Swinging Strike

Dating the hot athlete? Yeah, Been there, Done That…

Braxton Smith.

Cessna University’s baseball captain.

Naturally talented.

Sinfully gorgeous.

And exudes enough arrogance to fill a stadium.

That same cocky attitude is what landed him in my anonymous gossip column. 

Believe me, I, Cara Gonzalez, don’t want anything to do with him.

But he’s everywhere.

In my class.

In my dorm.

In my mind.

I left this type of drama back home. 

Transferring to Cessna University is my chance for a redo.

And regardless of his rock-hard abs and panty-dropping smile,

Arguing with an athlete isn’t one of my goals.

My instincts betray me, though.

This attraction feels different.

Stronger.

I have no choice but to stand my ground. 

Because this time, I’m afraid I’ll not only be hurt. 

I’ll end up gutted.

Book One in the Cessna U Wildcats series, Swinging Strike is an enemy to lovers, standalone romance. If you like sexy, hot baseball players, download Braxton Smith today.

Cara

“You know who this jersey belongs to?” I feign ignorance as his icy-blue eyes stare into mine, the slight hesitation in his answer not helping my nerves.

“Of course. He’s actually playing against the Mets right now.”

My gaze flicks to the nearest television, and I can’t stop the small smile from forming. A sense of pride bubbles inside me. It happens every single time I catch a glimpse of my brother playing.

I’m so proud of what he has accomplished. The words fumble from my mouth before I can stop them. “He’s winning.”

“Yeah, but not for long. The Giants will edge them out for the wild card spots.” The sureness of his statement jumbles my thoughts, and the slight dimple in his right cheek catches me off guard. He steps closer, and I’m suddenly engulfed with everything Braxton. His scent. His empowering size.

“Is that so?” I step back, trying to break this connection, but he matches the movement. Warmth courses through me as I try to harden my insides. I have to fight this attraction. I can’t afford not to.

“It is. You know what else?”

The tiny gap between us disappears as he closes the space. I take another step back but come to a halt when my backside stops flush against the wall. I feel caged by my brother’s paraphernalia to my left and Braxton’s body standing in front of me.

“What?” My words come out breathier than I’d like, and I force myself to look away. This need to cave to the desire coursing through my hormone-riddled veins battles against my will to stave off any baseball player’s advance.

A beat of silence passes. Then he grazes his finger across my chin and lifts my face until I see nothing but the curiosity and intrigue eclipsing the blues of his eyes. He searches my face, and I can hardly breathe, reduced to a pool of need. One that needs to be squished before it blossoms into a full-out want. Although, it may be too late.

“What are you afraid of?”

Our stare locks and holds. He has no idea how loaded the question is, but he also has no inclination about what his presence does to me. No other guy, especially my ex, has ever looked past my good looks. No one takes me seriously. But the way Braxton stares, I feel like he’s trying to catch a glimpse of my soul.

“Nothing.” Everything.

Braxton remains quiet, studying me. The air between us charges with uncertainty and unspoken words. Those rough, calloused fingers slide across my chin and brush a loose strand of hair out of the way. “You’re an intricate puzzle, Pole Girl. Mark my words, I will figure you out.”

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