Dixon moved to the edge of the bed, then stood.
Tucker purposely diverted his gaze away from Dixon’s prominent dick.
“I know you liked it. The way you howled under me when you came. There was no question.” Dixon crossed his arms over his chest and pinned Tucker with his gaze.
“I… I….” Tucker shut his mouth. The urge to flee hit him hard enough that he spun and left the room. Long strides carried him down the steps and right up to the front door.
“Damn it, Tucker. Stop running.” Dixon called out as he pounded down the stairs, right on Tucker’s heels. “We need to talk about this.” He jumped ahead, blocking the exit, and forcing Tucker to halt. “You can’t walk back to the mansion for your car. Too far. Besides, I still have your keys.”
Tucker grimaced at the reminder of what started the whole erotic shenanigans. Dixon digging the keys out of his pants pocket. The resulting caress set his desires free and his whole body on fire with lust.
He forced the thought from his head and focused on the present dilemma. Dixon was right. He had no transportation and his vehicle was miles away. Calling a cab would work, but that would still take time.
“Was what we did so awful?” The thick emotion in Dixon’s voice pulled him from his chaotic thoughts.
Tucker lifted his head and looked at his friend, ignoring the magnificent body on display, and studied Dixon’s face. Worry coated his expression as well as a hefty dose of self-reproach.
“No.” The word tumbled out on a whisper.
He’d been a willing participant all along. Truth be told, he’d instigated the whole event. Thus any regrets and guilt rested solely on his shoulders.
Dixon said nothing for a long moment. “Let me throw some clothes on, and then I’ll take you back to your car.” He turned and trotted back up the staircase.
Tucker watched him go with a sense of sadness and lingering desire. The flexing and snapping of Dixon’s primed muscles as well as his perfectly rounded ass didn’t help in the least.
Just jot it down as a wild adventure. Nothing more, nothing less. The sentiment sounded strong but lacked substance, even in his own mind. He blew out a long breath and tried to stop the pounding of his heart. I slept with Dixon. Get over it already.
He’d just forget it ever happened. Sew his lips closed on the subject and hope Dixon did the same.
Unfortunately, that scenario didn’t have a stellar chance of happening, not the way he’d been falling into pit holes lately.
No sooner had Dixon pulled the SUV out of the driveway than he put them right back on the awkward topic Tucker so wanted to avoid.
“I know you’re confused about everything.”
“Hell, yes, I’m confused. A week ago I was happily dating Gloria and screwing her any chance I had. Now….” He trailed off, unable to formulate words.
“In case you were wondering, I happened to like what we did. We meshed well. Had a great time. One of the best that I can remember.” Dixon spared him a quick glance before focusing on the road once more. “I don’t have a single regret and am up to doing it again.”
The offer jolted Tucker. He hadn’t dealt with the first time, let alone considered there’d be more. Feeling trapped, he lashed out in an effort to finalize things for once and for all. “Look. Like I said before. It just happened. I got drunk. Did something stupid. Like always.”
Dixon frowned. “You call that stupid?” His tone carried a sharp edge.
Tucker sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It was a mistake.”
“So you keep saying.” Dixon shook his head slightly, still watching the road ahead of him. “I don’t agree.”
“It’s a dumb pattern. When someone breaks up with me, I hit up a club, drink a few, then I find a hot hookup for the night. It’s just a tension release. Not undying love.” Tucker couldn’t help but get a bit defensive. He didn’t like himself much at the moment, and Dixon’s point on the topic made him feel all that much lower. And rattled. Definitely rattled.
“Let me get this straight. You broke up with your girlfriend, couldn’t find another woman at the wet bar, saw your opportunity when I took you home, and thought ‘what the hell, he’s a warm body to fuck’?”
Tucker flinched at the subtle bite in Dixon’s voice. He knew he’d hurt his friend’s feelings, but didn’t know how to be honest without doing so. He wasn’t the man Dixon thought he was. Not gay. Not bi. Just a guy that screwed up royally.
A royal screwup that felt so damn right.
He ignored the little voice in his head, unable to deal with the already overwhelming burden.
Being an ass it is.
He drew in air to bolster his rapidly waning intentions. “Yeah. I’d have gone with a woman, but barring that, anyone would do. Even another man.”
The tightening of Dixon’s face told the story along with a flash of pain in his eyes. Tucker’s words hit home. And not in a good way.
Determined, Tucker stayed the course, knowing the only way to get Dixon to lay off was to make him see the impossibility of sex happening again and the fleeting moment that had long since extinguished itself. Whether it’s true or not.
“I’m sorry if you thought there was more there. It was just another ridiculous drunken caper. We both got our rocks off. End of story.”
A tic in Dixon’s jaw drew Tucker’s attention.
He steeled himself for what was to come.
Nothing did. Not even when they pulled into the parking area outside the mansion. Dixon tossed him the keys. Tucker caught them, opened the door, stepped out of the car, and paused only long enough to mutter a quick “thanks” before making a beeline to his own vehicle. Just as he pushed the fob to unlock the door, an engine revved, and then Dixon drove off in a hurry.
As he turned, the deep blue SUV zipped out of the driveway and back onto the street in quick fashion.
Tucker’s shoulders sank, as did his confidence. Not only had he made one hell of a hash out of his life, he’d also led Dixon on and then rejected him point-blank.
Some friend I am.
With that morose thought, he climbed into his car, fastened his belt, and started for home.
Two hours later, Tucker flopped down on his couch and stared at the ceiling of his apartment. He’d gone for a jog, then took a long shower. Still, his mind wouldn’t stop replaying the previous night. Images. Sounds. The novel feeling of having a cock shoved up his ass. Just the thought caused his pulse to pick up speed and his libido to sit up and take notice.
Well, shit. Just what I need. Not.
He blew out a breath and tried to piece the puzzle together.
What the hell happened?
He’d intended to get drunk, only managed to get tipsy and feeling good when Dixon dragged him away from the party. Then, he’d gotten up close and personal with the gray fox shifter, the aroma of lust emitting from them both. The next thing he knew was that he had to have the guy. Needed to be topped and fucked like nothing else.
And that’s what confused him the most.
He’d never looked at men in that way. Never. Even the mated gay couples on the team, he found their banter and mutual affection to be cute, but it never stirred his interest. Then, one evening with Dixon changed the world.
How does a guy become gay after being straight his whole life? What changes to make that switch? How do I turn it back?
Dixon’s words came back to him. You’re bisexual.
Technically, he couldn’t argue with the term. He had sex with a man. Great. So, why now? Why Dixon? It would be a hell of a lot easier if it had been some stranger. He could chalk it up to a kinky one-night stand and go on with life. Not a possibility when Dixon was a huge part of his daily life during baseball season. They were friends, to boot.
The last thing he wanted was to crush Dixon’s feelings, but he didn’t dare lead the man on either. Nothing could come of this. Nothing. So, pursuing it was senseless, as he had no intention of repeating the event.
/>
Speaking of, how am I going to face him again? What can I really say?
Deep down, he knew Dixon had hesitated at first in their coupling. Tucker had seduced him with erotic pleasure to get him to jump in with both feet. The responsibility rested heavily on Tucker’s shoulders. Except he didn’t regret being with Dixon. He just didn’t understand how he could come to a point around women but a man never brought about even a hint of desire. Guys were teammates. Friends. Nothing more.
As much as he wanted to blame the event on the liquor he’d consumed, he couldn’t. Dishonesty with himself never worked and didn’t change a single thing. Besides, he had his own built-in lie detector in the form of his inner animal. The guy called him on it every time.
He’d been well aware of what he wanted to do, encouraged to happen, and then did in Dixon’s bed. Maybe the booze loosened him up. Probably did. Still, he was a consenting adult who’d pretty much begged Dixon to take him.
Pretty much? Shit, I begged him, pleaded with him, and did everything in my power to get him to fuck me.
He groaned to himself in embarrassment and disbelief.
Even worse. He had to face Dixon tomorrow morning at practice. If that wasn’t bad enough, he prayed the rest of the team hadn’t read anything into the fact that Dixon took him home from the party. He could deal with Dixon. Maybe. But, having the whole team pestering him with questions would be the straw the broke the camel’s back.
“Maybe getting traded would be a blessing right now.”
As soon as he said the words, his inner beast protested with a throaty growl. His conscience agreed.
He’d worked hard to get where he was. On a winning team, surrounded by good people. His salary allowed him luxuries, and he’d settled into a life filled with expensive acquisitions, plenty of women if he wanted them, and a steadiness that he’d craved all his life. Growing up poor and seemingly always on the move taught him many things. Namely, how lucky he’d been to find entry into the professional league.
No guarantees existed in the game, nor in life. Thus, he could find his bubble burst and himself plummeting back down at any point. Real and a definite possibility. If he didn’t get his act together.
“But how am I going to get back on my game when I’m still trying to figure out how I became gay and what I’m going to do about it?”
His mind remained void of answers.
“And I’m back to where I started. How am I going to face Dixon again?” He cringed at the inevitable.
He’d shut Dixon down and run like a pack of hounds were on his heels. That worked at the time, but didn’t bode well for when they were stuck in the same locker room or hanging out on the same bench. To get lippy or to be abrupt if Dixon pursued the conversation they’d left open would bring attention from the other guys.
Which meant he’d have to pretend like nothing had happened and pray Dixon didn’t corner him with a battery of questions. Hopefully Dixon had listened when Tucker told him that it was just a screwup. That’s right. One hell of a screwup. I’m not into men. Period. While the words sounded a bit weak to him, he knew Dixon would question them immediately. Something he couldn’t allow to happen.
Too many ifs for comfort. What he really needed was a lot of luck.
Too bad his had all turned bad lately.
“DAMN IT to hell.” Dixon stormed back inside his house and tossed his keys onto the kitchen table. Anger ruled with worry while hurt pushed for a really close second. He paced across the living room, long strides covering the ground quickly. He cursed the limited space, the lack of an outlet, and the mule-headed Tucker for running. To hear Tucker tell the story, it was all a night of drunken shenanigans, that he regretted today. Dixon believed the opposite. He’d found everything he’d searched for with Tucker. In bed and out.
How long had he watched Tucker from afar? Months? Ever since Tucker joined the team about three years back. Something about him snared Dixon’s attention and maintained it. His easy smile, the terrific build, the flash of mischief in his dark eyes. Even the halfway-tamed black wavy locks that Tucker grew out one year only added to his appeal.
Dixon admired from afar, enjoyed their friendship, and wished for something more, knowing it wouldn’t likely happen. He’d seen Tucker bounce from woman to woman. Never to a man.
Since Dixon was exclusive with men, that threw a huge monkey wrench into his hopes.
Just when he’d been ready to give up, Tucker, on a rebound from another short-lived relationship, fell into his bed. They’d fit together perfectly, an extension of their easygoing friendship. Everything looked to be on the up and up until Tucker shrugged off their time together like a quick trip to the toilet before hurrying off as if the mouth of Hell had opened and block by block the city was falling in.
The facts added up fast in Dixon’s mind. Too bad he’d never get to live up to the rosy dream of being with Tucker as a teammate, friend, and lover. The first two, formerly a given, were now in question as well.
He blew out a deep breath, plopped down on the couch, and rested his head in his hands. “Why, Tucker? Why can’t you see what I see?”
He’d caught the profound shock on Tucker’s face. Read it in his tense body language and the abrupt escape tactic Tucker employed. He couldn’t accept the fact that he’d been with a man, no matter who the guy happened to be. Obviously, in Tucker’s own eyes, he was straight. Period. Anything else was cause for alarm.
So, how am I to deal with that? Fight it? Fix it? Or just forget it?
A quitter, he wasn’t. Besides, this was far too important to just throw in the towel.
He sat back, letting his head rest on the back of the couch, closed his eyes, and simply thought. Blankness met him.
“How do I make him see we’ve got something special? Or could have. If he’d get his head out of his ass for a minute.”
Silence answered.
The chirping of his phone drew his attention. He dug it out of his pocket, checked the caller ID, and groaned. Against his better judgment, he answered. “Hey, Dad.”
“Dixon. Caught the last few games.”
Dixon sat forward and prepared himself for another lecture. His father lived and breathed baseball. A hall of famer, Terrance Foxx had all the hitting records during the time he played professionally. Some of those marks remained to this day.
While his father might have been one of the best to ever play the game, he fell short in the fatherhood department, in Dixon’s opinion. All they seemed to talk about was baseball, more times than most, including how he could do better. He didn’t need to read the appraisals or look up his own stats. His own father never let him forget the numbers or failed to point out ways to do something a tiny bit better. All Dixon wanted was his father’s love, not his commentary and criticism.
He’d grown up as a prodigy. Anyone and everyone knew he’d hit the pros. His father pushed for more than that. He wanted Dixon to follow in his footsteps. To be the best of the best. But there was one big difference. Terrance lived for the game. Dixon, not so much.
In contrast, his mother seemed to care less for the game. Sure, she supported them both in the sport, but she didn’t live and breathe baseball. She tried to make up for the voids by showering Dixon with attention, encouraging him in his other endeavors. While he appreciated it, he couldn’t help but long for his father’s approval all the more. He loved her and everything she did for him. Still, she couldn’t give him what he ultimately needed—his father’s praise.
“You’re dropping that outside shoulder just a little right before you swing. If you could keep it up, it would give you more power and less pop-ups.”
Dixon bit his tongue and wondered again why he even bothered to answer. It was always the same.
This time, he’d hoped might be different. He could use some sage advice from his old man about matters other than the game. Too bad it didn’t seem to be in the works. Not now and probably never.
“Okay.” He forced the word out.
All he wanted to do was to get out. Run. Exercise. Try to get rid of the pent-up frustration, a complement to Tucker’s fast departure and his turning a blind eye to the situation. Sitting on the couch and listening to yet another lecture from his father only made things worse.
I have bigger problems than a minuscule stance correction while hitting.
“Listen, Dad. I need to get going. Have to hit the gym today.”
“Good. It always pays to stay in shape. Strengthening workouts will only help your batting average.”
I don’t fucking care right now. “Yeah. I’ll catch you later.” He hung up the call before his father could respond. Rude? Probably. But his sanity was worth any irritation on his father’s behalf.
Speaking of sanity…. He needed to get out of the house and do something. Sitting around trying to figure out the complex puzzle named Tucker would only drive him insane. The gym provided a much-needed outlet. He could work out and think at the same time.
Perhaps divine intervention might strike while he was there.
Keep dreaming, Dixon. Keep dreaming.
Trotting up the stairs, he quickly changed clothes, ignoring the rumpled bed and the intoxicating scent of Tucker and robust sex still lingering in his bedroom. Since he had no clue how to repeat the fuck session any time soon, he preferred to simply get out of the house and away from the exquisite memories. For now.
He wasted no time in grabbing his keys and heading toward his car.
Chapter 5
NO TIME like the present.
Tucker took a deep breath, then pushed through the doors of the team’s locker room.
“Hey, Tucker.” Mack gave a small grin as he pulled up his socks. “About time you showed up.”
Glancing around, Tucker didn’t see Dixon anywhere in sight. Nor did he smell him. Considering all the other aromas found in the locker room, some quite strong, he couldn’t really bank on Dixon being absent.
“Hi, Mack.” The leopard shifter typically played left field, but could be found at any of the outfielder positions as the need arose. Quiet but friendly, he was a good guy to have around. With a quick wave, Mack made his way outside.
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