Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“But it is,” I say, cautiously. Zane’s not famous yet, but we can’t take chances. Hanging out in a bar tonight was safe enough. We were tucked away in a nook, and we weren’t naked. If someone saw me in his hotel room? That’s another story.
Zane hums with frustration, his brow creasing. I can tell he doesn’t like this secrecy, but there’s nothing to be done. Quickly, he shifts gears. “I liked playing for you tonight,” he offers.
“That so?” I ask, inviting him to tell me more.
“Yeah. I felt the same way when you came to my game in Los Angeles. Like I was playing for you.”
I sure as hell liked showing up for him, but I try to protect myself with my answer. “You had a good game, Zane,” I say, trying, fucking trying, not to get caught up in him. “Excellent bat performance.”
He taps my thigh. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I wasn’t asking for praise on my performance.”
I knew that. But I’m quiet anyway. I won’t go fishing. I have to maintain some control.
“I’m trying to tell you something,” he adds, his tone wobbly, like he’s testing out new words.
“Okay,” I say, more hopeful than I should be. I shouldn’t want his confessions so badly. But I do.
“I’m not…” He sighs, then gestures to himself and me. “I don’t have guys over much. I mean, I like to…ugh. Fuck. This is hard.”
It’s adorable watching him struggle. But I shouldn’t laugh or smile. So I try to reassure him. “I’m listening.”
“I haven’t dated anyone in a while.”
This is not a date, I want to say. But we both know that’d be a lie.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice rising with too much fucking hope.
He shoves his hand through his hair as if he’s sorting his thoughts. “Not since my college boyfriend. Since I’ve been in the pros, I haven’t seen anyone seriously,” he says. “Just here and there, you know.”
I get his meaning on so many levels. The fact that he wants to talk about exes of any sort is a big step. One I shouldn’t take, but I do it anyway.
“And how have those gone?” I ask carefully.
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t really trust easily. I’m sure we can go all psych major on me and say it’s because of my dad being such a…perfectionist and such a dick at the same time.”
Hmm. I’m not sure that’s the reason. “Is it because of your dad though? Or is it because you want people to like you for you and not because you’re a major league star?” I ask, since that’s what I’ve always suspected. “And it’s wise to be cautious around romance?”
His brow knits again. “Maybe all of that,” he says softly. Then adds, “But with you, Maddox…I dunno. Everything’s just…different. Different good,” he says with a soft, gentle smile.
My heart wants us to run away together. I take his hand in mine, then look at our joined hands, fingers clasping together tightly. We look like two men who need each other.
“I don’t really do hookups,” I say, admitting some of my truth. “I haven’t for years. They don’t suit my needs.”
“Your sexual needs?”
I nod. “And my romantic ones,” I add, leaving it at that.
He nods too. “I get that. You want more,” he says, pushing.
“Yes. I do. I want…”
“…trust?”
I’m tempted to look away, but there’s no point. I’ve already let him in. “Yes.”
Zane leans closer, presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “You trust me,” he says in a tender whisper.
“I do,” I say, and my heart sputters.
Then he knits his brow. “But you were going to hook up with me that first night?” he asks, when he realizes the loophole to my desires.
Him.
“Yes. Apparently, you’re the exception to my every rule,” I say.
“Good.” He slides his thumb along my jawline. “Kiss me again. Like you did in the shower. Like you did after we fucked.”
In a flash, I slide him under me and kiss him passionately. Like we’re a couple, even though we can’t be, even though he won’t be.
But for tonight, he is mine.
And I’m his.
When I break the kiss, he lifts his arms to cup my cheeks. “What if this wasn’t just one night?”
“Zane,” I warn.
“Hear me out,” he pleads. “Let me make my pitch.”
This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. But bad ideas have a hold of me. “Okay.”
“What if we spend the next two nights together while I’m in New York. Just like this. You and me after my games. I can come to your hotel. Or you can come here. We can have another couple of nights together.”
His green eyes are bright and vulnerable.
His voice brims with passion and emotion.
And I know, I just know, I could never say no to him.
“Yes,” I say, and a few minutes later, the knock comes.