Page 7 of Trip Through Your Wires

“Do you mean it?”

He crosses his chest and holds up his index and middle finger. “Scout’s honor.”

“How do I know you were a Scout?”

“Only one way to find out.”

I flick my eyes to his hand, then back again. “One more thing.”

“Yes….”

“This stays between us. Don’t tell Ellery, or Cruz, or your buddies. And especially my brother. You don’t say a word to anyone. Got it?”

He brings his hand to my neck, and cups it. “You like secrets, Sparky?”

“Only when they’re mine.”

He leans in, thumb stroking my jaw ever so gently, and when our lips meet, it sends a rush of heat straight through me; like an electrical current, looking for an outlet. His mouth moves over mine and his tongue reaches for mine, stroking it languidly, with a strong, seductive curl. He’d a good kisser. Really good. In fact this kiss is better than any kiss I’ve ever had. It’s the kind you feel in your toes, knees, everywhere.

He angles my head to kiss me deeper and I bring one hand to his chest while grabbing his side with the other. I may be into the lithe sex appeal of rockstars, but shit, Jake’s body is hard as hell. My hand travels over the planes of his chest and it reminds me of ripples left behind in the sand when a wave recedes. Every inch of him is sculpted to perfection; the rows of his six pack, tight and defined.

The space between us grows warmer, as the cool rock against my skin sends a chill through me. It reminds me of that day in AP Physics, senior year, when we tested what happens when the difference between hot and cold becomes too great and it breaks down, creating a rapid discharge. That’s what this feels like—lightning.

“Fuck Sparky,” he murmurs. “You taste like a dream.”

And you taste like hope I think, but I don’t.

I don’t want the kiss to end but remembering why I agreed to kiss him in the first place, I suck his lower lip between my teeth, and bite down. He moans in my mouth as my teeth puncture the skin, but he doesn’t pull back. In fact, he wraps his other arm around my waist, and presses me against the rock, fusing our bodies.

Shit, he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he likes it. I didn’t scare him away but reeled him in closer. I should stop. I should pull back and end things right now. But the thing about electricity…it needs an outlet. That charge between hot and cold needs to be released, and what’s happening right now is fire and ice.

Releasing his lip from my teeth, I pull back and look up. His eyes are hooded and full of heat. “Tell anyone about this and I go from being a dream to your worst nightmare.”

Bringing his hand back to my neck, he runs his thumb across my lower lip and grins. “I made you a promise and I plan to keep it.”

I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me or his words, but without thinking, I grab his shirt, twist it in my hand, and pull his mouth back down to mine.

We kiss again and again, not stopping at two, three, or even ten. Not even when thunder clouds rumble over the ocean do our lips part. It’s only when a drop of rain falls and lightning flashes in the distance do we and it’s then I know I’m in trouble. Not because I gave in, but because I know I will again. Kisses like this beg to be repeated.

Chapter 1

Jake

Seven months later…

The batter spits on the ground then taps the top of the barrel to home plate, before lifting the bat up and bringing one elbow back. After swinging and missing the last two pitches the count is 0-2, which doesn’t bode well for a cleanup hitter. He’s pissed and kicking his back cleat like a bull ready to charge.

It is, however, a count that pitchers love because an eager batter is fun to play with, and my brother knows this. High, low, outside, or hugging the plate…it won’t matter what Cruz throws next. A hungry batter will chase it, and judging by the way this guy is wrapping his fingers around the bat’s grip, he’s swinging for the stands, no matter how the ball crosses the plate.

Of course, Cruz doesn’t plan on letting that happen. His pre-season ERA is sitting pretty below one, and with this game being our last before the season starts next week, I know he’s anxious to shut this batter down and close out the game. But as he sneaks a look at Ellery sitting in the stands, wearing his number just as she has all pre-season, I know it’s going to be another moment before he winds up. There’s nothing Cruz loves more than giving his girl a show.

It’s funny to think the tiny blonde with the larger than life personality would be the one to bring my best friend to his knees. But the day we arrived in Cherry Cove last summer and the two crossed paths, I could see she was the one for him.

It was kind of comical to watch them trip over one another, the two obviously still crazy about the other, no matter what had happened between them. Thank God they finally said fuck it and decided to let go of the fear that had broken them up because they’re awesome together, and I couldn’t be happier for my brother because he scored.

Ellery is cool as hell. She’s everything you’d expect a southern belle would be and everything you wouldn’t. She can drink like a sailor, loves her music loud, and prefers Doc Martens and concert tees to polo shirts and pearls. In the time that I’ve known her, she’s become like a sister to me and I am all for my brother giving her whatever she wants. But not today.

I’ve squatted nearly two hundred days a year, for the past fourteen, and can hold this position all day long. Hell, the number of hours I’ve clocked doing hip mobility warm-ups and lower body strength conditioning is ridiculous. But for the first time ever, I’m not looking forward to shit-talking with the guys in the club house after the game. I want to get home.

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