Chapter 21
“Girl, if you don’t do something about that, I may have to.” Taylor’s ability to know what I’m thinking is an uncanny skill of hers.
“If only.” I sigh, watching Chase interact with the officers and Herbert the horse. Who names a horse, Herbert?
“Why can’t you?”
“I’m the interim GC. Not to mention I have to watch him closely to make sure he fulfills all the elements of the deal so he can avoid jail time and stay on the team.”
“What better way to watch him than up close and personal.” She raises her eyebrows with innuendo.
“Tay, be serious.”
“I am being serious. You’re a fucking professional Gabby.
You’re capable of doing your job and having your fun.
Take advantage. Get your needs met, because from what I’ve seen, that man there can fulfill every single need you could ever have in that department and probably some you didn’t even know about. ” She fans herself with a smirk.
“More than,” I grumble. “I told him we can only be friends. Mixed signals are never good.”
“Show up at his house in only a trench coat. No mixed signals there.”
“What?” I laugh. “How do you come up with this?”
“I’m creative.” She winks.
“Would that even work?”
“Of course it’ll work. Put on some of that sexy lingerie I know you wear, open your coat, and flash him. Then see how fast he can get you naked and to the fun part.” With that, she saunters off, leaving me stunned and questioning whether I could be confident enough to do something like that.
An hour later, Chase has greeted every man, woman, and child in the line wrapped around the outside of the stadium.
It was impossible to keep track of the number of single women who waited to get a picture with him so they could try to pass on their phone numbers.
Try being the key word because he turned them down every single time.
More times than I could count, he made eye contact with me when he told them he wasn’t interested or was in fact not a free agent.
Was that his way of telling me he didn’t want to be my friend anymore or just his way of trying to be on his best behavior while the front office and staff were around?
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping it was the former.
Completely illogical and contrary to what I’ve repeatedly told him, but a woman is entitled to have mixed feelings and change her mind.
Especially when the only man to ever worship her body shows up as walking temptation with forearm tattoos and a cocky grin.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s been texting me more, making me question the rules I’ve laid out.
“Gabrielle?” He waves me over. Hearing my full name from his lips catches me off guard. I hate it.
“Yes?”
“Come take a picture.”
I look between him and the horse. His smile draws me in and I’m moving before I know it.
“With you or with the horse?” I ask so softly only he can hear.
“Would it be against the rules if I said both?” He reaches out like he’s going to touch me, but thinks better of it and grasps Herbert’s reins instead.
I get into position between him and the horse.
Before I can convince myself not to, I turn and look over my shoulder at him.
“No,” I whisper, and a megawatt smile overtakes his face.
My responding smile is as natural as breathing.
In this moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.
I forget about the eyes on us. The camera poised to take our picture.
The rules saying we shouldn’t lean into the feelings I’m having.
All of it disappears for a few minutes and it’s just us.
Until Herbert stomps his foot and nuzzles his head into my chest with impatient whinnies.
I guess he’s done for the night. It’s only after he pulls away and Chase’s eyes drop to my chest that I realize Herbert was flicking his water all over me while he burrowed into me because my white blouse is wet.
The coolness of the water sets in and has my nipples puckering in my barely there corset bra.
“Whoa, my god. That’s cold.” The wet fabric clings to my chest so I pull it away to try to air it out.
“Your shirt is see-through.” He clenches his jaw as his eyes flash to my breasts.
“I’m fine.”
Chase rips his hoodie over his head and pushes it to my chest. “I can see your bra.” His knuckles brushing against my wet skin through the shirt have my nipples tightening to sharp points.
This time not because of the cool temperature of the water.
He must notice because he grabs my hand and yanks me behind him away from the lingering fans and towards the side entrance to the clubhouse tucked on the side of the concession stands.
“Where are we going?” The click of my heels is loud against the concrete as I struggle to keep up with his long stride and clutch his discarded hoodie over my exposed bra.
“Inside. You need to change.” His gruff tone has tingles spreading down my spine. Arousal is quickly replacing my annoyance at being manhandled. The only explanation for what comes out of my mouth next.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this feels an awful lot like possessiveness.
” We’re barely inside the staff entrance leading down the ramp to the locker room and conditioning offices when Chase turns, grips my hips, and pushes me back against the hallway wall. His body pressed against my front.
“Possessive? Is that what you think this is?” He leans in, his nose running against my jaw.
I suck in a breath, waiting for what he’ll do next.
I’m powerless to stop whatever this is. Somewhere between watching him work ruthlessly while the team was on the road during his suspension, the press conference where he gave a heartfelt apology that felt like it was addressed directly to me, his texts, and his blatant refusal to take another girl’s number today, the wall I’d erected between us started crumbling.
It's s careless.
Probably stupid.
Most definitely against every policy in the handbook, but none came to mind at this moment. Not with his hands pinned to my hips and his body so close to mine in the empty hallway where we could be caught together at any moment. Instead of cowering at the prospect, the suspense of it thrills me.
“You tell me.” Tilting my head up, my mouth lines perfectly with his. His breath mingling with mine. I bite my lip as his nostrils flare.
“You need to change.” He repeats his words from minutes ago, refusing to answer my other question as to what provokes this reaction in him.
Feeling brazen, I release the hoodie from my chest and untuck my blouse from my skirt. His quick reflexes catch it before it hits the ground, his eyes tracking my movements. When I lift my shirt and pull it over my head, he curses under his breath.
My skin heats from his eyes on me. The red corset bra matches my red skirt, and he swallows roughly. The pulse point in his neck rapid fires as he takes me in. Noise at the end of the hall breaks his trance and he shoves the hoodie over my head, then leans in until his breath is on my neck.
“Next time you put on a show like that, Princess, it better be in private and just for me.” He rasps into my ear as his scent envelopes me and short circuits my brain.
The baby hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
He waits until I put my arms in the sleeves, then pulls the hoodie over my torso, taking time to straighten it before stepping back.
Miller is leading the pack around the corner from the locker room and directly toward us and asks, “Hey, is the horse still here? We want a picture.”
“Yeah, Herbert is still out there,” Chase answers him. The team passes by, but Miller hangs back.
“Whatcha wearing there, Gabber?”
“The horse got me all wet,” I begin.
“That’s not the only reason you’re wet,” Chase whispers so only I can hear.
Ignoring the quiver in my stomach, I continue on like he never spoke. “So Chase gave me his hoodie since I don’t have any clothes to change into before the game.”
Miller hums and smirks like he wants to call me out.
I flip him off and head down the tunnel to the closest bathroom.
My bra may be covered, but I still need to dry off.
And I need a moment to myself after doing a fucking striptease in the middle of the hallway where anyone could have seen us. What the hell was I thinking?
I lose my mind when Chase Bennett is around, and I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it.
Instead of going back out to the concourse after gathering myself in the bathroom, I distract myself with work until it’s time for the opening celebrations.
Chase catches the ceremonial first pitch as planned.
The police department’s color guard takes the field for the anthem, and the Horse Patrol Unit is properly introduced and thanked for their contributions to the city.
I’m still wearing Chase’s hoodie and surrounded in his leatherwood and bergamot scent as I watch in the stands with Ivory.
His name isn’t on the back, but it doesn’t make me feel any less like his.
A foreign concept I suddenly don’t mind.
I’d never been anyone’s before. Never been made to feel like I was desired and worthy at the same time.
Not since the single night spent with a perfect stranger while he told me I was both vixen and princess.
His words from that night echo in my memory as I watch him step into the batter’s box. “You’re not a vixen, you’re a princess, hidden in the tower, begging to be set free.”
I wanted to be set free. But only with him.
He swings on the first pitch, driving it deep over the right field wall. A home run. As he rounds the bases, more words assaulted me. “I know what you need. Someone to fall to his knees for you. You were made to be worshiped.”
I want to be worshiped, but more than that, I want to fall to my knees.
As he crosses home plate, he tents his jersey with his thumbs and forefingers. The Troubadours logo on the front flutters, making it look like a declaration for the team, but when he throws up a heart symbol with his hands and winks, I know it’s for me.
My resolve snaps. Where’s my damn trench coat?