Game Changer, page 20
"When we go there, I want it to be epic, and I’m not settling for anything less."
Her eyes flash with that fire I love, eager for the challenge, showing that competitive streak I know runs deep inside her. Her last name isn’t Roberts for nothing. She was born to be a champion. It’s in her blood. And I know that, when the time comes, she’s going to ride me to within an inch of my life. I’ll no doubt be the one begging for mercy when she sees fit to mount me. I just hope I can keep up with her.
"Well then, I guess I’ll have to take care of my own needs with a long, hot shower," she says seductively, getting off the bed by crawling as slowly as she can over my prostrate body. She lingers, hovering her belly over my erection with a devilish grin on her face.
"Sasha…." I moan, half in warning, half in enjoyment.
She laughs, hopping off the bed. I follow her with my eyes as she keeps her back turned. She hesitates slightly before slipping her fingers inside the waistband of her shorts, bending down with a flourish, and then kicking them off.
I gulp as I stare at the firmness of her tight, little ass as she wiggles it in front of me. I sit up even higher in bed to get a better look as she lowers one strap and then the other of her tank before yanking it over her head and tossing it back at me. It lands right in my lap, and she giggles over her shoulder. I want to see those lush, perfect breasts, but she remains coy, limiting my view to her backside.
I can still make out the bruise on her arm from where she was hit by the pitch in Baltimore, and it makes me ache inside, desirous to kiss it away and remove any mark of violence from her body. Her skin glows in the first rays of sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. She’s so beautiful, even more so than she was on the beach in Jamaica because now her beauty emanates not only from her body, but from the strength inside her soul.
She’s seen her brother collapse on the field, clinging to life. She’s been heckled by an angry mob. She’s been bandied about like some living doll for the nation to consume. But she’s still fighting, still determined to be with a fool like me.
"I love you, you know," I utter, watching the playful light in her eyes turn serious.
She drops her arms to cover her breasts even though I can’t see them. It’s like the honesty of my declaration has made her ashamed of the game she’s playing, but that wasn’t my intention at all. I like when we have fun together like this. It’s just that I can’t resist wanting to hold her sacred. She’s everything to me. She’s not just some bedroom conquest. She’s the air I breathe. She’s the light in the dark. She’s the first thing I think about when I get up and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. Even when we were apart, without a Sasha Roberts, there was no Brooks Davison.
"I love you, too, Sandy," she whispers shyly.
Our eyes lock, and I know in that moment that, no matter what happens, she’ll be mine forever.
***
About an hour later, she opens the bathroom door with a towel wrapped around her body. She takes a step back when she sees that I’m still lying in bed, where I was dozing to the whir of her blow-dryer.
"Sandy, what are you still doing here?" she shrieks. "There’s no way you’ll be able to sneak back to your room now. The other guys will be up and moving around and you’re all the way down at the end of the hall."
She looks panic stricken, like the world’s going to end if I get caught leaving her room after spending the night with her. But for me, it’s no walk of shame. I couldn’t be prouder of where I laid my head last night.
She shoots me a frazzled look, grabbing a pair of jeans and a striped top that was folded the way I’d taught her on the dresser, and strides back into the steam-filled bathroom to get dressed, slamming the door.
That didn’t go very well. But it makes me chuckle and wonder what it’s going to be like to live with her someday. I have a feeling that she’ll keep me on my toes.
A few minutes later, she barges out, sliding her feet into a pair of sandals with a towering heel, tossing the strap of her cross-body bag over her head. I enjoy sitting back and watching her get ready as she peers in the mirror, slipping a delicate pair of silver hoops into her ears before placing sunglasses on top of her head. Her allure is so natural that she doesn’t even realize how devastatingly attractive she is.
"Are you ready?" She turns around, raising an eyebrow in my direction.
"As ready as I’ll ever be," I respond without even the slightest hint of sarcasm, getting out of bed.
"What are you up to?" She eyes me warily, her hand on the door handle as I shuffle up behind her.
"You’ll see." I wink at her, bestowing a kiss on top of her hair.
She shakes her head, opening the door and peeking out before quickly ducking back inside. "Shit, Drake is holding court with Scott and Colton by the elevator. You’re never gonna get out of here without them seeing you."
"Go ahead," I urge as she looks up at me in surprise. "It’s time to face the music."
She hesitates, more fearful of what will happen to me than to her. "Sandy, I don’t know—"
"Sasha, I know what I’m doing. It’s something I should’ve done a long time ago." I caress the area between her shoulder blades, wishing I’d never given her any reason to doubt me.
She looks back at me worriedly before stepping out and holding the door for me to follow. I clear my throat the moment the door clicks behind me, causing them to look up at us. Colton does a double take, clearly not expecting to see me standing there. Scott breaks out into that ear-splitting grin of his while Drake goes ballistic.
"That’s it. I’ve had enough of this shit," Drake fumes, turning on his heel and banging on Tony’s door as loud as he can.
Scott starts yelling for him to calm down while Colton tries to drag me away before it’s too late. But I hold my ground, raising my voice so that Colton knows I have no intention of going anywhere. Sasha starts screaming over them to be heard, urging them all to quiet down, but it doesn’t take long for the commotion to get everyone to come out and see what’s going on. Thankfully, the Kings are occupying every room on the floor, and practically the entire team spills out into the hallway.
Tony steps out with shaving cream all over his face. "What?" he growls at Drake, none too pleased at being interrupted.
"I just caught Brooks sneaking out of Sasha’s room and I have two eyewitnesses who will back me up," Drake declares like he just solved the crime of the century. "You can’t allow this, boss. Terry Bloom made it clear that none of us were to have any relations with her, and he keeps deliberately flouting the rules. He needs to be punished."
I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me as they see the bed head I’m sporting and my suspicious lack of pants. Sasha tries to stand in front of me to block me from view, but I just rest my hands on her shoulders, drawing her against me for all to see.
"Punish me, Tony. Do whatever it is you have to do, but I’m not staying away from her anymore." I stand there ready to take whatever comes my way.
Pedro whistles loudly from his doorway, his wife giggling behind him.
"Dude, you won the bet," Scott exults, coming forward to congratulate me. "All you suckers, it’s time to pay up. C’mon. Fork it over."
"Scotty, shut the fuck up!" Landry shouts over to him while Chase steps out of his room and pulls Scott away from me before smacking the back of his head.
"What bet?" Tony asks, angry as I’ve ever seen him, causing Sasha to lower her head.
Drake is the only one willing to answer him. "There was a little wager going on to see who would sleep with her first. Of course, Brooks was the odds-on favorite, but I still thought Jilly had a chance, even though it was a long shot."
Jilly issues what sounds like a battle cry before charging down the hallway and decking Drake with his pitching hand. "You son of a bitch!" he roars, looking to hit him again before Pedro has a chance to hold him back.
"Dude, your arm. Don’t hurt your arm! He’s not worth it," Pedro implores, holding on to a much bigger and fully irate Jilly.
"This ends now, do you hear me?" Tony asks, his voice carrying above the fray. "I don’t want this shit going on inside my clubhouse. I won’t tolerate it. If I hear one more derogatory remark slandering Sasha’s good name, the person who says it is off the team."
"You don’t have the right," Drake argues, sprawled on the floor, holding his busted lip.
"Just try me, Schultz! That girl over there is worth more to Terry Bloom and Arnold Heimlich than you’ll ever be! They’ll have no problem eating your contract and ending your season for you if I tell them how you’re harassing their star player!" Tony gets right in Drake’s face, screaming at him. "And that goes for the rest of you, too. I’m disgusted that you’d all talk about K-Rob’s little sister that way. You make me sick, the whole bunch of you. Brooksey, please tell me you didn’t know about this?" Tony asks, turning to me.
"I’m afraid I did," I admit, feeling Sasha tense beneath my fingertips.
"Then you should’ve come to me sooner and I could’ve put an end to it. If you’re going to be with this girl, you’re going to have to man up, son," Tony remarks, making my cheeks flame in embarrassment. "Because she has a bigger set of balls than the whole lot of you put together."
"I’m sorry, Sasha," Landry says, attempting to meet her gaze.
"Yeah, I’m sorry, too," Pedro chimes in as his wife starts screaming at him in Spanish.
"Me too," Scott replies sheepishly.
The entire team issues a personal apology to their second baseman. Sasha nods at each of them in turn. I can’t see her face, but I know she must be embarrassed yet relieved to put this behind her.
"All right, we’ll all meet downstairs in twenty for a team breakfast. If we’re going to come together, now’s the time. If you morons have any aspirations of playing in October, it’s time to put up or shut up. If you don’t start acting like a team, you’re certainly going to have a long-ass winter ahead of you to mull over your mistakes." Tony claps his hands, signaling the end of his pep talk. "Now get out of my face so I can shave, will ya?"
Everyone starts to laugh. Some head toward the elevator while others go back inside to finish getting ready. I slip my hand into Sasha’s, guiding her toward my room. Jilly is still worked up, shoving open the door to the stairs and disappearing from sight. Drake staggers to his feet when no one steps forward to give him a hand. We walk by him as he continues to glare at us. Yeah, it’s not over. It’s just a temporary truce. There’s too much bad blood between us for our ongoing feud to end that abruptly.
Sasha tightens her grip on my hand as Drake starts muttering under his breath, but we ignore him and keep going. Some of the guys look at us approvingly, like they’re happy that we’re finally out in the open when it comes to our feelings for each other. They know what a tough time we’ve been having, dealing with everything going on with Kyle, and it’s nice to see that not everyone looked at our relationship like some kind of wager.
I take my keycard out of my pocket and slide it through the slot, waiting for the green light to come on. I tug on Sasha’s hand to follow me in, but she holds back.
"Maybe I should wait out here until you’re done," she whispers, looking around anxiously.
"Ah, hell," Landry calls out. "Go ahead, Sasha. You’re allowed. Next time I’ll keep my big mouth shut. I swear. I didn’t mean to spill the beans about what went on inside the cabana. I was just trying to shut Drake up when he said the two of you had no chemistry together. I couldn’t stand listening to his ego…but I still shouldn’t have said anything. You guys are free to do whatever you want. Hell, I know what it’s like to be young and in love. It’s the best time of your life. So don’t waste a second of it."
And with that, I bend down and lift Sasha into my arms, carrying her inside with a whoop—the way I should’ve carried her off the field before Jilly stepped in. The way I should’ve carried her back to my room that night in Jamaica. Landry’s right. I’m not going to waste any more of these precious moments together.
I intend to show her and the world just how much I love her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooks
Now this is awkward.
Sasha and I are sitting on the couch on the set of After Midnight, trying to act like we’re not together when we totally are.
The host, Jeff Herron, is one of Chase’s good friends, and he thought it’d be a great idea for us to come on and raise awareness about organ donation. With Kyle fading rapidly, it didn’t take long to convince Sasha to say yes. Of course, Jeff wants to talk about our love life—or suspicious lack thereof—but as we enter the final week of the season with our spot in the playoffs guaranteed, I intend to keep the focus centered firmly on baseball.
Sasha looks gorgeous tonight in a pale-blue dress. She said that she chose it from the selection the stylist offered because it matches the color of my eyes. She’s flirting back and forth with Jeff, but in a playful way, and I can’t stop looking at her. She’s so much better at this kind of stuff than I am. I always clam up and make an idiot out of myself, but she’s chatting with Jeff like they’ve known each other for years, as they humorously discuss her thoughts on why male players always seem to be adjusting themselves below the belt.
I smile along with them. The studio lights make me squint a little as I try not to think about the four cameras that are filming my every move. I sit up straighter, hoping to coast through the interview when Jeff lobs a question at me that I’m not sure how to deflect.
"Brooks, you know I’m always on Twitter, and I came across this photo the other day that I’d love for you to explain." Jeff holds up an enlarged copy of a photo glued to a letter-sized piece of black poster board. The image simultaneously flashes on the monitors around the studio. The audience starts to buzz when they get a good look at it.
It’s of Jilly on the mound, getting ready to pitch to Sasha, and I’m taking a stride forward, holding a catcher’s mask. My face is clearly visible, so there’s no denying that it’s me wearing Pedro’s gear.
Jeff keeps talking, covering for me when I sit there speechless, openly gaping at the photo. "A fan said they took this from a subway car as it rolled into the station outside the stadium. Can you tell us what’s going on here?"
"Ummm…" I glance nervously at Sasha as she gives me a forced grin, silently reminding me not to give anything away. But we’ve been caught red-handed and I have no clue how we’re going to talk our way out of this.
"It was a bet," Sasha jumps in, getting me off the hook and flashing Jeff a dazzling smile.
"A bet?" Jeff asks, leaning over his desk. "What kind of bet?"
I tightly grip the armrest of the couch, not sure where Sasha is going with this.
"Yeah. We’ve been busting our butts all season trying to make the playoffs, and sometimes you need to have a little fun to keep things loose. When Jilly so infamously carried me off the field after my first game at the stadium, there was no way I was going to let him get away with it." The crowd snickers when Sasha rolls her eyes dramatically, like no self-respecting woman would ever let herself be caught dead in that kind of situation. "So I made a little wager with him. I said he’d never be able to lay down a bunt, even if a girl with a weak arm like mine was pitching to him. He hasn’t had to hit in interleague play this year, but he might have to if we reach the World Series, and I want him to be ready."
"But from this angle, it looks like Jilly is pitching to you," Jeff persists, not realizing how close he is to the truth.
"Yeah, you know what a control freak Jilly is. Brooks had to practically drag him off the mound while I stood there holding the bat for him. He kept saying that he wanted to pitch to me, and I told him he was crazy. There was no way I’d ever get in the box and face arguably one of the best pitchers in baseball. He’d knock me on my ass." Sasha throws up her hands like it’s a given, and the crowd roars with laughter.
"My hand still stings from catching him," I sigh, shaking my wrist for added emphasis. "I’m glad I don’t have Pedro’s job. I don’t know how the dude does it."
Sasha grabs my hand and glides hers over the top of it. "Oh, you poor baby," she coos. "These guys suffer so much for their millions, don’t they?"
Jeff eats it up, clapping his hands and shaking his head in amusement. The audience can’t get enough of it, playing right into her hands. She’s appealing to the notion that she’s just like them. The whole world knows that the Kings aren’t paying her a salary, and she makes sure to point that out whenever she can. She has become savvy at creating this approachable image of herself, but I think it’s because she’s picked up a few tips from Grey and Gayle along the way.
"So what did K-Rob think when you told Arnold Heimlich that you didn’t want a dime of his money, that you just wanted to play?" Jeff follows up, trying to draw the interview to a close as the director motions that there’s less than a minute remaining in this segment of the show.
"He told me to marry a rich husband because, with or without a paycheck, he intends to make sure that I’m unemployed in the very near future." Sasha winks at me, and Jeff’s smile widens.
"And what did you say to that?" Jeff asks, giving her the rebuttal question she was looking for.
"I told him that I’ll be practicing signing my name on the thousands of autographs I intend to sign, but whether there’ll be a Mrs. in front of it is entirely up to me." She beams at Jeff, shooting a sly look at me out of the corner of her eye.
I can’t help but blush. It’s the reaction she was counting on as the camera zooms in on me and Jeff cuts to a commercial break, but not before teasing me about being put in the hot seat.
As filming ceases, Jeff bounds around his desk to shake hands, even giving Sasha a kiss on the cheek. "If there’s anything I can do for K-Rob, just let me know," he says earnestly. "He’s a great guy, and whenever I hit him up for any autographed memorabilia for all the charity events I’m asked to host, he always comes through for me, no questions asked. I know a lot of famous people, and let me tell you, no one’s as accommodating and gracious as Kyle Roberts, except maybe his sister." He gives Sasha a playful nudge, clearly enamored with her. "And this brute over here ain’t so bad either," he remarks, drawing me in for a quick man hug. "I’m going to do everything I can to cheer the Kings on and get the word out about Kyle and the importance of organ donation. All it takes is one person to make a difference." He wraps the two of us in a bear hug. "I love you guys. Best of luck to you."
