Pitcher Perfect, page 23
She gave up the useless task of trying to get the device away from him and deflated on his back, her chin coming to a hard rest on his shoulder, watching as he tapped his way into Spotify, blushing and hiding her face in his neck when he reached the list.
“No. No way, Skylar. No.”
“Afraid so.”
“‘Get’cha Head in the Game’? You let me show you that video of me singing in the shower and wallow alone in my embarrassment when it’s . . .” He barked a laugh. “Number three on your most played?”
“I was going to tell you when the time was right, when my Kit Harington diary entry wasn’t still stinging.” She jerked a shoulder. “It’s a good hype song.”
“The best.”
“Hmm. Maybe not the best—”
“I’m talking about you. You are the best.” Robbie dropped to his knees with her still on his back, swinging her around at the same time, so he could catch her and set her down gently in the grass, even as his sides shook with mirth. “You’re going to kill me being so goddamn cute.”
Skylar pushed at his shoulders. “I’m not cute. I’m intimidating. I can dribble and sing at the same time, as well as any Wildcat.”
He lost it, falling face-first into the grass beside her.
Every time she thought they were done laughing, they started again and there were definitely grass stains on the white dress, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have a single care in the world as she giggled like a preteen in the grass of her hometown park, her second-most-embarrassing secret exposed to the man she was sleeping with, her feelings sprouting legs and running amok in a way she could no longer control.
Finally, Robbie handed back her phone and stood, helping Skylar to her knees, tugging her forward until she fell into his arms, where he rocked her in the shade. He pressed his mouth to her ear and started to say something, but a group of kids went careening past them carrying baseball gloves, a couple of them with bats slung over their shoulder, yelling at the top of their lungs.
“We bat first!”
“You batted first yesterday.”
As they watched, the kids ran to the far end of the park and fell into formation, still shouting and disagreeing, but ultimately getting their haphazard game underway. It took two pitches for the first batter to get a hit, the ball soaring across the expanse of grass, bouncing once and rolling to a stop at Skylar’s feet.
They traded a knowing glance.
“Do your thing, Rocket.”
She picked up the ball, tossed it up once and caught it, then fired it across the park, right into the catcher’s glove. Silence reigned in the park. But not for long. Everyone under the age of twelve started talking at once, each of them more animated than the last, but one voice stood out above the rest.
Or maybe he was just saying what Skylar wanted to hear.
“Can you pitch to us?”
Skylar liked to think she rearranged a few young minds that day, at least where gender norms were concerned. After the kids got over the fact that a girl could pitch, they settled into a boisterous line, each of them taking a turn trying to get a hit off her. When one of them finally connected, the ball fouling off into the trees, the group of boys celebrated like their buddy had just hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth of the World Series.
“She’s something, isn’t she, boys?” Robbie called when the noise died down.
The next batter stepped forward, striking the metal bat off his shaggy pair of Jordans. “She’s a lot cooler than my friggin’ sister.”
“Hey.” Skylar wagged a finger. “No one is bad-mouthing any sisters on my watch.”
“Sorry, she’s the friggin’ worst.”
Robbie snorted around a bite of his third sandwich. “All right, you punks are hogging my girlfriend and I’m sick of it.” He waved his pastrami and cheese on rye. “One more batter and we’re out of here.”
Skylar didn’t outwardly react to Robbie calling her his girlfriend, even if her stomach flipped over like an egg being fried in oil. Sizzleclap. She tried to make the mental excuse that their actual relationship required too much explanation. Saying “girlfriend” was simply more expeditious. Except he was looking right at her now, chewing his sandwich with satisfaction and staring at her, as if to say, Yeah, you’re my girlfriend, what are you going to do about it?
And she might have been smiling back.
The eggs in her belly scrambled together.
Oh boy. Was this happening? Am I taking this leap?
The only thing that could have broken the spell in that moment was one of the kids whispering, “Girlfriends are grosser than sisters,” loudly enough to be heard in Cincinnati. Robbie threw back his head and laughed, startling a woman who passed by pushing a stroller. With her stomach still in chaos, Skylar fell into her pitching stance—and that’s when she noticed the one kid who hadn’t batted yet. He sat off to the side, his expression a cross between anxious and dejected. When Robbie stopped laughing, she watched him follow her line of sight over to the youngster.
“You want to bat, kid?” Robbie called.
The kid shook his head vigorously.
Robbie balled up his sandwich wrapper, threw it away, and walked over to the boy. Every eye was drawn to the conversation, turning the kid’s cheeks red, so Skylar put two fingers in her mouth and whistled to distract them. “Hey. Who’s my next victim?”
As she pitched to the final batter, she tried not to be obvious about listening to the conversation between the shy kid and Robbie, but she was too curious to ignore them completely. How was he going to handle this?
“What’s your name?”
“Bo.”
“Bo, you don’t like baseball?”
“No.”
“You have excellent taste. Neither do I.”
Skylar rolled her eyes.
“Although it’s definitely growing on me. Don’t tell the pitcher.”
She pretended not to hear that.
“All they want to do is play baseball, though. Every day.” Bo shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “They make me play even though I suck.”
“You suck less lately,” one of the boys offered cheerfully.
“Hey,” Skylar said. “Pay attention. Who’s next?”
Eight kids shouted, “ME.”
“Do you like sports at all?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah,” Bo responded. “I’d just rather be inside.”
Without looking over, she knew a grin was spreading across Robbie’s face. “Have you considered hockey?”
As if to punctuate the moment, thunder rolled in the distance.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Robbie meant what he’d said earlier—and he meant it even more now. He wished he could go back in time and erase every single thing he’d done with women before Skylar. Every depraved act he’d committed. Every empty hookup. Because this . . . running home in the sudden downpour and getting soaked, forced to stop so they could laugh and kiss every hundred or so yards, sipping rainwater from her mouth . . . this was the definition of fulfillment. He’d fucking found it.
Due to the welcome heaviness in his chest and mind and nerve endings, his feet were barely working well enough to keep pace through the trees leading to the house. He just kept thinking, She didn’t correct me when I called her my girlfriend.
What did that mean?
Was this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity really knocking?
“I know it’s pouring and this makes no sense, but . . .” Skylar said, slowing to a stop, turning to him, her hair plastered to her face and neck, dress soaked, skin wet. If there was a chance he could call this woman his, he’d beat the game of life. Nothing compared to her. Nothing and no one could ever come close. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
“It makes perfect sense to me,” Robbie managed, his voice like gravel. “God, you look so beautiful right now.”
Her tits rose and fell. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
It was darker than it should have been this time of the afternoon, but clouds had moved in and left the air heavy, slightly humid. They stood in the electric atmosphere, their clothes absorbing more and more rain, but neither one of them caring or taking notice. And it must have been the strange suspension of time that made Robbie push. Made him reach for an answer, even though he was asking too soon. Even though he hadn’t quite earned the answer he wanted yet. Even though he’d given her barely any time to consider him.
“You going to let me be your boyfriend, Skylar?”
A smile flirted around the corners of her rain-slickened mouth, softening the fact that she didn’t say yes without hesitation. “I need more information. Can you tell me what that relationship will look like?”
“I can tell you what I want it to look like.”
She pursed her lips. “That’ll do.”
“Okay.” Robbie crossed his wrists behind his back and circled in a slow pace around the girl of his dreams, trying not to get distracted by the delicate line of her neck, her wet shoulders. Or the fact that he could see her panties through the sodden material of her skirt. That tight curve of her ass. He ignored the long, hot tug between his legs and focused. “Once playoffs are over, I have some time off. I’d like to spend all of it with you.”
She flicked him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder. “All of it?”
“That’s what I said.” Too much? Oh well. He was in a magical forest with a girl who had doubts about him and honesty was the only way to fix that. “I want to go to your games and watch you pitch. I want to take you on millions of dates. I can’t believe I haven’t even been to your apartment yet. I want to see it. And I want my own side of the bed. Actually, fuck that. We’ll both sleep in the middle.” He took a fortifying breath. “I’m probably only going to make it a week before introducing you to my parents. Is it weird I want to show you where I grew up? I don’t know. I need you to know me. I’ve never wanted anyone to know me so fucking bad and like what they see.”
He’d circled back around to the front of Skylar now and found her looking as winded as he felt. Winded but strong, as if that made any sense. “I’m worried I’m making you change for me. I’m worried you’ll resent me after a while.”
“Resent you?” Surprise hastened Robbie forward, and he took her face in his hands, brushing away raindrops with his thumbs. “Skylar. Look at me. You’re not changing me. You reminded me who I always wanted to be. Did you kick me in the ass? Yeah. Good. The best things in life kick you in the ass. And God, you are the best thing in this life. The best thing.” Realizing he was shouting, Robbie dropped his forehead to Skylar’s and rolled it side to side, lowering his voice to a rasp. “Forget the other guy and be my girlfriend. Please.”
He groaned out loud when she slid her fingers into his hair. “I had no idea you were so romantic,” she whispered. “That was really, really romantic.”
That encouragement kicked the rest of his walls down and all the corny thoughts in his head came pouring out. “You haven’t seen anything yet. I propose we get those bracelets you touch when you’re thinking about your significant other and theirs lights up, no matter how far away they are. So if I’m in Montreal and you’re in Boston . . . basically your bracelet is going to stay continuously lit.”
“I’ve already forgotten the other guy,” she blurted.
Robbie’s heart nearly detached itself, it started pounding so furiously. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They were both laughing when he swooped in and caught her mouth in a kiss, but their mirth didn’t last. It was eclipsed within seconds by lust so rough around the edges, he knew every sexual encounter from his past had been half-hearted, lackluster in comparison to what this person could do to him with a snap of her fingers. Hunger drove into his lower body like a Formula 1 car taking a curve, his cock full and aching, as if he hadn’t fucked her twice already in the last twenty-four hours. Being inside this girl twice was laughably not enough. No number of times would ever be enough, but maybe somewhere around the ten thousand mark, he’d have taken the edge off?
Doubtful.
“I hate to break this to you, Skylar,” Robbie said through his teeth, his hands creeping beneath her skirt to take those juicy cheeks in his hands, kneading them. “But we’re probably going to end up canceling a lot of our dates.”
Her head fell back as he attacked her neck, love biting every inch or so on his journey to her ear while she shivered against him. “Hmm. W-why?”
He gathered her panties in his fist, turning them into a thong and using the material to quickly yank her up onto her toes. “Because you’ve got this hot little slit between your thighs and I can’t seem to keep myself out of it.”
Skylar’s eyes glazed over, her breaths beginning to sound more like gasps. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”
Robbie was already unzipping his jeans. “Maybe there’s no way I could. How about that?”
This girl—this once-in-a-lifetime, mind-blowing girl who made him feel vulnerable and victorious at the same time—pulled her own panties down in one graceful forward bend. By the time she straightened, dangling them from her index finger and tossing them onto the forest floor, Robbie was in some kind of fevered trance and Skylar was the pocket watch swinging back and forth in front of his face.
“Come here,” he said, shuddering when she lifted the front of her pleated skirt, letting him see her pussy. Teasing him with a side-to-side sway of her hips and Jesus Christ, he could already see the outline of her nipples through the wet dress, so he was done. Cooked. As horny as a man could get without dying. “Get up here . . .” He pulled her close by the cheeks of her ass, lifting until her toes were barely brushing the ground. “Or I’ll put you up here.”
With an expression of mock innocence, she wrapped her legs around his hips. “Like this, Robbie?”
I’m not going to survive. “Finally discovered your power over me, didn’t you?” He reached behind Skylar, fisting his dick and dragging it down the rain-drenched split of her backside, earning himself a gasp and a jerk of her legs, a whimper when he finally positioned the head at the entrance of her cunt. “I have a little power over you, too, though, don’t I?”
“You have a lot of it, actually,” she whispered jaggedly. “More than you think.”
Trying his best not to be overcome, Robbie tucked the sensitive tip of his cock into her perfect warmth and thrust up, hard, hips tilting to get himself as deep as possible while she struggled through the pressure of being joined at this angle, her thighs vibrating around his hips from the invasion, but loving it. Loving it. Her mouth told him so, giving him tongue and murmuring his name, even as she squirmed, driving him fucking crazy. “Tell me, then.”
“I need you.” Skylar wrapped her arms around his head, sobbing near his forehead as he started to bounce her, her rear end gripped tightly in his hands. “I need you, I need you.”
His pace picked up, because he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the raw upward slap of his hips or the frantic whirlwind in his chest, his belly, his head. He fucked her hard and fast, like an animal, in painful heat over the jiggle of her tits against his chest, the way his cock sounded like wet suction every time it entered her, his lips in a snarl against her throat. Oh my God. Oh my God. “I need you, too, baby. All the time. So goddamn bad. You’re my girlfriend. You’re mine.”
These were not questions. They were statements. No one fucked like this, like their souls were bleeding, and left questions hanging in the air.
And when she said, “Yours. Yours,” hot moisture pressed in behind his eyes and his knees almost lost their ability to function, gratitude hit him with such a blow. As it was, he stumbled slightly to the right before catching himself and going after her orgasm with a single-minded obsession, latching his teeth to the curve of her neck with a ragged sound he hoped, he prayed, she interpreted as a thank you, thank you, I won’t let you down. But he never found out if she translated him correctly, because she said, “Come as deep as you can, pleasepleaseplease, I love the way it feels,” and he nearly blacked out, every thought but one leaking out of his ears, especially when her thighs flexed and trembled around his waist, her cunt tightening around him like a motherfucking knot.
“Good. You’re about to get some.” He bit down hard on his bottom lip as the tremor started in his spine, his groin, everywhere, rattling him like windowpanes during an earthquake. “Every part of me, inside and out, is yours. Every fucking day of the week.”
They shook through the end, trapped against each other as the release pitched and battered them, moisture from their bodies sliding down skin, mouths gasping and kissing, hands bruising, hips grinding, grinding, bucking, rain sizzling on their hot skin. She cried out and he knew that meant her thighs were going to drop, powerless, so he clutched her ass tighter and tilted his hips to compensate, bouncing her several more times to get rid of the pain, the perfect agony that came from being vulnerable with his person.
This is my person.
He’d known it the minute she’d mouthed fuck you at him at the baseball field . . . and shit, why was thinking about that making him emotional? Combined with the way she clung to him now, breathing so sweetly and erratically into his neck, he didn’t stand a chance. Emotions were happening. Every last one of them. All for this girl.
He loved her, that was all there was to it, and he was never, ever going back.
He held her like that until the rain stopped, trying to shake the creeping worry that the storm wasn’t completely over yet.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Robbie got the call as they were walking hand in hand up the driveway looking like they’d just survived a week in a tropical rainforest.
“Shit.” He looked down at the screen of his phone. “It’s one of the coaching assistants. Hauer. This dude never has good news.”
“What could it be?”
“I don’t know. Last time he called me, it was to set up a meeting with human resources over an offensive sweatshirt I’d been photographed wearing.”
