10. Cameron
ten
Cameron
Parked in the driveway, I stare up at the unassuming house. My home away from home during spring training has become both heaven and hell these last few days.
Heaven when I see Talia. Hell when her brother walks into the room. The guy is getting on my last fucking nerve.
Dropping my head on the steering wheel, I take a deep breath. We’ve been here for four days. Four. I don’t know how I’m going to make it another six months. That’s two hundred and twelve more days, not including the post-season.
Yes, I counted the days.
After overhearing Romero say he was going out with some old teammates, I booked it home to eat dinner instead of eating at the facility. I need a minute alone to figure out what the hell I’m doing.
If I take Talia out of the equation, her brother is still a problem—he and his personal vendetta against me. I’m the one who should hate him after the shit he pulled in college.
Instead, here I am trying to make things work with him for the team. For Talia.
She agreed to hang out and get to know each other as long as her brother doesn't find out.
So far, our time together has been innocent, but for how long? My feelings for her are friendly with a whole lot of “let me kiss and fuck you all night long” mixed in.
I doubt that’s going to go away anytime soon.
Spending time with her is risky as fuck. If Romero were to catch us, shit could get real bad, real fast.
For her, for me … for my team.
Today was bad enough. His trash talk was never-ending while we were out doing field work. I’m out there hustling my ass off with the guys, and he’s off running his mouth with his typical “daddy can’t help you out here, Miller” shit.
Where the hell he came up with that, I don’t know.
What I know is, it’s getting old, and it’s becoming a problem in the locker room too. Some of the other guys are getting uncomfortable. There’s also been some noise about the rookies talking and taking sides. There are no fucking sides. I just want to play. I want to win, and I can’t do that on my own. We have a meeting with Anson in the morning, and I am not looking forward to it.
I know last night’s brief run-in with Romero was the factor in his shit attitude this morning. I kept things cordial in the kitchen, but there was no masking the way I stared at Talia.
Okay, fine. I was eye-fucking the hell out of her. I couldn’t stop picturing her in that tiny green bikini. The triangles barely covered her nipples and pussy, tempting me beyond belief.
She’s a fucking knockout with all those hourglass curves of hers.
Plus, she’s smart and witty, and I truly enjoy talking to her. I know this sounds lame as fuck, but she just kind of … gets me. She puts me at ease in a way that allows me to be myself around her.
I’m so fucked. Here I am, pining after a woman whose brother hates my fucking guts. Why, of all the women out there, did she have to be the one to spark with me?
Staying away from Talia would be the smart thing to do. Too bad for me that I’m a fucking idiot and so is my dick. We both want her.
Fuck, I have to stop.
Forcing my defeated body to move, I climb out of the car and make my way inside. It’s quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning unit running. The lights are off, and a hint of flowers and honey hangs in the air.
Talia.
As I take in a huge breath of her fresh scent, my body relaxes and my heart rate evens out. Gone are the worries of the day. If I’m lucky, I’ll be seeing her tonight after whichever of her reservations she used.
I push open the door to my room, and the sound of paper fluttering beneath me catches my attention. I pick up the small, folded paper with my name perfectly handwritten across the front in a cute, loopy flourish.
I can’t stop myself from smiling like a loon at her perfect writing.
She got my message this morning. I don’t know what came over me when I wrote it and stuck it under her door. I just knew I had to let her know I was thinking about her. It also was safer to flirt with her on paper than in person. She’s been good at shutting me down. This way, I knew she couldn’t.
But her returning the note? She just opened up a whole new window of opportunity for me to climb through.
I try to picture her face as she opened the note and read that I dreamed about her and that fucking chocolate ice cream.
Seriously, my dick was so fucking hard when I woke up that I thought I was going to die from the pain and blood loss from my brain. I had no choice but to whip my dick out and jerk off in bed before leaving for my early morning run. It took me seconds to come; I blew my load all over my stomach to thoughts of pulling her soft raven hair and slapping her juicy ass as I ate her from behind.
I eagerly flip open the note, excited to see what she wrote back.
Thank you for the ice cream. I really enjoyed it. It was so delicious I licked the spoon clean. Xx, Talia
“Fuck,” I groan, my cock hardening to stone .
Images of Talia licking her spoon have me racing to the bathroom for a shower. I don’t even bother waiting for the water to warm up before climbing in.
Standing under the cool spray, I grip my dick.
“Naughty little pixie,” I grunt, grasping my heavy shaft and stroking it from root to tip.
She’s going to pay for turning me into a teenager who can’t stop fucking his own hand in the shower. It takes less than a minute for my balls to tingle and for me to come down the shower drain with visions of Talia on her knees and tears running down her cheeks as I fuck her mouth.
Fuck the spoon. She can lick chocolate off my cock any day.
I finish showering, using the body wash my mom got me addicted to years ago. One whiff has me wishing it was the sweet floral scent, like peach blossoms and sex, that hit me when I walked into the house.
After my shower, I throw on a plain white tee and a pair of athletic shorts, and plop down on the bed. My muscles are sore, and I hate that it’s getting harder to snap back after grueling workouts and practices.
I should have stayed back and gotten another massage with the trainers or gone another round in the ice chamber. I need to be extra cautious of injury and spend extra time on my recovery.
Being a professional athlete is not for the faint of heart. It’s not all about fame and glory. At least, not for me. Baseball is my passion, and I plan on playing the game for as long as I can.
The alarm on the front door beeps. My ears strain to hear signs of who it might be.
Please be Talia.
Footsteps leading to the kitchen fade, pause, and then lead to the other end of the house. At the click of a door latch, I jump from my bed and make my way to the living room/kitchen combo.
When I picked this house, I loved the idea of the open-concept kitchen/living room. The orange light of the sunset fills the space, making it look peaceful and homey—one of the many selling points that got me. That and the hot tub.
Smiling to myself, I head for the fridge to grab a water bottle. On the counter is a paper bag, and the smell of food coming from it has me stopping in my tracks. My mouth waters, and my stomach grumbles.
Curious, I slide the bag closer and lift open the flap to take a peek inside.
“I see you found my dinner.”
“Fuck!” I yelp. My heart beats in my throat at the shock of being caught.
When I turn around, I find Talia with her hands covering her mouth, doing a piss-poor job of hiding her laughter.
“You scared the shit out of me, Tals.”
“Oh my god, I’m—” The gorgeous little pixie of a woman, who has me captivated under her spell, bends over—hands on her knees—and laughs harder.
The sight and sound of her laughing are so infectious that I can’t help but laugh along with her. When she sobers up, her cheeks are flushed and her gray eyes twinkle.
“You done now?”
She nods, biting that juicy lip of hers. “I’m good. Sorry for scaring you and making you scream like a little girl.”
“Shut up. I did not scream like a little girl.” I did. But no way am I admitting that to the woman I like.
“Okay, big guy.” The nickname falls off her tongue with ease, and my dick takes notice with a jerk.
She’s not talking to you, fucker , I scold my cock.
Ignoring the war going on between my brain and the big guy in my shorts, I point to the bag. “What did you bring home?”
Home. The word slipped off my tongue like this—us coming home to each other—is an everyday occurrence. Gotta say… I don’t hate the idea.
“Go sit down like a good boy, and I’ll show you what’s in the bag.” Talia points to the bar stools at the other end of the countertop.
Like the lovesick puppy I am, I do as I’m told. I watch as she moves around my kitchen in comfortable silence, grabbing plates and utensils.
“So, what do you think about the place?” I ask, interested to know what she thinks.
“It’s cute for a rental. I like the whole black and white theme, with the blue pops here and there.” She shrugs, plopping down beside me and pulling the brown sack of food in front of her.
“Rental?” I mumble to myself.
Didn’t my agent tell Romero’s people that this is my place? Forcing my face to stay neutral, I agree with her. Maybe it’s better Nico doesn’t know.
Note to self: get Charles one of those fancy-ass bottles of wine he and his partner like as a thank-you gift. My agent knows what he’s doing. I doubt Nico would have stayed here if he knew I owned the place. And if he didn’t stay here, he wouldn’t have brought his sister.
Talia continues to chatter, pulling out black containers and placing them in front of us. “Oh. I also really like the kitchen and hot tub. And my bed. The sheets are pretty spectacular. So soft. I’d like to know where the owners got them.”
She drops another piece of knowledge in my lap that I save for later. I’ll have to ask my mom where she got the bedding from. She helped me decorate the place, and by helped, I mean she did the entire thing from top to bottom.
“Okay, are you ready?” Her leg bumps mine as she looks up at me with those pretty gray eyes of hers, pulling me further into her web.
“For?” I ask, my voice husky .
“Your favorite food.” She tilts her head to the side and stares at me. I swear she has some sort of X-ray vision because it’s like she can see into my soul.
My palms sweat, and my mouth dries up. Clearing my throat, I do my best to play it cool. “You have my attention.”
She giggles and lifts the lid to the first container, and my jaw drops. “So, I was out on this food tour thing today, and the last stop was this Mexican restaurant. Last night, you said tamales were your favorite food because your sister-in-law’s mother made them or something. Anyway, they had these tamales on the menu and, well, I thought of you.”
“You bought me tamales?”
She bites her lip and looks up at me. “Well, yeah. I’ve never had one, and I thought… Never mind. It’s stupid.”
Talia attempts to close the lid, but I stop her midair.
As soon as my hand wraps around her wrist, electricity shoots through my veins like a shot of adrenaline. Her lips part, and the urge to kiss her hits me like a bolt of lightning. I fight every cell in my body begging me to lean forward and take her lips with mine.
The next time I kiss this woman, it’s going to be because she wants me to, not because the chemistry between us overrules all rational thought. I want her to want to kiss me.
I release my hold on her, letting her hand fall to the counter. “It’s not stupid, itty bitty. Thank you. No one aside from my family has ever gone out of their way to get me food before, let alone my favorite.”
She exhales a raspy breath. “You’re welcome.”
Needing to turn down the heat between us, I joke, “So, you were thinking of me today. Did it have anything to do with the note I left you?”
She rolls her eyes at me as she unwraps a tamale and places it on my plate. “Be serious, Cameron.”
She has no idea how serious I can be. But I’m about to show her and lay some of my cards on the table .
“No shame admitting it. I thought about you.” I grab two lemon wedges from the container and place one on each of our plates. Moving on to avoid making things awkward, I explain how Rylann taught me to eat tamales—with a squirt of lemon juice on top—while visiting her and my brother a couple of years back.
Talia watches as I squeeze the lemon and dribble the juice down the middle before mimicking me.
“Okay, now we eat.” I hold out my fork for her to tap in cheers, which she does with a giggle. The sweet sound burrows deep inside my chest, making something inside there flip around.
She slices through the warm corn masa, lifting a chunk to her mouth. When she wraps her lips around the tines of the fork with a moan, my cock swells and my brain malfunctions.
Fuuu… Why is it so fucking hot and sexy watching her eat?
“Mmm. Now, that’s good. What do you think?” She wipes her mouth on a napkin.
My brain kicks into gear, and I take a bite of my tamale. The corn masa, spicy beef seasoning, and lemon hit my taste buds in a burst of flavor. “Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”
We dig in, eating in companionable silence until we’re finished.
“So, what’s the verdict?” she asks.
“I think it’s the best tamale I’ve ever had,” I half lie. This tamale is a close second for sure, but in a way, it’s also the best I’ve ever had because she brought it for me.
She must see right through my lie because she shakes her head and calls me out. “I know you’re lying, but…” She licks her bottom lip, carefully considering her next words. I like this about her. She’s intentional about what she does and doesn’t say. “I’m okay with it.”
I grin at her, and she pushes my shoulder. Her touch sends shockwaves of heat and desire through my body.
“Stop it.”
“I didn’t do a thing.” I raise my hands in surrender. “What else did you get? ”
Talia’s eyes light up at the change of subject. She tells me all about her walking food tour while whipping out various food containers and explaining what’s in each one. We sit at the counter eating and talking.
I can’t remember the last time I had such a good time with someone I’m not related to. Hanging out with Talia is as easy as breathing.
Maybe too easy.