Chapter 23 #2
Dylan had a solid day too. He took good at-bats, ran down a ball in the gap that should’ve been extra bases, and still found time to chirp at me from center.
We never had a big lead, though. They answered, we answered, and then it turned into pitchers, subs, and quick innings until the board stayed even.
I hit the clubhouse, went straight to my locker, took off my jersey and undershirt, then grabbed my phone to check the group chat.
Faye: Tie game???
Dylan: Spring training special
Yep. That’s how it goes sometimes
Faye: You two are done right?
Dylan: For today
Faye: Meet me at the resort. Same room number
Yes ma’am
I grinned at the screen and shoved my phone back into my bag before someone wandered by and got curious.
Cruz walked by, still sweaty, with a towel slung over his shoulder and looking too relaxed for a guy who’d been in cleats all afternoon. “You in a hurry to meet that hottie?”
“No,” I fibbed.
He laughed as I moved past him with my shower stuff. “Sure, Matthewson. You got her number, huh?”
“Fuck off.” I chuckled and kept walking toward the showers, where I took the quickest one of my life.
I dressed quickly, pulling on shorts and a hoodie, then slipping into my slides. Once I stuffed my keys, wallet, and phone into my pockets, I grabbed my bag and headed out.
I got in my car and pulled out of the lot slowly because getting pulled over would’ve been the dumbest way to end my day.
My leg still bounced at every red light, and I couldn’t stop smiling because she was here and I couldn’t get to her fast enough.
By the time I pulled into the resort parking lot, Dylan’s car was already there.
I parked, grabbed my bag, and headed inside. The elevator felt slow. The hallway felt longer than it should’ve. When I reached her door, Pederson stood off to the side and gave me a nod hello.
I knocked.
The door opened, and Dylan answered it.
“You speed here?” I teased.
“I stopped at every red light,” he answered, moving aside to let me enter.
“Did you only hit one?”
He grinned. “Something like that.”
Faye walked in from the bedroom. She looked at me and smiled, and my stomach did that weird thing.
“There you are,” she said.
“Hi,” I answered.
She lifted her brow. “That’s it? That’s all I get?”
I dropped my bag by the couch. “You showed up unannounced. I’m still catching up.”
We stepped toward each other, and she grabbed the front of my hoodie to pull me in. She kissed me, and I forgot how to breathe for a second.
Dylan’s hand slid to my shoulder as he stepped in behind her, close enough that we were all pressed together without anyone having to ask.
Faye pulled back, her eyes bright. “I missed you guys.”
“I missed you too,” Dylan replied, kissing the side of her neck.
“Yeah,” I added. “A lot.”
She pulled away and pointed to the room service cart. “Eat. I figured you’d both be hungry after your game.”
“I think we’re hungry for you, Princess.” Dylan kept kissing her neck.
“Well, then. I’m hungry, and I don’t want cold fries,” she sassed.
Dylan stepped toward the cart and lifted one of the lids. “You ordered burgers?”
“I ordered everything,” she replied. “I’m not listening to either of you pretend you aren’t starving.”
I grabbed a fry and took a bite.
Faye watched me chew and smiled. “You showered.”
“Fast,” I answered. “You don’t want us stinky.”
“I agree,” Dylan added, then reached for her again, sliding a hand to her waist. “You’d kick us out.”
Faye looked up at him. “If I recall, showers are fun with you two.”
“Don’t tease us if you want us to eat something that isn’t you.” I winked.
“Fine. Let’s eat.” She moved toward the table.
We ate quickly while we talked about the game and some of the things Faye didn’t know about baseball.
Our plates were mostly empty when Faye set her drink down and looked at both of us. “Okay.”
Dylan swallowed. “Okay, what?”
“No more talking,” she told us.
His grin flashed. “Thank God.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She stood, hooking her fingers into Dylan’s shirt and my hoodie at the same time. “Bedroom.”
We didn’t argue.
Dylan followed right behind her, and I was right there as well.
The bedroom was dim, since the curtains were drawn against the late-afternoon light.
Faye stopped at the foot of the bed and turned.
She reached for Dylan first, pulling him into a deep, slow kiss.
I watched, my blood heating as I waited for my turn.
When she finally broke from him, breathless, she turned to me.
She kissed me, and it wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, possessive, as if she were trying to relearn the shape of my mouth after a month, to erase every day we’d spent in different cities. Hell, I was too.
Then she stepped back, and her eyes flicked between us.
“Sit,” she ordered, nodding toward the edge of the bed.
Dylan and I exchanged a glance—a silent what’s-the-plan?—but we obeyed, and sat side by side on the mattress.
Faye stood before us, a sly smile on her lips. She began to undress slowly. The soft sweater came off, then her jeans. She was left in only her bra and panties, and every instinct in me screamed to reach for her, to pull her down between us.
But she didn’t come closer.
Instead, she walked over to the armchair in the corner—the big, upholstered one with a high back. She sat down, curling her legs beneath her.
“Faye?” Dylan’s voice was laced with confusion.
She leaned back in the chair. “You two don’t need me right now. I want to watch you.”
Shock sliced through me. My brain scrambled. Watch what? Watch us kiss? Touch each other? Or everything? The air in the room seemed to vanish.
This wasn’t what we’d talked about. Dylan and I had agreed to slow down, to keep one night at the villa from turning into some huge decision we couldn’t undo, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been thinking about him.
Over the last month, I’d caught myself watching his mouth when he talked, staring at his hands, wondering what it’d feel like to touch him without a girl between us to make it feel safer.
Across the room, Faye sat relaxed in her chair, watching us quietly, not asking, not pushing.
Just there. The choice was still ours. Heat rolled through me as I looked at him again, my throat tight not because I didn’t want this, but because I did, and I knew once I crossed that line, it would be because I chose to.
Dylan turned to me fully on the bed, his knee brushing mine. “Jase,” he started. “What’s the play here?”
I swallowed; my mouth was dry. “I don’t know,” I admitted, just as quietly. “She said she wanted to watch.”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her, then back at me. His eyes were dark and serious. “You think she means …”
“I don’t know what she means,” I rushed out. “But I know what I—” I couldn’t finish.
He studied my face for a long moment. He saw it—the want, the fear, the hope. He let out a slow exhale, then nodded. It was a decision. “Okay,” he murmured, more to himself. Then, louder, to Faye, “Are you sure you just want to watch?”
Faye’s smile widened with a knowing curve of her lips. “For now. Show me.”
He turned back to me. The space between us on the bed felt both huge and tiny. He reached out, his hand hovering for a second before his fingers brushed my jaw. It was a tentative touch, a question. My breath caught. Then he leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn’t like the villa. That had been heat and impulse, and maybe alcohol.
This was slow. Purposeful. His lips were soft against mine—exploring, asking.
I kissed him back, my hand coming up to cradle the side of his face.
The world narrowed to the feel of his mouth, the faint scratch of his stubble, and the sound of his groan.
He pulled back an inch, his forehead resting against mine. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” I managed to say, my voice uneven. “More than okay.”
His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, drawing me in for another kiss, deeper this time. My other hand found his hip, holding him there. The kiss grew hotter, messier. My tongue slid against his, and he groaned into my mouth, the sound moving through me.
My palms moved over him, learning the shape of his back, the curve of his spine.
His fingers were in my hair, pulling me closer.
We kissed until we were both out of breath, until my heart pounded against my ribs and I was stiff and aching in my shorts.
I broke the kiss to press my forehead against his shoulder, trying to get my head straight.
“Dylan,” I gulped.
“I know.” He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. “You want to?”
I looked over at Faye. She was watching, entirely focused on us, one hand resting on her thigh, her chest rising and falling quickly. She gave me the slightest nod.
“Yeah,” I answered, looking back at him. “I really want to.”
“Lube’s in my bag,” he told me, a faint, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Front pocket.”
On unsteady legs, I got up and grabbed the small bottle from his duffel by the couch.
He and I hadn’t done anything together since that night in St. John.
We didn’t have a private place to be and a part of me felt as though maybe if we hooked up together without Faye that it was cheating on her in a way.
When I turned back, Dylan was already taking off his shorts. I did the same, my fingers fumbling with the tie. We stood naked before each other, both of our dicks hard and ready.
I walked back to the bed, the bottle in my hand. He moved to lie back on the pillows, and I knelt on the mattress between his legs.
I slicked my fingers, my hands shaking slightly. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
He just nodded, his eyes locked on mine.