The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

15. Ground Rules

15

GROUND RULES

Rafe

I detest lies. Perhaps Gunnar didn’t technically lie, but he didn’t tell me the truth.

I have zero problems with virginity. Everyone’s a virgin once... until they’re not.

But I would’ve gone easier on him. I wouldn’t have been so fucking aggressive. I was rough, and it’s eating me alive.

I’m also still buzzing from what he did to me. I drink in his all-American good looks, his cocky grin, and those deep blue eyes, and I’m torn between pressing the point that lies have no place with me—and the heady, delicious rush of knowing I’m his first.

When I responded to his thirst trap, through all the flirting, sexting, and more, I thought I could keep it physical. Keep my distance. But I can’t resist learning more about him.

I slide my hand along his jaw, firmly cup his face. He’s an inch or two taller than I am. He’s certainly broader—and bigger—but he likes being manhandled. And if I’m going to handle him the way we both seem to want, we’ve got to establish some ground rules.

Starting with trust. I run my thumb across his jawline and over to those lush, full lips that took me deep and made me see stars.

“I have my limo. Let’s go for a ride, Gunnar.”

The sexy baseball player inches up one brow. He turns his face into my hand and bites down on my thumb?—

And then he’s drawn back and crossing his arms. “Is it going to be an inquisition?”

“Does it feel like one?” I don’t want that.

Gunnar shrugs, casually, coolly. “A little, to be honest.”

To be honest . Apt words.

“The night we met at the club, you said people should be honest about desire,” I say.

Gunnar lifts his chin defiantly. “And I have been. One hundred percent.”

He’s made it clear that he’s only giving up control in the bedroom, and his fierceness intrigues me. Few people I’ve met hold their own with my sort of intensity. But he’s forcing me to lay my wishes on the line.

“And I’ve been honest, too, about my desire for you. So let’s start with that. Are you amenable to a ride in my limo?” I ask again.

With his jaw set and his eyes hard, he replies, “I’m amenable to getting out of here. I’m not amenable to an interrogation.”

The power of his statement sends a charge through me. It’s also a reminder that I don’t always get to make the rules. “It won’t be.”

I turn off the light in the suite and shut the door, leaving it as neat and orderly as I found it, without a hint of what went down here on a Wednesday night in September.

As Gunnar and I head toward the elevator, I’m tempted to put a hand on his lower back. We’re alone, but the impulse is strong. But I don’t know Gunnar’s rules, so I don’t touch him on the way down. Not in the elevator, nor in the corridor as we pass maintenance crews cleaning up.

A man in a nylon Dragons sweat suit pushes a cart full of towels, smiling when he sees the ballplayer. “Hey, Gun,” he says. “Good game tonight.”

I’m curious how Gunnar will react to being seen with me at this hour at his place of work. I’m not worried that he’s closeted, of course. He danced with me at Edge the night I met him, and we kissed ravenously in the crowd. Before we took it to the DMs, he flirted with me on Instagram like he could teach an expert class in it. But tonight it’s late, and Gunnar’s not coming from the locker room as one might expect.

Still, he’s relaxed, casually giving the man a chin nod. “Thanks, Teddy. Appreciate you.”

“Anytime,” the man says with a smile as we pass.

There’s my answer. Gunnar acts the same in public as he is does in private. I file that tidbit away.

My driver waits near the ballpark’s main entrance. The stadium sits at the edge of the bay, on the curve in a major road. I imagine that earlier tonight, the crowd thronged past, full of excited chatter. But at this hour, our main company is the glow of a few streetlights as San Francisco shuts down for the evening.

Well, some of it. I know all about after-dark San Francisco.

We make our way to my limo, but before we reach it, a voice calls, “Gunnar! Did you get my message?”

Gunnar whips around, then his surprise clears as he recognizes the handsome man trotting up to us in his Clark Kent glasses.

“Hey, O.” The ballplayer gives the guy a fist bump. “What’s up?”

“I got this wild call from a dating app. Apparently Boyfriend Material liked your kiss for the crowd last Friday. They want to feature the video. The info’s in your email, but we can talk before the flight on Friday.”

Gunnar spreads his arms wide as if boasting for a crowd. “Famous for blowing a kiss after a home run. That’s me, gentlemen.” Then he turns to the guy in the specs. “Thanks, Owen. I’ll read it over.”

Ah, that’s Owen. The PR guy. Marlow said she’d have him bring my invitation to Gunnar.

After he blows Owen a showy kiss, Gunnar turns and jogs back to me. I tilt my head and give him a look. “Owen gets kisses now?”

“Don’t be jealous. You know who the kiss after the homer was for.” The edge is back in his voice. So this garrulous side of him is for Owen and Teddy, people he likes. I’ll have to earn my way back into his fan club.

Fair enough. I’ll use this time wisely.

We reach the sleek black limo and my driver gets out, coming around the front to open the passenger door for us. “Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you, Barrett.”

“Thank you so much,” Gunnar tells the man who’s driven me around since I moved to California.

Once we’re inside, the ballplayer slides across the soft leather seats, seeming to drink in the details—the console with scotch, champagne, tumblers, and ice; the blue lights that run along the roof of the car; the plush, U-shaped seats, perfect for so many of my favorite activities.

Gunnar whistles approvingly. “It’s good to be the underwear king.”

I smile as I sit on the same bench a foot away, enjoying his lighter mood. “It can be.”

The car pulls onto the road, and Gunnar stares out the window for a while at the city drifting by. Then he turns back to me, his eyes intense. “Where are you taking me as you give me the third degree? A diner? A dance hall? A sex club?”

There’s a hint of flirtation in that last suggestion. “Would you like that? A sex club?”

His blue eyes flash with heat, and I know the answer is yes.

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

Gunnar meets my gaze, unflinching. “I don’t know, Rafe. Isn’t that the issue? That I don’t know?”

His words come out stripped bare and vulnerable, putting me off-balance again. That’s what I want though—his openness. After the lies Lucas told, I crave truth like I need air.

“Whatever this is”—I point from Gunnar to me—“it needs to be honest.” Then, I draw a deep breath and give a bit of myself. “I don’t like lies. I’ve experienced them in the past. You might think this is dramatic, but deceit tears away a little bit of my soul.”

He gives a soft laugh. “That is dramatic—putting the details of my sexual inexperience on an equal level to your soul.”

“I do,” I say, not mincing words. “Because the kind of sex I want to have with you should be soul-shattering.”

He blinks, swallows roughly, and fans himself. “Point to the Brit. Well played.”

I laugh lightly, then resume my serious tone. “That’s my point. What you shared tonight is something huge.”

“It definitely wasn’t a little thing,” he says under his breath.

I stare at him sharply. “No bullshit right now, Gunnar.”

“Why?” he asks defiantly. “Why is it such a big deal that I’ve never had sex? Explain it to me.”

Does he really not know? I’m shocked he doesn’t get it. “Because I fucked your mouth like a savage. I told you to take me deep. I made you choke.” I hiss the words. “I could have hurt you.”

He leans forward, getting in my face. “And I liked it. So I’m not seeing the problem, Rafe.”

That’s a fair point, but regret overwhelms me. “Had I known, I would’ve gone easier on you.”

Gunnar doesn’t give an inch. “I don’t want you to go easy on me.”

“You don’t know that,” I say.

“You’re acting like I can’t possibly know what I want because I’ve never had sex before.” He taps his temple. “I know what I want. It’s all up here.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I try to sort through my strange feelings as the limo swings up Columbus Avenue, turning through North Beach.

“Where are we going?” Gunnar asks. “If you’re just going to interrogate me, then thanks but no thanks. This has been fun but I’m done. I’ll walk.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been given an ultimatum like that before. And I have no doubt he’d follow through. For the first time in a long time, I’m unsure how to handle someone. How to handle a man.

This is not what I expected when I met him at the dance club, nor when I sent him dirty directions. And this is nothing that I anticipated when I secured the owner’s suite for tonight.

The car slows at a light then stops. Gunnar reaches for the handle, and I’m sure he’ll leave. I have to decide how much of my past I am willing to share in order to spend more time with this man. And with his hand already on the door, I’d better decide really fucking soon.