Page 33 of Left on Base

It is not, in fact, an easy fix.

He reaches for his pants. Both of us are breathing hard. I’m not even pretending to look away. My eyes are locked in. On his dick, hard as fuck and wanting me.

“Holy fuck.” His sweatpants put up a fight. “Shoulda taken these off before I got in the shower.”

“Right?” I try to help, but honestly, I’m making it worse. Four hands are not better than two here.

Jaxon stumbles back against the tile, looking less like a sex god and more like a man wrestling an octopus. “This is surprisingly difficult.”

I giggle, and his smile makes my heart pound harder.

When we’re both naked, our eyes lock. The air is electric.

His expression gives nothing away except raw want. “Come here,” he mumbles, and there’s an intensity to his voice.

I know as soon as we start kissing where this is heading. You might want me to ask about her. To clarify. To be a responsible adult.

But responsible adults don’t end up in steamy showers with baseball players. So here we are.

Wait. Is this cheating?

No, they’re just talking and he said they weren’t dating.

So really, this is okay, right?

Right? Totally fine.

If you think otherwise, fuck right off.

I’m sorry. Don’t come for me.

But coming is definitely in my future.

With Jaxon’s hands on my skin and his breath mixing with mine, ‘okay’ is a concept from another universe. One where I’m not about to make decisions that’ll make my future self facepalm.

“Hey.” Jaxon lifts my chin, his touch gentler than it should be. “Do you want this? It’s okay?—”

“I want it,” I assure him, cutting off his attempt at being responsible. Because responsibility has left the building. Being with Jaxon now feels like playing with fire while doused in gasoline, and apparently, I’m into burns.

“I can help those sore muscles.” His chest presses against mine, his body heat destroying my last shred of willpower.

He cups my cheek, tilting my face up. When our lips meet, it feels like every butterfly in the world is raving in my stomach. He walks me backward under the spray, warm water cascading down my back as his tongue slides against mine. He kisses me slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid I might break. Or run. Or come to my senses.

Steam swirls around us. In his arms, I can pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. I can pretend he’s still mine and wants more than this moment. But that’s not reality, and thankfully, reality’s about to become very irrelevant.

Jaxon’s wet lips move from mine to my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. “You’re so sexy,” he mumbles, cupping my breasts before his lips close around my nipple.

I lean my head back against the tile, fighting thoughts of what this means.

What’s he feeling? Is this his way of saying he wants more?

Don’t think.

No feelings.

Just sex. Don’t assume this means anything and you won’t get hurt.

I tell myself again: it’s just sex.

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