Page 94 of Hot Streak

“You,” Jackson told himself both firmly and out loud, “are a fucking wreck. Get it together.”

Jackson hadn’t been lying; it was a long drive back to Raleigh.

Connor spent the first half of it playing poker with TJ and Ro, losing basically all the quarters jangling around in the bottom of his bag.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” TJ said, probably more kindly than he deserved, as he raked in the last pot, cleaning Connor out for good.

“No poker face whatsoever,” Ro added.

Personally, Connor didn’t give a shit about the quarters. But he did care about Ro’s comment. What if he couldn’t keep his feelings under lockdown when it came to Jackson?

If Jackson even got a hint that anyone suspected they were hooking up, Connor knew he’d pull back again—and that was the very last thing he wanted, when every molecule of his body craved him closer still.

“Yeah, it’s all right there, written all over that pretty face,” TJ teased.

“Thanks, I know,” Connor retorted, plastering a free, easy grin across that pretty face.

“Modest, too,” Ro added.

Truthfully it was hard to be modest—harder even than normal—when he was practically floating around on the knowledge that he’d seduced Jackson Evans. Jackson wasn’t pretty, no, he was grade A Hot, and he didn’t even do this. He’d only slept with a teammate once before, and he didn’t need to tell Connor he’d never intended to do it again for Connor to know it.

After the last two days, modesty was a fucking pipe dream.

The game broke up then, and Connor thought he’d go grab a nap in the back of the bus—they still had hours left to go, on an endless stretch of I-95—but when he headed towards an empty row of seats, he passed right by where Jackson was sitting.

To Connor’s surprise, Jackson looked up from his tablet.

“Hey,” Jackson said. Actually patted the seat next to him. “Come sit with me a minute.”

Connor considered making a sarcastic comment that surely the whole bus would know they were fucking if he sat down next to him even for five minutes, but he didn’t, because if he did, it wouldn’t get him where he wanted to be later—in Jackson’s bed, naked.

He sat.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Jackson’s gaze was warm. “You get cleaned out?”

“Yeah, but it passed the time,” Connor said with a shrug.

“Yeah, you can’t hide anything on that pretty face of yours,” Jackson said, smirking.

“Why is everyone suddenly realizing this?” Connor teased right back. “You and Ro, apparently. Trust me, I’ve always been this pretty.”

“Maybe,” Jackson said, dropping his voice down, to nearly a whisper, “I didn’t let myself look before.”

“You lookin’ now?”

The warmth in Jackson’s brown eyes flared into undeniable heat. Connor felt singed around the edges just by that look.

“Guess you are,” Connor said, laughing under his breath.

“Guess I am,” Jackson said.

“So what, you didn’t have any real reason to talk? You just wanted to flirt with me?”

Jackson didn’t respond—and again, his look answered for him.

Alright then.

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