Page 130 of Wild Pitch
“Fine, let’s see if you mean it. Come here.” She lifts her chin in a blatant challenge I have zero interest in turning down.
I remove my gloves and stuff them in one pocket, then take off my helmet and leave it on the floor before walking out of my cage. Hope watches me intently as I shoulder the door of her cage open, eyes roaming up and down my body in a way that is most definitely not PG.
Finally, I stop one step from her and spread my arms wide. “Frisk me, officer.”
She blows a raspberry. “Cade Starr, I can’t just grab your butt in public. But points for the willingness.”
“How about…” I grab the bill of her helmet and take it off. Some strands of her hair catch on the foam inside the helmet, and I run my fingers through her hair to comb it back down. “How about you just kiss me and casually let your hands travel?”
“Just like that?”
“I may or not intend to do the same. Deal?”
Hope bites her lip until she allows the smile to break free. “Deal. But first…” She rips her gloves off and tosses them where they fall.
Then she grabs my face, forcing me to lower down to her and I’m a willing participant. My arms cinch around her waist and I bring her closer until there’s literally only the fabric of our clothes between us.
For a moment she focuses too much on the movement of our mouths, her hands only going as far as my jaw where she can no doubt feel my muscles working. But finally she remembers that this kiss is just an excuse for her to feel me up and she gets with the program. I already have to fight off a groan when her hands are just at my neck. Something about her firm touch, the deliberateness of it, is already making me lose my grip on reality.
Before I lose the last of my presence of mind, I turn us slightly so her back faces the rest of the battling lanes. Behind me is only my empty one, which is the very last one on the corner. And beyond there’s only a wall to witness her hands brushing over my shoulders, sneaking down to my chest.
I’m unable to feel so many things at once while in public, and I release her lips so I can process how her hands run down my chest to my stomach. Yesterday, we were in this same position for a second, except my skin was bare. I blame that for how high my pulse rises as she carefully feels every ridge of muscle against the pads of her fingers.
“I have to admit,” she whispers against my lips, “I also like this a lot.”
“Making a mental note to flash my abs more often,” I joke, though we both know by my voice that I’m more turned on than the Olympic torch.
My breath hitches as she reaches the waistband of my joggers, but instead of keeping in that dangerous direction, she circles her hands around my waist to my back, and then they’re on my cheeks. The posterior ones.
“Wow,” she marvels against my mouth. “It’s like marble.”
“Yeah, I don’t skip leg day.”
“I’m proud of you.” She gives a little squeeze that turns the rest of my body into marble. “Too much?”
“Not really, but an attendant is giving us a funny look.” Unfortunately this is true. I can see the sour look on his face from over Hope’s head.
Sighing, she drops her face into my chest. “Just when it was getting good.”
I chuckle and place a kiss at the top of her head. “Don’t worry, darlin’. My marble behind is going to be there for you any time.”
“I’m creating a monster,” she says muffled against my chest before raising her head again, and bringing her hands up to my back. “Should we behave for a bit and put a food court table between us for a bit?”
I scrunch up my face. “Ugh, fine.”
The attendant’s demeanor relaxes the hell down as Hope and I clean up our cages and return the equipment to the shelves. He pretends not to see us as we walk by him back into the building, hand in hand.
We join a line for cheap hot dogs and order enough to almost shut the place down. Each one of them is tiny, though, so Hope and I take seats at a table near the air hockey area, and get to work on our food.
Her phone on the table vibrates and Hope sets down a halfway eaten dog to unzip it and retrieve the device. Something about how her lips twists prompts me to ask, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah…” She drags the word as she sets the phone back down, without responding to either call or text, I don’t know.
“That doesn’t sound like a firm yes. Is it your dad?”
“No.” She picks up her hot dog again. “It’s a little blast from the past that I had almost forgotten about these days.” Seeing my confusion, she decides to elaborate. “My friend Kelly reminded me that the freaking engagement party is this weekend. She wants to know if I’m going.”
“Oh shit.” I set down my sweet ice tea. “What are you gonna do?”
