Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) by Lauren Blakely

“Cool neighborhood. But you’re the only person I want to see for the next twelve or fifteen or whatever hours,” he says.

“Same, Deck. Same.”

Tonight feels like our first true night alone. A night when we aren’t surrounded by a hotel full of teammates. A night when we don’t have a workout in the morning.

A night when we can just be together, and also be alone together in a city of millions, without sneaking around, checking stairwells, avoiding the coach.

Finally, five years later, we can just . . . be.

I click on the garage door opener and pull into my home. Once the car stops, I cut the engine, close the garage door behind us, and get out.

That’s it.

We’re officially alone.

“It’s just us for the rest of the night,” I say reverently. I close the short distance to the door that opens into my place.

As I unlock it, Declan comes up right behind me, presses his whole frame against me, and wraps an arm around my waist. I melt into his touch, then my bones liquefy when his lips brush across the back of my neck. “Mmm. You taste incredible,” he whispers.

I lean into him, savoring the feel of his mouth on my skin. Indulging in his kisses for several delicious seconds that unspool into a swoony, decadent minute. I don’t want to stop, don’t want to break the hold he has on me. “Don’t want you to ever stop doing that, but maybe we should get inside,” I murmur.

His hand snakes down to my crotch, where he covers me with his palm. “Get inside,” he muses. “I want to get inside you. Want you to get inside me.”

My breath comes in a shuddery gasp. “Deck, I don’t know if I will last up the stairs with the way you talk to me.”

He sweeps his lips across my neck one more time, pushing his erection against my ass, his chest against my back, giving me a preview. “Then we’ll fuck again and again and again.”

That sounds like the best night ever.

I need it to start so I peel away, unlock the door, and open it.

Once inside, he follows me up the steps to the ground level where I toss my keys on a table in the foyer, then turn around.

We lock eyes. Need flares between us. It consumes me all at once.

I push my man over to the wall, right next to a framed black and white photo of the Pacific Ocean along the California coastline, waves cresting. In a hot second, I’m against Declan, slamming my pelvis to his, our lips crashing together. We combust. I can’t keep track of where we are. We are just making up for lost time in a collision of mouths and teeth. Hands and bodies. Like we have to touch all over.

I don’t want to miss an inch of him, an ounce of him.

I kiss him hard, needing to know his mouth again, his lips again, to taste him. To make him all mine.

My hands grab his face, gripping his stubble-lined jaw. His palms curl around my ass, jerking me closer, our hard-ons rubbing together, our chests slamming.

Breath comes fast and wild. Bodies grind. Lips fuse, and we are one.

This is happening. Nothing will stop us.

We kiss till we can’t breathe, till we have to wrench our mouths apart.

It’s as if we both realize at the same time that we aren’t running out of time. That we aren’t trying to fit everything into an hour or so.

We have the greatest gift of all.

More days.

I slow down. He follows my lead. We find a new rhythm, tender and tantalizing. Indulging in passionate, toe-curling kisses that make my mind go hazy.

Then, we break apart, panting, staring, our eyes asking is this real?

I give a quick smile and dive back in for more of Declan.

I brush my lips across his, darting the tip of my tongue against the corner of his mouth. Teasing, playing. Drawing out the sexiest little shudders from Declan.

A desperate sigh here. A euphoric moan there that floats on the night air, drifting out to the stars. It feels like dream kissing, like this is how I’d imagine him and me when my eyes are closed and I’m falling toward slumber.

Sensuous, almost otherworldly.

But so real at the same damn time.

We linger in this in-between state, our lips sliding slowly, our tongues flicking gently, the sound of our soft breaths the only noise. It’s almost like we both know we can have it all. We can have the fire and the heat, the warmth and the tenderness.

We can have it with each other.

My thumb travels along Declan’s jaw, and I separate to whisper, “Love the beard.”

The corner of his mouth hooks into a grin. “I had a feeling you might, so I grew it back for you,” he says, then hums appreciatively as he holds my face. “You shaved this evening, didn’t you? Right before you saw me?”

“I did. I know you like my face smooth.”

“I like you every way, Grant. But even that makes me happy. That you shaved for me.” He nuzzles his nose against my neck, inhaling me again like he did at the tapas bar, when he stole a whiff of me, like he was getting high. This time, he takes a long, deep breath. “My God, I’m so far gone for you,” he says, and I think this might be cloud nine.

Right here.

My heart kicks in my chest, my bones buzzing. Pretty sure I feel the way champagne tastes. I pull apart, needing his skin against mine. I reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it off, tossing it to the floor.

A ragged groan comes from Declan. He stares greedily at me before he covers my pecs with his hands. Curls them over me like he owns me. He flicks at the barbell on my nipple, making me shiver, then making me moan as he drags those rough hands down my torso, spreading over the ladder of my abs, tracing the outline of one of my new tattoos.