Scoring With Him by Lauren Blakely

Grant

Three hours later I roust my tired ass out of bed.

Spring training is exhausting.

Can’t remember the last time I slept so long.

I roll over, yawning, and catch a glimpse of the clock.

It’s eight, so I drag myself upright, brush my teeth, pull on board shorts, and head down to the pool. Crosby invited me to join him tonight, and I find him and Chance horsing around in the shallow end with some of the other guys, including Rodriguez, who slides a hand over his shaved head when he comes up from underwater, tiny droplets beading over his Black skin.

“You’re gonna love our pool basketball,” Crosby shouts, right before I cannonball into the deep end.

When I come up, the waves still rippling, I arch a brow as I swim to the middle where there’s a net strung across the glistening water. “This is just pool volleyball,” I point out.

Chance scowls at me. “Dude. Don’t be a buzzkill.”

Crosby seconds the indignation. “It’s our version of basketball, and it’s awesome.”

I laugh. “Fair enough.”

“Young guys. What do they know?” Rodriguez quips.

I’m glad that the guy I’m vying against seems cool with me. He’s a good catcher and an even better person—he’s an advocate for both foster kids and adoption, since he was adopted and I respect the hell out of how he puts his heart back into the world.

But no matter how cool he is, I want him to be my backup.

I zone in on the game, spiking a ball over the net. Crosby jumps, slams it back to me, and I serve it right back. We’ve been playing for a few minutes when Declan strides out to the pool.

I don’t pay him any mind. No more than anyone else. Clearly his answer to my offer is no, and that makes him just another one of the guys.

I’ll survive. All baseball all the time—that’s how I should be. How he said I should be.

We all goof off, and as the clock ticks closer to nine-thirty, Chance calls it a night. “Don’t know about you all, but I need my R and R,” the pitcher says as he clambers up the ladder.

“Because you’re old,” taunts Crosby, who’s maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, at the most.

Chance arches a brow. “If memory serves, it wasn’t too long ago when it was you covered in ketchup and baby powder.”

Crosby grins evilly. “And since then, I’ve belted thirty homers a season.”

Declan clears his throat. “Thirty-five for me.”

“I’m twenty-six years old, just like our shortstop,” Chance puts in. “If that makes me old for hitting the sack at nine-thirty, fine. You can have an old all-star closer or a tired and drag-ass closer.”

Crosby straightens in a snap. “Go! And say hi to Natasha from all of us. Sleep well. You’re our secret weapon.”

Chance nods sagely. “I thought so. I’ll pass on your regards to the wife.”

“Hell, I guess I should have hit the hay at seven since I’m the old fogey,” Rodriguez remarks.

“Six-thirty for you, old man,” Crosby teases, and Rodriguez flips him the bird.

I take this as my cue to get out too. Some of the other guys stay, but Declan heads up the steps, water droplets sliding down his muscular back.

I jerk my gaze away, say goodbye to the others, drying my hair and tossing the towel in the bin on my way into the hotel.

A minute later, I’m waiting for the elevator when footsteps grow louder behind me. I step in, Declan right behind me.

The doors close, and it’s just us. He stares at me, his brown eyes intense. “You didn’t answer my text.”

His text? I knit my brow, confused, and shake my head. “I didn’t see it.”

He drags a hand through his wet hair and sighs heavily. “Rookie, you’re killing me.”

That nickname sends a buzz of electricity down my chest, straight to my balls. But I won’t make any assumptions. Won’t rub up against him like a cat in heat. “I took a nap. I crashed. I left my phone in my room. But why am I killing you?”

“Why?” He glances at the buttons on the elevator panel. We’re near the third floor. “Because I want to see you tonight.”

It’s embarrassing how much my stomach flips. “Yeah?”

“Read my message when you get to your room.”

Like I’d do anything but pounce on my cell. “Give me the SparkNotes.”

Declan looks like he wants to drag me into his room right this second, slam me against the wall, and punish my mouth for that request. “It says I have no regrets. But I want to make sure you don’t either?”

Scoffing, I stare at him. “Do you seriously think anything changed for me?”

He lets out a breath. It sounds like the biggest relief in the world. “No. Were you waiting for me to say the word?”

No point pretending otherwise now. “Honestly?”

“Yes. Honestly.”

“I kinda felt the ball was in your court, Deck,” I admit. The truth has gotten me this far, and it sounds like we’re going farther. I keep my foot on the pedal. “You know I’m all in. So now the question is—your room or mine?”

A sexy rumble falls from his lips. “I’ll come to you.”

And on me, I hope.

As the elevator doors open, I give him my room number. “I want to rinse the chlorine off me. Give me ten.”

“Leave your door ajar so I can get in quickly.”

“Will do.”

I head down the hall. The second my door shuts, I dive onto my phone, turn the notifications on, and read his message.

I feel like I’ve won the sex lottery.

I punch the air, strip out of my board shorts, and hit the shower.

Ten minutes later, dressed only in a pair of basketball shorts, I open the door a crack, using the lock to leave it open.

When the door creaks after a few seconds, my lungs burn with anticipation.

Declan steps inside, flips the lock the other way, and kicks the door shut.

Excitement burns in me like jet fuel as I watch his every move from a few feet away. I lean against the wall, ready to fly into the stratosphere.

I’m ready for anything.

In no time, he strips off his T-shirt and kicks off his flip-flops. His dark eyes travel down my chest, my crotch, my legs, then back up to my face as he flares his nostrils and stalks over to me. “We should talk. Set ground rules. But I need a minute with my hands on you, rookie.”

“That sounds like the start of a great conversation,” I tease.

“Yeah, let me say this first.” He runs his hands down my chest, over my abs, his thumbs sliding along the grooves. My whole body shakes.

Declan leans in and brings his face close to mine, and my breath catches. I groan, ridiculously loud.

His eyes turn savage, then he drops his lips to my jawline and kisses along it, under it, down my neck. It’s mind boggling. I’m crackling everywhere as he licks my Adam’s apple then kisses up to my chin, where he stops, loops a hand through my hair, and clasps the back of my head. “You are so damn irresistible.”

“Don’t resist me.” My voice barely sounds like my own, yet it’s the truest statement I’ve ever breathed.

His eyes lock with mine; his irises contain a thousand dirty wishes. “And I am going to make you feel so fucking good. I’m going to do things to you that blow your mind. I’m going to make your toes curl, your knees weak, and your dick weep with pleasure.”

His filthy, beautiful promise electrifies me. But what if I can’t do the same to him? What if I’m no good?

But I’ve come this far. I’m not going to back down. Not from the act, or from the words.

“I want to make you feel good too,” I say, letting him see beyond my bravado. Stripping bare. “I want you to teach me how to make you feel good.”

“I will.” Declan’s eyes darken, glimmering with heat. “But know this—you already do.” He slides his hand along my right arm, traveling over my muscles, down to my hand. He brings my palm to his crotch, then presses it against the hard ridge of his erection.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I gasp as I feel how hard he is. How big he is.

“You feel that?”

My throat is dry. All I can do is nod and gasp out a husk of a yes.

He crowds me, stepping closer. “You make me so fucking hard. You turn me on so much. You already make it so good for me,” Declan says as he licks a path up to my ear, biting the earlobe while I fondle his cock, his length pushing through the thin fabric of his shorts.

I want more.

I want skin.

What’s the point of clothes anyway? They’re all coming off soon.

I have no idea what we’re doing tonight. I have no clue if we’re going all the way or some of the way. But I know this much: I want my mouth on Declan.

I push both hands into the waistband of his basketball shorts, shove them down and let them fall to the floor. Then I stare at his erection, thick and hard and pulsing. A vein throbs in the middle of his cock. The head is engorged, like a dirty invitation for my lips.

My mouth isn’t dry; it’s watering. I grasp him, gripping his hard-on, feeling that hot, smooth skin, and the virile strength underneath.

Everything about having Declan in my hand is intoxicating. It fries all my senses. It sends my system into overdrive.

Growls tumble from his lips with each stroke of my hand on his shaft. I give a few tight pumps then I drop to my knees. But right before I put my mouth on him, he ropes a hand through my hair and stops me. “I’m giving you one minute.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he says, gripping my hair nice and tight, then sharing his plans for us. What he wants to do next.

Something I’ve never done.

Something I want desperately to do.

I shudder everywhere, and my dick leaks.

“Have you done that yet?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Do you want to?”

“Hell yes.”

The images he evokes are so arousing. Because they’re a promise. A roadmap. A blueprint of what I’m sure is going to be one of the best nights of my life, ever.

And it starts with me taking Declan Steele into my mouth. With wrapping my lips around his pulsing length and tasting him for the first time, salty and musky and everything I’ve imagined and more.

I draw the head of his cock into my mouth with a groan.

“Yessssss,” he rumbles.

I let go to lick a stripe down the underside, cupping his balls, then sweeping hot, wet kisses all over his shaft till I’m out of my mind with lust. Till he is too, judging from his moans. With a fist wrapped tight around the base, I bring him back into my mouth, and I don’t take it easy.

I take it all, dragging him to the back of my throat in one long, hot haul.

“Your mouth,” he grunts as his hands curl tight around my skull. “Your irresistible mouth. Want to fuck your lips, rookie. Shoot into your throat,” he says, and my dick throbs, hard and heavy between my legs.

I suck harder, hoovering him deeper as he unveils filthy promise after promise.

“But not yet. Know why?”

I shake my head and flick my tongue along the length of him.

“Because I need you naked and under me. Naked and over me. Because I need this insane body against mine,” he says as he pumps, thrusting his hips mercilessly into my mouth.

My head is a hazy blur, and my nerves spark and crackle.

I loop a hand around to his ass, grabbing a muscular cheek, slamming him harder into my throat.

His growls and grunts are everything I’ve wanted, and we’ve only just begun.

Then Declan stops, curses, and drags his cock from my mouth.

I rise, feeling heady and powerful and a little crazy.

Feeling like a whole new part of my life is starting tonight.