Page 138 of Hot Streak

Tomorrow, he could have Jackson in full.

Not just over a phone line, or on a video.

On the way back to the hotel, Connor changed his mind half a dozen times. He wanted him so fiercely, wanted release so much, it felt like he’d go insane with desire.

But maybe there was a better way.

Sure enough, he’d barely gotten inside the room when he got the text he’d been anticipating. What a pitching line, Jackson sent. You owned the whole lineup.

He had. He’d given up only two hits and no runs in seven innings, with no walks and ten strikeouts. It was exactly the kind of performance he’d hoped for, not just when he’d gone to the majors, but literally anytime he took the mound.

It was such a dominant performance that there was no way Jackson would imagine he’d be sent down after it—and the manager had made it clear that if they weren’t going with a little more experience for the last push to the postseason, then he’d have kept his spot.

And next year?

That starting lineup spot was essentially his, as long as he kept pitching like he was.

Thanks. Felt good.

Connor was still undecided if he was going to tell Jackson the truth—or surprise him. He was still debating as he entered the hotel, and nearly skipped the bar, where a few of his teammates were already congregating. He’d intended to head straight to his room, to put his hands on himself, pretending the whole time that they weren’t his at all, but Jackson’s. But now he hesitated.

He could have a snack now. Or he could have a whole fucking meal tomorrow.

How did everything else feel? Jackson asked.

Connor detoured to the bar.

Good, Connor said. I’m going out with some guys. But I’ll check in tomorrow.

Little did Jackson know that when he did, it would be in person.

Connor grinned, unable to help his delight at what the surprise would bring.

Fine, fine, leave me hanging, Jackson texted back.

Connor felt a little frisson of guilt. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one looking forward to a hot phone sex session tonight.

But however Jackson felt tonight, he wasn’t going to be disappointed at all tomorrow.

"The asshole left me hanging,” Jackson complained to a not-very-sympathetic Deke as they sat in the clubhouse, getting ready for batting practice.

“Maybe he was really going out with his teammates. You know, he’s gotta be friendly with them. They’re his new team.”

Jackson made a face. “I know. I know. And that’s worse, actually. I shouldn’t be the one whining about this. But I am.”

“It’s not just last night you’re worried about,” Deke said knowingly. “You’re worried he’s growing away from you. That he’ll leave you in the dust, and you’ll be left alone.”

Jackson shot his friend a look. “Wow, that really helps,” he retorted sarcastically.

Deke just shrugged. “The truth hurts,” he said.

It sure fucking did.

Was it worse, actually more painful, that he’d been worried about exactly this and had pushed that worry aside, promising himself and Connor a future he still wasn’t sure they could grasp, or that it was happening at all?

Jackson didn’t know.

Frankly, both sucked.

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