5. Hypothetical Fuck
5
HYPOTHETICAL FUCK
Zane
As dinner wraps up, I take a private vow.
I won’t whisper filthy nothings to Maddox anymore. I won’t touch my new agent again. And I definitely won’t steal a private moment with him at the bar once this meal ends.
Because I could ask him for a nightcap. Two single guys grabbing a drink while the parents among the crew hit the hotel hay. Parents always want extra shut-eye on the road.
But do I suggest a drink when Maddox signs the receipt at the table and snaps the leather folder closed?
I do not.
I’m damn well-behaved as I give an earnest nod to my new trio of agents. “Thanks for dinner. I’m stoked to work with all of you.”
Vance smiles from across the table. “I’m so glad to hear that. It’s going to be great.”
“It is.” Their faith helps shake the nerves that have been dogging me lately. The kind of sponsorships that Maddox is suggesting felt out of reach my first few years in the majors. I don’t want to risk this golden opportunity for the sake of one hot night with the guy who’s going to land the deal.
Nope. I’ve taken a vow to behave.
The four of us make our way out of the restaurant, and I don’t even check out Maddox on the way to the hotel elevators. Instead, I catch Vance’s eye and slow my pace, letting Adriana and Maddox walk ahead.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“What’s up, buddy?”
“Thanks again. For looking out for me,” I say, patting his shoulder. He plucked me from the lower rounds of the draft, putting his faith in me when others didn’t. I don’t take that lightly. “Since the beginning.”
“Always, kid.” He slugs me on the arm. “I’ve got your back. You feel good about these two? If you don’t, I’ll keep you all to my lonesome.”
I smile, letting him know I’m good with it. Clearly, he thinks they can strike gold, and if I’m anything, I’m a damn fine team player. “Like I said earlier, if this works for you, it works for me.”
“It’ll work for all of us,” he says. We catch up to the others as Adriana yawns, then Vance does too.
“I’m gonna crash in three, two, one. I’m so glad I’m staying here,” Vance says, eyes bleary, voice slurry.
“Me too,” Adriana seconds, sounding ready to collapse. “But I’ll be up at six, working the phones.”
“Of course you will,” Maddox says.
“You too,” she tells him with a knowing smile.
“You guys are too fun,” I say, teasing them as we reach the bank of elevators.
“We’re a barrel of sleep-deprived monkeys,” Vance says.
To keep the mood light, I turn to Maddox. “Is it past your bedtime too?”
Shaking his head, he stabs the down button. “I’ve got a little more stamina,” he says, pressing the pedal lightly on the innuendo. But then he surprises me when he adds, “So, I’m going to see a friend over in Hayes Valley.”
I straighten to attention.
Wait.
Friend? He’s seeing a fucking friend ? And was he going to see this friend if he’d accepted my come-home-with-me offer?
Then, I slam on the brakes.
Dude, did you really just mentally argue with yourself over whether your new agent was hypothetically going to ditch his friend to hypothetically fuck?
I need to get it together.
I’m going home, anyway. I have a game tomorrow evening. A workout in the morning.
There. I breathe past the stupid burst of jealousy.
The elevator doors grind open. Soft blue lights illuminate a sleek car. We step inside, the four of us. Maddox takes the back left corner. I move to the right. Vance and Adriana take the center.
This distance is necessary.
Ten seconds later, the tired parents step out on the eighteenth floor. “Take the stairwell next time,” I tease Vance as Adriana heads the other way.
He waves me off as he trudges down the hall to his room. “I don’t see you taking it either.”
“Fair point,” Maddox says, shooting me a sly grin.
Are you so smart-mouthed with the friend you’re about to see?
But I bite my tongue as the doors start to close on the two of us. We’ll be all alone for eighteen long floors down, down, down. What’s an elevator ride between two guys who want to fuck but can’t?
Eons.
Especially since he’s seeing a friend . I clench my jaw, irritated he’s going to hit the town, tempted to ask what the hell his story is.
Maybe I’ll ask right the fuck now. But as the doors start to whoosh closed, a brassy voice calls, “Wait up!”
Maddox sticks out an arm and the elevator grunts, the doors jerking back open. A woman in heels and a little black dress totters in, followed by another woman in a pink top and jeans. Two men careen in after them, belting the chorus to “Livin’ on a Prayer.” The foursome reek of tequila and karaoke.
Great. Now I’ll be stuck with my jealousy in a smaller space. I move closer to Maddox’s corner, giving the crew some room.
“Thank you,” the woman coos to Maddox and squeezes his arm.
“Of course,” he says, smoothly unflappable as she lets go of him. “Looks like you all had a good night.”
Damn, he’s easygoing, and I am a tightly wound jack-in-the-box.
“The best. It’s my birthday,” the woman chirps, and the quartet launches into a round of “You Say It’s Your Birthday” as if they’d rehearsed it.
As the car descends slowly, the women thrust their arms high, and the men bump hips with them. We all jostle around, and after a few seconds of sardining, Maddox arranges himself right in front of me.
So much for necessary distance. Now I’m almost as close to him as I want to be, which is the motherfucking problem. Mere inches separate us, and I catch a faint whiff of his shampoo. He smells like the ocean, and the scent lights up my mind. I want to make out on the beach with him until we’re sweaty and hot and have to jump in the sea. I want to take him back to my bungalow and strip him to nothing, pin him down on the chaise lounge and play with his body.
I lean in for another heady hit of his scent. He’s so close I could rope an arm around his waist, jerk him flush to me, grind against his tight ass.
I close my eyes for a second. What did I just tell Vance? That this would all work out. But it won’t if I’m getting a sex high from my new agent. We’re being serenaded by a drunken birthday girl, and I’m perving on said agent’s luscious, toned ass.
“It’s my birthday too,” the brassy woman croons.
I redirect my errant thoughts, but they escape and now I picture running my hands across his muscular back, over his neck, into his thick, wavy hair.
What if someone else will do that to him tonight?
As the quartet warbles off-key, my head battles with desire and jealousy. I’m dizzy and grab the elevator bar to steady myself, but Maddox is gripping it already. My hand slides against his, our fingers touching once again.
The feel of his skin ignites a fire in me. Before I think it through, I hiss in his ear, “Who’s your friend?”
He flinches, but he doesn’t move his hand. “What?”
“The person you’re seeing tonight,” I say, pushing my finger against his. He pushes back. “Who is he?”
The car jerks to a stop, and Maddox lets go of the bar. I want to groan in frustration. The foursome pours out in a swirl of perfume and revelry, and I pray—and I am not a praying man—that no one else gets on.
The doors close on just us two, and Maddox turns to me slowly, brow pinched. “What did you just ask?”
It’s a challenge. I probably deserve the harsh tone.
When his eyes lock with mine, those beautiful browns are hard. Borderline angry. I should back down. Instead, the dragon of jealousy roars inside me. “You’re seeing a friend tonight? Do you have a boyfriend? A date?” I ask bitterly.
“No. I don’t,” he bites out, then turns to face the doors, crossing his arms. The message is clear. He wouldn’t have hit on me if he was involved.
I jam a hand through my hair, trying to sort out my thoughts. “I just…”
He shakes his head. “Don’t mention it,” he says, absolving me, though I haven’t earned it.
I just acted like a jealous ass over a guy I met two hours ago. I move in front of him as the elevator chugs slowly past the fourteenth floor. I meet his gaze and let myself be vulnerable, even though being honest is stupidly risky. Too many guys don’t want it. Too many can’t handle it. And too many just want me for the number on my back when I play ball.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I admit.
His expression softens. A small smile shifts his mouth. My god, he’s stunning with those plush lips, those chiseled cheekbones. “I’m not seeing anyone.” Then he clarifies, “I’m not dating. I’m seeing a friend. We go way back. I met him right after I graduated from college, and he’s probably bringing along his husband.”
I choke out a humorless laugh at my own stupid jealousy. Then I get the bright idea to try to fix my mistake. “Want a ride?”
“With you?” he asks, surprised.
I roll my eyes. “No, with the birthday girl. Yes, with me.”
“Sure. That doesn’t sound risky at all,” he deadpans.
“Not. One. Bit.” I laugh.
“Thanks. Seriously. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got a rental.”
“Shame. I’m an excellent driver,” I quip, bummed he’s got his own wheels. Our solo time is running out.
“No doubt you know exactly how to handle a car.”
“Ten out of ten you’d ride with me again,” I say.
Fuck it. I can’t linger in this land of innuendo when I haven’t truly apologized. I try again, more serious this time. “Actually, I do know what’s gotten into me,” I say as the car slinks past the seventh floor.
“What’s that?”
I blow out a breath, girding myself for a little real talk. Maybe being blunt will defuse the sexual tension, making it easier to work with him. “It’s you . I met you a couple hours ago, and already I’m feeling possessive,” I say, shaking my head.
When Maddox locks eyes with me, his anger is gone, replaced by heat. “You were sounding possessive. But go figure—your jealousy pissed me off and turned me on at the same time.”
And that did not defuse anything.
Heat blazes in me as the floors slip by. We’re passing the sixth floor now.
Maddox steps backward, but it doesn’t feel like he’s moving away from me. Not when he reaches back, his hands gripping the bar tightly behind him, so tightly it seems like he’s holding his own wrists together. Like he’s offering himself to me.
My breath hitches. My chest catches fire.
He just bound himself.
For me.
I shake my head, trying to shake off my lust to no avail. “Now we’re back where we started.”
He tilts his chin like he’s saying game on . “Right where we shouldn’t be,” he says, reminding us of the stakes and the score.
“We definitely shouldn’t,” I add.
Maddox bites the corner of his lips briefly. “Then we’ll definitely pretend it didn’t happen.”
“What I’m about to do…?” I supply.
“Yes. That .”
I craved his permission, and with it, I close the distance and slide a thumb along his clean-shaven jaw. He leans into my touch, shuddering out a breath. “More…” His voice is stretched thin with desire.
I grab his tie, yank him closer to me. Our lips are inches apart. I’m vibrating with desire. “Since you asked nicely,” I rasp out, then I dip my mouth to his throat and press a hot kiss there.
He trembles. I lick his neck, tasting him. He gasps roughly, then stretches his neck, letting me indulge. My god, he’s the most sensual man I’ve ever touched.
I lift my face, then in a flash, I step between his thighs, kick one foot to the side, then the other, spreading his legs.
Kick, kick, spread.
His pupils dilate. “Do it,” he breathes out, urging me on. “Do anything.”
I’m a fuse box. Circuits trip, sparking hot and electric.
I reach behind him, grab his wrists, and yank his strong arms above his head. I’ve got him pinned just the way I like, just the way he likes, as the elevator descends.
I barely have any time to drive him wild, to kiss along his jaw, to lick his earlobe, to make him beg. I need hours, entire nights, whole weeks to do the million things I want to do to him. So I seize what I can and crush my lips to his in a hot and demanding kiss.
Maddox opens pliantly, his mouth an invitation for my tongue. Harder and rougher, I kiss him, his ocean scent drifting through my mind. I tug his bottom lip between my teeth, biting as I kiss but keeping my body at bay for a few more seconds.
Then I double down on danger. I slam against him, our cocks meeting through our clothes.
Holy fuck.
Maddox LeGrande is packing some serious heat. I rub my hips ruthlessly against his, our dicks grinding together. It’s mind-bendingly good, and if I spend another risky second making out with him, I will never want to stop.
I break away, breathing hard. I drag the back of my hand across my mouth as if I can erase the power of that kiss.
The promise of it too.
Panting, he drops his hands to his sides. His lips are bruised. His eyes gleam. He looks thoroughly fuckable, and I’ll have to find some self-control and find it fast. But it’s slipping through my fingers as I stare at the smoldering man.
“Your lips are incredible,” I murmur as the elevator stops in the parking garage.
He’s quiet at first, one elegant hand sliding up to adjust his burgundy tie. As the doors open, he steps out first, barely glancing my way, saying, “It was great meeting you. I’ll email you tomorrow about the next steps.”
He strides into the garage, leaving me and my hard-on aching for him.
I slam a hand against the open doors, needing a moment or three to clear my head before I can put one foot in front of the other.
Somehow, and I’m sure it’s a miracle, I remember how to walk.
I remember, too, that Maddox is about to become a big part of my life. I can’t fuck up this relationship with him.
I don’t go to my own car. I walk straight to his side. I need to know something, and the question is fueled by thoughts of both business and pleasure.