Page 229 of Just for the Plot

CHAPTER 42

BOWER

I glance at the TV.Bennett is stepping up to the plate, so I pause my work for a moment, sit back on my couch, and pull my knees into my chest.

I don’t know how he does it.

People are yelling and screaming for him. There’s the pressure of the game, of the team…and he’s so calm. He looks like none of that is even playing in his mind as he adjusts his helmet, taps the plate with his bat, and then gets into his stance.

The announcers talk about how well he’s been playing this season, especially in the fall, how he’s leading the team in hits and RBIs and how they see him as a true leader on the field.

He swings and misses but doesn’t seem upset as he steps out of the box and stares at his bat, composing himself. The camera zooms in on him like it always does, taking advantage of the mysterious shadow the brim of his helmet casts over his face. And sure, I know a different side to him, one that’s not dangerous at all, but on the field…it’s different.

And it’s hot.

He’s so freaking hot that all I can think about is tearing off his jersey and having a repeat of what I did to him this afternoon.

He steps back into the box and repeats his process before turning his head toward the pitcher.

The pitcher kicks his leg up and shoots the ball at Bennett, plunking him in the back and sending Bennett to the ground.

“Oh my God,” I gasp as I cover my mouth with my hand.

But it’s as if it’s nothing, and Bennett stands up while his team’s medical staff walks over to him.

They’re asking him questions, but the entire time, Bennett is staring down the pitcher while taking off some guard on his elbow and removing his batter’s gloves.

And it has to be the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Bennett is ready to rip apart the man on the dirt hill, and I’m here for it.

He nods toward the medical staff and then with one more glare at the pitcher, he jogs to first, where he sticks his batting gloves in his back pocket and then stares down the pitcher again.

Well…I’m horny, and I know exactly what we’ll be doing when Bennett gets home.

I fluff my hair one more time and check myself in the mirror.

Bennett should be home any moment. Some days it feels like he’s home right away after a game, and others it feels like an eternity.

Tonight, though, tonight is for us.

I check out my shirt, smiling to myself at the idea.

I took the far-too-small Bombers shirt I have and cut it even shorter, so it hits me mid-stomach. Then I cut a deep V in it so my breasts are nearly spilling out of it. I chose not to wear a bra, because…why? And then I paired the outfit with a navy blue thong and matching fluffy socks. I curled my hair, leaving the ends straight but didn’t bother with makeup because I plan on making out with my man the entire night.

The door to his apartment opens and then shuts right before I hear him say, “Babe, you here?”

Smiling to myself, I play with my nipples for a few seconds, making them hard so they poke against the shirt. “In your room.”

I hear him set something down, probably his bag, and kick off his shoes before he heads back to the bedroom. I’m sitting on his bed, one leg over the other, hands propped behind me, waiting for him.

The moment he sees me, he stops as his eyes grow hungry. “Jesus Christ,” he growls. He reaches behind his head and yanks his shirt off. My eyes fall to his chiseled chest, thick and carved in all the right places. “You look fucking hot.”

He comes up to me and pushes me down on the bed, hovering over me with his hands on either side of my head.

“Congrats on the win,” I say as my hand drags over his chest. “How’s your back?”

“Fine.” He lowers his mouth to my neck and starts dragging his tongue along my skin.