Tame The Player (How To Win At Love #2) Read Online Hope Ford

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Insta-Love, Sports Tags Authors: Series: How To Win At Love Series by Hope Ford
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
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He leans in and kisses me until I’m breathless. This is not like the other kisses. It’s like he has something to prove, and he doesn’t stop until I have my arms wrapped around him, holding on to him for dear life. The shirt that I’m still holding to my chest has fallen, and my erect nipples are scraping against the material of his shirt. When he pulls away, he’s smirking. “Fuck, everything about this is perfect, Cat. This is happening.”

As I search his eyes, I know there’s no way I can resist him. I give him another shove and pant, “Go answer the door.”

He’s watching me closely. “Not until you tell me that this is not a mistake.”

His lips are swollen, and I know mine look the same. “This is not a mistake.”

His smile is instant. He kisses me again, just a quick peck. “All right, I’m going to go talk to the guys. I’ll be back.”

He takes a step away and then looks back at me. It’s then I realize I’m still just standing here with my shirt at my feet. He looks me up and down like he could devour me. “Cover up, sweet Cat. If my friends see you like that, I’d have to gouge their eyes out.”

My hand tightens on the door as he looks at me with possession in his eyes. I should hate it, but if anything, it makes me want him more, and before I can stop myself, I lift my chin at him and drop my arms to my side. “You’re the only one I want looking—or touching—me, Holden.”

He groans, shaking his head. “I can make them go away and we can continue this.”

I step back into the room. “Nope, you go. We can do this later.”

He doesn’t budge, though, and I know I’m going to have to be the one to put an end to this. His phone starts to ring again, and I smile. “Go. We’ll talk about this later.”

I shut the door before he can respond, and as I lean my back against the hardwood, I try to act like this is not a big deal and that I can handle a little fun with Holden without getting too attached.

19

HOLDEN

My teammates are passing the beers around that they brought. There’s a baseball game on the television, and everyone is talking at once. I’m smiling, nodding my head, and trying to act like I’m part of the conversation when in reality all I want is to kick them all out and go back to Cat.

Fuck, she’s everything, and I’m so consumed by the idea that I’m going to fuck this up that it has me stressed out. I’ve never been in this position before. I’m usually a fuck em’ and walk away kind of guy. Not that I mislead anyone because I always make sure the girl knows what’s up. But Cat is different. I want more with her, and she’s the one that is keeping her guard up.

A pillow from the couch comes careening toward my face, and I catch it at the last second. “Gray. Earth to Gray. You listening to us?”

I toss the pillow back at Foreman, our second baseman. “Yeah, I’m listening. What’s up?”

He is smiling, but the intensity in his face tells me that his question is serious. “You going to be back for the playoffs?”

A smirk is frozen on my face, not wanting to show any doubts or my insecurities. Instead of answering his question, I ask one of my own. “The question is are you guys going to get us to the playoffs?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“We got this in the bag!”

After the guys all chime in, they stare at me, waiting for my answer. I want to lay it all out for them and tell them everything I’m thinking about coming back and this being my retirement year, but these guys don’t want to hear it. They want to hear that I’m going to help them clinch the winning spot. “Yeah, I’ll be ready by then.”

Yates and Carter go back to watching the game, but Foreman’s eyes are glued on me. “We need you on the field, Gray.”

I shrug. “I know, but Mitchell is doing a good job.”

I’ve watched the guy standing in for me to catch in the games, and he doesn’t have the same game as I do, but I’ve also been doing this a lot longer. He doesn’t frame it like me, and at times, I’ve thought he’s been a little lazy behind the plate, but he’s getting the job done.

“He’s getting by, but he’s not you. When you’re on the field, the whole dynamic changes. The team respects you. When you’re behind the plate, you call the game, and we need that.” He leans in and half-whispers, “I know you’ve been watching the games. We’re barely holding our shit together.”


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