Page 59 of Hot Streak

Connor’s hand fell to his side, his fingers tingling from the numbing ointment.

“What?” Jackson’s voice was rough. “What are you trying to say?”

“I think you know what I’m trying to say,” Connor said wryly. Maybe if he could brush this off as something that just was, that hadn’t just happened, that was as routine and matter-of-fact as anything else, he could get the words out without bungling them.

“No. No. You gotta be clear,” Jackson insisted, shaking his head.

“Fine,” Connor said. So much for the casual approach. He looked Jackson right in the eye and said, “I’m attracted to you.”

Whatever Connor had expected when he said those words—and he’d imagined plenty of scenarios: Jackson smiling, Jackson leaning in, Jackson kissing him, and maybe even more—what he hadn’t expected was the guy to rear back like he’d just been shot.

“What, what,” Jackson said, very flustered.

It was easier the second time. “I’m attracted to you,” Connor said. “I think you’re gorgeous. I want to touch you. More than I just did. That means I’m not straight either, right? I don’t know the exact label—I’m still trying to figure that out. That’s okay, right? To not know the exact label?”

Jackson opened his mouth and shut it again with an audible click. “Sure. Of course. But . . .what.”

“You can’t be surprised, I was flirting with you. And not cause I was testing you.” Connor rolled his eyes. “I was doing it because I couldn’t help myself.”

“You couldn’t . . .you couldn’t help yourself,” Jackson said. “Unfuckingbelievable.”

Connor had certainly not expected this was how things would go if he ever screwed up the courage to tell Jackson the truth. The last thing he’d anticipated was Jackson being angry about it.

“We don’t even like each other,” Jackson continued, before Connor could try to get the conversation back on track. A more flirtatious track that might lead to more touching. Or even kissing. Or more.

“Well, no,” Connor said. He felt out of his depth, still, but in an exhilarated, I’m ready to fling myself off a cliff kind of way. There was definitely some fear of the unknown but instead of terror, it felt like freedom. Like he might be falling—but instead, all he felt was the air whistling by his ears, like he was flying instead.

“You have given me nothing but shit since I showed up here,” Jackson said, shoving a finger into Connor’s T-shirt clad chest. “Nothing but shit. And now what, you want me to fuck you?”

Connor swallowed hard. “I don’t know, I just know I . . .just nevermind, okay? Forget I said anything.” This had really not gone like he’d expected it to.

Jackson’s expression softened. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such an ass about it. Must have been hard for you to admit it.”

Maybe if Connor was feeling less ballsy, he’d have just smiled and agreed and then never brought it up again. But he was feeling ballsy. Or desperate. Or maybe those were the exact same feeling.

“Sort of, yeah, but now that I have . . .” Connor trailed off expectantly, shooting him the smile that Ro liked to tease had never failed to close the deal.

Except it didn’t now. Jackson didn’t look angry anymore—but his face closed up completely. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Well, I just admitted I’m attracted to you. I’m assuming you’re attracted to me. And we’ve got this whole empty room. Nowhere to be until after lunch tomorrow so . . .”

Connor felt like he was flying, right up until the moment he hit the ground.

“No. No.” Jackson jerked back even farther, like Connor was poison. “I don’t do this. Not with teammates. And why would you jeopardize your career by doing this?”

“You didn’t jeopardize yours.”

“You don’t know. You don’t know anything about me,” Jackson retorted.

From the totally cold, hard look on his face, Connor would’ve guessed that Jackson was the straight one, and Connor was the line-crossing gay guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer. And that was more fucked up than anything else.

“If you don’t want me, you just have to say so,” Connor said. And okay, he sounded a little sulky. He was not used to rejection. Especially not like this. Not when he’d been this close. So close he could practically taste it.

“I am saying it,” Jackson said.

“You’re not really saying it, though. You said we didn’t like each other. You said I was a little shit—which, yes, I totally was, no question about that—and then you also said you don’t do this with teammates. Oh, and I was going to ruin my career if we did something in this room nobody but us would know about. But you never once said you weren’t attracted to me.”

Jackson opened his mouth and then shut it again. Glowered. Like he hadn’t expected Connor to call him on his bullshit—and it was bullshit. Because the more time they spent together and the longer this conversation continued, the more Connor believed Tristan was right. Jackson was attracted to him.

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