Page 94 of Hiding in the Outfield

“You are.” I run my knuckles over his cheek and down his jaw. His bone structure is stunning. High cheekbones, a long, smooth jaw, full lips that are almost always curled into a sultry smile. You put him together, and he’s perfect. Beautifully, overwhelmingly perfect.

“I never would have pegged you as a ballplayer.”

He steps into me, and his lips graze my ear. “I would have thought you’d know by now how much I like playing with balls, love.”

My hands fly to his hips and squeeze. Shit. I take a steadying breath and will my cock to behave. I gently push him away. “I don’t think you can talk to me like that in public. Without causing a scene.” I discreetly adjust myself and flip my half-hard dick into my waistband. At least now I’m not pitching a tent.

Frankie spins on his heel and heads for his car. “I think that’s a sign we need to head to the hotel. Now.”

I grab my gear and his helmet and hurry after him.

“I wanted to hit the arcade,” he says. “But you know, that was silly of me. There are much more fun things we should be doing. And the first one involves a walk-in shower with multiple body spray jets.”

I pick up my pace.

THIRTY-FOUR

FRANKIE

We check into our hotel and get settled in our suite. It has a separate bed and living room area, a small kitchenette, and the bathroom…oh, the bathroom. It has a giant walk-in shower with so many controls I think we might need to read an instruction manual before using it. There’s also a separate soaker tub that could easily fit two people. Though given Jackson’s size, it might be a tight squeeze. No problem. I’ll just sit in his lap.

But before that, Jackson and I need to have a little talk.

He drops his bag by the closet and scans the room. “Wow. This room is amazing.” He frowns. “And probably wildly expensive.”

I’ve gotten the feeling that money’s always been a little tight for Jackson. He doesn’t splurge on the beers he really wants. He switches to water early. And the stress lines on his forehead right now, the stiffening and small show of discomfort…

“It’s my treat, Jackie-babe. I wanted to do this for you.” I take his hand and lead him over to the bed. I gently push him to sit.

“I want to contribute something.” Light pink blooms on his cheeks. “I’m…ah, not sure how much I can⁠—”

I put a finger to his lips. “Let me take my pretend boyfriend on a little sex-fest getaway.”

His blush darkens. “Well. When you put it like that.”

“Exactly. I have a well-paying job and minimal expenses. I get to choose where I spend my money. And here is one of them.”

I straddle him and slide my hands up his neck to cup his jaw.

“Now.” I press a featherlight kiss to his lips. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?” He brushes his nose against mine.

“Something you said earlier. Something you’ve commented on before.” I pull back. “You would have never pegged me as a ballplayer.”

His dark brows scrunch together, and those pretty blue irises search mine.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

He nods slowly. “Zingers last year. A week after I got the call-up to Triple-A.”

My jaw slackens, and for a moment, the world spins. I grip his shoulders tight and just breathe through it—the havoc that bit of information just caused.

“You were shocked I watched baseball,” I continue a bit unsteadily. “And I said, What? Gay men can’t like baseball? Do you remember what you said to me?”

Confusion flits over his eyes.

“I don’t really know what people like you think.”