Page 86 of Honey Undone
“I could outrun you,” she said so nonchalantly it made me laugh.
“You think you’re faster than me?” I stepped forward and she stepped back.
“You’re fast, but the majority of your skill set relies on you hitting the ball far enough to cover the bases without getting caught,” Adeline all but purred, the smirk never leaving her lips. “I have to carry the ball. IknowI’m faster than you.”
“She’s cocky, I like that in a woman,” I said to no one but the concrete. “We’ll see if you’re faster though.”
“I can beat you in a foot race, Jensen,” she scoffed and I nodded.
“I believe that, how about we play some one on one?” I offered. The point of the night was to give Adeline a space to not worry about anything. Take her out of her environment and allow her to just have fun in a place that wasn’t constantly reminding her about all the pressure she was under.
She didn’t seem to care as long as I was involved.
“How do you play one on one baseball?” She asked, leaning back in my arms as my lips brushed against her neck.
“Without clothes,” I grumbled and Adeline laughed, pushing me back.
“If you wanted to play with your bat and balls we could have stayed home,” she teased, fluttering her lashes at me.
“Ha ha,” I said, letting her go. “Come on.”
I dipped down, hauling her over my shoulder with a tiny laugh dripping from her pretty lips before I carried her back through the arena to the field. I flicked on the stadium lights, and with a loud thrum they illuminated the perfectly cut turf and raked sand.
“I feel like a criminal touching it, it’s so perfect…” she pushed her hands flat against my back, angling her head up to look at her surroundings. Setting her down she moved backward looking up at the stands. “It has to be intimidating… having that many people watching you?”
I shrugged, turning around to take in what she did. “I don’t ever turn around…”
“You did,” Adeline said, looking over her shoulder at me. “For me.”
“Dire circumstances,” I said, giving her a tiny wink.
“Mmm,” she hummed, her eyes tracing a wide circle of the stadium. “Okay, explain the rules.”
“All work and no play, Adeline Sarah.” I clicked my teeth together and jogged over to the dugout. I paid Mikey, our newest equipment kid to leave out a crate and my bats after practice and nodded in gratitude to find them right where I needed. “Atta boy.”
“I pitch, you hit, I chase the ball, you run the bases. Then we switch,” I explained.
Adeline surveyed the field, no doubt running the numbers between the bases. I watched her brain tick gloriously fast as the smile crept to her lips.
“What is it, eighty-five feet between each base?” She asked, hands on her perfect hips as she turned to me with the question.
“Ninety, if you wanna be technical,” I chuckled, shaking my head.
“Bring it on.” She stepped forward so our chests met and smiled up at me, reaching down without breaking eye contact to wrap her hand around the bat. “It’s bigger than I expected,” she said, eyes casting downward in a snap as she lifted it, “and heavier.”
I crossed my arms and cocked my head to the side, “you don’t have to compliment my dick Adeline, it’s already yours.”
“I meant the bat, jackass.” She rolled her eyes waiting for me to help her set up in the batter's box. I pushed my hand into the glove and waited as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, balancing the bat between her legs before she lifted it again and rolled out her shoulders. She stepped up to the base and angled toward me, with a sweet, soft smile. “Like that?”
“Yeah Belle, like that,” I said, shaking my head and chucking the ball from my hand to the mitt. “You ready?” I asked her as she found her footing in the sand and she looked up, determined to prove me wrong.
I tried to keep a straight face but she looked so cute I had to inhale before pulling back and pitching her a soft ball that curved through the air in a lazy arch toward the box. She didn’t even swing, her head cocking to the side.
“That’s not how you throw during a game!” She snapped and I broke, laughing at her adorable annoyance.
“Fine,” I said, “lift your bat and stop complaining,” I snapped my fingers at her and she readjusted herself. The next pitch was straight, fast and whipped past her head only to slam into the backstop with a metal clang.
“Again,” she said. Not letting the speed of the ball rattle her.
