best sex of my entire life with a girl I like more and more as I get to know her. It’s quite the high, you should try it.
“Cool?”
“Yeah, cool. Let me know.”
“Most guys…start making a case for why they should be called up.”
“I’m not really a bragger. Either you want me for the team or not, man. I just love the game.”
Yeah. Right now…all I’m thinking about is getting back to Cassie. Besides, most scouts are full of shit anyway. He probably says this same spiel every week.
“Good,” the scout says. “We’ll be watching. Keep it up tonight.”
He turns to leave, but not before he adds, “And keep your head in the game. You’re not invisible out there.”
If only he knew how far from the game my head really is. Maybe that’s what I need, though. A little relaxation.
I slip in quietly, the door clicking behind me. The house is dark, except for the soft golden glow spilling from the kitchen. My body’s buzzing from the game—three hits, one home run, solid defense. Should feel like a high.
But the second I see her, everything else vanishes.
Cassie’s leaning against the counter, barefoot, legs bare, wearing nothing but one of my button-down shirts—white, just barely translucent. It hits mid-thigh, clinging in all the rightplaces. Her hair’s damp from a shower. She holds a glass of something dark in one hand, swirling it like she’s been waiting.
And from the look on her face, she has been.
“Well?” she says. Her voice is low, teasing. “You look like you just ran a marathon.”
“Felt like one,” I murmur, walking toward her. “We won.”
She raises her eyebrows. “How many?”
“Three hits. One homer.”
“MVP-type shit.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that. It’s one game. You been watching?”
“I heard the bar cheering two blocks down.” She smirks and takes a slow sip, then sets the glass down. “Thought you could use something to take the edge off.”
I close the distance between us. “And this is the reward?”
She shrugs, eyes dancing. “That depends. You want the whiskey—or me?”
My hands are on her in an instant, cupping her face, then trailing down her sides, tugging her close. “Whiskey’s good,” I whisper against her neck, “but I’m dying for a taste of something else.”
Her breath catches, and I feel the shift in her.
I back her into the counter, sliding a hand beneath the hem of the shirt. Her skin’s warm, smooth, and my fingers travel higher, along her thighs, her hips. She’s not wearing anything underneath.
“Fuck, Cass,” I mutter. “You waiting here like this…you trying to kill me?”
“Maybe just weaken you a little.” She bites her lip, but her confidence is cracking around the edges.
“I’m already weak for you,” I say. “How many ways do I have to say it?”
“Fuck. I’m just not used to…someone admitting that about me.”
