Rookie Mistake: A Sports Romance Novel (The Beasts of Baseball Book 1) (20 page)

Oh God, I needed out of these jeans.

I walked her to the door, opened it, and let her step in first. She twirled around; her white skirt flowed up around her thighs as she danced through the rooms. “This is unbelievable,” she gasped.

I reached around her waist, pulled her in close and let her feel the bulge in my pants against her hip. She smelled so sweet, like berries and vanilla. My lips pressed to her neck, sucking her skin, tasting her as my tongue glided down to the back of her neck and then to the cut between her shoulders. I gripped the straps of her dress and pushed them down her arms. The sleek material fell easily to the floor, leaving her nude and vulnerable.

She was who I thought of the last time I was with Whitney, and now that she was before me, her scent familiar, all I could think of was what I’d lost.

I shook my head.
Get over it. Whitney’s gone.

My hands caressed her and then spun her around to face me. Her eyes were filled with excitement, her lips parted with passion, and the hands that I once moved away from my cock were now rubbing it freely. She opened my jeans and took me in her hand, stroking me as she lowered to her knees.

My view from above was delicious.

Her heart-shaped ass was beautiful as it pushed out behind her, red high heels peeking out from her flesh where she squatted before me. Her red lips wrapped around my cock like I had dreamed about time and time again.

But I wanted it all.

I lifted her to her feet and then off them as I wrapped her legs around my waist and carried her to the sofa. I placed her on her back, pushed her legs open wide to glimpse the beautiful playground she offered between her legs. Her skin was so pink, so full that it drove me crazy just thinking about sinking deep into her.

I lowered down, consuming her breast, my teeth grazing and pulling her nipple. Another moan escaped her lips that made my cock twitch and cum slide from the tip. My hands continued their journey along her sides, around her navel and then to her inner thigh. My tongue slid between her luscious lips, sinking deep into her mouth.

My hormones were raging, my passion becoming uncontrollable, but I had enough sense to roll on a condom. I reached for her hips, pulled her down and onto my cock, then held her there while it calmed from the initial blast of excitement and new sensation of tightness that surrounded it.

Her lips parted, and I knew another moan was about to escape. I pushed into her hard, and then again. My hands ran up her belly to her breasts and her tight pink nipples. Her back arched, her pussy bucked beneath me, and my cock started to throb.

My hand traced back down her soft skin to the center between her legs. Her clit was swollen, pink and throbbing, as my thumb rolled over it. My fingers worked to spread it open to the beautiful butterfly it yearned to be. I teased the pearl hidden inside until she moaned and bucked against me so hard that my cock exploded without mercy or remorse.

As the toxins were expelled from my body, I felt that same guilt that had plagued me earlier in the night.
I’d wanted her, but now that I had her… it was only sex. Nothing more.

Her eyes opened, her bottom lip trembled, and her chest rose and fell quickly as she worked to catch her breath. I pulled from between her legs as I tried to tell myself that it was okay.

Whitney was gone.

I didn’t do anything wrong.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

e

Calvin

C
aroline wasn’t so easy to shake, I found out. After that first night, she would just pop in and usually wanted to stay the night. Having her around was both good and bad. It was nice to have someone to hold, someone to talk to, but because it was her, it made me crazy with guilt.

Then there was Whitney, who seemed very happy according to everything I read online. She dated a string of men, then had been seen with the same man – Todd Morris – several times.

I’d stare at her picture, recognize the clothes I’d bought her and be pissed and sad at the same time. By the time she left me, I’d spent nearly eighty thousand dollars on those designer clothes, including the twelve thousand dollar Versace gown she’d bought for the ball. Seeing those credit card statements still made me angry. Used.

In the full light of day, I hadn’t done anything wrong. Yes, I could have done things better, much better. I could have come straight home from practice. I could have spent every free moment with her. Could have done this and could have done that.

Coulda. Woulda. Shoulda.

Shit.

But I hadn’t wanted that blonde’s attention. Caroline’s either. Yes, I had been attracted and intrigued but hadn’t followed up on any of it. I had been trying to have fun with my new team. Enjoy myself a little bit after the stress of practice and living up to everyone’s expectation of me. Was spending an hour or two after five or six hours at the stadium so terrible?

To drown out all of those questions, I started drinking more and partying later and later. I knew part of my reason was to not be so available to Caroline, but every time I got wasted enough to start feeling sorry for myself, I’d call her anyway. It was a vicious cycle, and I wasn’t sure how to stop it.

Coach Griffin had a few ideas of how to handle the situation. One, scream in my face. Two, scream in my face. And three, scream in my face.

Yeah, those strategies didn’t really work and caused the cycle to spin faster.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when I walked into the clubhouse after pre-game pitcher’s stretch to find Coach waiting on me. “Malone, you’re spiraling out of control!” he yelled.

I wanted to say,
what do you care?
My pitching was solid, even better than before, probably because I was putting all my anger and hurt into each pitch. I was helping the team, so why did he care what I did outside this stadium?

He tossed a tabloid down on the desk and slammed his finger on a picture of Caroline and me leaving a club. The photographer caught the exact moment puke streamed from my mouth. Yeah, I looked pretty fucked up, that was a given. The headline caught me off guard:
Small Town Girl Rises to Grace While Beast’s Pitcher Calvin Malone Falls From It.

“What does that mean?” His face turned pale, which is pretty scary to see happen to a man whose skin was as dark as his. “What’s the other picture?” I demanded, pointing to his hand covering half the page.

He moved his hand away and there she was in
two
pictures. Whitney. So beautiful. In one shot, she was on fucking Todd Morris’ arm. In the other, Rhett Hamilton was holding open a door for her, his hand on her back.

“I’ve got it under control,” I snapped at the coach and then ripped the tabloid from his hand. I sat on the bench in front of my locker and stared at the pictures. She looked happy in both of them.

Then there was me, looking daze and confused, spewing vomit at the cameras, Caroline looking shocked, but still hanging on my arm. I knew if I saw this, then Whitney had seen it too. My heart ached at the thought of her seeing me with Caroline, and in that condition. But Rhett? She wouldn’t go for a man like him, would she? And Morris? Was he the reason she was in New York?

Ace placed his hand on my shoulder and peeked down at the tabloid. “Whooweeee, you were lit up,” he said. “Don’t let the coach piss you off too bad; he’s just angry he can’t get any action.”

I pointed to the pictures of Whitney, then waited for Ace’s response. “Fuck her,” he said.

I stood, bumping my chest against his. I wanted to punch him, or at the very least spit on him for talking like that about my girl. Shit. My ex-girl. He was part of the reason she was gone.

I took a deep breath, knowing what I was doing was wrong. Everything that happened was ultimately my fault. I backed down and sank into my chair, tossing the tabloid in one of the shelves of my locker.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Ace apologized. “That’s just what guys are supposed to say in these situations.”

I could almost understand Morris going after her, but Rhett? He was my damn boss. I wanted to find Rhett and knock his head right off his shoulders. I saw how he’d worked her at the party that night. His hand on her thigh, his smooth talk, offering her a job. Yeah, there was only one job he wanted from Whitney.
My heart ached at the thought of her in his arms.

“Let’s get it together!” Coach Griffin yelled out, then came over to me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Want to sit this one out?”

“No,” I insisted. “I want to take out some frustration on some batters.”

He clapped me hard. “Then go do that.”

I changed into the game uniform and headed out to the field. I stood on the mound and stared out at the seats just above the home plate where Whitney used to sit and watch me practice.

They were empty, like my stupid, fucked up heart.

The sky box where Rhett usually watched the game wasn’t lit up. He was probably out with Whitney somewhere, too busy to watch his own fucking team. My anger increased, and my hands shook as I rolled the ball in my fingers, looking for the right seams.

I couldn’t focus; every ball I threw resulted in a hit or a pitch out of the strike zone. Coach wasn’t screaming, just given me a blank look that was even worse.

We squeaked out of that game, winning by one run, but no thanks to me. I was pulled in the fifth inning, and my replacement saved our asses.

Caroline usually greeted me after the game, something I normally found annoying, but when I looked for her, she wasn’t around. Which pissed me off more, because now I felt lost and irritated that she would just abandon me while I was hurting so badly. That’s how fucked up I was. I didn’t even know what I wanted.

I knew the team was pissed, but mostly they were gracious about my major fail. All of them except Ace. He had no grace, so what did I expect? “You need to get your head out of the fucking dirt, kid,” he screamed at me. I didn’t care. I didn’t even look at him.

He finally gave up yelling when he realized he couldn’t get me to react. His arm came around my shoulders as he took a seat beside me. “You know this is all bullshit, right?” he asked.

I looked at him, my eyebrow raised and my head cocked. “What is?”

He blew out a long breath. “Everything. Women, baseball, life. It’s all bullshit.”

I wasn’t in the mood for one of Ace Newman’s lessons on how not to function at life. “Yeah, it just sucks,” I complained.

“Well, what sucks needs to be sucked up,” he spouted.

Oh boy, another one of Ace Newman’s amazing philosophies.

“Gotcha,” I said with a smile that screamed
fuck off!

I didn’t move until the last player cleared out of the locker room. I walked out onto the field, stood on the mound, and looked up at the seat where Whitney had once watched me scrimmage. I remembered her smile, her arms in the air as she cheered or her scowls at the other team as they tried to steal a base.

Nothing in my life had ever hurt as bad as losing her.

It was my own doing, I knew that.

“Hey,” Marty called from the dugout. I turned to see him waving at me. I walked over to him and grabbed my bag that was on the ground. “You doing okay?” he asked.

I shook my head and continued walking out of the stadium towards my car.

“Let’s go get a beer,” he said. “You look like you could use a friend.”

I needed something, but I wasn’t sure exactly what.

“I don’t think I’d be very good company right now,” I sulked. “Probably best to just go home.”

“No,” he demanded. “Home alone is the worst place to be right now.”

I stopped and gave it some thought. I was dreading being home alone, badly enough that I had even tried to call Caroline.

“Okay,” I agreed. “But, not Home Plate.”

He nodded and followed me to my car. “You drive.”

I drove to a place just a few blocks from Home Plate. It was a dive, a country place with no sports memorabilia on the walls and TVs weren’t even turned on unless there was a NASCAR race.

We ordered a couple beers, and the cute bartender with a sandy blonde ponytail and dark roots smiled. “I know you two,” she exclaimed.

I just nodded and took the beers to a table near the back.

I listened to Marty talk about his breakup and how it almost destroyed him. “I’m lucky Rhett picked me for this team,” he admitted. “Otherwise, I believe I would’ve been benched until my contract ran out.”

I didn’t say anything, simply nodded. I’d heard that he’d been a last pick.

“You really need to watch your company,” he warned, leaning closer to me. “Ace Newman, for one. Don’t get too close.” He cleared his throat. “And Caroline Black. She’s up to no good, I can feel it in my veins.”

I stared at him as he ranted and raved about how Ace and Caroline had some plot and scheme and that Rhett may have been involved. It sounded crazy. After a while, it simply pissed me off. “Look, I get it, you haven’t had much luck with love, or with friends, but that doesn’t mean you can just start spouting off a bunch of dumb shit. I’m mean, seriously, why would Rhett try to screw up an asset, an investment. I might not know the man well, but he didn’t become a billionaire by being stupid.”

“I’m serious,” Marty insisted. He put his hand on my shoulder and stared me in the eye. He was close, too close. “Don’t trust people so easily.”

“Whitney was working for Rhett, that’s probably all that was,” I explained. “Ace hasn’t done shit to fuck me over, except be a prick, and Caroline… well, she’s my own damn fault.”

I took a long swig of my beer and then ordered another round.

Marty continued telling me about his breakup and how the big guys in the league had something to do with it. “They were pushing me out,” he insisted.

“Do you have any proof of that?” I asked, feeling exhausted listening to his conspiracy theories.

“No, but that’s the point, they’re that good.”

Okay, so at that point, I felt like I was sitting next to a lunatic. Maybe he got into Ace’s stash of powder, or maybe he’d always been nutty, and I just didn’t realize it.