The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

32. A Hat Is More Than a Hat

32

A HAT IS MORE THAN A HAT

Jason

Handling Beck’s regrets is easy. No one thinks twice about it. Shit happens, people cancel—it is what it is.

Only Hazel has a clue, but she gives good poker face at the signing table as I slide her a copy of Plays Well With Others . “It’s for Beck.”

She grabs a pink pen, signs with a flourish, then shows me the inscription. You make good choices .

I crack up, then give her a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, girl.” Tucking the book under my arm, I catch up with Carter and Nate in the thriller section.

“You want to grab a beer?” Carter asks.

“Nah. I need to take off.”

Nate gives me a curious look, one brow lifted. “That so?”

“Yeah, I have this thing known as practice tomorrow,” I say drily. “And a game this weekend I intend to win.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Nate sasses back.

“So we’re not getting a drink?” Carter asks, bummed and giving me the chance to change my mind.

“Sorry, guys,” I say. Then since there’s zero need to dwell on stuff I won’t get into, I change the subject with Carter. “But how’s everything with Zena?”

Carter’s eyes light up. “Dude! Thanks again. My agent worked that deal, and we are all good. You’re the man.”

“Excellent. Glad to hear,” I say, stealing a glance at the door, eager to go home.

“It would have been cool to share a sponsor with you. But you’ve got Seductive too, right?” Carter asks.

I shake my head. “They’re not one of mine. Must be thinking of some other gorgeous guy.”

Carter waves a hand dismissively. “I thought I saw a Seductive hat at your place on Halloween.”

My heart clenches. Our disguise hat . I’m so glad Beck isn’t here. He’d be a wreck, even though everyone leaves shit around at parties. “Nope, but maybe your mankini cut off the blood flow to your brain that night,” I say.

“As well as his balls,” Nate weighs in.

Laughing, we all leave together, and I’m glad I managed to keep our romance on the DL.

I want Beck to know he can trust me to take care of situations when he’s overwhelmed. That I’ve got his back.

Once Carter takes off for his car, I head for the side street where I parked, and Nate says, “I’m going to grab a Lyft.”

Ah, hell. I can’t let a friend do that. “I’ll drive you home,” I offer.

Nate doesn’t live far, and it’s the right thing to do. We hop into my wheels, and on the way to the Marina, we chat about the game this weekend. As the bay comes into view, dark and inky at night, Nate blows out a long stream of air. “So, anything you want to talk about?”

He’s too damn perceptive. I don’t think the Seductive hat was the giveaway. My friend knows I hang with my buddies unless there’s a guy I’m into. So, of course, he’s added up the clues of my disappearance after our last game and, now, tonight.

It’s a good thing it’s only Nate who’s sleuthed it out. I’m supposed to be a team leader, and role models don’t mess around with off-limits guys. My teammates wouldn’t like it if they knew. Coach would think I was sharing plays or some stupid shit like that. Fans would lose their minds and call me a traitor. It’s an unwritten rule—don’t mess around with your rival.

I tighten my grip on the wheel and slap on a smile. “What’s on your mind?”

“Jaybird,” he says, a gentle warning. “Be careful, okay?”

My shoulders tighten as I pull over in front of his house and weigh my options—deny, lie, or evade.

I’m tired of lying, but there’s no way I’m serving up the truth. I’ve got to protect Beck, so I choose avoidance. “Appreciate that, man.”

Nate gives a crisp nod and goes into his home.

Maybe I’m not such a role model after all. But for tonight, I’m more than fine with just being me—a guy who wants to take care of his guy.

At home, I find a sexy man stretched out on my couch with a cat curled up on his chest, both of them sound asleep.

My heart clutches. Like a happy fool, I gaze at the pair of them as I pad to the couch, sinking down on the other side. Maybe I’ll read here till he rouses. Check my messages. Play a word game.

I set Hazel’s book on the coffee table, and Beck stirs. Rubs his eyes. Blinks them open. “Hey,” he mutters as Taco leaps off his chest like his furry ass is on fire and hightails it to another room.

“Hey, you,” I say softly.

“Sorry again,” he says, then sits.

I slide over next to him, threading my hand through his hair, savoring the soft strands. “Don’t apologize. I’m where I want to be.”

“I owe you a blow job. Or maybe fifty,” he says, guilt threading through his tone.

“I won’t turn one down, but no, you don’t.”

“You knew what to do.”

I cup his cheek and turn his face to make him meet my gaze. “I care about you.”

I know he believes me. I can see it in his eyes, all vulnerable and bright. But I know, too, this is hard for him— this secret thing between us.

“What can I do for you , Jason?” he asks, his voice stretched thin. “I was going to cook you something amazing, but I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten dinner. And I thought maybe I could train your cat to shake paws, but then he decided to sleep on me.”

I laugh, stroking his hair. “Baby, you already did something for me.”

“Were you looking for an excuse to get out of the drinks? Bennies of me being anti-social, I guess,” he says, poking fun at himself.

“No,” I say, not taking the humor bait. We can only be like this in these stolen private moments. I want us to be as authentic as possible. “What you did tonight was a big fucking deal.”

He scoffs. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m not. You told me what was going on with you. That means a lot to me. That is a big deal.” I take a beat and blow out a breath. “Thank you.”

A sliver of a smile shifts his lips. “You mean it?”

I kiss the corner of his mouth. “It takes a lot of guts to be honest. You were, and I’m really glad.”

Beck kisses me back, and it’s a devastating kiss. I want to read so many things into the possessive way he holds my face and strokes my jaw. I want to read words into his touch—scary and wonderful words.

When he breaks the kiss, he squares his shoulders. “Are you hungry?”

I laugh. “Always.”

“Then let me cook for you.”

He’s determined to repay me, but he doesn’t need to. Still, I won’t turn down a good meal, especially when it will make him happy. “Let’s do it, Chef Cafferty.”

He stands, reaches for my hand, and takes me to the kitchen. There, he makes me sautéed chicken and asparagus, along with shishito peppers—my absolute favorite food. As he whips up the meal, he tells me his favorite parts of Hazel’s latest book. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to show me he can be easygoing. Pretty sure he needs to show me, so I let him have the floor.

“I liked her story almost as much as an Axel Huxley tale,” he adds when he sits down with me to eat the spread he made.

“Oh! She had to do a podcast with that guy, and he drives her crazy,” I say, picking up my fork.

“Why? Is he a jackass? Oh man, please tell me he’s not a sexist pig. I don’t want to have to stop reading him,” Beck whines.

Shaking my head, I laugh. “Nah. He’s not like that. More like he thinks love is bullshit, and he hates romance. But, in her words, his voice is so stupidly sexy he makes it hard to focus on how much I want to hate him. ”

Beck cracks up. “Sounds like she should write a hate-to-love romance about him.”

“I’ll pass on the tip,” I say, and once we finish eating and cleaning, we go to bed together.

When we’re under the covers, Beck turns to me again, a wry grin on his face. “So, that was a great date for me.”

“Me too. And it’s not even over.”

I slide down between his legs, draw his soft cock into my mouth, and then lick and suck for a few seconds till he grows harder, filling my mouth with his arousal and my senses with his sounds of pleasure.

“Mmm. Yes,” he moans, urging me on.

I indulge in him, giving him a luxurious blow job. His dick gets the whole damn treatment. I lick long stripes up and down his shaft. I kiss the head. I suck on his balls. I’m so turned on from getting him off that I’m rubbing against the mattress.

Then, I’m even more worked up when he grabs my head, ropes his fingers through my hair, and grunts for ages. The noise is long and carnal like he’s so lost in the moment.

Same for me. I’m obsessed with making him feel good.

Taking Beck apart in bed is such a high. He’s so daring after dark with me. But he’s daring during the light too. His gutsiness, even when it hurts, makes me want him more.

And I show him how much I want him with the way I touch and suck and kiss.

“Jay,” he moans. “I fucking love what you do to me.”

That makes me harder. Happier. I take him deep, lavishing all the attention in the world on his dick.

His fingers grip my skull. He thrusts his hips, pushing his cock farther down my throat. Bring it on . I don’t care if my throat is sore tomorrow. I want his pleasure. I crave his release.

“God, I can’t take it,” he mutters.

Then, he’s helpless to the pleasure, panting, writhing, and fucking my face with reckless abandon until he comes in an animalistic cry that trips my wires.

I swallow him down then, like I’m going for a record, I straddle his abs and fuck my fist till I’m coming all over his chest.

It’s an epic orgasm, but a joyful one too. Sex with Beck is both pure pleasure and pure joy. There are no games. He lets down his guard and lets me in. And I have no secrets from him.

I know the risks of falling harder for my rival. My head says to get the fuck out, but my heart pulls me in Beck’s direction.

I wouldn’t want to give him up, even if I knew how.