Page 37

“Come to a game,” he suggests, watching me with rapt attention. His eyes dart to the side, a girl calling his name. She’s been trying to get his attention for the last hour. She’s a cute little brunette with a crop top, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he’s sitting next to me and my overly tight mom jeans when he could be having a good time with her.
“She’s really trying to get your attention,” I point out, motioning with a head nod to the girl.
He doesn’t even look up. “I’m more interested in why you don’t believe I can throw a fastball that hard.”
“I need proof.”
He tilts his head. “What’s with you and proof? Someone fuck you over?”
“Yeah. My dead husband. He was a lying sack of shit.”
At first, I don’t think he knows what to say in return, until he shrugs. “At least he’s out of the picture now.”
“He’s definitely out of the question because you see that hot little blonde wearing the yoga pants over there?”
He glances at the girl and then quickly away. “Yeah?”
“He was fucking her.”
A legitimate look of surprise crosses his face. His voice is firmer now, a direct competition to the music still blaring through the small pub. “When he had you at home waiting for him?”
I gaze at the band and then sigh. “Cute. But yes.”
“His loss.” In the glow of the neon above his head, his eyes are glittering.
“You have all the right moves, don’t you?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs easily. “You tell me. Is it working?”
I roll my eyes, trying to be evasive. “Sorta.”
He turns me on the stool so that my thighs are pressed together and between his. I grin and say exactly what’s on my mind. “You know, usually men are trying to open a lady’s legs, not close them.”
Licking his lips slowly, he blinks, and then he winks. Do you see what he’s doing there? He has moves, and he’s about to show me a few.
“Yes, but this way, I can do this.” I hold my breath when he touches me for the first time. He starts at my legs, his large hands splayed open on the outside of my thighs. I glance at his fingers, how strong his hands are, and the gentle grip he has on me. “Now.” He pauses, his chest closing the distance between us. I feel precious and protected this close to him and can’t think of why that is. His eyes drag over me, pausing briefly on my boobs. He breathes out, and suddenly I feel his lips touch my neck. “Even with your legs closed, I can feel the heat of your pussy. You want me whether you want to admit it or not.”
Jesus.Fucking. Christ. I always frown when people say, “Oh, he made my panties wet.” Well, girls, it’s the fucking truth here. I wish these damn jeans weren’t so tight because I’d probably take them off right here and now. And that’s probably a good reason they’re suctioned on.
When he pulls back, I bite my lip and breathe heavily. I might take this kid home. I just might.
He senses my weakness easily. “You’re having a hard time saying no, aren’t you?”
I don’t answer him because Sadie wraps her arms around my shoulder and smashes herself into us. “Hey, Reins, we want to see that fastball.”
His eyes move to Sadie. “Do I know you?”
“No.” She works her hand into his and forces him to shake it. “But I’m this chick’s sister. You better not have a girlfriend or a criminal record.”
Cason’s eyes slowly drift to mine, and he laughs, straightening his posture. He takes a drink of his beer first, sets it down, and then regards Sadie intently. “I don’t have a girlfriend, but a criminal record… that depends. I stole a car once.”
“Were you arrested?”
“No. I was twelve.”
Sadie’s hand jets to her hip. “Why’d you steal the car?”
“Because he parked in the wrong spot. So I moved his car for him.”