Page 25 of Double Play
But the second that door closed, I’m not a second baseman. I’m not a PR-friendly athlete. I’m not a man who smiles for cameras and answers questions with, “We're just focused on the season.”
I’m justhis.
And he’smine.
Jackson opens his mouth like he’s going to say something smart. Something teasing.
“Micromanage me into this mattress, Gonzalez.”
The words land and my whole body tightens and I grab his hoodie and pull him into me, fast. Not rough. Just desperate in a way that makes him make that little sound in the back of his throat that he thinks I don’t hear.
Oh, I hear it, and every time I do… my heart rate kicks up a notch.
My mouth finds his and this kiss isn’t short. It’s a kiss that tells him I’m proud of him. That I’m hungry for him.
That I’ve been holding myself back all day, and I’m done.
Jackson’s hands slide up my chest, gripping my shirt, and he kisses me back like he’s starving too. I break away just enough to breathe.
“God, I need to be inside you,” I murmur against his mouth, slipping my tongue past his lips to stroke his.
“So take me then,” he whispers, breathless.
“Carajo…”I groan.“Mírame a los ojos mientras te estoy cogiendo.”
His brows knit for half a second, like his brain wants to come up with something bratty to say but he doesn’t.“Dámela… esa verga grande tuya. Hazme gemir tu nombre aquí, en estas sábanas baratas de hotel.”
Jackson speaking Spanish is one of my favorite things on this earth, but hearing him talk dirty to me in Spanish makes me absolutely feral.
“Look who’s been using his little learning app to get better with his words.” I back him up until his calves hit the edge of the bed, then I guide him down slow, keeping my hands on himthe whole time. Grounding him. Holding him steady. “You're so fucking sexy when you talk dirty to me,nene.”
Jackson sits, and I drop to my knees between his legs and the moment his breath catches, I’m gone.
“Dre,” he warns, like he’s not sure if he wants this to be sweet or filthy.
“Shh,” I say, and I hook my fingers under the hem of his shirt. “Let me.”
Slowly, I peel his hoodie off him, then his shirt, baring the skin I know like my own heartbeat. My gaze flicks to his pump site and the CGM patch on the back of his arm. To the tubing that coils at his waistband.
The technology that keeps him alive. For me. My chest goes tight with something violent and tender.
Jackson watches me take him in.
“Don’t,” he says quietly, like he knows what I’m thinking. Like he can hear the part of me that wants to fight the entire universe for daring to make his body complicated.
“Don’t you don’t me,” I murmur, leaning forward to kiss the inside of his thigh. Once. Then higher, drawing a slow line of worship with my lips.
“I’m not mad at you,” I murmur, unclipping the pump from his sweats and setting it next to him on the comforter. “I’m mad at everything that makes you feel like you have to do this alone.”
His hand slides into my hair, fingers tightening as he tips my head up to meet his eyes.
“But I don’t,” he whispers. “Have to do it alone, not anymore.”
“Gimme a kiss,mi sol.” I pucker my lips for him. He rolls his eyes, smirks, and then kisses me anyway.
Rising to my feet, I pull my shirt off, then tug my joggers down with my boxers. Jackson’s eyes drag over my chest like he’s memorizing me all over again. Like he needs proof that I’mreal. I climb onto the bed with him, straddling his thighs, and cradle his face in my hands.
“Look at me,” I say, low, and his eyes snap to mine immediately.
