Page 65 of Crossed Up

“I was just thinking the same, actually. The longer I watch, the more Rad seems to be the one at the center of all the tension.” The Renegades shortstop, Conrad ‘Rad’ Ames, is one of the less douchey players in New York. I don’t have any issues with the guy, and even Copeland, who’s notorious for disliking most other people on sight, is relatively friendly with him.

Rhodes raises his hands to grip the siding in front of us. “You think he’ll be looking for a trade soon?”

At that, my gaze whips to the side. “You think he’d come here?”

He shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt to keep an ear to the ground. You know Daniels isn’t going to last long here with the way he’s constantly stirring up PR messes. And ever since the Derrick scandal last year, the league is being extra cautious with anything that could bring bad publicity.”

Shaking my head, I recall the drama with Wren’s ex. He’s been trying to make amends with the couple for a while now, and to say Rhodes still isn’t his biggest fan would be putting it lightly. “Can you believe he came out last month? Like, posted a picture with his boyfriend and everything.”

Rhodes’s eyes cut to mine briefly. “I’m happy for the guy, but it still doesn’t excuse the shit he put my starling through.” He grumbles in irritation.

Before I can do more than nod in agreement, a commotion pulls our focus to the field where two of the Renegades are in an all-out brawl on the field. “Oh shit!”

Our coaches and theirs rush the field, and it takes four of them and the umpire to break up the fight. Rad and the Renegades Center Fielder, Ryan Strand, are at the center of it. When the dust has settled, and everyone is forced apart, Ames and Strand are both ejected from the game, leaving the rest of us to wonder what the fuck just happened.

Coach storms back into the dugout with a scowl on his usually happy face. “What is this, social hour? We’ve got a game to win! Daniels, get your ass to the plate!”

The rookie hops to quicker than I’ve ever seen him move and somehow manages to run two bases on the first pitch. “Damn,” I mutter. “Way to go, rook.”

By the end of the top of the 7th inning, we’re ahead by four runs and feeling good. There’s always a chance New York could make a comeback, but they’re a mess after the fight earlier.

Live While We’re Young by One Direction starts playing, which is an unusual choice for the 7th-inning stretch, but Copeland walks up and points towards the Jumbotron with a huge smile on his face.

Glancing over, I do a double take when I see my girl holding up a glittery pink sign.

From the blush on her cheeks, I can tell she’s embarrassed, but she looks cute as all get out up on that screen.

The words on the sign finally register in my brain, and my jaw drops. Guffaws sound around me, and Cope snorts. “Aaaand there it is.”

My eyes dart around frantically, but Coach catches my eye and mouths, “Go get her,” at me.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I take off at a dead sprint through the tunnel leading out of the dugout and into the locker room, only to find Lyla already standing right outside with a shy smile on her gorgeous face.

I don’t say a word, storming toward her, scooping her into my arms, and cutting off her giggles with a scorching kiss. My erection presses painfully against the cup in my sliders when her tight little ass grinds down, but I grin and bear it.

“I can’t believe you just told me you love me on national T.V. Fuck, I love you so goddamn much, angel.”

Without even consciously deciding to do so, I’ve led us to one of only two other doors in this hallway. “I need you, Lyla. Right now.”

She gasps, her hands digging into my hair and tugging hard. “Here? Anyone could see.”

My smirk is wicked as I move one hand off her ass and open the door her back was pressed against, quickly locking us in an equipment room. “Any other objections?”

Her eyes are wide and glittering in the low light coming from under the door. “No, Daddy.”

I groan loudly and set her down, spinning her around and bending her over a tall stack of folded backstop mats. “Fast and hard, baby. We have five minutes max.”

The look in Lyla’s eyes when she looks over her shoulder at me nearly has me coming in my cup, and the reminder of the offending item has me shucking off my pants as fast as I can and sighing with relief.

My girl watches me the whole time with a mischievous grin, biting her lip when she notices the hard plastic hit the floor.

“No,” I growl.

Her eyes snap up to mine, an indignant look replacing the lustful one she wore seconds ago. “What do you mean, no? You dragged me in here!”

Moving forward, I slide my bare erection between her thighs and kick her legs together so they press in around me. The action must give her some friction against her clit, because she rocks against me with a pitiful whimper. One hand comes up to tangle in her long hair, allowing me to pull her head back so I can trail kisses down her neck.

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