Strike Out: Mustangs Baseball #6 Read Online Free Page A

came to their sex lives, but why would any man admit to masturbation being his sole sexual outlet, much less report taking matters into his own hand seven times a week? On average .
    He hadn’t sounded as if he were bragging. No, he’d simply been stating a fact. One she couldn’t credit. Divorced or not, the man was beyond hot. He was also wealthy and a professional athlete. If he wanted sexual partners, he could have them.
    Which meant he didn’t want them.
    Was he still in love with his ex-wife? That would explain his solo sex for the last year or so. She made a note to herself to find out when he’d gotten divorced. The information didn’t matter to her research, but the idea of a virile man like Royce Stryker not pursuing natural inclinations was troubling. As a scientist, it was her job to explore every possible factor that could influence the results of her experiment.
    She scribbled another note in her lab book . Does masturbation = sex w/ partner? Does lack of sexual partners = decreased libido? Check testosterone levels on MTS1.
    Under Observations, she wrote – Casual observation does not indicate a lower than normal testosterone level. In fact, MTS1 exhibits physical attributes consistent with high levels of T hormone. i.e. pronounced Adam’s Apple, deep voice, pronounced facial hair mid-afternoon. NOTE: Could be from lack of personal grooming in morning. Requires further observation.
    Tricia flipped the notebook closed. Or I could just ask him. Another first. She’d never felt compelled to ask any of her college-aged subjects if they’d shaved or not. A few of them had exhibited five o’clock shadows early in the day, but most of them probably could have skipped a day shaving and no one would have noticed. She doubted that was the case with Royce Stryker. She’d bet her next pedicure the man shaved twice a day.
    She was still contemplating what his T levels could mean in terms of her research when MTS1 returned from his blood test. He walked with a confident gate, no sign of the distress he’d exhibited when he left for the innocuous procedure. Either he was supremely pleased with himself for surviving or he’d been somewhere else for the last half hour. Tricia narrowed her eyes at him.
    “What?” he asked, stopping in front of her desk.
    “Where have you been?”
    “I went to see Mary Alice.” He stretched his arm out, revealing a cartoon bandage holding a cotton ball in place. “All done.”
    “And you lived to tell about it. Amazing.”
    “Hey, do not underestimate medical procedures. They can be dangerous.”
    She couldn’t help it, she rolled her eyes. “No one has ever died from a blood test.”
    “Can I see that in writing?”
    She stood, reaching for the bag where she’d stored all the sensors she’d spent a good part of the day untangling. “No, you can’t. But you can take your clothes off.”
    He froze, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed with color. “What?”
    Assuming a stance she hoped conveyed a no-nonsense professional demeanor, she stared him down. “Should I have your hearing tested, too? I said, take your clothes off. You can leave your underwear on. It won’t be in the way.”
    Expecting him to comply, she turned her back to him to dig in her bag for the box of self-adhesive electrode pads she’d brought. As she dug to the bottom, the rustling of cloth told her MTS1 was doing as she’d asked. Nakedness had never been an issue with previous test subjects, but the idea of this one disrobing in her presence did crazy things to her body. She forced her lungs to take deep, measured breaths, and though she’d easily located the small box, she continued to feel around in the bag, willing her out-of-control heart rate to go back to normal.
    This is so not good. Get a grip, Dr. Reed. Be professional. He’s just a test subject—nothing more.
    She’d just about convinced herself the man behind her was just like all the other men she’d tested in her research—then she