Page 96 of Hot Streak

He’s here. Trying to be a friend.

Ugh.

Stop worrying and go back to telling me how much I’m gonna like it when Jackson fucks me.

Even with the warning clanging in his head, even just the thought sent a frisson of . . .something . . .racing up his spine. A little bit of nervous apprehension. Even more anticipation.

He didn’t know what it would feel like, but he wanted to know, anyway.

LOL. If he’s any good he’s gonna ruin you for anyone else.

Connor thought about what they’d done already. How intense the pleasure had been every time they’d touched each other. Maybe Jackson had only been having brief hookups for the last few years, but he still knew just how Connor wanted it. Exactly what Connor craved.

He’s good.

Tristan replied: I thought so. He’s got a look in his eyes.

Connor wanted to disagree, but as he tossed and turned on the bench seat, he thought he knew exactly what Tristan meant.

It was buried. It was restrained. But it was there, burning bright, all the same, if you really looked for it.

And Connor wanted him to unleash it on him, demolishing all the carefully cultivated self-control he’d lived with for the last few years.

It was almost ten at night when the bus finally pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the field complex.

Normally at this point in the trip, Connor would be yawning and tired, just from all those hours of forced inactivity.

But instead, all those hours had instead been devoted to thinking and then thinking, about what he and Jackson were going to do when they were finally alone, again.

He couldn’t remember ever being so horny in his life, even before Jackson had touched him. Connor pulled his sweatshirt on and tugged it down, past his crotch, hoping it would hide his erection as they all filed off the bus.

“Hey,” Deke said to the group milling around, waiting for the driver to unload their luggage, “who’s up for a drink?”

Not much of Connor’s blood was currently in his brain, so it took a minute to realize that the first fucking person to answer Deke in the affirmative was Jackson.

“Yeah, sure,” Jackson said casually—not even looking at Connor for confirmation.

He’d spent this whole fucking bus trip in an agony of arousal and anticipation, and now Jackson was just going to dismiss him and go out for drinks with Deke?

Connor felt like falling to the pavement and beating his fists on it like a child denied the sweet treat he’d been promised.

“Sure, count us in,” TJ said and then turned to Connor. He’d worried earlier about his lack of a poker face and he couldn’t imagine he was doing any good at hiding his feelings now. “What about you, Connor?”

“I . . .uh . . .”

“Not too tired?” Jackson asked innocently.

The asshole was fucking with him. And not in the way Connor craved, either.

Well. Two could play at that game. He knew that his desire wasn’t even remotely one-sided. He’d made Jackson break his long-time rules, hadn’t he?

He had power here, too, and he could damn well use it.

“Not at all,” Connor said. “I could go all night.”

Watched as the corner of Jackson’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “I just bet you could,” he said.

A few minutes later, their bags were stored in the field house and they were stepping up to the long hardwood bar at the Strike Zone.

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