34. The Other Night
34
THE OTHER NIGHT
Maddox
After the game, I wait outside the ballpark for a tired but uninjured first baseman. He strides out of the players’ entrance, marches over to me under the streetlamp, and wraps an arm around my shoulders. Apparently, he hasn’t gotten the PDA out of his system, since he gives me another hot kiss. “Making up for lost time,” he murmurs.
“You say that like it’s been years of you wanting to kiss me in public,” I say as I walk him to my car.
“Feels that way to me,” he says with a shrug.
I duck my head, feeling naked, and loving it. What can I say? I’m an attention hound, and he gives me what I’ve always craved.
When we reach my car, I open the door for him. Once I’m behind the wheel, I click the start button, but Zane’s hand comes down on my wrist. “I have some news for you,” he says like he’s about to share a big secret he’s been hiding up his sleeve.
“Tell me,” I say, damn curious.
“You know Trace Woodson?”
“Of course. We talked to him last night.”
“He wants to join you when you start your one-man shop.”
I blink. I didn’t see that coming. Maybe I should have, but I sure didn’t think Zane would be greasing wheels for me. “He said something to you?”
Zane nods proudly. “He got your follow-up text today. He said he appreciated it, and when I talked you up, he said he wants to work with you. He’s so over big agencies.”
I’ve heard that before from others, like Braxton. But Trace seems real. And technically, I won’t be violating my contract with CTM if I sign Trace, because he hasn’t been approached by anyone at CTM. “So you really talked me up?” I’m not shocked, but I am ecstatic.
“I was busy before the game, handsome.” With a smug smile, Zane taps his chest. “Playing first base, I kinda know everyone. I chat the guys up when they visit me in the games. I have lots of friends in the league. So yeah, the All-Star Game seemed the perfect time to make the rounds. I spread the word that the best agent in the biz is building a brand-new client roster, and he’s only got room for a handful of elite players.”
My jaw comes unhinged. “You said that?”
“Well, it’s true. You told me at the pool earlier that you’re starting a real boutique shop. You want to focus on a select group of clients?—”
“—I know. I’m just amazed you did that!”
He scoffs. “Really? I fucking love you. You put your job on the line for me. To be with me . Did you really think I wouldn’t do something for you? I’m getting you some clients, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in, brushing his nose against mine. “I’m helping you start your one-man band. Cohen with the Comets is looking for new representation. Tanner isn’t happy with his sitch. And that Sutton dude who barreled into me is looking for a new rep.”
Zane pulls back, then rattles off a few more names of guys looking for new representation. “I told them I had the best agent in town,” he says with a frown. “I’ll miss working with you.”
“Me too, but it wouldn’t be right,” I say. I can’t take him. He’s Vance’s. I won’t violate my employment contract with CTM. Fortunately, I fall under the ninety-day window. Either party can terminate without cause in the first three months. The only thing I can’t do? Take clients that belong to CTM. Clients that I didn’t bring over. But I don’t need to poach. I’ve got a big brain, a ton of chutzpah, and whole lot of big dick energy when it comes to my job.
Most of all, I have something else. This man who went to bat for me. Just like I did for him.
Zane waggles his wrist, wincing slightly. “You know, Mad…this still hurts. You know what that means?”
“No sex for you?”
“Please. I’ve got a strategy for every at-bat on the field and in bed.”
The strategy is this—no weight on his wrist.
There is no scene tonight. Just us in the dark, on my bed, me on my side and Zane spooning me. He’s deep inside me, sliding my knee up to my chest. Wrapping an arm around my pecs, burying his face in my neck. Kissing and fucking.
He’s taking me apart thrust by luxuriously slow thrust. With each pump of his hips, he kisses my neck, my shoulder, my hair.
I feel decadent. Worshipped. He takes his time with a slow, unhurried fuck that hardly feels like a fuck at all.
As he swivels his hips, he lets out the most sensual gasp that turns into a lusty groan. “You feel so fucking good to me,” he whispers, tender and fierce.
I reach my hand back, grasping his hip. I don’t usually have the use of my hands during sex. For tonight, I relish it—the chance to bring him closer. I curl my hand around his hard ass, squeezing as he moves deliciously in me. Pleasure cascades under my skin, through my bones. My head swims with this…bliss.
I turn my face to him. “Kiss me while you fuck me,” I murmur.
“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he corrects.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’m making love to you,” he says, and I shudder while he trembles.
Then there’s no more talking because I’m so consumed by this connection with him. This intimacy. This deep and passionate love.
In the morning, I take Zane and Gage and Eliza out to breakfast at a trendy café on the street where Zane and I had, for all intents and purposes, our first date. We sit down at a table under an umbrella on the patio, beautiful people scurrying by. The first baseman bumps his shoulder to mine. “Order for me, handsome,” he says, in a languid, happy voice.
Gage rolls his eyes. “I never thought you’d be such a lovesick fool,” he says.
“I did,” Eliza chirps.
Zane blinks at her. “You did?”
“You’re kind of goofy with me, Uncle Zane. Like you are with Maddox,” she says then shrugs easily. “You’re just a teddy bear. You always have been.”
I grin as I turn to the guy by my side. “Yeah, you kind of are a softy,” I say.
Zane grumbles and Gage laughs.
When we’re done, I pay for the meal. It’s a small thing, but it’s my thing. And I like doing it for the man I love.
Later that day, back in my home, the clock unwinds. I glance at my watch, then the door. “You need to go.”
He has to catch a flight back to San Francisco. Another series starts this weekend. Baseball is never-ending during the season.
Near the door, he ropes his arms around me. “I don’t want to leave,” he whines.
“I’ll be there next week,” I say.
“You could come now,” he points out, with a winning grin.
“I wish,” I say, already missing him.
We’ve worked out the details. I’ll try to line up my work trips with his games whenever I can. He’ll do the same. It should be a little bit easier because I’m working for myself now.
But I’ll be busy building a new business. That starts tonight when I meet Trace for dinner. I plan to sign him by the end of the meal. But first, I have to finish the conversation I started at the baseball game.
Vance waits for me in the lobby shaking his head, still in disbelief over my departure. He hands me a canvas bag. “You have nothing in your office but a couple of stress balls, and a picture of you and a bunch of friends,” he says.
“That’s me. I’m not into things,” I say, taking the bag. But I didn’t come for the stress balls. I came to own up to my choice. To talk man to man. “I wanted to say thank you. For bringing me on. It’s been quite an experience,” I say, though I don’t add I learned so much about myself and what I want in business. I don’t want to work relentlessly for someone else. I want to work relentlessly for me.
A big agency turned me all the way off. I intend to work for a handful of clients I can deliver the moon for.
Vance shrugs, scratches his jaw. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he says.
He caught on to Zane and me? “Why do you say that?” I ask evenly, masking any shred of worry.
“You work too hard to work for our company,” he says, and I’m relieved he means work, not play. “Always figured I’d lose you soon enough. Just not this soon,” he says, then flashes a dickhead smile. “I’m just glad you can’t really take my favorites. Nate just signed officially with us. So did Lucy and Mia.”
He’s gloating, and that’s fine by me. That’s his style. But it won’t be mine. I stretch out a hand. “It was good working with you.”
“You too.” He heaves a sigh. “So, you and Zane. When did that start?”
That’s none of his business. I’m not beating myself up anymore over the lines that I crossed. I served my penance. I nearly lost the man I love. I have nothing to defend. “The other night,” I say simply.
Some answers require loopholes. Because really, the other night is when I decided to take a chance.
Now, I say goodbye and I walk away.