Do Not Fall For The Baseball Captains novel Chapter 17

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Slippery Boundanes

Slippery Boundaries

Victoria’s POV

30

My head felt like It had been split open with a dull axe. To make matters worse, the loud clanking of metal utensils from the kitchen was echoing through the apartment.

Slowly, I forced my eyes open.

I expected the sterile, flickering white lights of the hospital hallway, but instead, I found the familiar, slightly cracked plaster of my own bedroom ceiling.

My brows furrowed as I tried to piece the world back together.

How did I get here? I dragged my mind through a fog of blurry, gray memories. I remembered the ice–cold rain, the blinding glare of headlights, and then… nothing.

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, the sound catching in my dry throat.

I’d passed out in the middle of the street. I reflexively looked down, checking my arms and legs, half–expecting to see casts or road rash.

Everything seemed intact. But the question remained: who found me? How did they know where I lived?

A surge of panic overrode the physical pain. I stumbled out of bed, my knees buckling for a second before I gripped the nightstand to steady myself.

Using the wall for support, I made my way toward the kitchen, my heart thumping against my ribs.

I expected to see my roommate, Eva, or perhaps a kind stranger who had checked my ID. I did not expect to see Elijah Carter, my fake boyfriend.

He was standing over the stove, his back to me, looking entirely too comfortable in my space.

‘El… Elijah?” I stuttered, my voice cracking.

He froze, then looked over his shoulder. A rare, fleeting light sparked in his dark eyes, and a small, almost imperceptible smile crossed his face.

“You’re awake,” he noted, his voice smooth.

‘That’s great. I left a special knife out for you to finish the job. It’s exceptionally sharp–slices right through. Tell me, where exactly would you like the cut?”

He stopped stirring whatever was on the stove and turned fully to face me, that familiar, infuriating arrogance shining in his

eyes.

stared at him, my mind struggling to process the words. For a terrifying second, he sounded like a character out of a sychological thriller.

‘Knife? Cut… what are you even talking about?” My words trailed off as he reached for the counter and picked up a chef’s

<nife.

The blade caught the overhead light, gleaming dangerously.

swallowed hard, my eyes widening.

‘Come on, take it,” he said, waving the handle toward me.

‘What is wrong with you, Elijah?” I hissed, backing away.

He rolled his eyes and tossed the knife back onto the wooden block with a loud clack.

r

“What the hell were you thinking, walking into a storm that late at night?” he snapped, his posture shifting as his muscles locked tight.

I hated that I noticed it–the way his brow arched and his arms crossed over his chest was an undeniably attractive sight, even while he was scolding me.

“Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been the one behind those wheels?”

“It wasn’t intentional,” I murmured, looking at my feet.

“Yeah, right.” He let out a harsh breath. “Look, Victoria as long as wears in this agreement, I won’t have you being careless with your life. You are my responsibility for the du Successfully unlocked! you want to be reckless after the contract ends, be my guest, but not while we’re involved.”

The sting of his words was worse than the headache. Just like Caleb, his concern was purely functional.

Slippery Boundaries

He didn’t care about the girl who had collapsed in the rain; he cared about the liability I represented to his plan.

One of the clauses in our contract made it very clear; no emotional strings attached. Yet here I was, feeling a quiet sting in my chest because he treated me as a contract clause.

“Go take a bath,” he said, his face settling into a mask of cold indifference. “Breakfast is almost done.”

He spun back to the stove. stared at his broad back, tears brimming in my eyes.

He was such a two–sided jerk–one minute acting like the protective boyfriend I wished was real, and the next, he was treating me like an annoying obligation.

I took a shuddering breath and retreated. I grabbed a fresh towel from the wardrobe and locked myself in the bathroom.

I let the tears fall then, sobbing quietly into the towel. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes red and puffy.

“Let him go, Victoria,” I whispered to the glass. “Caleb is never going to see you. Just be his best friend or be nothing at all, but stop waiting for a door that’s already been bolted shut.”

After my pep talk, I brushed my teeth and stepped into the shower.

The hot water felt like a reset button until, mid–lather, I realized my bath wash was empty.

I squeezed the bottle, but only a pathetic bubble emerged.

Frustrated, I rinsed the suds off my face, grabbed my towel, and wrapped it clumsily around my body.

I tucked the end over my chest and dashed out into the bedroom, hoping Elijah was still occupied in the kitchen.

To my greatest relief, he was.

I began searching my shelf for the extra bottle I swore I had, but the spot was empty.

I squinted in frustration, certain I’d bought a backup. Just then, the door opened.

Elijah walked in, his shirt lifted halfway up his chest as he used it to wipe sweat from his forehead, exposing a glimpse of lean, defined muscle.

froze. I had a clear path to the bathroom, but my feet felt like they had been glued to the floorboards.

He sensed me and dropped his shirt, his eyes locking onto mine.

realized I was staring, and the heat rushed to my face. I tried to turn, to bolt back into the safety of the steam, but my wet flip–flops betrayed me.

My foot slipped on the hardwood, and I felt myself pitching sideways.

‘Careful!” Elijah lunged forward, his reflexes sharp.

His arms caught me, pulling me hard against his chest to steady me.

n the scuffle, my grip on the towel loosened. It didn’t fall completely, but it slipped, dipping dangerously low and exposing the curve of my wet breasts.

The damp fabric barely clung to me, leaving my nipples just barely shielded as I pressed into him.

Elijah didn’t pull away. His gaze remained locked on mine, intense and unblinking, dropping for a fraction of a second to where the towel had given way before snapping back to my eyes.

The air between us shifted instantly. Heat rushed through me, settling low in my belly before sliding down between my legs. My clit throbbed hard, and I felt my pussy grow wet, slick juices coating my folds in a way that made my thighs press together instinctively.

I couldn’t stop it. My body was reacting to him–his scent, his grip on my waist, the way his eyes stayed locked on mine- whether my brain wanted it or not.

Elijah leaned in, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous cadence that made the air in the room feel far too thin.

“You’re playing a very risky game, Victoria,” he murmured, his eyes tracking the erratic pulse in my neck before dropping to my lips.

He extended a hand, his index finger landing at the base of my throat and slowly, agonizingly, gliding down the center of my chest.

“Walking around like this, looking at me with those eyes… you’re doing this intentionally, aren’t you? Trying to see just how long it takes for me to tear up that contract and forget every rule I wrote.”

He began to tilt his head, his intent clear. Just as his breath brushed against my skin, my brain finally reconnected.

I put my hands on his chest and pushed back, creating a few inches of desperate space.

Slippery Boundaries

“The contract… it never said anything about intimacy, I whispered, my voice barely audible.

30 bo

High stared at me for a long beat. I couldn’t look at him; I kept my eyes fixed on his collarbone, clutching the towel so tight my knuckles turned white.

I expected him to argue or make some arrogant remark, but he didn’t. He simply stepped back, turning his body to give me a clear path to the bathroom.

I appreciated the gesture more than I could say. I started to head inside, but then I remembered the bath wash.

“Uhm… Elijah?” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat, feeling incredibly small.

“Yeah?” He answered without looking back.

I hesitated. I didn’t know how to ask for things.

Our arrangement was about appearances, not financial support. I didn’t want him to think I was taking advantage of his money or becoming some dependent tag–along.

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