Chapter 15

I could seeBoston still focused on the game, standing close to the field but far enough back to stay off the coach's radar. I saw Reese cut a determined path toward the practice field, in the opposite direction—and couldn't help but wonder where he was going. The final inning passed in a blur and my parents barely noticed when I told them I needed to go, but I'd see them at the next game. Their concern was still on Boston. "Sure, honey," Mom said absently, her attention focused on my dad and their conversation, allowing me to slip away.

The practice field was empty and more silent than I expected, even though it was just a short distance from the large crowd that was now leaving the game. The sunlight was fading, and I found myself drawn to the rhythmic clinking sound interrupting the quiet. It was the unmistakable noise of a baseball bat connecting with pitch after pitch.

"Carrington?" The word slipped out of my mouth before I could see inside the cage. There was no response, but there didn't need to be. It had to be him.

Reese was deep in concentration, his every muscle coiled and released with each swing. "Why do you always have to throw jabs at Boston?" I called out, trying to get his attention as I watched him take another powerful swing. "What's it going to take for you two to just get along?"

His shoulders tensed ever so slightly at the question, but he didn't look at me. Instead, his gaze remained locked on the pitching machine, and then the clack of the bat met another ball.

I pushed open the gate to the batting cage. The metallic creak was louder than I expected. The sound of the machine tirelessly serving up fastballs continued.

"Answer me, you ass." My voice echoed slightly in the enclosed space as I began my rant. "Help me understand. And don't you care what anyone thinks? The MLB could want nothing to do with you now for getting kicked out of the game."

Finally, Reese stopped. "He tried to pick a fight with me," he responded, his voice carrying a casual tone. He dropped the bat on the floor, leaning it against the chain-link of the cage as he walked toward me. He cocked his head to the side, stepping in close and shielding me from the next ball that was released, which thudded harmlessly against the netting beside us.

His proximity was unsettling, yet thrilling, the air filled with an energy that seemed unique to whenever we occupied the same space. Our gazes held, and for a moment, the world outside, the argument that just happened with him and Boston—all of it faded into the background.

His green eyes blazed with that familiar defiant spark, which sent my pulse racing. He stood so close I could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell his woodsy scent mixed with leather clinging to him. "And no, I don't care what anyone thinks," he said with that cocky grin. "I'm the best pitcher in college baseball right now."

"And get out of the cage," he growled. "You could get hit by the fucking ball." His tone was sharp, a clear warning, but I stood my ground.

His words were bold and unapologetic. I swallowed hard, my mind no longer able to concentrate on the reason I had entered the cage, only on my heightened awareness of him.

My heart beat a frantic rhythm against my chest as if it was trying to keep pace with the adrenaline that was rushing through me. "Well," I started, my voice steadier than I felt, "your attitude could still ruin it."

He smirked as if he knew a secret the rest of the world didn't. "I can convince them I'm worth it," he said with a quiet confidence that didn't match his earlier cockiness.

"God, you're so infuriating," I whispered. But even as the frustration bubbled inside me, I could still feel the undeniable pull—that strong, annoyingly present force that seemed to draw me in despite my better judgment.

Without another word, Reese closed the space between us. His breath was sweet from the gum he'd been chewing and it mingled with mine as he pressed me against the fence. His body was hard and his heartbeat throbbed as I felt the tautness of his stomach and hips, pressing into me.

He shifted his position slightly, giving me a glimpse of the raw desire burning in his eyes. With a decisive pull—I snatched his jersey, and brought him in close. His teeth caught my bottom lip, biting ever so slightly in a tantalizing motion, drawing me in before his lips crashed against mine.

There was nothing gentle or careful about this kiss. It was demanding, taking everything he desired without hesitation—leaving me breathless. His lips continued to move with a relentless hunger that felt like it was stripping away all the layers of his hard exterior, revealing something raw and needy beneath. He was addicting. Kissing him was all-consuming and devouring, as if he needed me to understand without words that he wanted every inch of me—and nothing else mattered.

He groaned as his hands began exploring the curve of my waist before sliding up under my shirt to caress my bare skin. The rough pads of his fingers circling the sensitive peaks of my breasts sent jolts of pleasure coursing through my body.

He continued to kiss me as his hands curved my waist again before they slid further down to my ass, his fingers pressing firmly yet tenderly as if claiming every part he touched as his own territory. He tightened his grip, effortlessly lifting me off the ground as my legs wrapped around him.

The intensity between us was overwhelming—the heat of his body on mine, the rough texture of his uniform against my skin, and the sweet taste of him on my tongue.

He held me in the air and continued to kiss me. Then, with ease and careful control, Reese carried me, stepping out of the batting cage and slowly lowered me down on the solid ground just outside.

My breath was still uneven as I pulled away from him, just barely. Still confused, I locked eyes with his—searching for an answer in his fiery gaze. "I just don't understand what the deal is with Boston."

His expression darkened instantly, the name hanging heavy between us like a sudden storm cloud. "Don't fucking say his name when you're kissing me," he spat out, his voice low and dangerous.

Reese backed away, his hands releasing me as if I'd scorched him. The wind hit my flushed skin, and I was no longer in the warmth of his embrace. He walked back into the batting cage, his movements rigid. The sound of the gate slamming shut echoed through the air, final and unyielding.

"And don't fucking walk in here again when the machine is on," he said, now deceptively calm. He then grabbed his bat, separating us from the moment we just had.

Silence hung heavy as I stood there, the taste of him lingering on my lips, and the sting of him releasing me. I crossed my arms and took determined steps away from the cage.

"YOU'RE INFURIATING!" I yelled without looking back. My heart pounded, each beat a reminder of all the emotions he just stirred within me. "And I said his name AFTER I was kissing you!" I added.

I made it only a few steps before curiosity—and something deeper, something stubborn—compelled me to glance over my shoulder. Reese had taken up his bat again and was waiting for the next pitch. His stance was relaxed. But it wasn't him acting like nothing just happened that floored me—it was the slight smile I could almost see playing on his lips as the bat connected with the ball.