Page 2 of The Baseball Player's Obsession

My god, she looks like some sort of little doll with her pale porcelain skin and those big midnight blue eyes framed by dark lashes. The paleness of her skin makes her little puffy pink lips appear that much brighter.

I'm staring at her, my throat tight, when her little brow furrows, and she licks her lips. My eyes home in on the motion of her pink tongue moistening her puffy flesh, and I feel myself hardening in my pants.

I bite back a groan and tear my gaze back up to her innocent-looking eyes. Fuck, this girl still looks like a teenager. I'm not old at twenty-six, but I'm probably too old to be having these thoughts about her.

I swallow, my throat working as I realize she’s still waiting for an answer. “Do you work here?” I ask, sounding like the complete idiot I am. Of course, she fucking works here. She just asked me if I needed help.

Yes, I do need help, baby. I’m rendered completely immobile by you.

She smiles at me, her eyes twinkling. “You could say that. I'm the owner.”

I blink, taken aback but strangely relieved. She must be at least eighteen in order to own this joint.

She must see the surprise in my eyes because she offers softly, “My parents left it to me when they died.”

I know I shouldn't pry, but I can't help myself. I want to know everything about this girl. “How did they die?”

“A car accident a few years ago,” she says before she shakes her head and looks past me toward the shelves. “Looking for some cat food?”

My heart aches for her because I recognize the look of an orphan in her eyes. It's the same look me and my sister had when my mom died and then our dad left us.

I cast my eyes back over the many brands on the shelf. “Yeah, it's for my sister's cat, but I can't remember what kind she said, and apparently this cat is picky as shit and will only eat this one type of food.”

The raven-haired beauty throws her head back and laughs before she asks, “What's your sister's name? If she's a regular here, I might know her and remember what she buys.”

“Cindy,” I tell her. Her eyes instantly light with recognition, and a smile breaks across her face as she reaches out and grabs a can of cat food and shows it to me. “This is what her kitten likes.”

I take the can from her and then grab several more. “Thanks…?” I raise a questioning brow at her, prompting her for her name. My eyes have already studied her chest long enough to know she's not wearing a name badge.

“Brandy,” she offers me her name with a smile that causes my chest to ache painfully again.

“Brandy,” I repeat her name, loving the way it rolls off my tongue. “I’m Nate.”

She blushes as she smiles again. “Nice to meet you Nate, Cindy’s brother.”

My cock is a steel rod now. Hearing my name in her innocently sultry voice is almost enough to make me nut all in my jeans right here.

I follow her to the counter, admiring her ass like any red-blooded male would do. The way those jeans hug that succulent peach of an ass so perfectly….

The way those long locks sway against her back...

My fingers twitch around the cans. I'm suddenly fighting the undeniable urge to fists my hands in that hair. I have visions of me plowing into her with my hands buried in her hair, my lips smashed over her beautiful bee-stung lips, and I feel my cock aching, my balls harder than stones.

Fuck, I have never been this hard up for a woman before—especially one I just met.

“So, you’re a baseball player,” Brandy comments as she rings up the cat food.

I raise an eyebrow. “Cindy has been talking about me?”

She laughs. “Only every time she comes in here.”

I roll my eyes. “No telling what she's saying about me.”

“It's all good. I promise.” She gives me that heart-stoppingly beautiful smile again, and it's enough to make my breath catch. Fuck, this girl is so damn beautiful.

The things she’s doing to my body and chest are really fucking with my head. I want to ask her out, and I’m never shy, but the words stick in my throat. What the fuck? I've never been the guy who hesitates, but something about Brandy has me all tied up in knots.

She puts the receipt in the bag and then hands it to me. My fingers brush hers as I take it from her.

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