The Lineup Read online

  I place my hand on his cheek and put a small distance between our lips so I have his full attention.

  His brow creases as he takes in my expression. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  God, when he calls me that, when his voice is so full of concern right after he took every last piece of me, how could I ever be without this man?

  “I’m already there.” His brow creases even more. “When you said you’re going to pleasure me until every other man is worthless to me.” I pause. “I’m already there. And not just because you rock my world in the bedroom . . . or on the couch”—we both smile—“but because you treat me unlike anyone has ever treated me before, like I’m the most precious thing that’s ever come into your life.”

  “Because you are.” His thumb caresses my cheek. “You’re so goddamn precious to me, Dottie.”

  He gently kisses me as the timer goes off.

  “That would be dinner.” He gives me one more of his delicious kisses and then hops up from the couch, bare ass and all.

  While he’s getting dinner ready, I quickly clean up and return to the kitchen wearing one of his baseball shirts. I bring him his shorts. Dinner is set on the table, our chairs next to each other rather than across, because he’s cute like that.

  When I hand him the shorts, he asks, “No naked dinner tonight?”

  “That was last night. We can be somewhat civilized tonight.”

  “Civilized, huh?” He slips his shorts on, covering up his perfectly sculpted ass . . . and his incredible cock. Let’s not forget that wonderful appendage. “Then how on earth will you be able to stare at my juicy shelf?”

  He works his way around the kitchen as I pause. Did he just say what I thought he said?

  “Why did you call it that?”

  Smiling, he pours us both a glass of wine. “No reason. But I suggest next time you tell our friends about our sex life, you go into detail about the length and girth of my dick. I’d appreciate that.”

  I am going to kill them.

  Lips pursed to the side, hands clenching at my hips, I ask, “What did they say?”

  Casually, he hands me my wine and leans his hip against the counter. “Oh, you know, just that I’m an alpha in the bedroom, a complete animal.” Oh, sweet Jesus, my cheeks flame. “The best you’ve ever had.”

  Yup, I am going to kill them.

  Through clenched teeth, I ask, “Who told you? No, I don’t even have to ask. I know it was Knox.”

  “Nope.” Jason shakes his head and I take a step back.

  “Did Lindsay seriously call you or something? I mean, I know she—”

  “Wasn’t Lindsay.” He smiles over his wine glass as I bring my hand to my chest.

  On a whisper, I say “Was it . . . Milly?”

  “Yep.”

  “No.”

  He nods, looking so pleased with himself. “Yup.”

  “I don’t believe it. She would never. That’s not how she is.”

  “Looks like she needs to learn girl code because she spoke to Carson in the shower like they were spilling the deets in the locker room. She, of course, afterward told him not to say anything to me, but you know how we ladies can be.” He pretends to fluff his hair. “Always gabbing.”

  And just like that, he turns me from wanting to shove his cock down my mouth to wanting to chop it off with my own teeth.

  “So . . . an animal, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I know this is just the beginning of long and torturous teasing for many, many, many nights to come.

  Hand on my hip, I say, “If you ever want to stick your penis inside me again, I suggest you don’t bring this up anymore.”

  “You know”—he taps his chin—“I distinctively remember you threatening me with no more blow jobs if I spoke of our coupling to my friends and then . . . one brunch . . . you completely destroy the trust between a man and a woman.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that.”

  “You’re being dramatic.”

  “I’m being dramatic?” he asks—in a dramatic tone—as he points to his chest. “I’m not dramatic. I’m searching for the truth and it will be told tonight.” He shakes his fist to the sky.

  “What are you even talking about? The truth is out. I told my friends. There, it’s done.”

  “That’s not the truth I’m looking for.”

  Okay, I bite.

  “What’s the truth you’re looking for?”

  “That you’re more loose-lipped than I am.”

  I laugh out loud. Straight-up chortle. I wipe at my eyes and say, “Oh yeah, okay. Suuuuure, Jason.”

  “You are. I didn’t tell my boys what’s going on out of respect of you. I never told them about your amazing tits, or tried to impersonate your O face to them or”—he leans forward and lifts a brow—“told them how you like me to call you daddy.”

  I push at his chest, my laugh echoing through the room. “I do not like that, you fucking weirdo.”

  I really don’t. I never said that. He joked about it the other night, him calling me Daddy, and now it’s all he does to annoy me when I’m being demanding. He’s such an idiot.

  But he’s my idiot.

  Chuckling, he says, “But then you, out of all people, go to a brunch, and let it all out on the table. Our deepest and darkest secrets.” He looks to the ceiling in a dream-like state, painting a picture for me. “I can see it now. There you were, legs crossed, your pussy sore from our last fucking.” Jesus, this man. “You can feel me between your legs as the girls beg you for details. Your intentions were good. Eat some pastries, drink some mimosas, satisfy your need for girl time, but then the inquisition starts. You try to ignore them, brush them off, but the entire time all you can think about is how moments before you arrived, I was fucking you against the door, my aftershave branding your body. It’s all so overwhelming. You’re giddy, you’re turned on just thinking about me, you’re bursting at the seams, needing to tell someone about the giant, massive, oversized, and gargantuan cock that’s entered your life and claimed your sweet, tight, greedy pussy.”

  I can’t even . . .

  How am I supposed to date this guy—easily, I know—but seriously, he’s so over the top.

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Am I?” he asks, pulling out my chair for me and helping me take a seat. “Or am I scarily accurate?”

  “Insane.”

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “I’m one hundred percent accurate.”

  Maybe just a little . . . especially about the greedy part.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  JASON

  Jason: Can’t stop thinking about the way you squirted all over my face this morning.

  Dottie: One, I did not squirt all over your face. Jesus Christ, Jason. Two, I didn’t squirt. I just came. . . hard.

  Jason: Babe, that was a straight-up squirt. You scored air on it, at least a few inches.

  Dottie: Why do you insist upon making my face turn bright red at work?

  Jason: Because it’s fun for me. Send me a picture and while you’re at it, send a picture of your naked tits too. Mommy misses her daddy’s boobies.

  Dottie: Please, for the love of God, pause and read that last sentence. YOU ARE DERANGED. This is over between us. I can’t possibly see someone who says shit like that.

  Jason: Too far?

  Dottie: You think? We’re on a timeout. Do you hear me? A timeout.

  Jason: I’d prefer a spanking as punishment. You know, like the spanking I gave you last night? Fuck, babe. You screamed so loud when you came, I have partial ear damage.

  Dottie: Bye, Jason.

  Jason: Wait, don’t you want to talk about the scream that ended all screams?

  Jason: Hello?

  Jason: Dottie?

  Jason: . . . Daddy?

  Dottie: I hate you.

  Jason: There’s my girl. Have a good rest of your day. See you tonight. Xoxoxxxxx *My penis and your vagina 4ever*

  I stuff my phone away in my pocket, sat
isfied with my midday conversation with my girl and tap my foot on the turf floor. Where the hell is he?

  I glance at my watch; two minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. That’s unlike him. I stand from the bench, walk out of the private batting cages and spot Walker, kneeling on the ground and talking to a kid. I watch carefully the way he interacts with the young boy. Giving him pointers, speaking softly. It’s unlike any side I’ve seen of Walker, but then again, most of the time, the media only shows his moments of outbursts and rage because when there’s drama, media outlets tend to show that.

  After a few more minutes, Walker stands, ruffles the kid’s head, gives the father a quick handshake, and then heads in my direction. I was right. He does have exactly what I thought he has. Heart. Kindness. When he reaches me, I say, “Looks like you do have a heart in that barrel of a chest.”

  Walker pushes past me and into the cages, and I follow him. “If we’re going to do this, don’t say stupid shit.”

  “I don’t ever say stupid—” He gives me a look. “Fine, I might say stupid shit on occasion, but I can’t help it, it’s in my nature. Just like it’s in your nature to be a big grumpus.”

  “Grumpus equals stupid shit.”

  “What? No way. That can be a term of endearment.”

  “Listen.” He holds his hand out to stop me. His brows narrow and his eyes sharpen. Man, this guy is intimidating. I’m a big dude, but he might be able to plow through my intestines with one fist to the gut. “We’re here to talk about the event and hit some balls, not to become friends.”

  “Whoa, hey now, let’s not get hasty,” I say, wiping my hands from his statement. “Why don’t we take it slow and see where things go? You never know, we might become the best of friends.”

  “We won’t.”

  “We might.”

  “No.”

  “Never say never.”

  “Never.”

  Fuck, he’s infuriating.

  “Let’s just say we agree to disagree at the moment and leave the friendship card on the table where it’s easy to reach in case we want to flash it at each other.”

  He drags his hand down his face.

  “You hitting first, or am I?”

  “You, because it seems like you need to get some tension out of your shoulders.”

  We set up the tee, and I grab a bucket of balls while Walker warms up his back with a bat in hand. He shifts side to side, bat behind his neck.

  “Is this weird? To practice together? We’re opposing catchers.”

  Walker shrugs and takes a few practice swings. “It’s whatever we make it.” He steps up to the tee and whacks the ball I placed, sending it all the way to the far net.

  Milly hooked us up with a private cage in the Division One Athletics facilities she owns with her brothers, since it felt weird taking the opponent to either one of our team facilities. Not to mention, I’ve never worked out in my new team facilities, so to do it with a Bobbie doesn’t feel right.

  “I spoke with my sister and we’re ready to announce the celebrity game in a week or so, just waiting on a few confirmations. Knox, Carson, and you are jumping on board from the Bobbies. I have a few guys from the Rebels, and then we have Jessica Gomez and Maria Mendez from the former Olympic team who will school us as well.”

  He swings, his bat a powerful weapon in his hands as he pushes through the ball. From the tension in his grip, I can tell this man has a lot of pent-up anger inside and with every swing, it seems to loosen a fraction.

  “What about celebrities for entertainment?”

  “Yup, we have Harrison Done, Brandon Woelfel, Yakim Trent, and a few others.”

  “Harrison Done, huh?” Walker asks. “Didn’t know the fucker cared about anything other than his face on the screen.”

  “This will be televised. He’s from Chicago, so his face will be on the screen.”

  Walker barely smiles, but I see it, the humor in his features. “Makes sense then.”

  “We’re setting up VIP tickets. Should I set any aside for your family?”

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  “No?” I place a ball on the tee and his swing nearly whips my hand off before I can pull away. “But this is to help honor your sister, my brother. Can they not make it?”

  “We don’t talk,” he answers curtly, tapping the ground for another ball. “No need to send an invite.”

  “Oh, sorry, man. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine.” He taps the tee with his bat. “Load me up.”

  Feeling bad I made him uncomfortable, I continue placing balls on the tee, watching as he takes his aggression out on each and every unsuspecting ball.

  We spend the next hour going back and forth between hitting and loading. We do a soft toss, but nothing too extreme and the whole time, we barely talk. A few words here and there about the event and how it should help the surrounding schools with inclusion in sports, and hopefully as time goes on, we can grow nationwide. Before we left, Walker pledged to gather a few more players from around the league. He assured me he’s all in when it comes to the foundation, but doesn’t want his name on anything other than appearances. When I asked him why, he said because it wasn’t necessary to be recognized. He just wants to do good.

  As I drove back to Dottie’s apartment afterward, I thought about how misunderstood Walker is, how the media portrays him as the monster behind the plate when in fact, he’s a genuinely respectable guy. He might be short-tempered and have a lot of anger, but he’s still a decent man. I see his heart, and I hope I can help others see it too.

  * * *

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I boom, turning around to see a wooden spoon in Dottie’s hand, hovering over my tortellini soup that I’ve been nursing to perfection since I got home.

  “It was bubbling, I was going to stir it.”

  Hands held out to stop her, I say, “Don’t. Touch. It.”

  She props her hand on her hip and points the spoon at me. “You know, I don’t appreciate your yelling. I’m being helpful.”

  “Like you were helpful two nights ago where you burned the garlic bread to an unrecognizable state?”

  “Who knew a broil setting could fry it?” She shrugs.

  I point to my chest. “I knew. I KNEW. But you insisted upon taking care of it and then guess what happened? We had lasagna with no garlic bread.” I press my hand to my forehead, trying to calm myself. “No garlic bread.”

  “Oh my God, get over it. I sucked you off as an apology.”

  “And that apology was accepted, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt to think about it.”

  “Why am I with you?” Dottie asks, setting down the spoon, causing me to relax.

  She tries to walk past me but I snag her by the waist and press her against the counter. “Because you really like me, despite my neurosis. I honestly think you really like them. You live for them. If you don’t roll your eyes at least five times a day, you feel uneasy, dizzy, like you might not be able to get up the next morning.”

  “How did you know?” she asks deadpanned, but with a tip of her lips, letting me know she’s just as humored as me.

  Do you know what I live for right now? Seeing my girl try to hold back her laughter when I’m teasing her. She’s so guarded and uptight most of the time that I love seeing peeks of her beautiful personality.

  “I just know you, babe.” I press a kiss to her nose and keep her held tight against me. I’ve been wanting to ask her something for a while now but I’ve been holding off, wanting to make sure we were pretty solid before I asked. I couldn’t ask for a more solid foundation at this point. “Hey, can I talk to you about something serious?”

  “Serious? Do you even know that word?”

  “On occasion.” I smile.

  “Okay, should I be sitting down?”

  “Nah, just stay here in my arms.” I reach up and push her hair behind her ear and then cup her cheek. I place a gentle kiss across h
er lips and when I pull away, I see the edge in her eyes disappear as they soften. I’m pretty sure they only soften for me, which makes me feel really goddamn special.

  “You have my attention; what do you want to talk about?”

  I entwine our fingers together and say, “So you know I’ve been working on that charity game, right?”

  “Oh no, do you want me to play in it?”

  “No.” I laugh. “Unless, are you good?”

  “Not even a little. You would ask me to leave the minute I stepped onto the field.”

  “Good to know. Glad you’re honest, but no, that’s not what I was going to ask. We’re going to have a celebration dinner after. Walker and I are funding the whole thing and we’ll announce the amount raised as well as present the checks to some of the local high schools.” I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. “It’s about a month away, but things feel pretty solid between us so I was wondering if you wanted to be my date to the dinner? I’m telling you now so you can check your schedule. If you can’t make it, that’s—”

  “Jason,” she says, her voice compassionate and sweet. “I’ll be there. No matter what, I’ll be there.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, excitement blooming in my chest. “You’ll be my date, even a month out?”

  She nods while linking her fingers around my neck. “I might be annoyed by you on a day-to-day basis and there are moments I want to strangle you, but you make me happy, Jason. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

  “God, that just made my dick hard.” It made my heart burst too, but I won’t be sharing that tidbit. I do know when to shut up. Sometimes.

  She reaches down between us and cups me, causing my eyes to roll back. “Looks like we need to do something about that then.” She presses a quick kiss against my mouth and then drops to her knees, pulling my shorts with her.

  God, this woman . . .

  Chapter Twenty-Six