Page 129 of Hiding in the Outfield

He smiles softly. “I’m starting to see that.” Then his smile is gone, and his gaze darts away. Just like that, he’s back to stone beneath me. He clears his throat. “So, um, there’s another reason I was a little nervous for tonight.”

“Okay…”

He blows out a breath, staring off into the city skyline.

I gently grip his chin and turn him to face me. “Breathe. And tell me what’s on your mind.”

His eyes search mine. “I was wondering…I was thinking that it probably made sense… Since I travel a lot, and I’m already at your place more often than not…” He drops his head to my shoulder. “God, I feel weird asking this.”

“Jackson?”

His muffled “yeah?” dances over my skin.

“Will you move in with me?”

His head snaps up, eyes wide, and I chuckle.

“It wasn’t very hard to see where you were going with that, babe.”

His brows pinch. “Are you sure that’s okay? I know it’s fast. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Or smother you.”

“Jackson.” I slide my hand up his thigh—indecently high. “I would love nothing more than you smothering me. Trust me.”

His eyes darken. “Later. That’s happening later.”

I shrug casually. “Maybe.”

He hums in a way that makes me think he’s going to be the one who wins this one—which really makes us both winners. He takes his phone out of his pocket and taps away for a minute, then tucks it away.

I cock my head questioningly. “Scheduling me in for later?” I tease.

He bites his lip, a smile breaking through. “Ah…No.” He lifts his hand behind his head and squeezes his neck. “I was just, um, letting the guys know they can unpack my stuff.”

I blink rapidly. “Excuse me?”

His smile turns bashful. “I might have packed up all my stuff last night and brought it over with me tonight.”

“You overconfident little fucker,” I squeal. I shove his chest. “You act all nervous and bashful, yet you’ve got all your stuff already being moved in as we speak!”

“Hopeful,” he corrects. “Granted, it would have been awkward as all hell if I had to move all the shit back into my suite. I can only imagine the ribbing O’Neil and Slater would have given me.”

I cross my arms and shake my head at him.

He bats his eyes at me. Nope. Not going to work.

“Am I still allowed to move in?” His voice lilts up, and he’s giving me full puppy-dog eyes.

I let out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose.”

He pulls me into a kiss. “You’re the most bestest boyfriend in the whole world,” he says against my lips.

“I know.”

He chuckles. “I love you, Frankie.”

I let out a purr and close my eyes. I will never get used to that. “I love you too, babe.”

“I told them. My suitemates. About us.”