Erica grinned at me, and I grinned back.
Club wives were a force of nature in our own right. In all my years with my husband, I’d never used sex as a weapon or a strategy. During the season, I spent every minute I could with him, intimate or not, and I always looked forward to the offseason. It usually started with a sex fest of epic proportions, and while I knew my patience was about to pay off, I had a point to make. He didn’t get to use our sex life as a bargaining chip with the baseball gods.
We all sized each other up, silent resolution in our minds.
It. Was. On.
We all knew the stakes. It was a power play.
A power play that my husband was not at all happy about. I could see it in his posture. It was the longest we’d gone being in the same house without getting intimate. He was as ready as ever to raise the white flag. I was his weakness, and the wife in me rejoiced over him still having such a softness for me. My libido liked it too. Rafe pensively studied me as if he was trying to decide if I was a friend or the enemy.
“What’s eating you, Hembrey?” Ren asked smugly from across the table. “You afraid she’ll get the best of you?” He was toying with him as if Ren didn’t have a thing in the world to worry about himself. Cocky was not in his favor. In fact, cocky was about to get his ass handed to him.
“I’m good,” Rafe muttered with false confidence. “You should worry about yourself.”
“Oh, I think I can handle it,” he said, taking a sip of his water. The men were stone sober, which was going to make it harder for us, not that alcohol was a tool, but for me, it was a miracle worker when it came to freeing my inhibitions and conquering my gag reflex. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had a drop. When Rafe ordered my usual Margarita, I’d asked the waitress to nix the tequila on the sly. It was a strategic move on my part to throw him off while keeping him on his toes. The lower the drink in my glass got, the more worried Rafe looked.
I kept my laugh to myself as I sucked the rest of the sweet and sour concoction down, making an exaggerated amount of noise.
“That’s enough, Mrs. Hembrey. We should probably get back to Clover,” Rafe said as he took my glass from me before gesturing to the waitress for the check.
“She’s with her grandmother for the night,” I said with a hiccup.
Rafe visibly paled. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I told Dutch to keep her, I thought I’d give you a massage before bed.”
Ren cleared his throat and Rafe met his eyes. “I’ve seen your balls man, and I’m truly sorry for what you weren’t blessed with, but now would be a time to Grinch them up and make them three sizes bigger.”
“Fuck yourself,” Rafe spat back. “I can handle my woman.”
Ren didn’t miss a beat. “No, you can’t.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking it as a compliment before I turned to my husband with a wink. “Shall we, Bullet?”
Rafe’s scorn-filled gaze met mine and he slapped his Amex on the table the minute the check was set down.
“Rafe, let’s talk a minute,” Ren said, as I winked at Erica who was biting her cheeks to keep from laughing. The night was still young and no matter what shenanigans we had planned, it was still early enough for us to have our fun and for the boys to get enough rest for game day. Ren and Rafe took off to the bar and began what appeared to be a heated conversation as Erica and I sat lingering at the table giving them little waives when they both looked back at us.
“Looks like more strategy,” Erica cooed, blowing a kiss at Ren.
“They’re afraid. We’ve already got them,” I assured as Rafe turned around caging Ren in, his back to us.
It. Was. So. On.
Rafe
What a fucking disaster. I didn’t have a chance in hell. Not only did I want to fuck the hell out of my wife but also she was determined to seduce me before the night was over. Truth be known, I was already there. Between her ruby-red lips, long platinum locks, and the dress that she looked poured into, my balls were aching and my cock had been at midnight for the last two hours. As ridiculous as it was, I’d agreed with Ren to keep sex out of the equation and focus on training. I was still pitching solid, but I knew my years in the majors were numbered. Every pitch mattered, and the countdown began as soon as the ink dried on my new contract. Someone would come along in a few years and take my place, but I had made it my mission to make that glove hard to fill. I just wasn’t sure doing so at the expense of my sex life was all that worth it. I’d seen her hurt the last few times I’d rejected her. I hated doing it, but I didn’t know how she would feel about my and Ren’s attempt to keep focused and the ridiculous lengths we were going to. We were pro ball players, and sure, it wasn’t our first rodeo, but I wanted it just as much as I did my first pitch in the majors.
Facts were facts.
Fact One: Fasting was a sign of faith.
Fact Two: Fasting on pussy, well that was the ultimate sacrifice for ball.
And I was seconds away from committing a sacrilegious act.
My wife was true proof that God existed.
She gave me a pensive smile while we walked to her Land Rover. Even after years of marriage, I still loved her fiercely, and my attraction to her hadn’t waned a single fucking second. Nothing in the world would feel better than pushing into her and sliding home. My cock ached at the thought as I subtly adjusted myself in the seat before I started the SUV. The last thing I wanted to do was alert her to the fact my dick was turning purple. She had every bit of my attention, including earlier when I pretended not to notice the sway of her hips as she toweled off after her shower. She was freshly shaved, bare, and I knew she was wet. She was prepped for me and the only thing that kept me from walking over to her and taking it was the stupid ass pledge.
I could just give in, but she had thrown down the gauntlet and challenged me. I wasn’t some macho asshole who couldn’t handle eating a little crow. I’d swallowed a lot of shit during our relationship for the sake of keeping the peace. But Alice was dangerous when she was set on something. And I didn’t mean that in the naughty, dangerously sexy sense. She was downright dangerous if not disastrous in break-out-the-fucking-headgear-and-knee-pads-before-you-bend over-and-kiss-your-ass-goodbye kind of way.
Inside the Rover, the battle had begun. Alice had kicked off her heels and propped her feet on the dash, her perfect, pink painted toes sparkling in the fading sunlight. Her dress rode up her thighs, showcasing her lengthy, toned legs. She worked hard on her body—for herself, for our daughter, for me—and I’d never failed to show it my appreciation, until this past week.
It was never a question of what mattered the most to me. Ball took a back seat to my family. It was her and our baby girl, Clover, who was my other good-luck charm. It would always be them. Four seasons in the majors had only proven I was right to choose her and a lucky son of a bitch because she chose me back. My wife was a bad ass. A pilot, club wife, and mother, who was damn good at all her jobs.
“I love you,” she said simply as I pulled the belt over my shoulder. I paused briefly as she leaned over, the look in her eyes sincere, raw, and vulnerable, a deadly combination for me.
“Alice.” I prayed and protested at the same time. “Come on, baby, show some mercy.”
“Forget about all that for a second,” she whispered sweetly before she crawled onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m so proud of you,” she murmured between us. “I think you are amazing, Rafe Hembrey.”