The Sweetest Game (The Perfect Game #3)

The Sweetest Game (The Perfect Game #3) Page 14

I tightened my grip on Jack’s hand and allowed him to pull me outside where Matteo was waiting by the car. The heat and humidity smacked me square in the face and I sucked in one final breath before letting all the stress of the weekend go.

A couple of weeks later, I still couldn’t believe what had happened between Melissa and Dean. Watching him lose his shit on her was the most I’d ever seen him act like Jack. And it was hot. I’d never admit that to Jack, but it really was. I was surprised Melissa’s panties didn’t melt off her body and into a puddle on my apartment floor. Instead, she dug in her heels and acted stubborn and defensive, which was her version of a defense mechanism, I supposed.

Truth be told, I was really sad for them. I wanted them to work it out and I had no idea why Melissa was fighting it so hard. What kind of person doesn’t know what the hell was wrong with her best friend?

All I knew for sure was that I did not want to be in the middle of the two of them, so I bowed out; told them both I didn’t want to be involved. True to their word, neither of them asked me about the other when we talked, which wasn’t as often as it used to be. We’d all come so far from our college days in the student union.

Dean kept busy maintaining the office while Jack’s agents, Marc and Ryan, traveled around the country scouting new baseball talent. It was Dean’s job to be the local contact for potential talent. He took phone calls, handled the mail and the contracts, and filed scouting reports. He also kept tabs on new, upcoming, and past players, and was available in person at any time. Dean told me once that the only thing he didn’t do was sleep there, but that could be arranged if they bought a couch. I laughed, but felt pride warm my heart at how hard he worked and loved the business.

Melissa, on the other hand, had convinced her mom to let her open a small extension of their public relations firm in Orange County. She informed her mother that over half their clients lived in the OC, and it didn’t make any sense to force them to drive out to LA for in-person meetings. Their current clients were thrilled and word of mouth spread quickly about the new office location. Melissa found herself understaffed and her mom couldn’t have been more proud of her only daughter. I always knew Melissa would run that place, so nothing she did surprised me.

Things with Jack and me had improved tremendously since he first got injured. He refocused all of his energy into working out and doing strength exercises in his opposite hand. When the team was on the road, he spent most of his time at the ball field with the team trainers. And when the team was home, he played pranks on all the guys during the games. They actually begged me to start keeping him home so he’d stop fucking with them.

I asked Jack over dinner one night what he was doing to torture his teammates and he couldn’t stop laughing. He said, “I kept moving the new kid’s gear in front of Newman’s locker.” I remembered that Newman was a veteran ball player, and if there was one thing that any first-year player had to do, it was respect the veterans. They weren’t supposed to talk to them, let alone go anywhere near their stuff.

Jack leaned back and chuckled. “Newman was pissed and the poor kid had no idea how his shit kept getting there, but he couldn’t say anything. Because, you know, he can’t talk to a veteran player, and he certainly can’t defend himself. Newman would take out all the crap in his bag, throw it across the locker room, and threaten the kid. I just kept doing it the whole weekend. Poor kid was about to lose his mind until someone told him, ‘Welcome to the big leagues.’”

“Did they tell him it was you?” I smiled, happy to hear Jack laughing.

“Fuck no! No one tells him who is fucking with him. It’s a rule. You play pranks, but you don’t rat anyone out.”

“Glad you’re having fun with your teammates, babe.” I smiled, reaching my hand across the table and touching the stubble on his cheek. I loved his scruff.

I will admit that having Jack home for dinner was really sort of nice. He’d never been around this much, and while his mind was definitely preoccupied with his injury, his physical presence was a welcome change. It made me realize how little he truly was home. And how rare it was for us to sit and have dinner together every night. That almost never happened.

Even during the off-season, Jack was always focused on what was to come. His mental state was all about working out, staying fit, eating right, and doing whatever had to be done to stay relevant and needed for the upcoming season. I honestly didn’t mind the amount of his time that baseball took, but some moments, like the ones right now, it was nice to have him around.

Staring over at my sexy man, I stifled the urge to crawl across the table and eat him for dinner. I knew he wouldn’t mind, but didn’t want to stop the current conversation that flowed between us. Watching Jack smile and laugh had been the highlight of my day.

“So, tell me about the rookie they brought up to pitch for you,” I said and his eyebrows lifted.

“Did I tell you he won’t be staying?” He smirked and a dimple appeared. I wanted to get lost in that dimple.

I reached for my wineglass and took a sip. “Where’s he going?”

“He’s temporary,” he said with a smirk.

“Who told you that?”

“He told me. Just walked up to me one night during a game and said, ‘They told me not to get too comfortable here, you know.’ Which, of course, I didn’t know.” Jack fumbled with his fork. “Fuck. I’ll never get used to trying to eat with my right hand.”

I laughed. “So, what did you say to him after that? Anything?”

“Fuck no, I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him. I don’t owe that kid anything. He’d take my position in a heartbeat if they let him. And I know that.”

“So, he’ll get sent back down to Triple-A when you’re off the disabled list?” I asked before filling my mouth with a large helping of Caesar salad.

“I assume so. He’s good, though. And I hate how much I hate that he’s good. Makes me feel like a dick.”

“You’re not a dick. You worked your ass off to earn that position and you don’t want it taken away from you.” I understood that feeling. I knew how much baseball meant to Jack and how much he’d been through personally and professionally to achieve his goals. No one wanted to have one stupid incident be the catalyst for your entire career changing. Or for its loss.

“Exactly. But I want the team to win. And he helps them win. But then I’m pissed that he helped them win because sometimes I don’t want him to be that good.” He dragged his good hand through his hair, his mood suddenly shifting.

“It makes sense,” I said encouragingly, trying to reassure him as his eyes lifted to meet mine. It was the team’s job to win games at all costs. Jack was terrified he’d lose his position to a younger kid who threw faster than him. Every player’s fear when they were injured was that they’d be replaced. Baseball made it known that there was a long line of younger guys waiting to take your spot the moment you screwed up. That was a lot of pressure.

My voice rose in pitch as my thoughts spilled from my mouth, my adrenaline kicking in. “You love your team. You don’t ever want them to lose. But you don’t want this kid to be better than you are because you want to be missed. You want to be needed. You want the goddamn Mets to be affected by your absence!”

Jack’s eyes flew open wide and a huge smile lit up his face. “That’s it! That’s exactly fucking it. God, I love you.”

The sound of his chair screeching across the tile floor hit my ears as quickly as Jack’s hot mouth did. “You. Naked. Now.”

My heart raced and the space between my legs ached with want. It never ceased to amaze me how easily Jack could turn me into a hot puddle of desire. One second we were laughing, and the next all I could think about was having him inside me.

I turned my head toward him as his mouth crushed against mine. He kissed me hard once, twice, then when I parted my lips, his tongue took advantage and searched for mine. The moment our tongues touched, my body ached and throbbed in unison.

“You’re so hot,” I managed to get out as he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. I started to protest, concerned about his broken hand, but he silenced me with his mouth.

“Don’t talk,” he demanded and I obeyed. I’d do anything he asked right now, I was so turned on. “God, Cassie, I want you. You’re so smart.”

He kissed my neck and the feel of his lips made me dizzy. “And beautiful.” He licked his way down my neck to my shoulder, where he bit gently and nibbled. I breathed out a heady moan and felt him twitch against me.

“And talented,” he continued as he reached for the bottom of my top, lifting it up over my head and tossing it to the floor. He instantly moved his mouth to my bare stomach, where he kissed and licked around my belly button, the skin so sensitive there that I shivered.

“And made for me.” His head lifted as his brown eyes met mine. “You know that, right?” His eyes narrowed as his right hand moved to unclasp my bra. “That you were literally fucking made for me? This body,” he said, discarding my lacy bra onto the floor with my top, “this body was made for me. And only me. Tell me you know that.”

Jack reached his hand toward my cheek and I closed my eyes, letting the heaviness of his words settle inside me. The space between us filled with so much love, lust, desire, and want, I felt like I could literally cut a piece out of the air and consume it. This moment could fill me … complete me … satisfy me. I could live forever from the emotions I felt in this one moment.

“Say it, Cassie. Tell me you know this body was made to fit with mine. And only mine. No rookie can take my place. No one else can have this position. You’re my fucking wife and no one else’s. Ever. I worship you. I will always worship you.”

I didn’t know why, but his words filled me with so much emotion, I almost started crying. Maybe it was the way he said them, or what was being said, but my chest heaved with each laboring breath I took. Overwhelmed, I looked at my husband. My sexy as hell, overly confident, amazingly beautiful husband. Looking at him now, like this, I felt reassured at just how lucky we were to have each other. I’d never want anyone else as long as I lived. It was Jack Fucking Carter for me, or no one.

“Say it, Kitten. Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice almost purring.

I sucked in a deep breath and watched as my exposed breasts rose and fell. Tangling my fingers in his dark hair, I tugged slightly, forcing his eyes to stay locked on mine. “I’m yours. There will never come a time when I don’t belong to you. It’s you for me, or no one. You hear me? Only you. Only yours. Forever.”

Our feelings spilled out, replacing the oxygen in the room with something else entirely. Jack’s words were like my own personal aphrodisiac, each one burning hotter between my legs than the last. I was a puddle of want, so completely turned on by everything he’d just confessed, I was surprised I didn’t spontaneously combust and melt into the bed.