Page 45 of Rookie Mistake

Her lip curves into a grin, and I lean in, capturing her lips because I can’t wait another fucking second to kiss her.

“Good,” she murmurs against my lips when she pulls away, trailing hot, wet kisses along my jawline until she gets to my ear. “I was thinking I could wear it while you fuck my tits and come on my face later.”

Motherfucker.

I groan. “You are fucking trouble.”

“Always have been and always will be. Good thing you love trouble, huh?” she muses, a playful smirk on her lips as she lowers herself to her feet, brushing over my hardening dick.

This girl. She’s going to kill me one day.

“Yeah, I do. But not when we’re about to go to dinner with your parents and brother. Now we’re actually able to sit in the same room without wanting to throat punch each other,” I say, reaching for my bat bag near my feet, then hoisting it on my shoulder and grabbing her hand.

I love the way she feels in my hands. Like she was made to be mine.

Perfect.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “For making an effort to get along with him. It means a lot to me.”

We’re walking to my truck now, hand in hand, and my shoulder dips. “He’s not… as bad as I once thought he was. But don’t tell him that, or he’ll think we’re, I don’t know, friends or something.”

She doesn’t respond, simply smirks as she lifts a brow.

Fine, we’re kind of,sort offriends.

Turns out we have way more things in common than hating each other, and since I’m dating his sister and we’re teammates, we’re around each other more than not.

We play video games sometimes and…occasionallysend funny memes to each other in secret.

It’s better this way though. I didn’t want Zara to feel uncomfortable or like she had to choose between us, and if I have any say-so in it, she’s going to be mine forever.

I don’t care that it’s only been six months.

When I think of my future?

It’s Zara.

Of all the uncertainties the future holds, I know that part for a fact.

She makes me better.

We leave the stadium in a hurry since there’s not much time between my game and dinner with her parents and head to my house. Most of the guys haven’t made it home yet, so we’re alone.

Which is rare and hard to come by these days. Even more of a reason for me to convince her to get an apartment with me next year.

“Let’s go shower,” she says as we walk into my bedroom. I pause, tossing my bag onto the floor near my closet, and shoot her a look.

As if we have time for me to blow her back out before dinner.

There’s no such thing as a quickie with us. There are multiple orgasms and lots of foreplay involved.

“Not being late for dinner with your parents, baby.”

She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip and reaches beneath her jersey, unclasping her bra and dropping it to the floor.

Fuck.

“It’ll be a bad impression. I want them to like me,” I say, swallowing roughly. I’m fucked. I know it, she knows it. I couldn’t tell her no if there was a gun to my head.

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