by Tara Wyatt
“Holy shit,” she said, her eyes still on her phone. “Did you see that crazy collision between Jake Landon and Jonathan Yates?” She turned her phone to face them and showed them the replay of Landon getting nailed in the face with Yates’ helmet as he tried to slide into home during that evening’s Reds-Cubs match up.
“Jesus, is he okay?” asked Dylan. He wasn’t Landon’s biggest fan, but he hated to see guys get hurt, even if they were dicks, and that collision looked nasty. Landon had come out in front of the plate, trying to block Yates, and Yates had dived headfirst into Landon, catching his jaw with his helmet. Landon’s head had snapped back, and he’d hit the dirt, not moving for a couple of seconds.
Abby shook her head. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip and watched the clip again. Then she excused herself and moved away, her phone pressed to her ear. Javi watched her go and took a long sip of his whiskey.
Dylan’s phone buzzed from his pocket, and he pulled it out. He was surprised to see a text from Maggie, and not from her work phone, but her personal number. It was the first he’d heard from her since leaving on the road trip, and curiosity mingled with excitement as he opened her text.
Maggie: I can’t stop thinking about the other night.
He smiled as he wrote her back, gratified that she’d been thinking of him while he was away.
Dylan: I thought texting was against the rules.
Maggie: We never said no sexting.
Dylan: Is this a sext?
Maggie: You tell me.
And then a headless photo appeared on his screen of Maggie with her hand between her legs, wearing nothing but little white lace panties.
“Shit,” he murmured and hastily slapped his phone down on the table so no one else would see. Hunter was telling a story about a crazy night he’d had at Lone Star Park, betting on horses and losing fifty grand. When Dylan was sure no one was looking, he picked it up again, blood flowing south as he studied the picture. Memories of how incredible she’d felt, how sweet she’d tasted, how hard he’d come flooded him.
Dylan: Are you touching yourself right now?
Maggie: Yes. I can’t sleep and I’m all turned on. I wish you weren’t on the road.
She sent him another picture, this one a closeup of her luscious mouth as she sucked on her index finger. Dylan shifted in his seat, his jeans getting tighter.
Dylan: Damn. Me too.
Maggie: Help me get off. Tell me what you’d do if you were here.
Dylan took a sip of his drink and tried to look like he was paying attention to the conversation around him as he thought, letting his mind wander down deliciously dirty paths.
Dylan: I’d strip you down so I could see that gorgeous body of yours, and then I’d pull you into the shower. I’d kiss you under the hot water until you were soaking wet everywhere. I always wanted to take a shower with you.
Maggie: And then I’d drop to my knees and take you into my mouth. I’d suck you and lick you until you were moaning my name.
Dylan: I’d pull your hair a little, and when you were standing, I’d slip my cock between your wet thighs to tease you. Then I’d throw you on the bed, spread your legs, and kiss the inside of your thighs.
Maggie: I’m so fucking wet right now.
Dylan: I love how wet you get. It’s so damn hot.
Maggie: Keep going. I’m close.
Dylan: I’d spread you open and lick you up and down, gently at first, teasing you. I’d work my way in from the outside, slowly getting closer to your clit. You’d pull my hair and beg me, and only then would I lick you right there, right where you want me. Then I’d press two fingers into you, fucking you slowly while I eat your sweet little pussy.
Maggie: Holy shit you’re good at this.
Dylan: I’m imagining how you smell, how you taste, and I’m so fucking hard for you right now, Maggie.
Maggie: Are you touching yourself?
Dylan: I’m in a bar.
He took another long sip of his drink, wishing he were alone in his hotel room so he could stroke himself. He wasn’t lying about being hard for her.
Maggie: After you make me come with your mouth, then what?
Dylan: Then I’d throw your legs over my shoulders and fuck you so hard and deep that you’ll be feeling me for days.
“McCormick? Who the hell you talking to?” asked Hunter, eyeing him with one eyebrow cocked.
“Oh, uh, just a friend.” He set his phone on the table face down.
Hunter and Javi both nodded knowingly. “Oh, sure. A friend.”
The waitress came back to see if they needed another round and then asked if she could take a picture with Hunter. He obliged, putting his arm around her waist as she took a selfie.
“Thank you!” she purred before heading back toward the bar. Hunter followed her ass with his eyes.
“She’s going to be thanking the hell out of me in about an hour,” he drawled, throwing back the rest of his whiskey and following her through the crowd.
Dylan’s phone buzzed again, and he snatched it up. Maggie had sent another picture, this one of her face and collarbone area. Her lips were parted in a naughty smile, her eyes bright, her skin gorgeously flushed.
Maggie: Mission accomplished. Night Dylan.
Dylan stood and tossed some money down on the table to cover his portion of the tab. “I’m beat. Gonna head back to the hotel. See y’all in the morning,” he called over his shoulder.
Less than twenty minutes later, he was lying naked on his hotel room bed with his come streaking his abs. They hadn’t broken a rule, exactly, but he couldn’t help but feel that some invisible barrier had been breached. She’d been thinking about him and had reached out to him when he was halfway across the country. Damn, but it felt good knowing he was taking up space in her brain when he wasn’t around. Sure, her message had been about sex, but still meant something.
He smiled to himself and headed for the shower.
Six
Maggie hummed to herself as she scrolled through her emails, color coding them as she went. Green was for things that could wait, yellow was for things she needed to deal with today, and red was for everything urgent. Top priority was anything from ESPN and the upcoming Sunday Night Baseball game between the Longhorns and the Red Sox. As part of the color commentary, ESPN wanted to mic Hunter for the game, playing snippets of what he was saying on and off the field during the broadcast in order to draw fans in and create more of a connection between the players and the viewers. She pursed her lips as she read the email again. Yeah, Hunter was their star player, but he was also a bit of a loose cannon. God only knew what he’d say or do with all that attention on him. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him to behave.
“Hey, you have a sec?” asked Laurel, poking her head in the open door of Maggie’s office.
She waved Laurel in. “Of course. What’s up?”
“Did you see the email from ESPN about wanting to mic Hunter?”
“Yep. What do you think?”
Laurel’s eyes went wide. “Did you not see the news?”
Maggie frowned, her eyes darting back to her computer screen. “Uh, no…”
“Check your email again. It just went live.”
She hit refresh and then she saw it: a forwarded news article from MLB.com with the headline “Longhorns Center Fielder Hunter Blake Arrested in Dallas.”
Maggie chewed on her thumbnail as she studied her screen, her stomach dropping. “Oh, God. Is that a mugshot?”
Laurel grimaced and nodded. “Yep. He got arrested for misdemeanor possession of marijuana last night.”
Maggie pressed her fingers to her temples. “Of course he did. Shit.”
“He’s been suspended for the next fifteen games because of it.”
“So there goes ESPN miccing him for Sunday Night Baseball.”
“What about Dylan?”
At the sound of his name, her entire body warmed and a grin spread across her face. Sleeping with Dylan had done
exactly what she’d hoped it would—it had satisfied her body and quieted her mind while assuring her she felt nothing but lust for him. She’d scratched the itch and damn, had it felt good. So good that she’d found herself getting itchy on a regular basis. The Longhorns had been away on a road trip, playing three games in Anaheim, followed by three games in Oakland, and then two games in Phoenix against the Diamondbacks, and had just gotten in late last night—although apparently not late enough to stop Hunter from going out and finding trouble.
It had been ten days since she’d had sex with Dylan and she hadn’t stopped thinking about it. They’d sexted half a dozen times while he’d been away, and she’d been careful to keep all contact with him purely sexual in nature. Not because she felt anything for him—because she absolutely didn’t—but because she didn’t want to give him the idea that this could turn into something more.
Because it definitely couldn’t. It was just sex.
Just sex.
She reminded herself of that every time her traitorous brain tried to expand into forbidden territory, conjuring up unwelcome memories of their summer together, or of how he’d called her Mags the other night, or of the way he’d pulled her into his arms when he’d learned about her mama’s passing. The solid press of his chest against her cheek had settled her and been so comforting that even though she knew she should’ve recoiled from it, she’d soaked it up.
But that small moment of vulnerability didn’t mean she felt anything for him. He’d killed anything sweet and tender between them when he’d left her in his dust a decade ago. So for now, she’d enjoy his body until he was out of her system for good, and that would be that. She could move on knowing he was in the past. She’d have closure.
“Hello? Maggie? Where did you go?” asked Laurel, waving a hand in front of Maggie’s face. Maggie blinked rapidly and shook her head, heat creeping up her neck.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought for a second there.”
“Wow, he’s that good?” Laurel propped a hip on Maggie’s desk, leaning forward. “You never did give us the juicy deets.”
Maggie opened her mouth, but then closed it, suddenly not wanting to share, but only because it didn’t mean anything, so it wasn’t worth sharing. “Another time,” she said with a smile.
Laurel seemed to accept that, asking, “So do you think Dylan would be game?”
“I’ll go talk to him and find out.” She glanced at the clock in the bottom right-hand screen of her computer. 9:48 AM. The players probably wouldn’t be in until around one today, so she’d have to wait. Her pulse jumped excitedly at the thought of seeing him again.
“Okay. In the meantime, I think we should call a PR meeting about the Hunter situation so we can come up with a strategy.”
“Is killing Hunter one of the options?” she asked, feeling the start of a tension headache just behind her eyes. This wasn’t the first PR crisis Hunter had caused, and Maggie was willing to bet it wouldn’t be the last.
“Aw, come on, Jennings. That seems a bit harsh,” said Hunter from the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair unkempt, his T-shirt wrinkled. “Can I talk to you?” he asked, hesitating, rubbing a hand over his beard.
“Sure.” She gestured to the chair across from her desk, and Laurel discreetly excused herself.
Hunter sat down with a heavy sigh, his legs splayed in front of him. “I’m not gonna contest the suspension, but I just want you to know that the weed wasn’t mine.”
Maggie arched an eyebrow, not sure if she believed him. “It wasn’t?”
He shook his head. Exhaustion practically poured off of him. “No. Take a look in my records. I’ve never failed a drug test, and never will. I’m telling you, it wasn’t mine.” His voice was quiet, urgent, his eyes pleading with her to believe him.
“So whose was it then?”
He sank back in his chair, his eyes staring unfocused out the window behind her. “I can’t tell you.”
“How am I supposed to believe you if you can’t even give me a name?”
He sighed and his eyes met hers. He said nothing, but she saw the determined resolve there.
“Hunter…are you protecting someone?” she asked softly.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah.”
In that moment, she decided that she believed him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re the one who’s going to have to cover for me to the press, and I at least wanted you to know the truth. I wanted one person to know the truth.”
She nodded. “Okay. Go home and get some rest. We’ll figure it out.”
Maggie bounded down the stadium’s concrete steps toward the field where the pitchers were stretching and all the other players were running through defensive drills. She spotted Dylan almost immediately standing by the third base line with Alejandro Cruz, wearing a Longhorns T-shirt and athletic shorts. Her heart skipped in her chest as her stomach dipped and swirled at the sight of him. She stopped, appreciating the hell out of his ass in those shorts, and feeling all melty inside as she watched his forearms bunch and flex as he moved. He turned in her direction, as though he could feel her eyes on him, and he smiled, tipping his chin at Alejandro before moving to the edge of the field to meet her.
“Okay, now this has to be against the rules,” he said, an adorably cocky smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth.
She shook her head and held up her hands. “This is purely work related.”
“Sure it is.” His voice was rife with teasing sarcasm, and he crossed his arms, showing off the impressive cords of muscle stretching from his elbow to his wrist. Oh God, those forearms would be the death of her. She swallowed, her mouth going dry.
“Uh, so, the game against the Red Sox this Sunday will be ESPN’s Sunday Night Baseball game. They want to mic one player from each team during the game, and originally they’d asked for Hunter, but obviously that’s a no go now.”
“Ah, yeah.” Dylan grimaced slightly.
“So, anyway, I was hoping that maybe you’d do it.”
He blew out a breath through his nose and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I don’t know. Seems like it’d be distracting, and I’m just getting to a place where things are starting to click for me again.”
“Please? You’d be doing me a huge favor.”
“I would, would I?” He still didn’t look convinced, so she smiled up at him.
“You would. I’ll have a big headache to deal with if I can’t find someone to do it.”
“So if I say yes, you’d owe me.” He licked his lips, and heat roared through her at the idea of being in Dylan’s debt.
“Big time.”
“If I say yes, know that I plan to collect.” His voice had taken on a raw edge that had every nerve ending in her body singing, and he hadn’t even touched her.
“Is that a yes?”
Dylan’s jaw clenched and then he shook his head, smiling. “Fine. For you, I’ll do it.”
She pumped her fist. “Yes! Sexual favors for the win.”
He laughed, but then shrugged. “Maybe I just want to help you.”
“Out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked, a little tartly.
“Something like that.” He took a step closer, the barrier between the stands and the field the only thing separating them. “Can I come over tonight? After the game?”
She tutted, smiling flirtatiously. “Now who’s breaking the rules? No advance planning, remember?” But even though she was calling him out, and he was clearly breaking one of their agreed upon rules, something inside her soared at the idea that he was just as excited about getting back into bed as she was.
He leaned in, making her suck in a breath. He smelled like freshly cut grass and Dylan, and it made her knees weak. “That a yes or a no?” He pushed his sunglasses up onto his hat, his blue eyes taking a slow walk down her body. Then he leaned in even closer, one hand landing on her hip and squeezing. “It better be a yes. I’ve been going crazy wanting to g
et inside you again.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach where it melted into something warm and gooey. But before she could say anything, they were interrupted by Javi, who’d just jogged over to them.
“Hey, just the person I was hoping to see,” he said to Maggie. “I know the media’s going to ask about Hunter after the game. What am I supposed to say?”
Maggie turned her attention to him. “We’re keeping the message simple. Talk about what a gifted player Hunter is and what an asset he is both on and off the field. That his actions were regrettable, but that everyone makes mistakes, and that we’re all standing behind Hunter and will support him through what’s obviously a difficult time. We plan to have Hunter issue a statement soon where he’ll apologize to the team and the fans for his actions, say that it was a serious error in judgment, and promise it won’t happen again.”
Javi nodded, his hands on his hips. “Okay. I can do that. You think Hunter will play along and say all that stuff?”
“I do. And it doesn’t matter, because he’s not going to have much of a choice.”
Javi laughed. “Let me know how that works out for you,” he said and headed back toward the players on the field. Maggie frowned a little, wondering how Hunter was going to dig himself out of this one. Even once he returned from his suspension, he’d have work to do to earn back the trust and respect of his manager and teammates.
She turned to go, but Dylan’s voice stopped her.
“Jennings. Yes or no?”
She turned and smiled. “What do you think?” she asked with a wink. His low chuckle followed her up the stairs and she swung her hips, her entire body humming with anticipation.
She’d gotten exactly what she wanted, and damn, it felt good.
Seven
“Top of the third inning and we’re all even at one run apiece as the Longhorns host the Yankees,” says Wayne Hopkins. “Dylan McCormick steps up to the plate for the first time tonight.”
