Page 96 of Stealing Home

“It doesn’t matter whether I want to come back or not. Rivera will never let me play as long as he’s the coach.” Will opens his mouth to speak, and I hold up my hand to stop him. “Don’t even suggest giving him what he wants. That’s not an option.”

“Come on Will,” Max says, motioning for the door, “We’ve got a game to lose.”

I dive into the program I’m working on and lose track of time. I hear a throat clear behind me and turn to see Low leaning against the counter. “Did I see your friends leaving earlier?”

“I didn’t think your office had a window to the outside,” I say.

“It doesn’t,” she confirms. “I had to go hunt down all the scraps of paper that the guys have scribbled down their notes on. If Wren or I aren’t hovering around them, they write down part numbers, hours, you name it down on anything they can find. I saw Max and Will leave while I was in the bay.”

“They want me to come back,” I admit.

Harlow bites her lip. “To the team or the house?”

I push my stool back and grab her wrists so I can pull her to stand between my legs. “The team. They know there’s no way I’d go back to living in that house.”

She rubs her hands up and down my thighs. “Is that something you’d want?”

“Maybe,” I admit. Her hands stop moving, and she tenses. “Not what you’re thinking. I still don’t want to go pro, but I did want to finish this season with my team.”

Because I know her so well, I anticipate her trying to pull away from me, and I grab hold of her wrists to keep her from retreating. “Low, you are not the reason I’m not playing right now.”

She drops her head, and her dark hair swings forward like a curtain, hiding her face. Letting go of one of her wrists, I brush her hair out of her face. “Give me those baby blues, Low,” I order, and her face lifts back up to mine.

“If I hadn’t come into your life you wouldn’t be fighting with your dad, and you’d be enjoying your last season playing baseball.”

“I forced my way into your life, and I hated your ex before that. I’m not sure I would have made it to the end of the season playing for him. If it weren’t you, it would have been something else, but I think it was always going to be you in some way.”

Her face scrunches adorably. “How do you figure?”

“Just because the rest of the team and coaching staff overlooked his cheating, doesn’t mean I was ever going to be able to. I sure as hell wasn’t going to overlook the bruises I kept seeing on you.”

“So, you’d have played white knight whether I’d given you a chance or not, huh?”

Sliding my hands into her back pockets, I pull her tighter against me. “White knight is good, but not what I want to play right now.”

I nuzzle the side of her throat, and she hums. “What did you have in mind?”

She’s breathless, and I know she’s game for whatever I suggest. Reaching between her legs, I rub the seam of her jeans against her mound. “Want to run the bases?”

Her nails dig into my thighs, but the denim keeps my skin safe from them. “Just tell me what you want.”

Fisting the back of her hair, I stare into her eyes and notice her pupils blown wide. “So it’s like that tonight?”

She nods. “I need it. Please, Scott. Inside my head is chaos and insecurity. I just need it to be quiet for a while.”

I lean back and put my arms on the back of the stool. My phone is on the counter next to me, and I grab it and turn on “Slave for You,” by Britney Spears.

Harlow starts laughing, but her hips start moving to the beat. It takes all my self control to stay seated while she rolls her body.

“The clothes, Low. Take them off.”

I expect bashful Harlow, but she gives herself over to the song. It’s sexier than I remember, I’d only picked it because of the title. She turns her back to me, and slowly pulls her shirt over her head. Her dark hair swings back and forth, giving peeks of her skin. Looking at me over her shoulder, she runs her fingers down her neck, skipping over the strap of her bra before going back to it and sliding it down her arm, then repeating on the other side. Her hands disappear under her hair and she unhooks it, letting it fall to the floor.

She sweeps her hair forward, and it hangs in front of her ample tits, playing the same peekaboo game it did with her back. Her fingers work at the button of her pants, and she pushes them down, wiggling with them. Rather than strip off her underwear, she puts her hands on my knees and slides them up my thighs once again. My fingers grasp the arms of the chair harder to keep myself from grabbing her and ending the show early.

Her hands continue moving up my thighs, and my dick jerks against my zipper. She stops her hands and looks up at me, waiting for instruction. Finally, I let go of the chair and slip my hands into her hair, pulling just a little the way she likes. “You like this game, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Harlow pulls her lip between her teeth and nods her head. I tighten my hold on her hair just a little bit more. “Use your words, or I’ll think of another use for your mouth.”

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