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MVP.

A second-chance romance as scorching hot as a baseball diamond in August. Slater "Savage" Harlow Winning the MVP award for the Birmingham Bandits last year was the highlight of my baseball career. It was the culmination of childhood dreams, calculated adult decisions, sacrifice, and a hell of a lot of focus. Tearing my ACL in spring training? Not what I expected at all. Now I'm home, in small town Georgia, rehabbing in the comfort of my own home, with people I know. I'm connecting with friends I haven't had time to talk to in years, spending days at home with my parents, and getting to watch my little brother play minor league baseball. What I don't expect is to see Malone Fulcher walking into Del's Diner one morning while having my coffee and egg whites. She's the old flame, the one who got away, and the woman I compare all others to. Malone Fulcher Spending the summer in my hometown wasn't what I had planned, but it's what I need. Recovering from a hard year, both personally and professionally, I need to reconnect with who I am. When my mom encouraged me to come home and do some soul searching, I can't say no. Memories are all over this small town, from the Baptist Church to the east field on my parents farm, to the diner. On my second day in town, I decide to go in, memories be damned. I lost my breath as soon as I saw "Savage" Harlow sitting alone at a booth. Our eyes lock, my heart flutters, and my hands shake - all the same way they did back in high school. But back then we couldn't make it work. Going our separate ways to differing colleges, we decided we weren't meant to be. A decade later, as soon as our eyes meet, I'm wondering if we were right, because those green eyes of his do nothing but take me to a past that I can see being my future. MVP was created by Laramie Briscoe, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

Laramie Briscoe · Urbain
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53 Chs

Chapter 21

Malone

His mouth is manipulating mine in ways that should be illegal in all the states as well as half the world as we lay in his bed later, kissing for all we’re worth. At some point our bathing suits came off, and he went to town on my neck, all the way down my chest, to my ribcage and now my stomach. Which is where he is right now, gazing up at me.

“What are you doing?” I’m breathless, sure I know where that mouth of his will be next, but I don’t want to make assumptions.

“I’m feeling a little hungry,” he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. A move that is so undeniably sexy I want to give him the praise he deserves. I mean I feel myself get wetter as I watch his tongue stroke his lip.

“Are you? What are you hungry for?” I play along, twirling my hard nipple in between my fingers, hoping it spurs him to do what I know he’s going to do.

“What am I always hungry for, sweetness?”