Scoring With Him by Lauren Blakely

Declan

Here’s the thing about getting traded.

Your bros want to send you off in style.

You can’t really say sorry, I need to go hole up in a hotel room and spend the night with the hot-as-sin catcher.

So, I can’t say no to this last night with the guys. I still don’t want them to know what we’ve been up to. Protecting Grant doesn’t end when I get to the other side of the country and put on the other team’s uniform.

Our spring fling is our secret, and always will be.

When Crosby and Chance hustle me to the Cactus Club, I go along with it. Grant and I have a plan, after all.

We shoot pool, toast with iced tea for me, Diet Coke for him, and beer for some of the others.

“Man, I cannot wait to pitch against you when we go to New York,” Chance says as he leans against the pool table. “I am going to strike you out so damn hard, and I’m going to love every second of it.” He hisses like he’s on the mound—because I’m sure this dude does hiss on the mound.

“We’re going to demolish you,” Crosby says, then swings his gaze to Chance. “But no sliders, K? Don’t forget that hanging slider this guy hit against the Aces. That grand slam was insane.”

I laugh privately. If they only knew the truth about that hanging slider. “Guess word got out around the league,” I say, keeping my response light. I don’t mind at all that I’m the Loch Ness Monster with sliders. No one’s seen me hit one well, but my reputation for going long with them precedes me.

“Guess I know what pitch not to call when Declan is at the plate,” Grant drawls as he sets down his Diet Coke, then lifts his cue and takes aim at the red-striped ball on the table.

After Grant misses and loses the game, he makes a show of checking out his phone, arching a brow, then licking his lips. “I’m outta here, guys,” he says.

“You gotta go so early? It’s only nine,” Crosby says.

“As you may have noticed, I’ve been playing like shit, so I’m going to get laid tonight and see if that breaks my streak.” He waggles the phone, flashing the Grindr app before he puts it in his pocket.

“Ooh, get it, bro,” Crosby calls out.

Chance pumps his hips. “Break the streak.”

Sullivan whistles. “Guess you got on Grindr after all. And I’m sure your hookup appreciates your commitment to baseball.”

Grant laughs, then high-fives everyone.

Myself included. “It was fun playing with you for, what, four weeks? See you in September when we pummel you.”

My guy leaves.

Fifteen minutes later, I yawn. “I’ve got a six a.m. flight, and I want to impress my new team, so I need some shut-eye.”

I say my goodbyes to the folks who have been like my brothers, then I get into my car, suitcase already packed, and I head for the hotel near The Lazy Hammock.

I park, grab my overnight bag and walk to a suite in the corner with an outside entrance. It’s private. No hallways. No one here we know. No one to see us go into a room together or leave together.

My pulse spikes as I near the door, slide my card key across it, then head inside.

I drop my bag by the bathroom, turn the corner, and groan.

Grant is stretched out on the bed, naked as a jaybird, lazily stroking his cock. The card key I gave him to get in the room is on the nightstand. The ends of his dark blond hair are wet.

“Merry Christmas to me,” I say, as I kick off my shoes, tug off my shirt, and climb over him. Dropping my lips to his, I kiss the fuck out of him. His hands slide into my hair, curling around my head, and he yanks me closer.

The only place I want to be.

His legs wrap around me. “Yes, gimme this banging body,” Grant murmurs as his arms hook around me while I bury my face in his neck, kissing him there, inhaling that sexy clean scent, the just-showered smell I dig.

But I love him dirty too.

Love him sweaty.

Love him smelling like a sexy beast of a man who needs me the same way I need him.

We kiss for ages, all over.

Necks, jaws, earlobes.

Pecs, stomachs, throats.

The difference this time is we aren’t frenzied. We aren’t kissing like the world is ending.

Even though we’ve barely had a chance to figure shit out, we’ve figuredout this much—tonight feels like it could be the start of something rather than the end of everything.

I slow our kissing. Raising my face, I take a second to admire his swollen lips, his kiss-drunk smile, the twinkle in his eyes.

Grant shoots me a dirty grin. “Are you just going to tease me all night, or are you going to let me fuck you?”

Pleasure jolts down my spine in a hot rush, but as much as I want to get naked with him, I want something else too.

I want him in November.

And I don’t want to leave this up in the air. We didn’t have time to talk about the details earlier. Now we do, and I want to lock this in.

So, I push up on my arms, brace myself on my palms, and stare down at the rookie. “What are you doing in November?”

“Umm . . . napping. Taking a long-ass vacation somewhere warm. Am I supposed to say golf? I don’t think I like golf, but maybe reading on a beach. I’ve always wanted to go to Miami. Relax on the sand, get lost in some books,” he says, then his tone wavers, worry flickering in his beautiful eyes. “That is, if I make the roster.”

My heart squeezes for him. I bend closer, brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’ll make it. You just need to focus, babe. OK? Trust me on this. Just focus on baseball. You’ve got it.”

“I hope so,” he says, his voice thin. Then he draws a deep breath, exhales. “I remember what you said though. When we started working out. Relationships are distracting. Especially your rookie year. You cut yours off.”

“I did.” But Kyle wasn’t Grant. Grant is a galaxy away from Kyle. Grant is the guy I’d move mountains for. Grant is the best thing I’ve ever had. But I don’t want to be the worst thing for him, so I nod, firmly. “Best decision I ever made. I had a great rookie year. I want you to have a great rookie year.”

“I just want to make the team.”

“You will. Keep your eye on the prize,” I say, then I nuzzle his neck, whispering against his skin, “But come November, all that stuff you’re doing, like reading on the beach?” I lift my face, meet his eyes. “Do it with me.”

Grant arches a brow, his lips curving in a grin. “Are you asking me to be your sidepiece in the off-season?” He’s sarcastic, feisty Grant again.

I shake my head. “I’m asking you a real question. And it’s important.”

My chest clutches. My nerves spiral. But I’m in this. I’m so in this.

Grant scoots up, his expression turning serious. “You want me to be your boyfriend? Like, when the season is over? When you do your fling thing?” His questions come out analytically, like he’s taking stock, writing a pros and cons list.

I can’t read him. Can’t tell if he’s about to turn me down or stake his claim on my time. My heart gallops to my throat. Have I read him wrong? Does he not want this? Worry trips through my questions, but I ask them anyway. “Yes. What do you think? Want to meet me in Miami?”

My guy’s blue eyes twinkle as he nibbles on the corner of his lips. “I’m going to ignore you so hard till then. Then when November rolls around, I am going to find you on the beach and kiss the fuck out of you.” He sighs happily. “But nothing during the season, right? We’ve got to focus on baseball during the season.”

I smile, glad he’s on the same page I am. “One hundred percent.”

“I waited years for a guy like you. I can wait all season for you,” he says, his voice stitched with a vulnerability that cracks my heart wide open.

“I’ll wait for you, rookie.”

I press a quick kiss to his lips, and he smiles, like he’s as happy as I am. Like he’s as lovestruck as me. “Guess we broke our ground rules,” I murmur.

“Pretty sure we just smashed through every single one of them,” Grant says with a grin.

“And I have no regrets.”

“Me neither. I told you I wouldn’t regret you.”

“I could never regret you, Grant Blackwood,” I say then shuffle off the bed, popping open the button on my jeans, enjoying the way he rakes his gaze over me as I get naked for him.

I give him a show, pushing my jeans down over my hips, my boxer briefs following, my cock springing free. I give my shaft a tug.

The second he sees how much I want him, he’s panting and moaning, gripping his dick, stroking it nice and hard for me.

I push my jeans and briefs to the ground, step out of them.

Then I grab the lube from my bag, toss it to my guy, and get in bed, landing on my back.

“Are you ready to fuck a man for the first time?” I ask with a groan.

He runs his fingers along my jaw. “I’m ready to fuck the man I’m crazy for.”

“Mmm. Me too, babe. Me too.” I draw him in for one more kiss, hoping he feels everything. Hoping he knows I’m falling madly in love with him.

But that word—love. It’s so hard to say. Too hard to voice. Too out of control. All I can do is come close. Dangerously close. “I’m falling for you. And I want to fuck and fall tonight.”

“Fucking and falling sounds perfect.” My lover moves down the bed, between my legs, and gets to work on prepping me.

“Such a fast learner,” I praise as he slides his fingers in me, opening me up.

“I have a really good teacher,” he murmurs as he crooks a finger, making me arch into his talented hand.

Making me moan.

Gasp.

Hiss.

Then, when he drops his lush lips to my dick, I thrust up into the warm paradise of his mouth.

Mmm. The things I want to do with his mouth. But he takes his mouth away, lets go of my cock, and licks the head, his eyes like blue flames.

“I want to watch you jerk off some time, Deck. I want to shoot all over you. I want to do everything with you,” Grant says, then brings the head of my dick back into his mouth as I touch myself, trailing my hands up and down my body as he scissors his fingers in me, lighting me up.

“I want to feel all the things you can do with that wicked tongue,” I moan, and he lets go again, eases out his fingers, climbs up me. He plants his hands on each side of my face and stares at me like he wants to eat me for breakfast.

“You want me to taste you everywhere, Deck? Lick you all over? Fuck your ass with my tongue?”

This man and his filthy mouth. His dirty mind. “You’ve come so far,” I say as my cock twitches, throbbing as a drop of pre-come leaks from the tip. “And yes, I want that. Save it for me, rookie. Save that wicked mouth for me. I want that so badly.”

Grant dips his face to me. “I’d do it now,” he says, sounding so aroused. “Lick you everywhere. Eat you.”

His cock slides along my stomach, leaving a trail of arousal, and that’s what I want. Him in me. “Mmm. I want that with you. Giving and getting. But I’m gonna want to come that way if you get that wicked tongue near me,” I say, my voice all smoky. I lift my face closer to his, haul him against me, paint his lips with mine. Then I break the kiss. “Right now, I want to be close to you. I need you inside me.”

Grant shudders, his skin flushing, his body vibrating, his desire rolling off him in waves.

He reaches for a condom, opens it, and slides it down his shaft. “First time I’ve ever worn one of these,” he says, kind of in awe, reaching for the lube and adding more to the protection.

My God, it’s so sexy to watch him do that. Safe sex is the hottest thing ever.

Except that’s not true. Safe sex with Grant is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

When he’s covered, I lie down, reach for the back of my thighs and lift my legs in the air.

He settles between my thighs, and I help him along, guiding his cock against me, my knees up, my body open.

Ready for him.

And my God, does he look a sight.

Turned on, aroused, and ready to have the man he’s falling for too.

“Fuck me, rookie. I’m yours.”