Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(87)

Sterling eyes widen when he spots the tear sliding down my cheek. “Why—are you okay? Scarlett…”

“I’m happy.” I love you.

He holds himself above me, buried inside. Leans down, those massive, strong forearms braced on either side of my face. Instead of brushing the tear away with his fingertip like I expect him to do, he licks it.

Flicks it with his tongue.

I grip his biceps. “Deeper.”

I never get tired of seeing his bottom teeth drag along his lower lips, and it arouses me more seeing them now. White, gleaming, perfect.

He pushes deeper. Rotates his pelvis.

“Yeah, like that…”

“Mmm…” My head turns to the side, cheek against the pillow.

“Scarlett, look at me,” he rasps, emotional.

I look at him.

I see him.

I love him.





TENTH FRIDAY


“The One Where I Stick it in Some Other Guy’s Ass (Metaphorically Speaking).”





Rowdy


Me: I miss your face so fucking hard.

Scarlett: I know, I miss you, too. So much.

Me: One more week is going to drive me nuts—how many days is it exactly?

Scarlett: I don’t do math, remember?

Me: Shit, that’s right. I’m going to have to carry this team when it comes to numbers.

Scarlett: Very funny, wise guy.

Me: But also, true.

Me: You know, there’s a party at the house tonight.

Scarlett: The baseball house? But I thought you weren’t supposed to have parties once the season started.

Me: I know, but a few of them have their heads up their ass—they want to have a welcome home party.

I adjust myself on the couch and shift the limp dick in my jeans. It misses Scarlett as much as I do, if not more. Making love to her is my new favorite sport.

Me: Will you come back? I want to see you.

Scarlett: When?

Me: Is NOW too soon? Please.

Scarlett: No, now isn’t too soon…but then I’m at school for a week with nothing to do before classes start. And I’d miss a week of work.

Me: You can do ME for a week before classes start. I’ll come stay at your place.

Scarlett: Really? You’d stay at my place?

Is she serious? I would kill to stay at her place. We can play house and practice making babies every night.

Me: Yeah, really. Pack your shit and come home.

Scarlett: Let me think about it.

Dammit, why is she so sensible sometimes?

I run a hand through my hair, staring hard at my phone, at the screen, waiting for those three little dots to disappear and a new message to pop up.

“What the hell are you smiling at?” Blake Sheffield, one of our outfielders, grabs a controller for the gaming system in the entertainment center and points it at the television. “You look like such an idiot.”

Shit. I forgot I’m not alone.

I popped into the baseball house this afternoon to meet with the other captain of the team and a few of the older players. Then I sat my ass down on the couch and have been on it since, top popped on a bottle of Gatorade.

I wipe my mouth. “You know Scarlett?”

“Uh, no.”

“Scarlett.” I sigh, taking another chug of the ice blue liquid, opening my throat so it slides down easy. “You heard the guys calling that girl Cock Blocker a few weekends ago?”

“Yeah—what about her?”

“That’s Scarlett. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up, bro. You have a girlfriend? Since when? When the hell did you start seeing someone?” He rattles off questions rapid-fire.

“We started seeing each other the night I kicked her out of the house.” That is technically true. “Apparently, she liked it,” I joke, taking another swig, downing the bottle and throwing it onto the coffee table. It bounces off the wood and lands on the carpet.

Sheffield watches me, expectantly. “And?” He’s so goddamn nosey, prodding for more information.

“And…that’s it. I’m telling you this because if I can convince her to come back to school, I’ll bringing her by tonight. I don’t want to be fucking embarrassed, and I don’t expect her to be hassled.”

“No man, of course not.”

“Not by Ben, not by Derek—not by anybody.”

Eager to please, he nods emphatically. “Got it.”

I give him a sidelong glance. “You know you guys aren’t supposed to be having any more parties, right?”

“Yeah—this one was Tag’s fucking idea.”

“Well if you get us in trouble, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

“I know, Rowdy, we’ve already had this conversation.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“We’re clear. And they got clearance from Coach.”

Well shit, if Coach knows about the party…

I relax my shoulders, sinking farther into the couch.

The front door opens and the team’s catcher, Dante Amado, walks through with a girl on his arm. Dark hair and even darker eyes, she trails behind him, holding his hand.

I recognize that look; it’s the same one I’ve seen on Scarlett a dozen times: uncertainty, hesitation, dread.