Page 69 of Playboy Pitcher

Things were complicated enough with Drake’s threats, the team’s resistance, and whatever this thing is with Ben, but now I have Emma to deal with. I’m balancing on a highwire, and with one wrong step, I’ll hit the ground.

Now I’ve created another complication I never saw coming. Ben and I have consummated our marriage.

Business just turned binding.

Chapter Twenty-One

Pitchingin the Florida sun is rough enough. Pitching in the Florida sun while running on an hour and a half of sleep is a test of a man’s intestinal fortitude. And by that, I mean how long he can go without dry heaving until his eyes bleed.

“Hey, LaCroix?” Kyle shouts, running across the field toward the locker room. When I glance his way, he grins. “Did you hit that last night?”

Turning back around, I wind up another pitch and ignore him.

Which, of course, he takes as a silent confirmation.

“Hell yeah, baby,” he shouts, pumping his bat in the air as he exits the gate. “My boy tamed the beast!”

Am I an asshole for not disputing his assumption? Probably. But fuck it; it’s the truth, and maybe there’s a slightly vindictive side of me that wants them to know what we did. A side that wants to put a dent in that tough-girl exterior Willow keeps hiding behind.

Or maybe to show them she’s yours, a voice in my head whispers.

Thatvoice can suck my dick.

“You’re overthrowing, LaCroix.” The Storm’s pitching coach glances down at the radar gun in his hand and shakes his head. “Save the power pitches for later. That elbow can’t take it.”

I’m not in the mood for criticism today. Reaching into the bin, I grab another ball. “It’s fine.”

“Not if you keep that up. You’re sacrificing form for velocity. What’s got you so bent out of shape?”

“Nothing,” I growl, hurling another fastpitch into the net.

Nothing except a woman who hasn’t shown her face outside the main office all morning. I know she’s here. I saw that blue car parked by the street. What does she plan to do? Avoid me until the divorce?

After driving back to Jupiter and dropping Willow off at Roger’s estate, I didn’t go straight to my condo like any sane person would do. I drove around town trying to figure out where the hell I went wrong.

When I couldn’t come up with anything by two a.m., I went back home and sat in bed for the next two hours telling myself what a complete idiot I was. The few times I managed to close my eyes all I saw was Willow watching us fuck as she touched herself. All I heard were her screams as she came on my cock. And all I felt was the cold slap of reality as she shut down seconds later, regret marking her face like the ink of a brand-new tattoo.

How does that karma taste, Playboy?

The shoe is finally on the other foot, and that bitch is laced up tight.

Coach gives me a knowing look. “Well, you better get ‘nothing’ out of your system before tonight’s game. If you pitch like that against the Astros, you’ll burn out before the third inning.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. My pride, however, is bruised and looking for a fight. Gripping another ball in my fist, I let out a rough sigh. “Understood.”

He nods once. “Good. Now go home and get a couple hours of sleep,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder as he walks away. “You look like shit.”

At least the outside matches the inside. I wish I could go home and drink away this ache in my chest, but I’m the starting pitcher tonight. It’s the first expo game of Spring Training, and all eyes will be on the Storm.

Can they come back this season, or will they choke again?

Will LaCroix be the same, or is his career finished?

The answer to both is I don’t fucking know.

Andthat’swhy I took Willow’s deal.

That’swhy I have a wife I barely know. One who runs extremes of hot and cold worse than the locker room showers. One who hates both of us for what happened last night. One who opened her heart and legs to me, and then locked me out of both.