Behind the Pitch, a novella: Seeking Serenity 1.5 Read Online Free

Besides, no way was I backing down when there was a gorgeous girl in the room.
    She stepped between us and I felt my knob twitch when she put her small fingers on my chest. My eyes, though, hadn’t left Morrison’s stupid face, and I was thinking of where the best place was to land my knuckles on his nose when McShane spoke, pulling my attention away.
    “Okay, enough with the alpha male crap. I get it,” she said. “You were a drunken jackass and it’s not even a little okay what you did. Seriously, what were you thinking?” The thing about gingers that I loved is how easy it is to measure when they’re hacked off or turned on. From the pink blush that ran up McShane’s neck, right between those glorious tits, I could tell touching me did something to her, too. I couldn’t help it. I liked how her hand felt on me, how she smelled all girl-like and sweet. Just looking down at her had me forgetting my anger for a moment, forgetting that Morrison was in dire need of a throttling.
    Honestly, I couldn’t help but feel like a slimy shite about what I had done on the pitch. That’s not me. I don’t grab girls, even drunk I’m well behaved—for the most part. So when she continued to stare at me, expecting what, I’m not sure, I looked down at the floor first before I could look at her face again. “I wasn’t. I’m not normally like that.”
    “If Winchell finds out that could screw up our chances at regionals. We can’t have that. Just so we’re clear: you can’t go around attacking unsuspecting women.”
    She had the smallest little twitch working under her eyelid. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or whether she liked or loathed being close to me, having me stand so close that my breath moved her hair off her face. One dip of my eyes and I had a perfect view of her cleavage. Her bra was lace and the necklace she wore disappeared into the crease. There were freckles every bleeding where. I wanted to count them. With my tongue.
    “And the suspecting ones?”
    “No,” she said, moving away from me, bumping into Morrison. “Not unless they want you to.”
    “Like that then?”
    She moved her sharp chin up like she was bold, like I wasn’t making her nervous in the least. “Yes, it’s exactly like that.”
    I liked that she tried to act brave. I liked that she thought I couldn’t tell by the pinking of her face that I was doing things to her, making her just a bit hot. “So, McShane, are you unsuspecting?” Looking at her, watching her small nervousness had me licking my lip at just the idea of how delicious I bet she tasted.
    “Knock it off.” It was just like Morrison to ruin the mood, to break the small connection I saw forming in McShane’s eyes.
    I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, didn’t bother looking behind me as I left, which suited me just fine. But a part of me knew, as I zipped through the lobby and out into the courtyard, that my apology wasn’t the only thing I had given to that ginger angel that morning.
     

     
    Within the next few days, I discovered that Autumn McShane had a bit more fire in her than I first imagined.
    My “punishment” as Morrison called it, for groping McShane and giving her a half-assed apology was to “volunteer” at the library, preparing for the yearly book sale. But I was still annoyed that Morrison didn’t buy the apology I gave McShane and when I made it to the library, my attitude was a bit less than cordial. Alright, I was an arsehole to her and her best friend Sayo and I teased her about her mum before I realized that she’s dead. Just like mine.
    Yep. Definitely an arsehole.
    Minutes after my insult, we chatted about her injuries and she showed me what was left from the wreck that took her mum.
    The scar was vicious. A red, jagged line that swept across her stomach, dipped in the center where I thought the stitches must have been. It was fierce-looking, and the only thing that disturbed the perfect contours of her creamy skin. Her