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Shane peered at her incredulously through the chain-link fence separating them. “He was?”
“Sure, I mean, after we get a few candid shots of you all bare and sweaty in that batting cage, I think the perfect palette cleanser would be you lounging around your student dorm, looking casual and cocky. Between those pictures and the ones we got yesterday in the locker room, we should have all we need to file along with the story.”
Shane’s face was urgently curious and touchingly concerned. “So, you didn’t get fired after all?”
Tatum recalled the brief, efficient, surprisingly pleasant chat she’d had with Moira on her way to the batting cages that afternoon, shaking her head as if she was still as surprised as he was now. “Not even a little.”
Shane looked her up and down, no longer bothering to hide his raw, almost naked curiosity. “And if you had? Gotten fired, I mean?”
Tatum arched one eyebrow, surprised at the question. If not her answer. “I suppose I would have come anyway, Shane.” She held up the by-now-crinkled sticky note, the words Shane had scribbled across them the night before seared into her heart, as well as the square piece of yellow paper:“Batting Cages. Tomorrow at 3 PM. Wear something sexy. Yours, Shane.”
“How come?” He nodded at her, as if taking a break from drinking her in, one inch at a time. If only she could do the same! Never in her life had Tatum been so close to a stunning piece of man flesh as she was at that very moment. She marveled at his smooth, bare chest, dappled with midday sunlight, and drenched in sweat, as if some off-camera assistant had just sprayed him with a water bottle before she’d walked up.
And his nipples? Jesus God Almighty. They were doubly round and richly rouged, a deep maroon color as if to do justice to their statuesque size. She was no expert, God knew, but Tatum had never seen nipples quite so round, quite so thick, quite sosexybefore.
She seriously doubted she ever would again.
“How come I’d show up here even if there was no professional reason to?” she teased, feeling the gentle midday breeze rustle the hem of her thigh-high slip dress. “Or how come I did as you asked and wore something … sexy?”
He shrugged, shoulders surprisingly broad considering his taut, compact stature. “Both, I guess.”
She slid a single finger through the chain-link fence that separated them, as if she needed help standing up. “Not sure,” she confessed, crooking her finger around the rusted metal instinctively. As if this was something she did all the time. Got gussied up and watched her half-naked sex god hit baseballs with his big, trusty bat. “I guess maybe I thought we could both help each other with our little revelations from last night.”
Her stomach lurched at the sudden confession, watching his eyes widen with unbidden delight as each word spilled forth, unbidden. “Oh, did you now?” His laughter was as rich as his slow, syrupy reply. He glanced around, as if his stupid Coach might be lurking just around the corner. “Remind me again what that might be?”
He was teasing her, she realized. His eyes as naked as the upper half of his flawlessly perfect young body, tantalizing her in ways she never even realized she desired before. “You want me to say it out loud, Shane?”
“More than you know,” he croaked. Sweat slithered down his flawless young torso to stain the waistband of his grey gym shorts.
She nodded, swallowing hard. “Fine, then.” She met the challenge in his eyes, to say nothing of the unspoken challenge his half-naked body presented in the broad daylight. “I figured I’d help you see a grown woman naked for the first time if … that is, if you help me…” She let the brazenness of her reply fade away, as if faltering at the last minute.
He smirked, nodding at her as if her dress was already undone and puddled around her trembling ankles. “If I help you … have an ‘O’ face? Or two? Or five?”
“So, you remembered after all, Shane.” Tatum didn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified, settling on a little of both.
“Tatum, I haven’t been able to think about anything since.”
She chuckled. No, gushed was more like it, a most unfeminine and uncontrollable sound indeed. “Then we finally have something in common, I suppose.”
Shane winked and gently slid his fingers from the holes in the chain-link fence between them. “Oh, Tatum, I think we have a lot more in common than just one sleepless night.”
“Oh, yeah?” She watched him reaching for his shirt, then stopped him with a blurt. “No, not yet, silly!”
“What?” he asked, freezing in mid-motion.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed for your photo opp, obviously.”
She nodded despite her obvious disappointment at no longer being able to covet his ungodly big nipples. “Good idea,” she said. “We don’t want every girl on campus wanting you once the story hits the newsstands next week.”
“No?”
“No, but if you don’t mind…” She slid her phone out from her purse, feeling decadent and dirty as she tapped the camera app open almost desperately.What almost?she thought to herself. She was desperate as all hell! And no longer hiding it, clearly! “A few without the shirt on, just for my own personal collection?”
He winked and dropped the shirt onto the duffel bag at his feet dramatically, striking a studly pose as if to plop a cherry on top of her own personal whipped cream. “Well, get on with it then.”
“Hey, what’s the rush all of a sudden?” she asked, almost breathlessly, holding her phone up as if to remind him—as if to remind herself—why they were both there in the first place.
