Page 95 of The Foul Out

Jeez. I yanked my hand back as my face flamed.

Kyle wrapped his arm around me and tucked me against him.

“Sorry,” I muttered, although I wasn’t sure to whom.

“No need to apologize,” Rory said with a casual wave. “Mason loves making people uncomfortable as much as Kyle does.”

Beside her, Mason chuckled. A moment later, the elevator doors slid open, and he stepped off, guiding Rory into what looked like a foyer.

“He lives right below you?” I asked once the doors had closed again.

“Yeah. He used to live a few floors down, but when Rory moved in, they upgraded to the lower penthouse.”

The lower penthouse. And if Kyle lived above him, that had to mean he also lived in a penthouse. Why didn’t that surprise me? The man had been playing major league baseball for fourteen years. He had to make good money, and that was before his endorsement deals. Even though I was expecting it, I still wasn’t prepared when the doors to opened to his massive space.

“Whoa,” I whispered as I took it all in.

In the center of the foyer sat a circular table, where Kyle tossed his key fob and phone as he walked by. On either side ofthe space was an office, and straight ahead was a huge living area and kitchen. The back wall was nothing but two-story floor-to-ceiling windows and french doors that opened to a patio with a pool, hot tub, and a 180-degree view of the Boston Harbor.

I spun and assessed him, my eyes wide. “Why the heck do you come to my tiny apartment?”

“All my favorite people live there.” He shrugged, clearly unimpressed by his own incredible home. “Cam’s not here now, but he might be later. He lives in what would be the nanny quarters at the end of the hall.” He pointed behind us. “My room and the guest rooms are this way,” he said, pointing to the hall on the right side of the main space. “You probably won’t notice that Cam’s even here until morning. Can I interest you in a cider or a White Out?” he asked as he headed for the kitchen.

“You have my favorites?” I was still focused on the details of his home. One corner was set up like a reading nook, with two comfortable-looking chairs and a wall of bookshelves. In another spot was a row of shelves lined with toys. In the middle of the room was a sectional situated in front a huge TV that was mounted above the mantel of a massive marble fireplace.

“Of course I have what you like. So which do you want?”

He rounded an enormous black island and moved straight for what looked like dark cherry cabinets but turned out to be a fridge. I stepped toward the island, still in shock. Even the way the black granite seemed to waterfall off the edge to the floor was gorgeous. This place was amazing.

“You are so out of my league.” With a shake of my head, I rested my hands on the cool stone.

Kyle set both drinks on the counter and took my hand in his. “No,” he said, giving it an assuring squeeze. “I’m lucky enough to get paid a lot of money to play a game nine months a year.”

I frowned, feeling defensive for him. Making light of his abilities is something I’d never seen him do.

“Don’t look at me like that. Professional baseball is hard work, but it’s also a lot of luck. If my stepdad hadn’t come into the picture when he did and taken me to practices, then worked with me after for hours, I would never be playing now.” He pulled me closer and rested his chin on my head. “Before him, my mom skipped dinner quite a bit to ensure that my brother and I would have enough to eat. She is one of the best people I know.” He tipped my chin up, his eyes blazing into mine. “And you’re the other.”

My heart skipped, and though my instinct was to deny it, I couldn’t form a coherent sentence to save my life.

“So don’t you ever dare say I’m out of your league, because in every way that matters, you’re out of my league.”

He dipped his head and kissed me softly. A warmth rushed through me at the connection, urging me to part my lips and give him access. As his tongue stroked mine, that warmth ignited into a low flame in my belly. His arms tightened around my waist, pressing me into the solid plane of his body.

Although his kiss always made my stomach jump and my blood pump faster, his touch also brought with it a sense of safety that was hard to explain. Being in his arms like this lowered my defenses and allowed me to relax, because I knew he had me.

He pulled back. “Let’s hang out in my room. It’s less intimidating.” Then he was tugging on my hand, snagging the beer and cider off the island nimbly, and guiding me down the hallway on the right.

The second we stepped into the room, I frowned. “It’s bigger than my entire apartment.” This was his idea of less intimidating?

“I’ll happily buy you a bigger place if you want.”

I whacked his stomach with the back of my hand.

“I do not want that.”

“I figured.” He smirked. He held up both drinks, silently reminding me that I hadn’t chosen yet.

With a sigh, I took the White Out from him. The winter lager was one of my favorites.

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