Page 87 of Playing Dirty
He might be the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, but God, do I want him.
Even if I shouldn’t.
The blunt ends of his fingers scrape over my scalp, right where the base of my skull meets my spine, and he whispers, “Do you still want me enough to stay here tonight?”
“That’s not even a question,” I murmur without missing a beat. “And it was never off the table unless you wanted me to go.”
He shakes his head before dropping his lips to mine. My grip on his legs tightens, as do his fingers knotting in my hair while our tongues flick and roll together in a slow, seductive dance. We stay like that for I don’t know how long, molding our mouths together and stealing the breath from each other’s lungs, before he finally breaks the kiss.
A soft laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head while staring down at me. “How the hell did they let you be captain?”
“Because I’m on my way to becoming a two-time All-American,” I murmur, shooting him a wry grin. “And because I’m awesome, obviously.”
“Oh, yeah. And don’t forget humble,” he mocks with an eye roll.
“Or sexy as hell.” I lick a line up his abs. “Extremely good in bed.” Bite his nipple. “An excellent kisser.” Then finally pull him back down foranother kiss. The only difference is that, this time, I drag him all the way to the bed with me, not stopping until his body is layered over mine.
Of course, I don’t let him stay in that position of control for long, quickly rolling him to his back and wedging myself between his thighs. His dick is already hard, tenting his sweats as I grind my own thickening cock against him.
I don’t understand how we went for hours earlier, covering each other in cum, only for me to want him again so soon. But I do.
I crave him down to the marrow of my bones, the ends of the earth.
To the edge of my fucking sanity.
So this is what addiction feels like.
I’m the first to break the kiss, moving to lick a path down his throat while my mind runs with possibilities—planning out all the ways I can keep him up and panting beneath me until dawn breaks. And, boy, do I have plenty of ideas. But the second Theo’s mouth isn’t busy being devoured by mine, he starts talking again.
“Okay, but can we pause for like five seconds? Because I really can’t believe your teammates wouldn’t care if they found out we were hooking up.”
And here we go again.
I sigh and fall to my back, my dick already deflating. “I’m sure some of them would, but I don’t really give a shit about what they’d have to say about it.”
“How?” he asks, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Blackmore and the rivalry and everything else…it’s all temporary. Sure, it’s good and fun to feed into and honor the history behind it, but it’s not like it’s going to matter once we leave this place.” I shrug before adding, “If everything lines up and I get drafted, there’s a chance I’ll be playing alongside some Leighton alum.”
He purses his lips, then says, “I guess I never really looked at it like that.”
It’s the only way I’ve ever really looked at it, but maybe that’s what being serious about the MLB does; it forces me to push everything aside and focus on the bigger picture. But to some extent, I get where his head is at too. I might not necessarily agree with it, but I can acknowledge the importance it plays for him.
I just wish I could let him see it doesn’thaveto be like that.
But then I realize I have the perfect opportunity to try. Or at least take a few baby steps in that direction.
Shifting to mirror his position, I use my free hand to brush a few stray strands of hair from his forehead.
“Listen, I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but we’re having a game night this weekend after I get back from our away series. I think you should come for it,” I offer, doing my best to make it as encouraging and non-threatening as possible. “You can meet the guys, and maybe it’ll…I dunno. Ease your mind, or something.”
His eyes widen comically. “You want me to have a game night with your teammates?”
“No, just some friends and my roommate,” I correct, with a laugh. “You’ve already kinda met two of them. And I can promise you one thing: No one’s gonna care that you’re a Timberwolf besides you.”
Expression relaxing slightly, Theo mulls the idea over. It’s obvious he’s torn, fighting the instinctive response to reject anything to do with Blackmore on principle. I’m prepared for it, honestly, but then he surprises me when he finally concedes.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “But what game is it?”
