Page 96 of Hiding in the Outfield

His front teeth are digging into that plush bottom lip, and boy, does he look hungry. His heavy-lidded gaze is glued to my package, one that’s going to burst free if he keeps looking at me like that.

“I…I got the rainhead on but couldn’t figure out anything else.” His words are like gravel, his gaze locked on my groin.

I hop up on the counter and let out a hiss. “Oooh.” I shiver. That was cold on the asscheeks. The lace of these boyshorts is thin. I crook my finger. “Come here, loverboy.”

His stare finally lifts to mine. One brow arches. His mouth twitches as if he’s trying not to smile. And those eyes, those beautiful silver-flecked blue eyes shimmer with mischief.

I spread my legs a little wider. “Oh, loverboyyy.”

He takes a step closer, but then stops, those pouty lips spread into a wide grin. Smug and boyish all at once.

God, he’s fucking cute when he’s having fun.

I lean forward and catch his shirt, tugging him in. “Baby,” I sing softly.

That does it. He steps between my legs.

“My sweet baby,” I murmur.

He kisses me.

You’re the one.

THIRTY-FIVE

JACKSON

My heart is laughing in my chest. Before I deepen our kiss, I step back and tug my shirt over my head, then I’m up against him again, heated skin meeting heated skin.

Much better.

I can’t even begin to put into words how light this man makes me feel. He embodies light-hearted fun. It radiates from him and fills everyone in his vicinity. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to him from the start. Well, I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t also admit it had to do with how beautiful he is. I saw him. And couldn’t look away.

The more I see, the more I can’t get enough. Sometimes, late at night when he’s sleeping in my arms, I get a little scared I won’t ever be able to look away.

That I don’t want to.

Our tongues roll, soft and unhurried. Everything in my chest spins, and for a minute, it’s like I’m in one of those twirling amusement park rides. Everything’s unsteady, but I’m more grounded than I’ve ever been in my life.

I could kiss this man all day, especially like this. His hands slide up my biceps, giving a little squeeze before his arms come to rest over my shoulders. His hands find a home in my hair, and I lean into the touch. He chuckles but takes my hint and massages my scalp. I groan into his mouth and melt into him. Heaven. Everything about this man is heaven.

“My own little pet,” he whispers against my lips.

I grin. “Not sure anyone would consider me a little pet.”

He kisses down my jaw and certain parts of my anatomy go from firm to rock-solid. His teeth graze over my neck, and my muscles twitch.

“True,” he murmurs, then his tongue slips out in the lightest touch. “I’ve always preferred big dogs.” He pulls back, and those brown eyes that always seem to carry a secret study me. He slides a finger under my chin. “They’re intimidating at first glance, but they’re some of the sweetest breeds. You, Jackie-boy, are like my very own Newfoundland.”

His hands skate down to my chest, and his fingers flex into my pecs. “Powerful. Strong. Majestic.”

They move to my shoulders and softly squeeze my traps. “A working dog. Incredibly disciplined and athletic.”

“I suppose I do like chasing balls,” I whisper.

That gets me the sparkle I love to see in those dark eyes. We share a small smile, then his hands move up my neck. Cup my jaw.

“Yet, underneath all that muscle.” His fingers tighten. “Under all that power…they’re incredibly sweet-natured.”