Maid For Beckett Catching The Baseball Legend’s Heart novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162

-Andi-

1

Davouchers

My throat had closed up for good, and there’s a prickling warmth in my eyes that I had to hide under a low nervous chuckle. Then I lowered my gaze to my dessert; just staring at it made me feel the rich, velvety flavor overwhelm my taste buds.

“I…” I croaked, bravely lifting my gaze onto Beckett as my smile faltered. “I might hold you to that, Beckett.”

He reached over the table, his huge hand swallowing mine, then his thumb drew soothing circles over my knuckles. It was the kind of slow motion that I could feel brushing my heartstrings, compelling me to stare at my date and scrutinize the honesty in his gray eyes.

“I would just dare ask one thing in return,” his voice was rich with hope.

“Hm?” I hummed.

“Whatever is gonna happen to us, I need you to trust me. Trust that your well–being is always gonna be my top priority.”

There’s a part of me that was terrified of the future with this man. I mean, this is Beckett Hale. The Beckett Hale. Women flocked all over him as if he were the only spring in the desert, but the sincerity in his eyes was what made me nod my head.

“Okay, Beckett. I trust you,” I murmured, those words leaving my mouth like honey. He didn’t even have to ask that of me, because I already know I trust this man, even if that may sound a little absurd.

He held my gaze and smiled, the kind that sent shivers down my spine and made my skin tingle. He was so intense that I stared at my dessert again, as if it were the gold I had been mining for a very long time. I had been murdering it with my dessert spoon, the white cream a mush inside the glass.

“Thank you, Andi,” Beckett grumbled, releasing my hand and leaning back into his seat. My hand felt devastatingly cold and abandoned as I watched his hand retreat with a longing gaze. He lifted his wine glass to his lips, and as he swallowed, I watched his throat bob up and down, not realizing that I was doing the same thing simultaneously.

My mouth watered as his pink tongue slid over his teeth. He set his glass down with unhurried passion, then, when I looked back up at him, he was watching me keenly.

I wiggled in my seat, suddenly too uncomfortable under his searing gaze.

“You… you haven’t touched your panna cotta,” I commented, because if I didn’t start a conversation, I might beg him to put that mouth and tongue all over.

He stared blankly at the dessert in question, his lips tipping into a smirk as he once again sipped his wine. How many glasses has he had already? Three, four? I lost count, but he sipped it as if he were quenching a year–long thirst.

“I’m craving for a different kind of dessert,” his voice dropped an octave, and I had to rub my legs together, because his words landed a direct hit on my libido, setting it on fire.

I dropped the spoon into the panna cotta glass, and its ringing sound echoed across the entire field.

With the agility of a hunter at night, Beckett locked his undivided attention on my face, watching how his words affected me. He set down his wine glass and parked his elbows on the table, leaning forward against his joined hands. “I’m staring at my dessert.”

I audibly gasped, my hands suddenly became sweaty as I looked anywhere but him, blindly reaching for my glass of wine. The tall glass almost tumbled over the white linen if not for Beckett catching it in time. I bit my lower lip as our fingers brushed. There was a spark in the air that crackled like fireworks in the night sky.

1/3

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