Baseball Star Edition (The Seduction Game, #2) Read Free

reporter’s head snaps around, eager for a
front-page story and my Baseball Star seizes the moment. His fingers entwine
with mine and he spins on his heels dashing through an employee’s only door.
    My feet have to work double time to keep up with his
hurried pace. “A-Rod’s not here,” I say giggling as we rush through the hall.
    “I know, but she doesn’t,” he winks at me.
    It feels like we’re in a James Bond movie, any moment
the evil reporter is going to burst through one of the side doors and hold a
little field recorder to his head, demanding an interview.
    I don’t ask where his place was because I didn’t
care. All that matters right now is getting out of this strapless bra and
seeing if his hands can work just as much magic on me, as he does with the
baseball.
    One of the requirements of a perspective target is
that they have to be someone who is good with their hands. It’s been a fairly
successful rule in weeding out the good from the bad so far.
    “My manager is going to be so mad. I promised him I’d
do a few interviews tonight, but screw him.” He places a gentle kiss on my hand
and my heart skips a beat.
    Even his lips look hard and angular, they’re soft on
my hand.
    I’m stopped dead in my tracks in front of a large
silver truck and my Baseball Star opens the door for me. Great, I get to clamor
up into this, in a short dress? Men .
    The foot rail comes about midway to my calf, so I’m
forced to try ever so gracefully to hop into the cab of the truck without being
indecent. My Baseball Star, being the gentleman he is, offers his hand to help
me up and I graciously accept.
    When I’m situated, he runs his hand over the exposed
skin on my thigh and I gasp. He gazes up at me, and a wide grin spreads across
his face and he raises his eyebrows and wiggles them at me before moving around
to the driver’s side and climbing in.
    “Let’s get out of here,” his smile never waivers as
he brings the engine to life. “Yup, my manager is gonna kill me and it’s only
spring training.”
    “Worth it,” I reply in a cheery voice.
    “Definitely.” He lays a strong hand on my knee and
gives it a reassuring squeeze.  
    The ride starts rather quiet, the only sound is the top forties channel, playing music quietly in the
background. I won’t comment on his musical selection, maybe he turned it to
that station to impress me.
    A song comes on that apparently he likes and his
fingers begin to tap and travel over my inner thigh in time with the tempo.
Gooseflesh prickles over my legs in an excited response and the hammering in my
chest drowns out the radio. If this song, and his teasing, doesn’t end soon I
may explode.
    “Okay, you have to stop.” I gasp and place my hand
over his in an effort to still it.
    “Why?” His head tilts questioning me, eyes still on
the road. Then I feel his hand slide under the hem of my dress and nails run
down and back up my leg roughly.
    I hiss and bite my lip. “Because, I can do this.”
With his hand still between my legs I lean over and lay a kiss on his neck.
There’s a few days’ worth of facial hair growth covering his jawline, it feels
rough and wonderful scratching against my face.
    “Nope, not buying it. What else you got?” He
encourages, and his fingers begin to trace the outline of my panties.
    Patience is not one of my virtues and he is testing
what little I have. When I begin to nibble on his earlobe, he rubs his finger
over my panties. I dive into his neck, sucking and biting and nibbling on his
earlobe, anything to make him give me more. His hand freezes momentarily, and
then he pushes my lace panties out of the way and dips a finger inside of me.
    While he works me into a frenzy ,
I leave moist kisses down his neck, and across his collarbone before slowly
blowing back over the area. His fingers curl in response and cause me to let
out an audible moan.
    If this car ride lasts much longer, I’m going to go
insane. My palm runs down the length