Chapter 14 - Will
Dismissed
Hanging my head, the sounds of my steps echo off the concrete floors and walls of the tunnel as I head for the exit of Milwaukee’s stadium.
We lost tonight and I played like absolute shit, giving up four runs before Coach finally pulled me. Not only were Brooks and I off-sync, but I just couldn’t get my head in the game.
After a couple weeks of playful banter and back and forth flirting via text messages, Brooks and I haven’t discussed what happened between us on the bus.
It’s not that he’s avoiding talking to me, or what happened between us, but we also haven’t discussed it.
It was exhilarating, the threat of being caught by one of our teammates while our hands were fisted on each other’s cocks. And while I can’t find it in myself to regret what happened, I am pissed I’m letting it affect my game.
My blood rushes south just thinking about that night. It’s not only the first time I’ve been intimately touched by a man, but it’s the first time I’ve touched one as well.
Which is why my lust-induced high is plummeting at a faster rate with each day Brooks avoids talking about it.
I get that I was the first one to ignore him after our kiss, and maybe this is him getting me back.
If this is his way of punishing me, consider me punished.
I don’t like the way it feels to be on the receiving end of the avoidance.
“Sinclair, wait up!” Brooks shouts.
I pause midstep, my shoulders stiffening momentarily before I glance over my shoulder and see Brooks trying to catch up to me. I take a deep breath when I see him hot on my heels.
I turn to face him. “Warren,” I grit, feigning a nonchalance I definitely don’t feel at the moment.
“Hey,” he says, a little breathless. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs. “Was it the game? I know we weren’t as in tune with each other tonight, but don’t sweat it. We’ll get our groove back next time.”
It’s hard to stay frustrated with Brooks when he’s so damn positive all the time. He felt we were off tonight, thinking it had everything to do with the game. But how can I tell him that it has everything to do with him?
How the hell do I approach the subject of what happened between us the other night?
When I’m on the mound, everyone sees me taking Brooks’ calls like I do every week.
But what they don’t see is the way I trace the veins in his forearms with my eyes when he flexes.
Or how he smirks behind his mask when he knows I’m about to strike someone out.
Something is brewing between us. And I need him to say it out loud because clearly—I don’t know how.
Instead of trying to sort through what I’m feeling, I give him bullshit as my default answer. “I know this team got used to losing last season, but I haven’t made my career into what it is by playing like shit. Every game counts. Every pitch of mine matters.”
“It’s not that serious. We still have plenty of season left to pl—”
“This has nothing to do with the fucking season.” I snap at him, my tone biting.
Brooks’ face morphs with confusion, but then his eyes soften as he searches my face for some sort of clarity.
“Alright, then talk to me. What’s this about?”
I scoff, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Oh, now you want to talk.”
In typical Brooks Warren fashion, he laughs, throwing his head back like I’ve just told the most hilarious joke of the century.
“You’re a moody motherfucker, you know that? Now tell me what I’ve done to make you pissy.”
I’m berating myself for not being able to get a hold of my emotions. This man has a way of burrowing himself so far into my head, I can’t think straight. Literally.
Everyday since he barrelled into my life, it’s hard to tell left from right, or up from down. My entire world turned inside out, and now my every waking thought is consumed with Brooks’ laugh and the way I feel when he touches me.
Fine. If he can’t read between the lines, I’ll just say it. “Why are you avoiding it?”
“It being?” He quirks a brow.
“The other night. On the bus,” I reply in a hushed tone.
“I’m not.”
“Don’t you think we should talk about it?”
He shrugs. “Not really. I mean, what’s there to talk about? I blew your world, and you blew your load all over my hand.”
“You say that as if you didn’t do that exact same thing,” I deadpan.
“My apologies. We blew our loads on each other’s hands, and you most definitely blew my mind and world.” Brooks smirks.
I step impossibly closer to him, lowering my voice. “And the reason you’ve been avoiding talking about it is?”
An adorably bashful look crosses his face, and for a moment I forget why I’m in a pissy mood to begin with. “Well . . .” He rubs the back of his neck. “That was a big night for us. I didn’t want to push you further.”
I huff out a sigh of resignation and shake my head. “Now you want to be a man of virtue?”
“When have I pushed you beyond what you’ve wanted?” he questions, which seemingly puts out my fire—because the truth is, he hasn’t pushed me. I’ve wanted everything we’ve done thus far, whether I was ready to admit it at the time or not.
“That’s beside the point,” I grumble.
“Then what’s your point?”
I open my mouth to reply, but then out of the corner of my eye, I see Mateo sauntering down the tunnel toward us.
He doesn’t say anything, whistling like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
But as he passes the two of us, he does a double take and winks like he’s somehow in on our secret. The look on his face unsettles me.
Clenching my jaw, I try to quell the anxiety swirling in the pit of my stomach before replying to Brooks. “My point is why now? Why do you all of a sudden choose now—after what we did the other night—not to push me.”
“You want me to push you? Huh?” He swipes his thumb against his bottom lip. “Because it sure sounds like it, Sin.” Brooks ignores the fact that we can be seen by our teammates, and he crowds my space, backing me up against the cinderblock wall of the hallway.
I swallow past the thickness of desire coating my throat. “Let’s say I do. What happens then?”
He lets out a low chuckle that rumbles in his chest, causing it to vibrate against my own. Shit, just the sound of his laughter has me turned on. “Then”—he pauses to look me up and down—“we go back to our hotel room and you set the pace.”
“I set the pace?” I question, feeling hesitant all of a sudden at the thought of where this will likely lead.
“Without question. Anything we do is because you say so. I’ll obey your every command like a good boy.”
Fuck. My dick twitches beneath my zipper just thinking about all the possibilities.
I fight the urge to lean in and press my lips against his, knowing we’re not alone at the moment. But once we get in our hotel room, all bets are off. I’m done pretending I’m unaffected by what happened the other night on the bus.
Instead of kissing him the way I’m dying to, we step away from each other and walk outside toward the bus when a fan starts to shout, “Brooks! Oh my gosh! Brooks, do you remember me?”
He looks over his shoulder at the woman with light brown hair down to her waist and curves any man would kill to touch. Recognition sets in his features, and he shoots her a smile. “I do.”
The fact that he does indeed remember her causes her to bite her lip seductively. “I was thinking we could rekindle our night of fun together. Got any teammates who would be down?”
“I do, but I don’t know if tonight’s gonna be that night, sweetheart,” he tells her, and I’m not sure what to make of that response.
There’s something extremely terrifying yet exciting at the thought of having Brooks all to myself. But my mind betrays me, planting seeds of doubt. Maybe it’ll be easier to have this woman as a buffer so I can have Brooks again without fully committing to something I might not be ready for.
“Why not?” I ask, which causes Brooks to look over his shoulder at me in question.
What are you doing? he mouths to me.
I lean in behind him, whispering in his ear, “Wasn’t it you who said everything’s better in threes?”
Brooks pins me with a hard stare, almost expecting me to say no—urging me to drop this. But I don’t.
Shrugging my shoulders, I feign nonchalance, and his brows wrinkle. I give him an assured nod, though I’m feeling anything but.
Instead of letting him do the talking, I tell the woman, “Why don’t you meet us at our hotel and we’ll show you a hell of a good time.”
Her face lights up. “Name the place and I’m there.”
“You sure about this?” Brooks says just loud enough for only me to hear.
“You said I set the pace, right?” I tell him, trying to keep the shakiness out of my voice.
Brooks takes a beat, his mossy gaze searing into mine. Finally, he turns toward the woman with a fixed smile. “We’re staying at the Interstellar Hotel. See you soon,” he tells her, his voice withdrawn and sounding anything but enthusiastic before he turns and makes his way onto the team bus.
Once we’re seated, he wastes no time turning to look at me. “Are you into her?”
“I mean, I am into women, yes,” I drawl.
He scoffs in frustration. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t know. I guess so.” I shrug, completely unaffected again, and it seems to piss him off.
Regret churns heavy in my stomach. What am I doing?
Why the fuck did I invite her? It’s not like I’m even into her.
Sure, she’s beautiful and probably great in bed.
If anything, I pushed for this to see what Brooks would say because I was jealous of the fact that he’s done this with her before, only he shared her with someone else.
Which has me questioning which of our teammates he’s shared with in the past.
I stew on those thoughts the entire way back to the hotel, so in my own head I don’t even realize we’ve arrived until Brooks nudges me on the shoulder to stand up.
“Let’s go, Pretty Boy. We’re the last ones left. Unless you’ve got a case of cold feet,” he taunts, propelling me forward.