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

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After I hit send, she replies at the speed of light.



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Reese: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!!!!!!!!!!! I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU, AND YOU’RE IN TROUBLE FOR NOT TELLING ME.



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I show the Reese exchange to Declan.

He smiles like he can’t stop, then the doorbell rings. Bounding over to it, I say hi to Oscar, thank him, and bring the food to the kitchen. We eat and make a plan for telling the rest of our friends, then we go to bed, crashing together upstairs in my bedroom.

Knowing he’s not leaving tomorrow is the best thing ever.





In the morning, I wake to his arms around me, and his erection pressed against my back.

He’s still the only man who’s ever spent the night.

Pretty sure he’s the only one who ever will.

When he stirs, I take advantage of our morning wood, turning around, pressing my body against his, and soon, very soon, he’s on his back, I’m grinding against him, and we’re enjoying the best way ever to wake up.

A morning rub-off.

After we clean up, we’re back in bed, curled together, talking, laughing, planning our day.

I could get used to this view.

The view of him.

Him and me.

The idea of us isn’t a Jenga tower at all. It’s Lego-block solid and steady.

That means it’s time to ask him a question.





40





Grant





The morning has brought with it three facts.

1. Nothing worth having comes easily.

2. If you want to be successful, you have to work at it.

3. I want my relationship with Declan to be wildly successful.

That means our lives won’t fall into place magically. Declan might be here in my bed on a Thursday morning, but will he be there the next day, and the day after that?

I’m not worried he’s going to run off and leave me. I’m over that.

Declan’s only been back in town for less than twenty-four hours, but I know what I want—that odd sensation I felt last night at the fridge.

Once we’re up and about, and I’ve made a cup of coffee in the kitchen, I take a fueling sip, set down the mug, then swallow past the butterflies.

Butterflies, not nerves.

I refuse to be nervous. The man showed up last night for me. Told me he said yes to a trade for us. That’s why I want to go first. “So I’m going to work on learning how to make iced tea for you,” I tell him, taking that little step.

Declan chuckles, then shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I want to do all these things with you,” I say, breathless. Hell, maybe I am a little nervous. Briefly, I turn my gaze to the kitchen window where the morning sunlight streams in. I snap my eyes back to him. “There’s a whole city out there. Where do you want to live?”

He scratches his jaw. “What do you mean?”

I push forward. I am bold. “Do you have a place here in the city?”

“I don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I need to sell my New York apartment.”

“Did you get a hotel room here? Did the team give you one?”

“No. When the traveling director contacted me yesterday to make arrangements, she asked if I needed a place. I took a chance. I figured I could stay with you for a couple days.” He swallows roughly, working his jaw over, a hint of nerves flickering in those brown eyes. “I can go to a hotel.” He sounds worried.

I cut that notion off at the knees. I step into his space. Curl my hands over his shoulders. And I jump. “I want you to live with me. Will you move in with me? There’s no point in us having two separate places, is there?”

Holy shit. My voice went up ten octaves. That was harder than I thought. But I’ve always spoken the truth to him. Now I’m simply speaking a big truth.

A bold, love-drenched one.

Like the sun peeking over the horizon, Declan’s smile rises, slow and steady, growing bigger, growing bolder. “You want me to move in with you right now?” He sounds . . . awestruck.

I march forward with my question, powered by hope. “I do. Maybe I’m being presumptuous, but I feel like you’re probably going to be here every night you’re in town. Or I’d be at your place.”

“Then, this is a practical thing?”

Shaking my head, I step closer, sliding between the V of his legs. My hands travel down to rest on his forearms. “It is practical, but I’m not asking you because of that. I’m asking because I want to be with you, Deck. When I go home after a game, I want to see you, if you’re in town. When you’re done playing, I want you to come home to me. I want to sleep with you, and I mean both ways—sex and sleep. I want to wake up next to you. This morning was heaven. It was a dream. You and me in bed together,” I say, the recall sending sparks over my skin.

“You are the best way to wake up, rookie,” he says, all morning gravel and sleepy sexiness.

“See? I even like it when you call me rookie. I’m that in love with you. And when you’re in love like this, you just want to grab all the time you can get with your person. You’re my person,” I tell him, emotions pouring out of me. And I can’t stop them, especially when he clasps our hands together.