Curveball

by Jillian Quinn

  “Have a look. Go right ahead.” Mark opens his door and bends over to hit the hood release.

  Before he can get to the front of the car, two men are propping the hood open.

  Several people hover over the engine, checking for who knows what. I have no clue why they think Mark cheated. They ramble off some car nonsense I don’t understand, clearly satisfied with the result, before going back to their crew.

  Once Mark turns around and notices me standing in the middle of the street, waiting for him, he comes over and wraps his arms around me, hugging me. I burrow my head against his neck and take in his musky scent.

  “You scared me,” I mutter. “I thought something was going to happen to you.”

  Mark holds me at arm’s length, his eyes scanning my face. “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’ve done this more times than I can count, and with me driving that car, a win is a sure thing.”

  “Then, let me go with you next time. I would feel better if I was there with you.”

  “Absolutely not.” His tone is firm, serious. “You are too important to me.”

  “Because you love me?” I say, only to toy with him. “Because you own me?”

  Mark grins and shakes his head before his lips graze mine, and his tongue slips into my mouth. With one hand, he rakes his fingers through my hair, deepening the kiss, and with the other, he pulls me closer, gripping my ass through my jacket. My entire body sets on fire from the brush of heat his kiss leaves behind as he pulls back from me.

  I smile so wide, my jaw hurts. “So, I guess that’s a yes.”

  He answers by returning my smile and kissing me one last time before he walks over to his crew, who have been calling over to him.

  I’m left wondering how things between us have progressed the way they have in only a short amount of time.

  “Where are you taking me?” I look up at Mark.

  He’s dressed in gray slacks and a black button-down shirt, standing in my doorway as if he were holding the frame up.

  “I didn’t even know we had plans. I was just doing laundry, and”—I tug at my knotted blonde strands piled onto my head in a loose ponytail—“I look like shit.”

  He pulls me into his chest with his big hand and plants a kiss on my lips. “No, you’re beautiful. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of being inside of. And you’re mine. If you don’t change out of this”—he pulls me to him by my shirt—“I’m going to rip it off you and fuck you right here against the door.”

  I swoon so fucking hard, my heart feels as though it could leap from my chest. He somehow manages to be cute and bad, all at the same time. And I cannot get enough of it.

  “Mark…” As always, he has left me breathless and searching for the right words that never come out.

  Mark taps me on the ass, causing me to jump. He closes the door behind him and walks with me into the living room. “Now, go get dressed. I don’t want to lose our table.”

  “How should I dress?” I take a quick peek at what I have on—white boxer shorts with hearts on them and a white shirt with no bra. “Most of my clothes are in the washer.”

  “Wear the red dress I saw in your closet.”

  I throw my hands on my hips. “That fancy, huh?”

  He nods. “I’m taking you on a proper date.”

  Smiling like an idiot, I walk into my bedroom with my heart beating out of my chest because, for the first time since we started hooking up, this relationship finally feels real. And all my doubts about us being together sort of fades away.

  After the hostess seats us at a table in the corner of the second floor at Luciano’s—the Italian restaurant the Marchese family owns— I scoot along the circular bench and sit in the middle of the massive booth next to Mark. He slides his arm across my shoulders, and I lean my head on his chest, cradled by his warmth and soaking in the scent of his spicy cologne mixed with laundry detergent and soap.

  “So, we’re really doing this, huh?” I look up at him. “If someone sees us here together—”

  “No one will see us.” He takes my hand and rests it on his thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. “We could have sex in this booth, and no one would even know. The closest person is on the other side of the balcony, and no one can see up here from the first floor. Luca made sure we had the best table in the house.”

  “His dad really owns this restaurant?”

  He nods. “He owns a bunch of restaurants and businesses in the city.”

  “What was it like to grow up around made men? I mean…” I take a minute to think about what I want to ask about his life. “Sorry, I don’t mean to overstep. It’s just, everyone knows who the Marcheses are and how they make their money. I worked in the public defender’s office, so I dealt with my fair share of criminals, and their names came up a lot over the years.”

  “No, it’s okay.” He runs his callous thumb along my arm. “Luca and I never knew anything specific about his family’s business, so there’s not much to tell. We grew up together in South Philly, just two troublemakers with bad attitudes who liked to hustle people out of money to pad our pockets. Luca had no reason to do it because his family was loaded, but I had to support my family. I still do.

  “My mom has…issues,” he speaks as if chewing on glass, his words painful. “She can’t take care of herself or my sister, and my dad is serving time upstate in Graterford. He’s been in and out of prison my entire life. Have you ever seen the TV show Shameless?”

  “Yeah, it’s hilarious.”

  I feel him tense against me and realize that was the wrong response to his question.

  “Well, let’s just say, my life growing up was a lot like that show. My mom spent the welfare money on her addictions, and what she didn’t spend, my dad gambled away. He always owed someone for something. I think most of the time he spent locked up had to do with him owing someone a favor.”

  “How old is your sister?”

  “Sammy”—I can tell how much he cares for her as his eyes light up, mirroring his smile—“is sixteen now. I see her once a week when I bring money and food over to the house and pay the bills. She’s a good kid. I have no idea how she’s survived in that house while I’ve been here, on campus.”

  “She had you. That’s how.”

  He runs his hand through my hair and kisses my forehead. “She will like you.”

  I love how he says will like—as in, he plans to introduce us. The shift in our relationship over the past few weeks has taken me by surprise.

  “I can’t wait to meet Sammy. If she’s anything like you, I’m sure I’ll love her.”

  He laughs. “My sister is nothing like me, but that’s a good thing. She’s still pure and innocent. Imagine that after living with my mother.”

  The waitress breaks up our conversation when she asks us what we want to order. Mark takes charge and orders a Caesar salad, pasta e fagioli soup, and chicken parmigiana, served family-style, for us.

  “Enough about me.” Mark picks up his glass and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Why did you stop being a lawyer? I know you have a reason, and I want to know it. Anytime I ask you about the case you never want to talk and you distract me with sex.” He chuckles to himself. “Not that I mind.”

  I lift my wine glass to my mouth and chug down a big sip, trying to prepare myself for this discussion. “There was a case months ago…” The words fail me at first because the pain and guilt are almost too much to bear. “I represented the Wissinoming Park Rapist.”

  His eyes widen in shock. “The guy who got off after raping thirty girls? You defended him?”

  I nod, attempting to suppress the tears welling in my bottom lids. “As his lawyer, I had an obligation to him. If I could do it all over again, I would do things differently, found a way to let the prosecution railroad me and open the doors to tear apart our defense.”

  “Wow, babe. You’re a damn good lawyer then if you got that scumbag off.”

  “I’m not proud of it. I might have
won, but no one else did. There was no justice done. I became a lawyer to help people, not to see a guilty man circumvent the system because of spotty evidence. I wish I could step into a time machine and change the outcome because he should be in jail. I know he will rape someone again, and I can only hope that he will get assigned to a shitty lawyer who will let the DA eat him alive.”

  He hugs me tight and kisses my hair. “You did your job. No one can fault you for that.”

  Wiping the corner of my eye, I bite back the rest of the tears. Brandis doesn’t deserve them, not after all the months I spent trying to get past one of the worst times of my life.

  “For a long time after the verdict, I had reporters hounding me and death threats showing up at my door. My biggest fear was that Brandis would come for me, make me his next victim. But he’s never shown his face, which surprises the hell out of me because I was so sure he would find some way to torture me. He told me I looked like his first victim. I’ve never been so creeped out by someone in my life.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, babe.”

  “That case is why I finally gave in to you.”

  The corner of his mouth turns up into a cocky-as-fuck smirk, making me want to straddle him in the restaurant. “You mean, it wasn’t my big cock and winning charm? Because that works every time.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head, laughing. “While your big cock had a lot to do with it, I’m not so sure you were charming.”

  “Not even a little bit?”

  I shrug against his muscular chest and fall further into his embrace. “Maybe. Tonight, you have been unusually charming. In the beginning, you were a total pig.”

  “You are the first girl I’ve kept around for more than a day or two.”

  As I glare up at him, my eyebrows rise in disbelief, though I have no idea why after knowing how Mark is with women. “Ever?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. Never. You are my first actual girlfriend, and this is my first date in a restaurant, like an adult. You have this weird effect on me.”

  “If I remember correctly, you never called after the first night. Would you have called me if I hadn’t come to your race with Donna?”

  “I thought about calling you after I left your apartment, but I’d never done repeats before I met you. At some point, I guess I would have hit you up for a booty call. Who knows? I guarantee, you would have gotten a drunk text or a dick pic at a bare minimum.”

  “You’re horrible, you know that?” I smack him on the arm.

  He grabs my hand and then bends down to kiss my neck, pinning me in place so that he can torture me as he continues leaving kisses that burn my skin.

  “Keep that up, and we won’t make it out of this place without fucking on this table.”

  “If that’s what you want,” he whispers against my neck, “I can make that a reality. Just say the word.”

  I suck in a deep breath when he places my hand on his erection, and because the combination of his kisses and giant cock excites me, I massage him over his pants. My panties are so fucking wet, I want him to take me into the restroom and bend me over the sink, like we did last week at school.

  All the impromptu sex we’ve been having makes me feel as if I’m back in college, due in part to my boyfriend still being in college, which makes me sound like such a cradle-robber. But, for the first time since we met, what we’re doing is real, official.

  I’m about to shove his hand beneath my dress when the waitress comes back with our salad, interrupting our under-the-table action.

  “Dig in,” Mark says, stabbing at the lettuce with his fork. “Unless you’d rather eat something else.”

  Removing my hand from his lap, I lift my fork and roll my eyes. “Let’s save that for dessert.”

  He smiles and shoves the lettuce into his mouth, still grinning like a damn fool as he chews his food.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mark

  “Looking good, Montgomery,” Coach calls out from behind me, watching as I repeatedly hit the target on the practice net.

  After I throw the last ball, he comes up beside me, radar gun in hand, and clamps his other hand down on my right shoulder. “Ninety-three miles per hour. I don’t know what you’ve been doing lately, but whatever it is, keep up the good work.”

  I nod, thinking, Tell me something I don’t already know, as I slide my glove off my left hand. “I’ll be ready for Penn State. I’m not driving all the way up there to have Schultz outpitch me.”

  “That’s what I like to hear, kid. Just make sure you do your conditioning. No more screwing around until after you sign on the dotted line of a contract. We only have a few more days until our game against Penn State. I got a phone call this morning, and scouts will be there.”

  “Sweet. I’ll be ready, Coach.”

  We walk toward the rest of the team, who are scattered around the gym, set up into stations and running different drills. With how shitty the weather has been, we’re still stuck inside. Coach stops to bend over and pick up a few of the baseballs from the floor, handing one of them to me with a smile. I haven’t had much of a male figure in my life, apart from Luca’s father, which makes Coach the second closest I’ve had to a father.

  “Proud of you, kid.” Coach pats me on the back as I roll the ball in my palm, looking off into the gym and checking out the team. We look good this year and much better than last. “I remember when you first showed up to try out for the team. You were one cocky son of a bitch.” He laughs to himself. “Still are. And, now, you’re about to make it big. You’re not the first player I’ve coached who will make it to the majors, but you’re the most promising of them. Most of the guys who make it can’t hack it their first year.”

  “I won’t be one of them, Coach.”

  “No, you won’t.” His tone is confident, strong. “We just need to get you through this last season without any injuries. Go hit the weight room, and grab Matthews on your way there.”

  I nod, clutching my glove at my side. “You got it.”

  “Matthews,” I call out.

  Chase Matthews turns around to face me.

  “Let’s go!”

  He meets up with me at the doors on the right side of the gym that lead to the weight room. At his high school, Matthews was hot shit with banners and titles under his belt. Then, he came to Strick U and faded into the background, becoming my shadow. As my relief pitcher, he’s damn good, but he is not good enough to be a starter—at least, not at the moment. Next year, unless someone else comes along, he will be the starting pitcher for the team.

  Coach has asked me to work with him to get him ready for the role he might need to fill in the fall semester when I’m gone. Most of the guys on the team call him Pretty Boy. He’s one of those dudes who looks like he models for a living with his platinum-blond hair and just-stepped-out-of-a-tanning-booth skin that makes him look even more out of place in Philly.

  “Take a seat,” I tell Matthews. I sit down on the weight bench, leaning forward to pick up the dumbbells next to me. “Add another fifty,” I order when he chooses weights light enough for my sister to bench.

  He smartens up and grips the heavier weights, lifting them to his chest. “How come we’re not benching?”

  “You get a better range of motion with dumbbells. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. If you wanna do barbell presses, wait for Coach, and he can show you the right way to do it.”

  We lift in silence for a few minutes, taking breaks between sets, before he drops the dumbbells on the floor and rests his elbows on his knees, his shaggy hear falling into his face, damp with sweat.

  “I heard a rumor,” he says under his breath. He checks over his shoulder before he says the last part, “Someone told me you were hooking up with the prof with stripper tits, the one who looks like Cameron Diaz’s twin sister.”

  I never really gave much thought to whom Olivia looked like, other than knowing she was hot as fuck, but now that Matthews has mentioned it,
I can see some similarities to a young Cameron in her face. But Olivia has curves for days and the best tits I’ve ever held in my hands. I just want to bury my face in them.

  “No,” I spit back. “Who told you that?”

  “Jimmy said he saw you guys leaving the restroom together at Broad Street Beans.”

  Fuck.

  I knew I should have been more careful around campus. But I have to fuck her every time I see her, and the feeling is mutual. After the first time in the restroom, we’ve had sex a few more times up against that wall. We almost got caught the last time when someone knocked and had to ask a staff member to open the door. I hid in the back stall until all the girls left, which was super awkward but necessary so that people wouldn’t see us together.

  “Am I not allowed to take a piss anymore without someone following me?”

  He holds his arms up in defense and shrugs. “Look, man, I’m just telling you what I heard. Is it true?”

  “I wish.” I drop the dumbbells to the mat when I hear some of the guys’ voices out in the hall, assuming they’re on their way into the weight room. “No, it’s not true.”

  He peeks up at me from under his light brows with a strange expression on his face. “Whatever you say.”

  Olivia would have a stroke if I told her about this conversation. She knows the risks as much as I do, but all of her barriers have slowly been coming down since we have gotten more serious. I have a girlfriend—something I never knew I wanted until I had Olivia in my life. And I don’t want to lose her.

  After our away game against Penn State, I hang out longer than I expected to have dinner with a scout from the Phillies. He’s impressed not only with me, but also with the show our team put on today. All our hard work in the off-season paid off because we smoked them by three runs. We won, of course, because I pitched the fucking game of a lifetime.

  By the seventh inning, Coach had been sweating bullets, but my hand had been steady the entire time. I have dealt with worse things in my life, and pitching a no-hitter was gravy compared to the things I had done off the field.