15. JACKSON
FIFTEEN
JACKSON
I don’t know how Frankie can rest with his cheek on my chest while my heart is battering against my ribcage. He must be able to feel that, right?
Damn. Frankie Nebiolo is in my arms right now.
I’ve never held anyone like this before. He’s really warm, like a heated blanket that smells really nice. I think it’s whatever product he uses in his hair. Kind of cocoa buttery.
I let my fingers drift up and down his forearm, finger pads teasing the hair there, tracing over the little bumps of his wrist bones.
“So…One thing,” Frankie finally breaks the silence. He points toward his bedroom doorway. “That’s wide open. There’s a good chance one of the guys stops by at some point. Should we shut the door? Or are you okay if they see this?”
“Maddox knows.”
He leans back and props a pillow under his head so he can stare up at me. “Really?”
“Yeah, I think we’re kind of friends. He told me about him and Easton. I trust him. It was still hard to tell him. I’ve never said it out loud before. But after Skip and Maddox, it does feel a little easier. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
“Ripping off the Band-Aid. Want to tell me?”
A whisper of a smile teases my lips. “I’m gay.”
“I’m Frankie. Nice to meet you, Gay.”
A small laugh bursts from me. “That was, like, real fucking cheesy.”
“Yet you laughed,” he says with a sly smile. “Plus, I’m Italian. I can’t get enough of cheese. Ricotta, burrata, parmigiano…”
A flush of warmth spreads through me as his Italian accent rolls off his tongue. How can he sound so sexy just listing cheese?
“That I did,” I murmur. I can’t stop myself from smiling back at him.
Can’t stop myself from staring. And finally allowing myself to give in completely to how thoroughly this man captivates me.
He’s lightly lined his good eye with black eyeliner.
He has the longest lashes I’ve ever seen.
They curl a lot more than mine do. A dusting of glitter sparkles on his cheek.
Sparkles just like the collection of earrings he wears.
Even with everything that happened, this man still sparkles. How does he do it?
His lips twitch as he watches me take him in.
I run a finger down his nose. It’s very straight, smaller than mine…not dainty but elegant? I push the little round tip. It’s kind of cute.
His burnt mahogany eyes shine up at me, playful and bursting with gold light. Then he darts forward and kisses my finger. Everything inside me stills. Frozen. Like my body is determined to preserve this moment. Something so small, so simple…but to me…so special.
Tender and teasing and sweet, like warm honey for my soul.
I swallow hard and try to pull myself out of my trance. My gaze traces the injured side of his face. I carefully grip his chin and tilt him so I can really look at it. “How bad does it hurt?”
“It’s a little better. More a constant gnawing ache versus the persistent throb.
As long as I’m propped up and not flat, it’s not too bad now.
I’m just fucking happy I can chew things again.
I’m really not a fan of drinking my meals.
And this is going to shock you, but the swelling has actually gone down a bit. ”
My fingers hover over his cheek, tracing the injury without touching it. “What about ice? If I got you ice, would that help?”
“I ice it on and off. But you’ve actually provided the best healing protocol so far. A sexy man in my bed had me almost forgetting I have a broken face.” His lips press tight against the smile he’s fighting.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” My heart sinks. “To smile.” I trace his lips. “That’s why you hold it back. You don’t normally.”
A small line forms between his brows, and those dark-gold eyes study me. “You been watching me, Olander?”
I shrug the shoulder he’s not pressed against. “I’m a red-blooded gay man, and you’re stunning.”
Frankie’s eyes widen. “Oh, damn. Look who’s dropping the gay bomb all casual now.”
“You make it easy to feel comfortable.”
He draws circles on my chest with his finger. “I’m glad for that. Everyone here… You can be comfortable with them. Obviously, Maddy and East. But Shaney-babe too. Even Pao Pao.”
“Even if he wants to pow-pow me in the face?”
His eyebrows fly up, and he snorts, then dissolves into laughter. Laughter that quickly turns into a groan. “Ah. Fuck you, fuck youuu.” He grimaces and drops his head backward, eyes squeezing shut.
“Fuckshit. Sorry. God. I shouldn’t be making you laugh. Shit, shit. Frankie, what do I do?”
“Ouch,” he says weakly. “Just give me a second. It’s okay. It’s just throbbing. It’ll pass.”
He breathes slowly, and I feel like the biggest idiot.
“Can I ask you something?” he murmurs. His eyes are still closed, but at least he’s no longer wincing.
“Of course.”
“If I was the first man you’ve kissed, I’m guessing that means you haven’t done anything else with a man? Unless you’ve visited glory holes?”
“What’s a glory hole?”
His eyes slip open, and we lock gazes. “That answers that question. Not important. Back to my question. Aren’t you…eager to try all the things with a man? I’m surprised you’re not jumping right on the horse. Or volunteering to be the horse jumped on.”
I drop against the headboard and rock my head back and forth.
“I think at this point, I’ve waited too long.
It’s all been built up so much in my head.
The honest truth? I’m nervous. For a lot of reasons.
Will I freak out when shit starts going down?
Like what if my anxiety over being gay comes rushing back?
Will I nut embarrassingly fast? What if I’m horrible in bed?
Maybe it’s pathetic, but I just want to feel safe. I don’t want to be a disappointment.”
Silence falls over the room, and my chest tightens. I shouldn’t have said anything. Why did I just vomit all that up?
“Jackson,” he whispers.
I roll toward him and look down at him.
Frankie shuffles up so we’re eye level. His perfectly manicured brows are puckered, and his eyes blaze. “It’s not pathetic, Jackson. It’s so far from pathetic. Don’t settle for anything less, because those things you want? Safety, understanding, comfort? Those aren’t small things.”
They’re not. And I’m pretty sure I’d get all three with this man.
My attention falls to his lips. “What are the medical restrictions on kissing?” I whisper.
Those warm-brown eyes light up with a devious mischief. “Patient discretion.”
“And what does the patient think?”
“It’s worth testing.” He leans in. “But…to be safe, I think it’s best that the patient leads. You okay with that?”
“You can kiss me however you want.”
His hand slides up my neck and grips my jaw. “Don’t tease, Jackson. You’re not ready—my cheek isn’t ready—for me to kiss you the way I want.”
My stomach flips over.
“Ready?” He hovers over me, gaze locked on mine. His fingers flex, and my pulse skips. It’s possessive, the hold he has on me. Both his hand and his eyes…and maybe something else too.
“Kiss me.” I don’t mean for it to come out as a plea, but it does. I need to feel his lips on me again. Need to experience it, but with a different ending this time. I want us to rewrite it.
Soft lips coast over mine, and there goes my ability to breathe. It’s just as surreal as the first time. Just as mind-blowing. I feel each brush of his lips deep inside my chest.
I kiss him back gently, terrified that I’ll hurt him.
And apparently, he can tell. His hand leaves my face and trails down my shoulder, my arm, until he reaches my hand frozen at my side.
He grabs it and brings it to his waist. Settles it there and gives me a little squeeze.
My fingers instantly obey and press into him.
He cups my face again, and his lips drag over mine the tiniest bit harder.
I just follow along. Casual, careful kisses, cataloging every inch.
Bottom lip. Top lip. The corner of my mouth.
Each touch settles over me, a cozy warm breeze of comfort.
His sweet scent invades my senses, soothes every aching wound inside me.
I’m riddled with them, they pepper my insides like a battlefield.
Then his tongue slides over the seam of my lips, and I accidentally jerk him toward me. He laughs softly against my mouth. I swallow it down, the sound of joy, of delight. It emboldens me. I grab his bottom lip with my teeth and give it a gentle tug.
He melts into me—and something inside me shifts, not quite into place, but close.
I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the feeling of another’s body softening into mine.
My heart trembles, cowering in the dark recesses of my chest, terrified that this comfort is somehow a trick.
Because this feeling right now? There’s no way it’s real.
It’s too close to happiness.
When I let him go, he pushes up and stares down at me, breaths coming fast. “I want to be that person.”
My brows scrunch as I try to blink myself back to the present. “What?” My brain isn’t functioning right now.
“The one you go slow with.” He brushes his nose against mine, and my heart takes a tentative step forward. “I want to show you everything, Jackie.”
“Woof.”
He chuckles. “To clarify. Not a relationship. I don’t do those. I am usually the hookup, one-night guy. But…” He brushes my hair back. “I’d make an exception for you. And trust me, I’ll take very good care of you.”
My pulse is going so fast that I’m getting a little lightheaded.
I dip my chin. “Yes.” I want it to be him too. More than anything.
He smiles softly as he kisses me again, and what a beautiful thing, to feel his happiness on my lips.
“Well, well, well… What do we have here?”
I still, and Frankie slowly lifts up. But he doesn’t even look at the door. He kisses me once more. Then the tip of my nose. Then my cheek. A swarm of fluttery things takes off in my chest. It’s like a tornado of butterflies in there.
He finally rolls over so he’s sitting next to me. “Hey, Shaney-babe.”
I swallow hard and meet my teammate’s gaze. My heartbeat hammers against my sternum, like a dugout drumming the benches for all their worth. Everyone here…you can be comfortable with them. I hope Frankie’s right.
Michaels’s face breaks into his typical too-wide grin. “Welcome to the team, bro.”
My jaw slackens. What?
He tips his head back and laughs. “Dude, we’re all so fucking queer on this team. I love it!”
“Okay. I am really confused,” I say slowly.
Frankie just winks at me.
Michaels leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, shit-eating grin still in full swing. “Jed and I totally called it. I knew you were a not-so-straight straight boy. Dude. Don’t piss yourself.” He turns to Frankie. “He a flight risk? He looks like he’s about to dive out your window.”
“Go easy on him, Shane. Not everyone jumps into everything in life with your enthusiasm…or lack of reservation.”
“Sorry, Olander.” His attention falls back on me.
“If Frankie’s kissing you, I figure whatever shit happened is in the past. Glad you two worked things out.
Forgive and look to the future, bro.” His eyes widen.
“Oh, Maddy is such a fucking shit-stirrer! He sent me up here to ask Frankie if he needed anything before we leave for the clubhouse.” He cackles.
“Which means he knows. And wanted me to find out. This is fan-fucking-tastic.”
Damn. Michaels words a lot. So much so that it’s buried my nerves behind my attempt to decipher what the fuck he’s saying.
“All right. I’ll give you two lovebirds a few minutes. But we gotta head soon. Olander, you need to stop at your place before we go over, or do you want to ride with us?”
I blink dazedly at him. “I…have the stuff I need in my car.”
Why can’t my brain process this?
“Perfect. See you downstairs in a few.” He disappears—and immediately pops back in. “Oh. I forgot to mention. Jed’s my boyfriend. Just FYI. Queer as fuck in this house.” He fist pumps. Then he disappears for good.
“What was that?” I say, still reeling.
“I think Shane’s excited to have another queer guy around here.”
“How does Stone handle all”—I wave my hand at the empty doorway—“that?”
Frankie’s lips curl. “Trust me. Jed loves it. Those two are the real deal.” He lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “And they refuse to share.”
I whip my head toward him. “Excuse me?”
Frankie bursts out laughing, then winces. “Fuck. Totally did that to myself.” He waves a hand in front of his face and quickly composes himself. “Was that a little jealousy I heard there?”
I bite my lip and glance at the comforter.
“Say it, Jackson. No matter the situation, communication is key. You can always talk to me.”
I lift my gaze back to his. “While we do this…would you mind being exclusive?” I hold my breath.
“Not at all. You can have exclusive access to this Frankie fun ride for as long as your little six-foot-six, two hundred eighty-pound self desires.”
I arch a brow.
He bites his lip and gives me a saucy wink. “Totally looked you up on the Clippers’ site. And with the new ABS system, I know you’re not lying about any inches.”
His little purr at the end is so over-the-top suggestive we both stare at each other, fighting smiles. “Of course you did.”
“We’ll talk a bit more about the requirements to…ride…another time. But for now, let’s head downstairs. I want a drink and…” He dusts a kiss over my lips. “I’ll see you off properly.”
His sultry words curl around me, and I shiver.
“How do you do that? The way you said that…” I shiver again.
He chuckles. “Oh, babe. We are going to have so much fun.”