A Night With Knox (4 page)

She
tugs me along the top tier of the club toward a hidden set of back
stairs I didn’t
even know existed. Shelby must have some sort of insider knowledge of
the club. “It is absolutely because
you’re a
Yankee. It’s
amazing how you know me so well after such a short time,”
she says. Standing on her toes, she gives the club
one more look.

“The
coast clear?” I ask, scanning the
room to see if I can spot who she’s
looking for.

“Let’s
go.” She leads me toward another back
stairwell. Once we’re
safely out of anyone’s
sight, she gives me a quick, hot kiss, her tongue wrapping around
mine in a flash.

“Thank
you for understanding,” she says as
she pulls away, biting her lip. “I
promise I’ll make it up to you
later.” I press my lips into hers
again, hungry for another longer kiss.

I’m
looking forward to it.

Outside
is just as crazy as inside. The New Year brings raucous celebrations
to Atlanta’s
streets. Couples kiss even though it’s
several minutes past midnight, and the air seems to vibrate with the
amount of noisemakers going off. The back exit spits us out along an
alley and we sneak to the front of the club so that I can get my car
out of valet. When it pulls up curbside, I suppress a groan, just
waiting for Shelby to dig into it. If I’ve
learned anything about her spitfire personality, I know that my
rental will not go without insult.

As
expected, she comes out swinging. “The
hipsters called and they want their car back.”

“Some
of us like to be environmentally friendly,” I
say, holding the door open for her. She slides into the passenger
seat. Her dress rides up her leg and when she catches me staring she
winks.

All
I want right now is to mold my hands around her body. Push her dress
aside and find out if that know-it-all smirk can withstand an orgasm.
But I press the
Start
button and
turn this ridiculous car on instead.

Trying
to keep my libido in check, all I can think of to say as we pull into
the street is,
“You have a brother?”

A
look of trepidation snaps across her face but it’s
gone before it can take hold. Then it’s
back to the smiles and winks.

“Yeah.”
She looks out the window again, at the night
passing by in a blur. The next part comes out in a rush. “He
lives three states over.” She looks
back over her shoulder at me.

Lie.

But
it’s the
New Year and we’re
all allowed a few lies. She shifts in her seat, letting her dress
ride higher. She meets my gaze and gives me a wink, pursing her lips
in a way that’s
damn sexy. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and urge the car
to go faster, feeling the blood rush to my cock. Shelby’s
gonna be the end of me with her flirty talk and killer ass. I’d
give my baseball contract right now to get her out of that dress.

Shelby

Hotels
zoom by but Knox doesn’t
show any sign of stopping. My brother wasn’t
stupid. They chose this location because it is in the heart of the
city. Atlanta has a thriving nightlife, but it’s
good to attract to the tourist population as well. More people
celebrating, more cocktails purchased, more business for the Sexy
Bastards. Couples still ringing in the New Year keep the party going
even if it’s
well after midnight.

As
we drive on, skyscrapers give way to houses. And parties in the
street sink back to the glow of TV screens and nightlights. The
houses blur together: a mix of left over Christmas lights and subdued
celebrations around kitchen tables.

“Hey,
Knox, I think you missed all of the hotels?” I
ask. Hopefully, wherever we’re
headed, it’s
some place with a bed and preferably private…but
at this point I’m
game to test my wild side.

“Don’t
trust me?”

“Give
me a hint,” I say.

He
looks over at me. “I’m
going to teach you a new trick.”

I
shiver in anticipation. I was always an eager student. Now if he
would just find his damn hotel. “Is
that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Something
like that,” he says with a wink.

The
houses are really stretching out here: huge lawns, white picket
fences, the whole shebang. I frown. “But
really, where are you staying? We are rapidly approaching suburban
hell.”

“Patience
is a virtue.”

This
teasing is killing me, but damn if it isn’t
turning me on. The longer Knox makes me wait, the deeper my desire
grows, that ache growing with every passing minute. I
need
him, his lips against mine, his hands claiming my ass, and more. I
don’t know
what new tricks he has in mind, but I can only guess they’ll
be mind-blowing. I shiver with anticipation.

“Well,
I’ve never
been exactly virtuous,” I say,
meeting the knowing look he shoots my way head on.

This
is going to be a great night. I only have a small twinge of guilt
over Knox being Jackson’s
business partner, but I squash it. This is my life. Jackson doesn’t
get a say in who I date or who I see. No matter how hard he tries,
Jackson won’t
ruin tonight for me,

Knox
pulls the car up to the side of a community baseball diamond and I
raise my eyebrows. Looks like every other field in suburban America.
My mom and dad used to drag me to a similar one every summer to watch
Jackson play. They’d
even tried to get me into softball, but it hadn’t
stuck.

I
give Knox a side-eye. “I know
diamonds are a girl’s
best friend, but for the record I prefer them shiny and encased in
platinum.”

“I
hope you find a guy with deep pockets for those expensive tastes.”

“Being
owner of a bar doesn’t cut
it?” I quip.

Knox
laughs. “Unfortunately not. Too bad I
don’t have
a contract with one of the most successful teams in sports history.”

I
wink at him. “It’s
a damn shame.”

He
gets out of the car, a sly grin in place, and I can’t
get the door open fast enough. It’s
colder out here than it was at the Library. The field is a forgotten
ghost this time of year. What the hell does Knox have in mind? One
moment I think we’re
sneaking off to get friendlier and now he’s
brought to me to practice with the Little League.

I
walk around to the trunk of the car, my arms wrapped around myself.

“Here,”
Knox says handing me a zip-up hoodie. I raise an
eyebrow at the huge Yankees logo on the back but accept it without
comment. “We are making progress,
ladies and gentlemen,” he proclaims
to the night.

I
stick my tongue out at him. His sweatshirt is big on me, falling
almost to the hem of my dress. It’s
warm, though, and, even better, it smells like him: sharp and spicy.

He
jogs to a nearby park shed. I cross my arms as I glance at the
ramshackle structure, hoping
that
isn’t what he has
in mind for privacy. When he emerges with a handful of baseballs and
a bat tucked under his arm, understanding dawns on me. I can’t
help but laugh incredulously. He’s
seriously going to try and teach me how to play
baseball
?
And here I was thinking I was going to learn a new meaning of the
word orgasm tonight.

“For
you,” he says, handing the bat over.

“And
just what am I supposed to do with this?” I
ask, holding up the bat.

“You’re
starting off the New Year by learning something new. You’re
gonna learn to hit a ball.” He heads
off toward the baseball diamond. I stumble after him in my heels.
This date has gone bat shit crazy. Bantering about sports and
actually
playing them are two totally different things. Did I completely
misread the signs? I was sure we were headed for the bedroom, not the
ball field.

Cooper
Knox, you’d
better be worth it.

“And
you’re
gonna be the one to teach me?” I ask
with a heavy dose of skepticism.

“You
know, some people would pay good money to have a private lesson with
a New York Yankee.”

“Some
people also pay for coffee beans that come out of an animal’s
ass—that doesn’t
make it valuable.” I reach out to
squeeze his hand, trying to get this date back on the rails.
“Besides, I thought you were just
some bar owner.”

“Then
I guess you can have my lesson for free.”

“Am
I gonna like it?” I plant the bat
playfully in the middle of his chest. He grabs the tip of the bat and
pulls me in until our faces are inches apart. I’m
ready for another kiss, but he just smiles and I see his dimples pop.

“I
know you’re gonna love it.”

I
get a whiff of his expensive cologne—dark
with hints of sandalwood and amber. He shrugs out of his sports coat,
his muscles straining against his shirt. If he wants to teach this
lesson shirtless, that would be perfectly fine with me.

We
find a few exterior lights that still work in the winter months. I
kick off my heels next to the dugout and strut out onto the diamond.
Even in the off-season, the dirt is smooth beneath my feet. I push up
the sleeves on Knox’s
sweatshirt and stretch out my arms with the bat behind me. It’s
the perfect move to show off my breasts. Judging by the hungry look
that flashes across Knox’s
face, it’s
working.

“You
ready?” he asks.

“Prepare
to be amazed.”

He
chuckles and jogs out to the pitcher’s
mound.

“Take
it easy on me, no tricks,” I call
out. Squaring my stance, I grip the bat, trying to remember every
baseball scene from TV and film I’ve
seen. Except the batters in those scenes aren’t
barefoot in a skimpy party dress in the wee hours of the morning.

Bring
it on, Knox.

He
lobs the first ball at me. I take a swing. And miss. My momentum
pulls at my balance and pushes me forward a few steps.

His
laughter carries over the early morning air.

“Something
funny?” I regain my balance and stare
him down.

“So
easy, is it?”

I
toss my ponytail over my shoulder and walk back to home plate. “Try
that again.”

“You
sure?”

“Yes.”

“You
don’t want a tip?”

“Pitch
the ball, Cooper.” I tighten my grip
on the bat and tap the plate in front of me.

Silently
he shakes his head and tosses the ball. I wind up, sure that this
time it’ll
be a hit.
Swing
—and
a miss. The ball meets the grass behind me with a thump. At least
this time, I don’t spin.

“Strike
two,” Knox calls. “You
want some help or are you hoping to strike out?”

I
surrender. “I was hoping to hit a
homerun, but teach me your skills.”

Knox
jogs in from the pitcher’s
mound. “Okay, take your stance
again,” he says. I line myself up
over the plate, holding the bat ready. He looks me over with a
critical eye that lingers perhaps a moment longer on my chest and I
can feel my cheeks flushing.

“You’re
holding the bat wrong.”

His
body curls around mine and all thoughts of baseball flee my mind. I
savor the sensation of his body pressed against me, consumed by the
heat between us. Gently, Knox adjusts my grip on the bat.

“Now
you wanna choke up,” he says,
shifting my hands higher up on the bat.

I
lean back against him. There’s
a spark at every place we connect that has heat pooling in my belly.
“Trust me, I don’t choke.”

“I’m
glad to hear it,” he returns with a
smirk. He pauses, looking me up and down. “Make
sure you keep both eyes on the ball.”

He
shows me the best way to swing the bat, but I’m
hardly paying attention. All I can focus on is the contact between
us, the way our bodies move in sync.

“Alright,
one more time,” I say.

Knox
releases me and trots back effortlessly to the pitcher’s mound. Alone,
I suddenly regret his absence, the perfect way his hard muscles
pressed against me. “I won’t
go easy on you,” Knox says.

I
tap the bat on the ground and twist my hands on the grip. “Bring
it on, Knox.”

He
winds up and throws. I watch carefully as it soars through the air
towards me. I swing. The bat connects with the ball with a soft crack
and the ball pops straight up into the air.

I
toss the bat aside and throw my hands into the air in celebration. I
give zero fucks where the ball went, just that I got a piece of it.

It’s
only when I see Knox darting towards the outfield that I remember
hitting the ball is only part of the game. After that, it’s
a race for first base.

I
take off at a sprint, my bare feet raising dust around me.
Catch
me if you can, Knox.
But he’s
quick. Years of training have perfected his spring and he’s
already headed my way with the ball. I’m
almost there, the distance between me and the base shrinking. Before
I make it, a strong arm wraps around me and lifts me off the ground.

The
ball in Knox’s
fist drops as his hands press against me, pulling me back against
him. The pressure of his body against mine, his firm grip on my
waist—it feels so good, to be held by
him, to be caught by him. I turn in his embrace and reach up on my
toes to kiss him. He helps, shifting his hands and gently pulling me
closer. The kiss overwhelms me. It’s
hot and demanding. His tongue twining around my own as if it can’t
decide where to start. At least we’re
on the same page.

I
run my hands over his muscles, feeling their strength. I don’t
know where I want to start because my body is ready for whatever he
has to dish out.

He
pushes up the hoodie, searching for skin, only to be blocked by the
dress underneath. His breathing deepens with frustration and I feel
his pain. I swear I’ll
burn this dress if it stands in the way of me getting laid tonight.
Knox laces his fingers through the cut outs on my dress, tugging them
this way and that, trying to get to more. His fingers are like brands
against my skin, marking every inch promising more to come.