Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
The pathetic truth? The thought of leaving Derek twists me up. Makes me feel empty. A ridiculous thought. I’ve only been here a short while. I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t miss him before I even leave.
But as I park myself at the barstool at the kitchen island, with a notepad in front of me, my phone next to it, I face the reality of my feelings—I’ll miss what we could have had.
I’m dawdling because once I leave, there are no more excuses. I want to date him. I want to go out to dinner with him. To play golf. To see a football game.
But I can’t. So I force myself to deal with the list of my housing preferences. As he roots in the fridge, I tap my pen against the blank notepad.
“You wanna help me make a list?” I ask.
He glances at me from the fridge. “I’m surprised you don’t have one already,” he says.
“Do I seem like a list guy?”
Derek’s blue eyes twinkle as he grabs a beer. “You sure do.”
Like that, he busts me, and I like it. “Fine. I do—well, I did, but you brought up a few things that I wouldn’t have thought of, so I thought I’d make another.”
“How organized,” he says, uncapping the darker brew he favors, then he grabs a lighter one for me.
“Fine. It’s my second attempt,” I admit, taking the bottle. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he says.
I wish.
That’s the problem. I keep wanting more. I really need to get out of here. The longer I drag things out, the harder I’ll fall for him. After I open my beer, he tips the neck of his bottle toward mine. “To being organized,” he says, then eyes the conspicuously blank paper. “What are you looking for?”
I shift slightly on the stool. This feels personal. But I don’t hate picking out a place with his input, partly because it’s about planning for the future. It makes Derek seem more like a boyfriend than a teammate. “Couple bedrooms. Definitely a spare room in case my parents or sister decides to visit.”
“So two or three bedrooms. For family,” he says, lips twitching. He enjoys that I’m close with them. “Got it. What else?”
“You always talk about the lighting. I guess I never noticed that before,” I say.
“Probably because St. Louis gets more than five sunny days a year.”
“True. But I don’t miss the sunny days,” I say. Already I like Seattle better. For lots of reasons. Not just winning.
On the list I jot down Moderate lighting.
“There. We like lighting,” I say, before I realize my faux pas. I said that like I’m picking out an apartment for both of us. “I mean, I do.”
He smiles. “I do. We do. We can both like it…Chason,” he says, then comes around the island and sits next to me. Closer than a friend would. It’d be nothing to reach over and kiss him, like he did with me this morning. To fold ourselves together.
But if I kiss him, I won’t want to stop. Kissing won’t make it easier to move out. Or be just teammates.
I force my focus back to the list, my grip tightening around the pen. “What else do I want?” I ask. My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears. I grab my bottle, take a drink. But my throat still feels dry.
Derek lifts a brow. “I don’t know, Adam. What else do you want?”
You.
“What should I be looking for in an apartment?” I clarify.
“You like a big kitchen.”
I tap my pen top. “Sure.”
“Since you have a lot of opinions about food.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“You like to take long showers,” he adds, a little playful, then takes a drink of his beer. “So good water pressure.”
But I stop at the word long. “You noticed I take long showers?” His eyes darken as he sets down the bottle. “I did.”
Heat slides down my chest. “Why did you notice?”
He reaches across the island. Takes my pen. Sets it down. Licks the corner of his lips. “Because I had to fight to not go in there with you.”
I burn up everywhere. I lean closer. “Don’t fight it now.”
The rainfall shower beats down on me. I’m alone, hair slicked, soaping up. Doesn’t matter that I showered before we left the ballpark. Don’t need this shower to get clean.
I tip my head back in the dim lighting of the big bathroom. When the door creaks open, a spark shoots down my legs. My cock hardens. The thought of Derek discovering me is a wicked thrill, even though we planned this moments ago.
I close my eyes. Loosely, I grip my cock, stroking it once under the water. Seconds later, the glass door to the shower opens.
Derek growls before he speaks. A low, dirty rumble as he joins me. He doesn’t touch me and I don’t open my eyes. I just slow down.