Pitch Please (There's No Crying in Baseball 1)

The glove because I just plain wanted my glove back. It was mine and somebody took it from me. They violated my privacy, stole my property and nearly ruined my hitting streak.

My kiss was important because the game that I’d first kissed Sway had been the first game in a long time when I got on base every single at bat.

And since only two things had changed, and only one of those things had been a good thing, I knew exactly what I needed to do.

Which was why I was winding through the halls of the complex looking for a slippery brunette with curves that set my blood on fire.

“Excuse me,” I stopped a janitor. “Have you seen the athletic trainer? Medium height,” I gestured with my hand to my shoulder. “Curvy. Big…”

“If you say tits, I will kill you,” Sway said with amusement from in front of me.

I snorted and turned, totally dismissing the janitor as I took in Sway from in front of me.

Today, she was in khaki pants that fit her like a second skin, showing off all of her generous curves so perfectly that I had half a mind to take a picture so I could use it as my wallpaper.

That might be a little too much for her at this point, though, so I reigned myself in and took in the rest of her attire.

Her top half was covered up by a green and white polo—the Lumberjacks’ colors—that was so tight that her breasts strained the material and made the buttons struggle to hold her shirt closed.

Then there was the hat, hiding the upper half of a complicated French braid that looked like it’d take a million years to do.

It was one of those hairdos like one would see on a bride at her wedding. Not the normal kind of French braid that I’d always seen.

“I like your hair,” I blurted.

Her face flushed.

“What can I help you with?” She started to walk past me.

I moved so that I was in step next to her, keeping the same pace she was as we started to wind our way back to the top of the complex.

“I wasn’t gonna say your tits were big,” I informed her, rubbing my beard.

“Then what were you going to say?” She waited.

I smiled and let her think it was something bad, but in all reality, it wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

When she made an impatient sound, I decided to put her out of her misery.

“Your eyes,” I said with a chuckle.

She rolled those big blue eyes toward me with calculation in their depths, and I stared right back, letting her see the sincerity in mine.

“You’re bad,” she sighed. “But really. What was it you needed from me?”

We’d just topped the last set of stairs, and I stopped her with a hand on her arm before she could open the stairwell door that would lead to the training room as well as the locker room.

Her eyes widened when I crowded her body close.

“What are you doing?” she asked worriedly, frantically trying to push me away from her.

“I’m doing what I’ve got to do,” I told her.

“And what, exactly, is it that you ‘got to do’?” she asked warily.

“I’ve got to win,” I pointed out. “And to win, I have to collect on my kiss.”

She licked her lips nervously. “That’s probably not why you won last game.”

I looked at her.

“Someone stole my glove,” I told her.

She nodded.

“Yeah, so?” she shivered when I moved my hand up to cup her elbow.

My hand traveled up her arm, disappearing underneath the sleeve of her polo shirt as I explained.

“My glove was stolen. I was sick. And I had a high potential of having a really shitty game,” I pointed out.

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes were heavy lidded as I let my fingers trail along the strap of her bra.

My hard body pushed into her soft, pliable flesh from breasts to knees, and she started to breathe heavier. Her breasts rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

“What I’m trying to say,” I murmured. “Is that it could have been very bad. But it wasn’t…because of one single thing.”

Her eyes found mine and I started to lower my head.

“And what was that?” she whispered.

I smelled the cinnamon before I tasted it on her lips, and the moment our flesh met, I knew that things would never be the same.

I’d kick ass at this game, and any other game, if she was there to do this one single thing for me each and every time I played.

Knew it with as much surety as I was sure I’d draw my next breath.

Her hands found my shoulders, and then went even further to wrap around my neck as she leaned into the kiss.

But before it could get too out of hand, the door beside us slammed open, and would’ve hit us had I not caught it before it could.