Page 122 of Wild Pitch
“Out of my damn mind,” Cade says in a growl, leaning into me again and this time lowering his forehead to mine. His free hand grips my hip. “But—” he says with difficulty. “It doesn’t matter what I want—what you want is what matters. So who do you want me to be, Hope?”
My eyes widen. My pulse has been a flutter of butterflies at my throat from the beginning, but now turns positively violent. “What—What do you mean?” Something like the sound of waves crash into my ears, and my chest rises and falls rapidly.
Slowly, his hand shifts until his fingers find my jeans’s belt loop. “Do you want me to turn back to being just one more player you sometimes have to ice? Or to keep being your dating coach until you find someone better?”
“Someone better?” I hiss.
“Or…” He swallows so hard that I can hear it over the crashing waves. “Do you want me to change roles from dating coach to dating you?”
“That’s unfair,” I all but wheeze out with what’s left of my voice. “You should also say what you want.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was obvious,” Cade says, laughter laced in his voice. But then he removes his arm from the wall and digs his fingers in my loose hair, arching my neck back as hebends lower. His lips stop a millimeter from mine, I can feel the gentlest brush as he speaks, “I want you, Hope. I don’t want to hand you off to some other asshole, even though I’m definitely not good enough either.”
“Hmm.” The admission imbues me with a boldness I never knew I possessed, and I bring my arms up over his shoulders and around his neck. He stills as I give him a little kiss, just the softest suction of his lips, and say, “So if I choose option two you’ll be my wingman with the bar guy?”
His other hand grabs my hip tighter. “Sure.” The word comes out through gritted teeth.
Chuckling, I rise on my tip toes to press my lips against his. I mean it to be a brief kiss, something sweet, but I guess I should know better than to challenge a professional athlete.
Next thing, we’re up against the wall making out as hard as if our lives depended on it. As if each other’s mouths were the oxygen we need to stay alive. For the first time since we arrived to this bar, I’m really thankful for how noisy it is outside because Cade and I aren’t being exactly discreet. Between moans and the sounds of lips sucking, it’s a wonder we really don’t get kicked out of the bar.
Somewhere in there, I remember that I haven’t really answered his main question. Gathering all my willpower, I push at his chest with enough strength that he gets the hint. The loud kissy sound as we separate is almost embarrassing, but not more than our harsh breathing.
“To answer your question,” I say while panting like a dog, “I don’t want to go back to how things were. I can’t.” I close my mouth and shake my head, trying to clear it. But my lips tingle and my whole body’s flared to life. “I can’t go back to being near strangers, or to also feeling like She-Hulk because you’re getting someone else’s attention.”
“Wait, wait.” My eyes are now used to the lack of lighting and I can see his teeth through his smile. “You also get jealous?”
I shift my weight to the other leg. “Maybe. Is that gonna be a problem?”
“Oh, not at all.”
“Good.” I lift my chin and look him dead in the eye. “Because you’re fired as my dating coach, and hired as my da—Eek!”
The man lifts me up. Straight up cinches his arms under my butt, making me grab onto his shoulders. And he’s laughing like he just won the freaking lottery, instead of scoring the most awkward girl in all of the land.
CHAPTER 40
CADE
Ihave a huge, massive problem now.
Every time Hope walks by, I can’t help but notice.
She just had to border the pitching practice area for my peripheral vision to pick her up. I catch the ball from Kim and raise my glove to my face, just in case I’m making that silly grin I’ve been catching on my face in the mirror since I officially graduated from being the world’s worst dating coach. Hope’s back is to me as she talks with Socci about who knows what. I burn through my timer by pretending to turn the ball to find the best grip, when in truth I’m staring at her thighs.
Whew.
I’m not an eloquent guy but I could write poetry about her thighs. She’s in black leggings today, the really sporty kind that are sewn around the thigh rather than just the sides of the legs. And whoa, shit. They’re thick with muscle and so strong that I can’t keep my mind from imagining things.
“Hey, dipshit.”
I startle when I find Logan Kim’s face an inch from mine. “Whoa, dude. Do you even brush your teeth?”
“My dental hygiene isn’t the issue here.” He smacks my chest with his mitt. “Are you getting paid to throw a damn ball or to stare at your new girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I spit out from behind my glove. “Yet.”
Kim gives me an incredulous look. “Do I look like that’s the point I’m trying to make?”
