The Screw Ball (Indianapolis Lightning Book 3) Samantha Lind (story books to read .txt) 📖

I watch his every move as he gets up, pulling on his clothes. He smirks at me when he catches me checking him out yet again. “Watch it, babe, you’ll make me hard again. The last thing you want me doing is getting a hard on in my baseball pants. They are already tight as it is, this,” he says, pointing to the bulge in his pants, “would make them not suitable for kids to see me. It might also make some women jealous.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” I tell him. “Most women have dildos bigger,” I smart at him.

“Oh, is that right? And does that go for you, as well? Are you one of those women?” he asks, a smirk on his face, as he knows he’s got me.

“Maybe,” I tell him as sweetly as I can, my face burning with my embarrassment.

“Why are you turning beet red?” he asks, pulling me into his arms. “Being confident in your sexuality isn’t something to be embarrassed about. I think it’s fucking hot. Maybe you’ll let me tease you with a toy at some point,” he says.

I look up at him, a little shocked at his words. “Really? That isn’t something that intimidates you?”

“Fuck no. There is nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she likes in bed and who can take matters into her own hands. If I know you as well as I think I do, I’m going to go out on a limb, here, and say that you haven’t been with a man in at least a few months until last night, am I right?”

“Yeah, more like over a year,” I tell him honestly.

“And I’d never expect that you wouldn’t need an orgasm in that amount of time. Hell, even if we are having regular sex, you might still need one when I’m not around, and you should feel comfortable with that. There’s nothing wrong with a little self-love.”

“I never know what is going to come out of your mouth, but that definitely wasn’t what I was expecting,” I tell him.

“Make me one promise?” he asks.

“What’s that?”

“I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me what you want when we’re intimate. If you want to try something, you tell me, you want to go somewhere—a strip club or a sex club—and we do it together. There is nothing—well, except maybe bringing other people into the bedroom with us—that I’d say no to.”

“Okay,” I agree. I know being open and honest with each other is important in order to build a solid relationship and that trust is important in all areas of said relationship. “Hey, thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about your nephew, earlier.”

He shrugs. “I thought you should know, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t have any pent-up anger over the missed event that was going to come back to bite me. But on that note, I really need to go now. I’ll see you on the bus,” he says, dropping a chaste kiss on my lips.

“Bye.” I give him a little wave as he exits my room.

I’m floating up on cloud nine after the whirlwind the last day has been. I fall back onto the bed, just letting the memories from yesterday and today roll like credits through my mind. I can remember the anticipation of wanting him to kiss me so badly last night but not sure if he ever would. Oh, how my once hatred of the man has turned into complete lust for him.

The next few hours fly by in a blur. We take the short ride from the hotel to the stadium, and the guys are all whisked away to the locker room and into pre-game rituals. With tonight’s game being game one of the first round of the playoffs, there is a lot of ceremonial pomp and circumstance that goes on before the game even starts. Most involves the home team only, but some of it involves ours, as well, when necessary.

I help where needed, making sure everything goes off without a hitch. With the game getting prime time TV coverage, it’s important things start on time.

I’m finally able to take my seat at the start of the third inning. The game is still tied at zero, but we’ve had some good base hits so far tonight, we just can’t seem to get anyone home. Derek Smyth, one of our starting pitchers, is on the mound, and currently has thrown a perfect game. It doesn’t happen often, but so far, he’s on his way.

As the game goes on, my phone buzzes and I pull it out, seeing my brother is calling.

“Hey, Zach,” I greet, a smile instantly filling my face.

“Hey, sis, how’s it going?” he asks.

“Oh, ya know, just hard at work at a playoff game.”

“Shit, that’s right, the game is on right now, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I chuckle. I know he isn’t a huge baseball fan, add in the time difference, his demanding job, and the fact that he has a baby at home, and he can sometimes be scatterbrained. “How are things?” I ask.

“Good, do I need to let you go? We can talk later,” he offers.

“No, you’re good. I’m done with my duties, for now. I’m just sitting down watching the game.”

“If you’re sure,” Zach reiterates.

“Just spit it out, I know if you called, and not Heather, that there is a reason, brother of mine.”

He laughs at me, but the sad thing is, he knows I’m right. “Okay, you’ve got me. I was calling to let you know that I’ve got two weeks of leave coming up and we wanted to come visit you for at least a week of it.”

“Oh, that’s awesome, do you have the dates?” I ask, mentally going through my calendar. Depending on how deep into the playoffs we go, we could be playing baseball until late October or early November if they make the World Series.

“I’m still waiting on the exact dates, but