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But I have yet to do that.
August shakes his head, and I finally notice how quiet the back porch is. Everyone must have gone inside at some point, leaving me out here alone with him.
His chocolate brown eyes bore into me like they’re trying to reach my soul. There’s no way to escape the familiarity of them. I’m in tune with every part of this man, whether I like it or not.
He’s the only player on this team who recognizes my absence. In a crowded room. In a vacant room. He looks at me with determination.
That’s why I have to remind myself that I have plans. Plans that don’t include his interruption.
“Just say what you need to say, August,” I retort, impatiently ready to flee.
Just when I think he’s gonna retreat, his faceleans in, warm breath ghosting the side of my ear as he murmurs softly, “I can help you.” The short groan from his lips can’t be missed—neither can the shallow gulp I swallow down. “You’ve been tense lately. I can see it. Overhearing you girls chatting only confirmed my suspicion.”
My head turns toward him, ready to elbow him in the face for eavesdropping, but his finger stops at my lips. “Nope. It’s done. I heard everything I need to know.”
My eyes connect with his, pleading for him to just get it out so I can leave. Hide. Drown in the pool behind me. Anything to mask the painful embarrassment I feel right now.
He pleads, “Use me. You need someone to help with that ache. I’m your guy, Tenley. Not some random fuck. Not Tyler—me. I can give you what you need,” August growls, his breath landing less than an inch from my lips before a slow sensation gathers on my leg, causing my eyes to draw to the motion.
He caresses the top of my knee, and it feels like he’s already fucking me.
Kodi’s suggestion about me getting laid has never sounded more tempting. But August offering up his services to me on a silver platter? No woman is strong enough to turn down that good of a time.
As good as it feels to be pursued like this and as tempting of an offer as it may be, I can’t go there with him. I’m not sure I’d ever recover from hooking up with August. He’s never been one to ask for seconds, and I know I won’t be the exception. So, it’s better I stay away and prepare for my procedure.
I have bigger things to focus on.
I jerk my head to the right, and his finger falls away. “It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own. So, thanks, but no thanks.”
I know what’s coming. August is anything if not persistent. He doesn’t back down. It’s one of the things that makes him such a great third baseman.
“Sure thing.” He smiles, a hidden agenda clearly in his plans. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”
“I won’t,” I call to him as he stands, doing a horrible job at staying firm.
August brings his finger to his lips and taps them slowly. The same finger that just minutes ago was resting against mine. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
And he walks away, leaving my head spinning and sadly, my vagina fucking throbbing.
What the hell was that?
3
AUGUST
3 Years Earlier
Notebook.
If I were a spiral notebook with a shit ton of scribbles on it, where would I be?
Coach Leggins sent me to his office in search of the coveted notebook he carries with him at all hours of the day. The notepad I know is stuffed full of top-of-the-line fielding drills—drills he threatened to use against us if we don’t get our asses into gear.
Today just so happened to be the day he misplaced it, turning to me like a bat out of hell to hunt it down.
Pacing the halls quicker than I’d like, I check the clubhouse first and come up empty. I still can’t figure out how he managed to lose it. I swear, Coach treats this binding of paper like his marriage license, proving his adequacy for his job.
He’s a great coach. Proof isn’t needed. It shows he’s the best in the biz based on Striker stats alone.
