Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

RIPLEY

T oday is our first game of the season. When I found out I was pregnant, I never thought I'd be able to play today. What a crazy year it's been.

I'm on my way to the stadium with a big smile on my face. Yesterday I did a photoshoot for plus-sized lingerie. With the money I've received from my father's estate, I didn't need to do it. I wanted to do it.

At his absolute insistence, since he missed my first session last season, Quincy came with me. The entire day has been replaying over and over again in my mind.

"Quincy, I need to get out there."

His hands slide into my silk robe. As soon as his skin touches mine, my body ignites. Again.

He grumbles in my ear, "You look so sexy. I'm about to explode. I need to be inside you."

He presses his body to mine and takes my lips with his. I can't help but run my fingers through his hair as I kiss him back. He's so fucking hot. And he's mine.

Michel clears his throat. "Mr. Abbott, once again, you are ruining her lipstick. We're already delayed due to your inability to maintain control."

Quincy sighs. "My cock might explode watching you do this."

I giggle. "At least you're not being photographed with a wet spot, which is what's about to happen to me."

His eyes lustfully move down my body, taking in the red lace bra, panties, and garters that I'm wearing. "Red suits you, Shortcake. Be sure to bring this outfit home tonight."

I catch a quick glance at myself in the mirror. I do look good. The outfit is beautiful, and my makeup is perfection. They've got my curls styled in a sexy way. I'm proud of how I look, and my man is making me feel even better about it. I don't think there's ever been a time in my life where I've felt as good about myself as I do right now.

Michel fixes my lipstick for the tenth time, and we finally make our way out of the dressing room and into the studio. A middle-aged man with a camera around his neck throws his hands in the air. In French-accented English, he shouts, "Finally. Ballplayers are the worst." He eyes Quincy. "With Abbotts being the most difficult of them all."

Quincy raises an eyebrow, but the man simply smiles at him. "I'm Francois. I've photographed your sister in the past."

I can't help but be excited. "I've heard of you. You photographed their Sports Illustrated cover last year."

He enthusiastically nods. "I did, and they, too, couldn't keep their hands off each other. I expect better behavior from you two."

Quincy winks. "Unlikely. My wife is hot."

"Ex-wife," I correct.

He mumbles, "We'll see about that."

Francois smiles at me. "Tu es belle." You are beautiful .

I smile in gratitude, remembering a little bit of French.

I step on a green carpet area with a green screen. I learned last time that they can practically superimpose any backdrop they want. The wonders of modern technology.

The photo session begins, and Francois snaps away. This doesn't come naturally to me, but I'm doing my best to channel my inner sex goddess. The bulge in Quincy's pants and his twitching fingers only serve to embolden me further.

They've got me holding my glove and a softball all while wearing the lingerie. It's kind of a ridiculous combination, but it's not my shoot to run. They're paying me an insane amount of money to do it. I'm their puppet for the next few hours.

After a while, Francois tells me that he's changing cameras and to have a sip of water as he does so. As soon as his assistant takes one step in my direction with a bottle, Quincy snatches it away from him and walks my way.

He stalks at me before unscrewing the top, slipping in a straw, and handing me the bottle for a sip.

"Let's get out of here. I want you."

Before I can bother to respond, Francois shouts, "No, no, no. I know where this is headed. Step away from le belle femme."

An idea occurs to me. "Francois, Quincy is wearing the brand underneath his clothes." I know he wears their boxer briefs. "Why don't we do this together? I can't imagine they'll be upset to have Quincy Abbott model the brand."

I make eye contact with the company representative standing in the wings. There's no way he'll pass up on this.

Francois turns to him, and he enthusiastically nods.

Quincy gives me his crooked smile. "Was this your plan all along?"

I bite my lip. "Maybe." Placing the glove and ball down, I run my hands up his chest. "Let's show Layton and Arizona that they're not the only hot ticket in town. "

Quincy's blue eyes light up. "I like the way you think, Shortcake. Undress me."

I nod toward Francois, letting him know he should start shooting, which he immediately does. I slowly remove Quincy's T-shirt before running my hands down his chest and abs until they reach his belt buckle.

I'm aware of flashes going off, but I'm lost in the lust of this moment. I can feel my body flushing with desire.

Once his jeans are removed, Quincy stands in front of me in nothing but his boxer briefs, a smile, and a giant boner.

I can't help but giggle. "You better keep your back to the camera, Abbott."

He nods as he slowly kisses his way down my body until he's on his knees in front of me, kissing my hips and stomach over and over again. An assistant hands me my glove and a softball again.

I take in the scene before me. The teenage Ripley would laugh at this, never believing it could be my reality. I'm modeling sexy lingerie. My forever dream man is on his knees in front of me, worshiping my body. All while dozens of people run around fiddling with lighting, taking photos, and making this day just plain perfect.

Francois showed us some of the photos on his computer before we left for the day. I couldn't get over them. I've never felt sexier or more desired.

And the way Quincy attacked me when we got home. I can't help but audibly moan at the memories of our evening. He was like an animal.

I arrive at the stadium and head to the locker room. We're all getting dressed in our uniforms just ahead of taking the field.

I'm washing my hands in the bathroom when I hear excessive vomiting in one of the toilet stalls.

A few seconds later, Arizona walks out of the stall while wiping her lips. I look at her. "Are you okay?"

She nods. "I'm fine."

"I haven't puked like that since I was preg—" And then it occurs to me. My eyes widen. "Are you?"

The corners of her mouth raise ever so slightly as she slowly nods. "I think so. We started trying like one minute ago. I didn't think it would happen this quickly. I haven't taken a test yet, but it seems pretty obvious." She grabs her boobs. "My tits grew like three sizes overnight. And they're so fucking sensitive."

I shake my head and smile. "Damn baseball players and their super sperm."

She laughs. "Truth."

I wrap my arms around her. "Congratulations. Our kids will be close in age. I'm so happy."

She hugs me back. "Me too. I hope it's a girl and they're besties, just like you and me."

I can't seem to let go of her. "I love you."

She squeezes me tight. "I love you too."

Kam walks into the bathroom tucking in her Anacondas jersey but stops short when she sees us. "It's bad enough you're fucking her brother, Rip, but Arizona too?"

We giggle as we pull apart. I shake my head at Kam. "Is your mind always in the gutter?"

Before she can answer, Bailey walks in buckling her belt and answers, "Yes, it is."

We all laugh until Coach Billie pops her head around the corner. "Time to stick it to them, ladies."

We all smile at yet another inadvertent sexual innuendo from her. Kam lifts an eyebrow and thrusts her hips a few times. "Yes, let's stick it to them. Hard. Long. Deep."

Coach Billie smiles and cheerily shouts, "That's the spirit, Kam!"

Quincy is throwing out the ceremonial first pitch today. He's tossing it to Layton. Even though Quincy is on Kaya duty, Mom is holding her for this in our dugout. She's now a coach on the staff.

He asked me to walk out to the mound with him, which I do. Arizona, Trey, Cheetah, and Ezra are all standing next to Layton as he crouches down into the traditional catcher's position to receive the pitch, all smiling like idiots. I wonder what they're all doing here. This is bizarre.

The announcer introduces Quincy to a wild sea of applause. It's a sellout crowd of over twenty-five thousand. That's almost unheard of in softball. Our Philly fans are out in full force tonight.

I take in my man. He looks so handsome in athletic shorts and my Anacondas jersey. His hair is a little shorter than it was, and he trimmed his beard, but he's keeping it longer than he used to knowing how much I enjoy it. Thoroughly enjoy it.

He winks at me and then winds up to throw the pitch but doesn't throw anything. Swiveling around, he smiles at me before putting on sunglasses and bringing a suddenly appearing microphone to his lips. He begins singing into it, "You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your liiiips…" the opening line to "You've Lost That Loving Feeling."

Before I know it, the rest of the guys are standing next to him in sunglasses, each singing the next few lines until they all belt out the chorus together, with Quincy smiling in the middle of them. It's basically exactly how it was performed in the movie Top Gun . They clearly practiced for this.

They serenade me and run through about half the song with the crowd going absolutely wild. Quincy, looking so fucking perfect and handsome, hands the microphone to one of the guys and then drops down on one knee.

Twenty-five thousand people gasp, me included. He takes my hand in his. "You once asked me to love you in the light, Shortcake. Well, there are about ten thousand lights on us now, twenty-five thousand pairs of eyes on us in person, and millions more watching from home. As much as I also love to love you in the dark," he wiggles his eyebrows up and down, "I promise to always love you in the light too. You're the mother of my child, the love of my life, and my soulmate. Our whole lives you've given and given. Now it's my time to give to you." He opens a maroon velvet ring box. I don't even notice the ring at first, simply staring into his deep blue eyes. "Ripley St. James, will you marry me?" He mumbles, "Again."

Cheetah coughs, "Don't do it," which he says too close to the microphone. Everyone in the stands hears him and starts laughing.

Quincy smiles. "Fun fact, pitchers who embarrass themselves for the women they love are twice as good in bed as centerfielders." He side-eyes Cheetah.

I'm quiet, not in contemplation, but in shock. A woman in the crowd screams out, "If you don't say yes, I will."

Everyone laughs, including Quincy and me. He shrugs. "It looks like I have other offers. What do you say, Shortcake? Want to make an honest man out of me?"

I'm beyond choked up with emotion. After a brief pause, I can only manage a nod, which sets the entire crowd off into cheers. Quincy stands and raises his arms in triumph before slipping the ring onto my finger.

He pulls me into his arms. In front of millions of viewers, and millions more who will undoubtedly watch this on replays, Quincy Abbott, the man I've loved my entire life, unashamedly gifts me the greatest kiss that has ever been.