Winning With Him by Lauren Blakely

Grant

With Declan in the passenger seat, I pull away from the curb. This is why I took my own car tonight.

I can be our getaway driver. We don’t have to worry about some Lyft driver recognizing us on the way to my house. It’s just easier this way till we figure shit out.

What’s easier, too, is that I don’t have to wait to touch Declan.

When I slow at a light a block away, I reach for his hand, and our fingers thread together. Just like that, sparks jump all over my skin. “Jesus, man. Holding your hand turns me on,” I confess.

Declan rubs his thumb along my knuckles. “You’re not the only one. I’ve got shivers running up and down my back,” he says.

“This is going to be the longest ten minutes of my life.” The light changes and I let go of his hand so I can turn right.

“Where do you live?”

“Pacific Heights. On Jackson, near Alta Plaza Park.”

“So, an eternity when you’re horny.”

I laugh as I drive. “Exactly.”

I tap the screen on the dash, opening the music stations. “By the way, have you ever googled the lyrics to ‘November Rain?’”

“I have. Why?”

“That’s a sad song, dude. She dies in the video too.”

“Way to spoil the video for me, Grant.”

I roll my eyes. “The video’s from before I was even born, so I’m pretty sure it’s not a spoiler. Anyway, no wonder we were doomed back then. You picked the wrong song for us.”

Declan gestures to my dash. “Then you pick a new song for us, DJ.”

As I stop at another light, I wiggle my eyebrows, liking the sound of that. “I will,” I say, quickly finding just the right tune.

But before the song I have in mind can even start, his hand is on my face, cupping my jaw. “Can’t wait to kiss you again.”

Goose bumps cover my whole entire body. “I know. Trust me, I know. But not at the light. They change too fast,” I warn.

He slides his thumb along my jaw, then lets go. “I can wait, then, because I need it to last.”

“Me too,” I murmur but I’m not entirely sure my body is onboard with the delay. I swallow, trying to shake off the fine dusting of desire I’m coated in, then I hit play as the light changes.

An upbeat pop song fills my car.

As I drive, Declan furrows his brow, like he’s trying to place the music. But soon, he tosses his head back against the seat. “Jonas Brothers? You’re giving us a Jonas Brothers tune?”

“What A Man Gotta Do”fills the car.

I smile wickedly as I drive. “It’s a better omen than Axl Rose’s fictional wife dying in the music video of ‘November Rain.’ Which is a song about love not working out, man!” I point at the screen. “Admit it. This is a much better song for us.”

He’s quiet for a minute, listening to the lyrics about what a man has to do to get locked up by his lover. It’s a song about a guy saying I’m yours.

It’s cheesy and poppy and so goddamn boy-band-y that it’s kind of hurting my ears. But I won’t back down. “I am not returning to ‘November Rain.’ That song is done. It can be your favorite tune, but you cannot associate it with me.”

“Fine, I’ll admit this is a much better contender for all the reasons you laid out.” Declan laughs. “But I cannot believe you like the Jonas Brothers.”

“You can say it. I have excellent taste,” I say, preening.

He arches a dubious brow. “How about something from Pearl Jam?”

I scoff. “No. First of all, no one understands Pearl Jam lyrics. Everything has a double meaning. Second, you are not allowed to pick a song. You’re just not. My turn.”

He cracks up, shaking his head. “Just give us something other than Jonas Brothers.”

“Fine,” I say with a smile. I have something else in mind. Something that hearkens back to our early morning convos in Arizona about music and gay icons. With a quick glance at the screen, I flick over to Lady Gaga and play “Stupid Love.”

He listens intently, almost like he’s hearing it for the first time.

“You’re not into pop music, are you?”

Declan shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Do you like to dance?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been a big dancer.”

I smell opportunity. “We’re going dancing sometime. My friends and I love to dance. Reese and Tia and Layla and the women I was friends with in college. We go clubbing and we tear up the dance floor. And I love pop music. And Lady Gaga. I just do. Also, she’s fucking awesome.”

“I will give you that. She is fucking awesome.” Declan sighs happily, then shifts his gaze to me. “We’ll go dancing. And yes, this is a good song. All about the one you’ve been waiting for.” He squeezes my thigh. “That’s you, babe.”

Time for a full-scale butterfly attack. I’m waving the white flag to all the butterflies in the world. They own me tonight.

When I turn on Jackson Street, I reach for his hand one more time, and we thread our fingers together. Once my house comes into view, I tip my forehead to the slate-gray modern building with the Scandinavian architecture feel and tall windows on each floor. “That’s mine,” I say of the swank three-story home wedged town-home style next to a city block full of some of the sweetest abodes in the city. “It’s athlete row here, as I like to say. Some of the Hawks and Renegades live around here too.”

“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.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he rasps, letting go and ripping off his shirt too. “Bedroom. Now.”

After I toe off my shoes, I arch a brow, loop my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tug him toward the stairs. “Gotta make it up another set of stairs if you want me naked in bed.”

He kicks off his shoes. “Mmm. I do. Want you spread out on that bed. You sent me that pic to tempt me.”

“And you have a problem with that?”

“No. I fucking love it.”

“Good. I’ll keep tempting you then.” I turn and head up the stairs, letting him enjoy the view of my ass.

He whistles appreciatively. “Damn. Look at your ass, babe.”

“Five years in the majors doing even more squats every day will do that to a rear end.”

With a laugh, he curls his palms over my ass. “God bless your daily workouts.”

Seconds later, we enter my bedroom, and I flick on the light, slide off my ring and set it on the nightstand, then spin around to savor the view. “Declan Steele. In the flesh. In my bedroom,” I say, amazed, utterly amazed, that he’s here for me. My hands take their sweet-ass time traveling over his chest, his abs, his arms.

My lips get in on the action too, as I dip my face and kiss his pecs, licking his nipples, biting, drawing out harsh moans. His hands grip my head as I explore him with my tongue, then I lift my face, our eyes finding each other. His are shimmering with raw desire, and longing too.

But it’s a new kind of longing. Like he can’t believe his luck. “No place else I’d rather be than with you,” Declan murmurs.

“Be with me,” I say, and the double meaning isn’t lost on him.

“I will,” he answers, in a voice stitched with truth.

My eyes sail down his body, stopping at my favorite part—the hard ridge in his jeans. “Mmm. Hello, big guy. It’s been a long time. But it is nice to see you again,” I say to the outline of his dick.

He laughs, as I grab the waistband of his jeans, my fingers sliding under the material, exploring his happy trail. I pull him close as I fall back onto the king-size bed, bringing him on top of me.

I scoot up across the mattress, and we kiss again, rough this time, fevered, the kind of kissing that’s a prelude to fucking. “God, it’s all so good,” he hums. “I just can’t stop kissing you.”

“Don’t stop,” I say as my hips roll and I seek his touch.

Our eagerness has its own pulse, and it’s spiking as his lips roam across my face, over my jaw, under my chin. I shudder, my body nothing but a lightning rod for desire.

Wrapping my arms and legs around him, I pant out his name, gasp out swears, murmur my Gods.

It’s all so good, so right.

But I need to get closer.

As close as I can.

I can’t stand it any longer—not fucking him.

Breaking the kiss, I push up on my elbows. He raises his face, looking lust-struck, those brown eyes blazing with heat.

“How are we doing this? I’m so aroused right now, I’ll top, I’ll bottom. Whatever you want,” I say, laying it out there for my guy.

“Both,” he says in a burst of desire. “Let’s fuck each other, babe. I want it all with you. Want to feel everything. Just everything.”

I nod savagely, my throat dry, my body an inferno.

Everything is new again.

Everything is a first.

It’s heady and powerful, this night.

Last time around, the sex felt like the start of my adult life. This feels like the start of the rest of my life.

My heart thunders.

My pulse races, powered by more than the physical. It’s powered by the future I can feel starting to unfold with him.

We scurry off the bed, stripping down to nothing. I’m caught in a blur of lust and pure joy as we undress the rest of the way in seconds. Our clothes hit the floor, and I need a moment to admire the man standing in front of me.

“You look so fucking good,” I growl as I stare at him, eating him up with my eyes, devouring the sight in front of me.

Declan Steele dressed in nothing.

My mouth waters as I gaze at his thick cock, hard, pulsing, a drop of pre-come on the tip like a filthy promise. “Missed you so much,” I tell him as I grip his cock, and my entire body shudders. Hell, my soul trembles as I stroke his throbbing dick. It all feels so right.

“Yes,” he rumbles, his hips rocking into my fist. “Did I ever miss you.”

For a few delirious minutes, I stroke his shaft, cup his balls, and get reacquainted with him in all the best ways.

But soon, that’s not enough. He pushes me back on the white duvet. I scoot up to the pillows as he crawls over me, and it’s the best déjà vu of my life as he stares at me like he’s going to ravage me.

I point to the nightstand. “Drawer. Lube. Now.”

As he reaches to get it, I push down the duvet to the foot of the bed, then lie back on the sheet. He kneels between my legs, spreading my thighs open. “Hello, perfect gorgeous cock I want to worship with my mouth and tongue,” he says to my dick.

I crack up, loving that we can laugh in the middle of all this intensity.

But I stop laughing seconds later, when he drops his lips to my dick. “Your mouth, Deck,” I groan as he sucks the head of my cock, flicks me with his tongue, then licks a long, ravenous stripe up my shaft.

Then down.

And he licks, oh holy hell, does he ever lick.

It’s like a blow job from another world. A blow job from a man obsessed not just with my dick, but with me. He’s worshipping my cock with his mouth, and I have never felt so . . . adored.

“Yessssss,” I rasp as I buck into his mouth, wanting to fuck his throat but wanting him deep in my body too.

I’m aching to feel a brand-new intimacy with him.

“Stop. Want you inside me so badly. I just need to be close to you,” I say, begging, my hands sliding over his shoulders, down his arms.

He lets my dick fall from his mouth, then moves up so he’s kneeling between my thighs. “That’s all I want too.”

Declan pops open the lube and gets me ready, lighting me up as he plays with my ass, my balls, my cock. The center of my body is my world right now, as lust roars through me from every stroke of his fingers, each grip of his hand. I bump my ass down on his fingers, hunting for more, like the greedy bastard I am with Declan.

But I’m greedy to feel him too. “My turn. When we switch, I want you good and ready for me,” I tell him, and then we scramble around. I do the same to him, coating my fingers in lube, playing with him, spending my time getting him nice and open.

My pulse quickens as I work my man. I can barely believe this moment is happening. That I’m touching him again. That we’re touching each other like this. That he’s in bed, naked, and open, and wanting.

It borders on magic, the way we are together. How can I be this turned on and this joyful at the same time? But I know the answer.

I feel it in my bones.

It’s not just sex at all. It’s so much more and we both know it. It’s the new start of us.

And I can’t wait to begin again with him.