Jaci Burton (38 page)

“I’ll always be here to help you.”

She loved hearing that from him. And even better, she believed him, because he had always been there for her.

She bent and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her and laid her on the sofa, deepening the kiss until her head was filled with love and her body was filled with desire. When he reached for her breast, she covered his hand with hers, holding it there, letting him feel the rapid beat of her heart.

When he lifted his hand, she was out of breath. “Want me to tell you what I’m feeling right now?”

He raised her skirt and rested his hand on her panties, teasing her sex. “You’re wet. I’m not psychic, but I have a pretty good idea what you’re feeling.”

She gazed at his face, unable to fathom that this extraordinary man loved her. “What are you going to do about it?”

He slipped his fingers beneath the silk and rubbed her aching flesh, teasing her until she was panting. “I’m going to make you come, Peaches. And then I’m going to slide my dick in you and make love to you and make you come again.”

She grinned. “I like this idea.” She arched against his hand. He removed her panties, slid his fingers inside her, and rubbed her clit with his thumb.

He dropped off the couch and onto his knees, drawing her legs over his shoulders. He put his mouth on her pussy and licked her, the heat and wetness of his tongue taking her right to the edge of madness. She lifted up on her elbows, watching him as he lapped at her with his tongue and sucked her clit. Sensation spiraled within
her until she couldn’t hold back. And when she came, their eyes met and she let him watch her release, arching against him as wave after wave washed over her.

When the pulses subsided, he stood, licked his lips and smiled down at her, then kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants to the floor. He grabbed a condom and took a seat on the sofa, pulling her on top of him.

“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known,” he said as he lifted her skirt over her hips.

She rocked her sex against his erection. “You’ve always made me feel sexy.” She took the condom wrapper from his hands and tore it open, then fit the condom onto his rigid cock. “You make me want to do things I’ve never done before.”

“Like having sex outside my family’s bar?”

She laughed, then raised up and slid down over his shaft, gasping as he filled her. “Yes, like that.”

He grabbed her buttocks and spread them as he speared his cock into her, burying himself deep. She unbuttoned her blouse and undid the clasp of her bra, releasing her breasts. His eyes went half-lidded as she grabbed her breasts and teased her nipples while he surged into her.

“You have no idea how much I like seeing you play with your nipples like that.”

“We have a lot to explore with each other, don’t we?” she said, moaning as he rocked back and forth. With his cock buried deep inside her, she pulsed, her clit rubbing against him. She plucked at her nipples, sending sensation coursing through her nerve endings.

He wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and brought her toward him for a blistering kiss that made her tingle all over. With the other hand, he held tight to her ass, grinding against her until she felt the stirrings of orgasm. She whimpered against his lips.

“Come on, Peaches. Come on my cock so I can let go.”

His words never failed to rock her world, to encourage her to
soar. And as he gripped her butt and lifted against her, she broke, crying out against his mouth with her orgasm. He went with her, groaning out her name as he thrust upward in several bursts, both of them shuddering and gripping each other as their worlds collided.

He swept his arm over her back, divesting her of her blouse and bra. She much preferred his caresses on her bare skin.

“See how much easier this will be when we’re living together?” he said later as they climbed into her bed. “One of us always has to get up and go home the next day. I’d much rather already be home.”

“Which of our places do you want to live in?”

“Well, there’s your house, which would make more sense than my condo.”

“That’s true.”

“But I actually thought we might want to buy a bigger house.”

She arched a brow. “Really? Why?”

“Well, because eventually we’ll want to get married and have kids…”

She gaped at him.

He paused. “I’m rushing you. Or scaring the hell out of you. I should propose or something first, shouldn’t I? I never get this shit right. Or would you rather we take this slow?”

She shook her head, no longer afraid. “No. You’re doing it all right. And I’m fine with taking it one slow step at a time. A bigger house it is.”

She leaned against him, listening to his strong heartbeat as they cuddled together.

Maybe he didn’t say all the right things, and maybe he didn’t do it all in the right way, but he was hers, and she was his, and they’d figure it all out together. Because she knew now that both of them were in this for the long haul, and that he’d be there for her no matter what.

And that’s what counted the most.

KEEP READING FOR AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT
PLAY-BY-PLAY NOVEL BY JACI BURTON

THROWN BY A CURVE

AVAILABLE SOON FROM BERKLEY BOOKS

GARRETT SCOTT SAT IN THE ST. LOUIS RIVERS THERAPY
room facing an entire team of sports medicine specialists, all wearing looks of doom on their faces.

From the team doctor to the therapists who’d been working on his shoulder for the past nine months, their faces said it all—he wasn’t ready to pitch yet.

He was tired of it. Tired of being molded and manipulated and poked and prodded like some kind of experiment. His shoulder wasn’t getting any better and he still couldn’t throw a pitch. He was done. His career was over, and no amount of fake, hopeful expressions would make him believe any different.

“Let’s go over to the pulleys,” Max said. “If we increase the weight…”

“No. It’s not going to help. I can’t get my full range of motion and no pulleys, no weighted balls, no water therapy, and no amount of stretching is going to get it back.”

“You don’t know that, Garrett,” Max said. As head of the therapy team, when Max had a plan, everyone always listened. “We haven’t finished with the therapy and the season hasn’t started yet. There’s plenty of time.”

Phil, the team doctor, nodded. “Max is right. You just haven’t given it enough time.”

Garrett glared at them both. “I said no. This has been going nowhere and we all know it.”

Everyone started talking at once, but it was all white noise to him. They were blowing smoke up his ass about how he was going to pitch come April.

He’d heard it before, all the pats on the back and the encouragement that didn’t mean anything if you couldn’t get a fastball across the plate. They were just words. Empty promises.

The only one who didn’t say anything was the woman hovering in the background. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, she wore the same team-color polo shirt and khaki pants as the other specialists and held a digital notebook. And she was giving him a look. A pissed-off one.

“You haven’t said anything,” he said, focusing his gaze on her. “What do you think?”

She blinked and held her notebook close to her chest. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not in charge of your recovery. There are people here with much more experience than me.”

“You’ve watched my therapy, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think?”

They all turned to her, waiting. She finally shrugged. “I think your team is right. You’ll pitch.”

“My arm is stiff.”

She moved forward and he got a good look at her. Despite the ugly uniform, she was pretty. Really dark hair and stunning blue
eyes and a mouth that he was definitely noticing now that she’d opened it.

“Because you’re babying it, because you won’t give it your all. Your therapists know what they’re doing, but you fight them at every turn.”

As soon as she said it, her eyes widened. Max crossed his arms and Garrett could tell he was irritated.

Garrett wasn’t. His lips quirked. “Go on.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Yeah, you did. You’ve sat back quiet for all these months and you obviously have something on your mind. Spill it.”

She looked up at Max, who shook his head.

“Don’t look at him,” Garrett said. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

She sat next to him on the bench and laid her notebook down, her gaze lifting to his.

“Fine. You’re argumentative, confrontational, and a general pain in the ass to deal with. Honestly, no one wants to work with you because you fight your recovery. Half of healing is mental and your head is the biggest obstacle to getting back on the mound.”

Huh. He looked up at the rest of the group, who all did their best to avoid his gaze. “I see.”

But when he looked back at—he had no idea what her name was. “What’s your name?”

“Alicia.”

“Okay, Alicia. You think you can make me a pitcher again?”

She gave him a confident smirk. “I know I can, if you pull your head out of your ass and work with me.”

He liked her confidence. He liked her. She sure as hell was better looking than the rest of the sports medicine group. And she smelled good.

“Alicia,” Max warned. “Why don’t you head up to the office and I’ll finish up here with Garrett?”

Alicia nodded, then stood and left the room.

Garrett laughed, the first time he’d laughed in a long damn time. “It’s okay, Max. I like her. She’s honest.”

He’d never noticed her much before because she’d either been an observer or working with another player. As soon as the door closed, he turned to Max.

“I want her in charge of my therapy.”

“No,” Phil said, interjecting himself into the conversation. “As your doctor, I’m advising against it. Max is the head of sports medicine for the team. He’s the best. Alicia doesn’t have the experience he has.”

“I don’t give a shit if she’s the water girl. She’s confident. She’s a sports medicine specialist, isn’t she?”

“Well, yes,” Max said.

“Then I want to work with her.”

“You have a multimillion-dollar arm, Garrett. I’m not entrusting it to her.”

Garrett stood and stretched, then looked at Manny Magee, the St. Louis Rivers coach, who’d been sitting in the corner of the room, silently taking it all in. “These guys have all been working on me for months and I haven’t seen the results needed to throw a single goddamn pitch. I want her to work with me.”

Manny stood and ambled over. He was tough, and always honest, so he knew Manny would give it to him straight. “That’s because she’s right. Physically, you’re healing fine from the injury. A lot of your problem is you’re resisting the treatment.”

Maybe Manny was right, but he doubted it. What he needed was a new therapist. If Alicia and her smart mouth could get the job done, then maybe his career wasn’t over.

He looked at Manny—at all of them.

“I need a change. What we’re doing isn’t working. And maybe someone new can help with that.”

“I don’t give a damn if a circus clown works on your therapy, as
long as you’re on the mound opening day,” Manny said. “Just be ready for the season. We need your arm.”

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. ALICIA MASSAGED THE GIANT HEADACHE
that had taken refuge between her eyes and counted down the minutes until her boss entered the office and fired her.

She’d always had a smart mouth, always spoke first and thought later. But to insult the entire St. Louis Rivers medical team in one sentence had been a serious, colossal fuck-up. She’d had some success as a therapist and had been getting great feedback from her boss in the time she’d been here. This was the job of her dreams, and to make matters worse, her cousin played for this team. Gavin was going to kill her.

The worst part was, she knew she was right. Garrett Scott was a seriously amazing pitcher. His injury had been bad, but there was no reason to think he wouldn’t come back and be a great pitcher again, provided he cooperated with his rehabilitation. The problem was, he was the worst patient she’d ever seen in terms of cooperation. He resisted therapy, he argued with the treatment plan, and she knew damn well he wasn’t doing his at-home exercises. He was one of those athletes who thought of himself as some kind of superhero. Get injured, do rehab, and be fine in a few weeks.

Unfortunately, serious injuries didn’t work that way, no matter how young or virile you were. You had to work at your own recovery. The team had done a fine job on their part. He just hadn’t done any of his part. He blew off his therapists with jokes and promises to do better the next time. And they all liked him so they placated him.

Ugh.

What he really needed was a fulltime babysitter. Which she didn’t want to be.

She lifted her head as Phil and Max came through the door, along with the Rivers’ coach and general manager, Manny Magee.

Great. They brought the coach with them. She was definitely fired. Manny had a reputation for being fiery and loud. She might even get screamed at before they canned her ass.

She sat up straight and lifted her chin, determined to take it like the professional she was.

Correction. If she was a professional, she probably shouldn’t have told the Rivers’ star pitcher to pull his head out of his ass.

“Alicia,” Phil said. “What you said to Garrett downstairs…”

“Yes, sir. I know. I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

“Actually,” Manny said, “it was exactly what he needed to hear.”

She frowned and shifted her gaze to the coach. “Excuse me?”

“Garrett has been the perfect specimen of a pitcher for five seasons,” Manny said. “We plucked him out of college ball, he spent six months in AAA before we brought him up, and he’s been in our starting rotation ever since, with one of the lowest ERAs of any pitcher in the league. He’s won the Cy Young Award twice, pitched a near-perfect game last year, and held the strike-out record the past two seasons. He’s the golden boy.”