Page 92 of Convincing the Catcher

Giving him one last warning glare, I turn my attention to Harland as she waits for the first pitch to come in.

The first pitch comes, but she doesn’t swing—likely intentional. Either way, it’s a strike, though she doesn’t seem bothered in the least. She stands there, ready to absolutely crush the ball. She’s not nervous or worried. Or if she is, I definitely can’t tell.

And I know her. I know her well.

The next pitch is called a high ball, and Harland steps out of the batter’s box, taking a few practice swings before stepping back up to the plate.

“This is going to be the one,” I mutter. “I can feel it.”

Not long after, the entire stadium erupts into cheers. The sound of the bat smashing the ball could almost echo because it’s such a good hit, and I’m too busy watching her drop her bat and run to even notice where the ball went.

“It went over the fence,” Bradley says, almost in disbelief. “Dude, your girlfriend just hit it over the fucking fence!”

“And that’s a home run!” a voice yells over the speaker, but after that, the stadium is too damn loud to hear what he says next.

Harland doesn’t have to hurry, but she still does, running like she could get out. When she rounds third, heading toward home, she holds her arms out to her sides, sprinting until she crosses home plate.

What a fucking machine my girl is.

And if I wasn’t surrounded by my teammates, I’d be very concerned that my dick would be pitching a tent right now too.

Because how does it get sexier than that? Harland Meadows is a fucking queen. And I love it.

HARLEY

I head out of the dugout after Coach talked to the team, and my grin must spread from ear to ear when I see Cane wearing an NEU softball jersey. As if he knows why I’m smiling, he turns around, showing off the back.

“And, no, Meadows. I’m not showing off my hot ass,” he calls out before spinning around to face me. “I’m just your number one fanboy, babe.”

I take in the most adorable sight, knowing I have the sweetest boyfriend here, hands down. I mean, I don’t see any other player’s man wearing an NEU softball jersey with her name on the back, so … I win the boyfriend department, for sure.

“That’s pretty cute, you know,” I coo, dropping my hand from my bag and taking a few steps toward him.

“Oh, yeah? Is it?”

“That you’re wearing my number?” I say, finally reaching him and looking up. “Yes. I think my heart might have just melted a little bit.” I poke his chest. “Now I’m a gooey marshmallow, like you.” I cock my head to the side, looking him over. “I think it may actually look better on you.”

“I don’t think so, Catch.” He grips my chin lightly with one hand while the other rolls the fabric of my jersey between his fingers. “I think yours would look better on the floorboard of my truck though.”

“Oh, yeah?” I lift a brow and run my hand over his stomach, instantly feeling his rock-hard abdomen through the cloth. “And what about yours? Will it stay on?”

“What do you think, pretty girl?” He smirks wickedly.

I bite down on my lip before I bring my mouth to his ear. “You mean … do I think you should wear my number on your back while I ride your dick?” I smile when his breath hitches. “Yeah, I think that would be pretty hot.”

He stares at me, eyes widening a fraction. “My girl is so fucking naughty,” he murmurs. He brings his mouth to mine and kisses me. “I love it.”

Being with Cane brings out a side in me that I never even knew existed. Maybe it’s because he ignited it, or perhaps it’s just easy for me to be this forward and flirty when he makes me feel so comfortable.

Or it’s probably both.

“Ready to get out of here?” he asks as he pulls back and gazes down at me.

“Yeah.” I grin up at him. “Oh, by the way, I heard you won your game, and I also heard you were amazing, as always.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t hit a home run.” He winks. “Good job, babe.”

“Thanks.” I pat his stomach once more. “Maybe it was having you here, wearing this shirt.” I raise my brows. “By the way, if any of the bitches here didn’t know you were mine, they certainly do now.”