Neither one of us speaks, but our eyes say the same thing.
We could be those other guys.
We could kiss here in the parking lot.
He could open his door, I could open mine, and we could drive somewhere.
Get in bed.
And if we were anyone else, that’s where we’d be tonight.
In bed. Fucking. All night long.
But I have to see him tomorrow morning on the field.
I step away, even as it pains me, even as my libido screams, flailing and kicking, telling me to stop protesting, to just give in.
I don’t.
I go around to the driver’s side, get in, and turn on the engine. I take off my cap, toss it in the back seat, and turn on a playlist, hitting random.
Guns N’ Roses.
Grant lifts a brow. “‘November Rain?’ Seriously?”
“I’m old school.”
“So old school.” With a laugh, he shakes his head, then stares out the window, humming along to the lyrics.
I drive away, but each second that ticks by makes my chest squeeze. It’s like there’s a rope around my heart, tightening like a noose.
I can hardly breathe.
It’s unbearable, the thought of this night ending.
I glance over at him.
Is he thinking the same thing as the miles unfurl?
I breathe out hard, fighting like hell to focus on the road, and I do my best. I swear I do. But when he slides one hand absently along his jeans, I’m obsessed with it.
How his fingers felt in mine under the table.
How good it would feel to have his hands on me.
Mine on him.
The GPS interrupts Axl Rose, telling us we’re two miles from the hotel.
Two miles.
Those words reverberate in my skull, a warning or a countdown.
The thought of going back into this hotel in less than two miles without tasting his Diet Coke kiss is killing me.
Making a split-second decision, I hit the right turn signal, pull onto a residential side street, then cut the engine. It’s quiet enough. No one’s out.
He jerks his gaze to me. “Why’d you stop?”
I meet his eyes. Lift my hand. Hold his face. His breath hitches.
I slide my thumb along his jaw. Grant moans softly, and everything feels right in my world.
“Fuck it.” I inch closer, lick my lips. “Kiss me, rookie.”
He smiles. “Hell, yes.”
13
Grant
My lips crash down on his.
Flames lick every inch of my skin as I taste the shortstop’s lips for the first time.
I don’t play around. I don’t tease or toy. I take his mouth hostage as I pour all my lust into a white-hot kiss with Declan Steele.
I grab the back of his neck, jerking him closer, claiming his lips.
It’s rough and fevered, everything I imagined a kiss with him would be.
Exhilarating.
It’s utterly exhilarating.
Declan’s stubble scrapes my cheek like sandpaper, and I lose my mind. Need grips me, so I drag him closer, my thoughts becoming a hazy blur as pleasure blasts through my body, filling every single cell.
Weaving my hands into his hair, I swallow down a harsh groan. His hair is soft and thick, and, holy fuck, it’s between my fingers. My God, he’s here.
Kissing me like I’m the only man he’s ever wanted.
I know that’s not true. I damn well know that. But at this moment, all I feel is how much he wants me. It washes over me. It rolls off him in waves as our teeth click and our tongues skate together.
He knocks my cap off, sending it skittering to the floor, his fingers diving into my hair too.
We grab, take, devour.
My God, he tastes so good. Like fantasies becoming real. Like I’ve imagined kissing should be.
I’ve kissed before, but not like this.
This feels like sex.
Especially when he pulls back and lets out a wild groan of pleasure that makes my balls tingle.
“Love the sounds you make,” I rasp.
“Yeah?”
“I do. A lot.” I pant, jerking him close again and slamming my lips back to his.
“Yes . . .” Declan gasps into my mouth.
My cock twitches in my jeans, and I’m leaking already. I’m so fucking turned on I don’t even know what to do.
I can’t stop kissing him. Can’t stop touching him.
I tug his bottom lip between my teeth, and I moan so damn loudly I’m sure the house at the end of the block can hear. Sure, too, that I don’t care.
Especially when Declan unleashes a hard, shuddery breath as I lick the corner of his lips, then as I flick my tongue right there, and once again as I dive back in for another hungry, heated round.
His moans and murmurs are the sexiest noises ever.
I can only dream of how much louder he’d be if we were fucking. How much more erotic his sounds would be. How fantastically filthy.
But I guess it’ll have to be okay that we won’t be screwing ever. I don’t know how I’d survive sex with him since kissing him is already the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.