Another tear slips past my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away before I look at him. He’s sitting up, so intently focused on me that it feels like he’s sitting across from me rather than in another state.
“Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours. I can see you thinking, processing. I want to be a part of it. Talk out loud. I don’t want you shrinking in on yourself and in return, shutting me out.”
Giving myself something to do while I voice my concerns, I pet Herman, stroke his long ear, focus on the soft feel of his fur.
“It feels like too much. These feelings I have, the reality that I could actually act on them, it doesn’t feel right.” I wet the corner of my lip that feels so dry. “Like at any minute, things are about to combust and explode, leaving me with nothing but a broken heart.”
“Kinny, babe, that’s not going to happen.”
“You don’t know that,” I reply quickly, with such fear in my voice that I feel it vibrate through my chest. This is totally unbelievable. Overwhelming. “You have no idea what the future holds. This could all blow up and—”
“Or it could be the greatest thing to ever happen to you, to us. This relationship between us, this connection . . . it’s meant to be. I think we could grow it into something life-changing, but we need to give it a chance. Don’t give up before you even get started, because you could be giving up on your future.” I look away, tears streaming down my face from the emotions clogging my mind. “Kinsley.” I look back at him. “I love you.”
I nod. “I love you, too.”
“Then take a deep breath.” He waits for me and when I have my tears wiped away, I take a shaky breath. “Another one.” I repeat the breath. “Again.” I keep indulging in deep breaths until he finally says, “How’s Herman?”
I laugh and snot bubbles out of my nose. It’s the least attractive thing I could possibly do at this moment, but I’m pretty sure Maddox has seen worse when it comes to me.
“He’s moving in on your territory.”
Maddox smiles as he leans back against his hotel bed. “Tell the old man he can have you for now, but when I get home, he better step aside.”
“You might have to fight him for me.”
“I’d fight anything, anybody if it means I get to have you.”
My heart tightens, his words weirdly not taking me by surprise but instead making me feel comforted.
“Do you feel better?” he asks.
“I would be much better if you were actually here.”
“Tell me about it.” He huffs out in frustration. “But hey, at least I can see your beautiful face. I’m happy with just talking, staring.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Have you . . .” I pause, feeling like a teenager asking this question. But I’m curious. “Have you always had these feelings for me?”
He doesn’t answer right away but plays with the strands of his hair as he considers his next words. “I think I have, but I never allowed myself to acknowledge them, if that makes sense.”
“It does, because I’m thinking I’m the same way. I was thinking yesterday about how troublesome it was, being around you but not being able to actually feel you the way I want—”
“And how’s that?”
“Skin on skin,” I answer shyly. “Not just sex, because that feels more carnal to me. What I want to do with you, but on an intimate level, is feel your skin against mine. I want to know what it’s like to have you hold me through the night, not one barrier between us. I want to be able to sit on your lap and not worry if I’m crossing a line but allowed to enjoy you instead.”
“Same, babe. Fucking same. I’m dying to get you naked, not just to bury myself between your legs in every fucking way possible, because I want to know how our bodies imprint on each other. I want to feel the slight swell of your hips without pants blocking the silky slope of your skin. I want to explore your curves, the intricate muscles that line your spine, play with your back dimples, and run my fingers over them. I want to slide my hand down your leg and then back up, spending time memorizing each curve and divot. And your tits, fuck, I want to worship them. Not just to turn you on, but to learn them. I want to draw you, naked, so fucking bad. I can see it in my mind, but I’ve never been able to translate it through paper—”
“You draw me?”
He pauses and then chuckles, pulling his hand down his face. “Kinsley, you see the notebook on the coffee table?” I glance down at the wood surface and spot one of his sketchbooks under a magazine—a magazine that he’s on the cover of. “Look through it.”
I pick up the leather-bound book and flip it open. The first picture I see is of me, but it’s only half of my face, as the other half morphs into a field of flowers. I keep flipping, spotting picture after picture of my face, but never my body. Every picture is gorgeous though, intricate with his pen scratches, and very accurate, as if he was drawing from a picture. When I look up to speak to him, he’s holding his current sketchbook up and it’s a picture of me in a phone screen.
“I draw you all the fucking time. From memory, I draw you. It soothes me, makes me feel like you’re near, protecting my heart, easing the tension that’s constantly building up in me.” He lowers the book and says, “I love you, Kinny, and I want all of you, every last inch of you.”
I swallow hard, this conversation so heavy that it’s made my throat dry.
“Tell me you feel the same. Tell me when I get back to Chicago, you’re going to welcome me home not just with your arms, but with your mouth, with those lips that are perfectly plump, that are permanently turned up at the corners. The mouth that I’ve fantasized about ever since you moved in.”
I smooth my hand over Herman’s head and nod. “I will.”
“Look at me when you answer. I need to know you mean it and that you’re not just appeasing my need over the phone.”
My eyes flash to him. “When you get home, you will get my mouth. I can’t promise about the rest, but you can at least claim my mouth.”
“Good enough for now.”
Chapter Fifteen
MADDOX
“Want to grab a beer?” Linc asks as we head into the lobby of the hotel.
“No.” I breeze across the tiled floors and head straight to the elevator. We lost today, horribly. It was fucking embarrassing and sitting in the bullpen, watching it all happen, reminded me how we used to play two years ago, running around like we had no idea how to play the game. We could afford the loss, but I never like to think about it like that, especially since I’m pitching tomorrow. Defense better get their shit together before I take the mound, or I’m going to have a few choice words for them.
“Are you sure? You look tense.”
“I am.” I stab at the elevator button, just wanting to be in my room, on my phone. “We sucked today.”
“Yeah, glad I wasn’t pitching. Feel bad for Thompson actually.” Linc pauses and asks, “Worried it’s going to carry over to tomorrow?”
“Of course. When your defense has a game like that, wouldn’t you be worried?”
“Yeah, but it’s no reason to skip out on a beer.”
“It is when all I want to do is FaceTime with Kinsley.” The elevator finally parts and I hop in, Linc follows closely.
“So that kiss. It’s developing into something?”
“If I have anything to do with it, it will.”
“Did you talk to her last night?”
I nod and tap my foot, so fucking impatient. “Yeah, and she feels the same goddamn way but there’s hesitation on her end. She doesn’t want to lose me. It’s typical Kinsley. I knew she was going to react that way. She’s cautious and hell, I am too, I don’t want anything to fuck this up, but I also know if I try to keep ignoring how I feel about her, I’m never going to be able to focus on anything else. I’m giving in and it feels good, just wish I wasn’t on an away trip.”
Linc laughs. “
Yeah, poor timing, man.”
The elevator doors part and we both exit, spotting a few cleat chasers in the hallway. How they know what floor we’re all on, I have no idea. And how they get up here is another anomaly. But I don’t indulge, never have, because they’re trappers— girls only in it for the wrong reason.
I can’t say that much for my other teammates.
“Maddox, do you want some company tonight?” one of them asks as I slip by her.
“Nah, I’m good with my hand.”
Linc snorts next to me as we continue to walk down the hall. “Shit, man. That was brutal.”
“What the fuck ever, like I care.” Plus, it’s true. I’d have a hell of a better time with images of Kinsley in my head and my hand stroking my cock. Just the thought of it has me turned on, wondering if I should beat one out before I call her.
The thought is fleeting as I realize I need to see her, hear her. I don’t think I’ll have a full breath until she answers the phone.
I reach my door, pull my keycard from my back pocket, and then say, “See you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night with your hand.” Linc laughs.
“You too,” I spit back, and he laughs even harder, knowing it’s the truth.
I make quick work of getting ready for bed, peeling my clothes off, brushing my teeth, and taking a piss before I fling my body onto the hotel mattress and call Kinsley.
The phone rings a few times and then FaceTime kicks in and Kinsley’s face comes into view. The weirdest thing happens in that moment. As I see her after a long day, relief replaces the tension. As if the two tons sitting on my chest is finally lifted and I can function fully for the first time today.
It’s late in Chicago and I’m grateful she even answered, so I don’t waste any time. “Hey babe.”
“Hi.” She yawns. “Sorry, I took a little nap with Herman, but forgot to set my alarm to wake myself up before you called.”
Guilt runs thick through my veins. It’s one in the morning there and I really shouldn’t be calling her, but I needed to see her. “Shit, I’m sorry, Kinsley. I can let you go so you can go back to sleep.” It’s an empty offer, and I really hope she doesn’t take me up on it.
“Thanks, yeah, I should get back to bed.”
Fuck.
“Okay, yeah . . . sure.” I push my hand through my hair. “Have a good sleep.”
She giggles and twists on the bed as she says, “I’m kidding, but the actual depressed look that crossed your features was really cute.”
“Jesus.” I laugh. “Don’t do that shit. I really wanted to talk to you.”
“I wanted to talk to you too, and it’s why I took a nap. But if I fall face first into dog poop tomorrow, that’s on you.”
“Fair. I’ll take the blame, but if you can avoid falling face first into dog shit, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll work on it.” She pauses and says, “So your team sucked tonight. I turned the game off once it was nine to zero.”
“Yeah, not a great day on the field. The locker room was completely silent and when that happens, you know everyone is thinking about how they can turn their game around for the next day.”
“So your manager doesn’t come into the locker room, screaming and yelling at you to pull your heads out of your asses? Like in the movies?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “No. We’re all grown men. We don’t need a collective pep talk. That only happens when we’re in the playoffs. But right now, Coach only pulls us in if he needs to speak with us individually to tell us to get our shit together.”
“Have you ever been pulled into his office?”
“A few times, but more about fighting than anything. I had one season where I was constantly battling it out. I was getting fined left and right. Coach basically told me to take a chill pill, get laid—” The words fall out of my lips before I can stop them.
Kinsley laughs and shakes her head. “You act like I don’t know you were a player before I moved in. I had your sex schedule memorized, Maddie.”
“Yeah.” I look away, and then realize I should make sure she understands I haven’t run with that schedule since she moved in. “You know I haven’t—”
“I know, Maddox,” she says softly. “I know.”
Holding up my hand, I say, “My only lover as of recently.”
She snorts and covers her mouth and right in this moment, it feels like we’re our old selves again. Like we didn’t have an awkward, tension-filled conversation last night that has changed everything in our relationship.
“At least your lover is large and I’m sure has a firm grip.”
“Very firm,” I answer on a smile.
“Is that how you like it?” Kinsley asks, not shy like last night. She’s more engaged—not pulling away—and I’m not surprised, because when she has time to process things, she feels more at ease. “Firm?”
“Every guy likes a firm hand job.”
She shakes her head. “Not every guy.”
I raise a brow. “Is there a story behind that comment?”
“Joseph Mangal, junior year. He wanted me to me practically whisper my hand up and down his cock, which wasn’t very large at all. Not that I was a connoisseur on penis back then, or now for that matter, but I knew he was small, which made things hard because it felt like . . .” She thinks about it for a second and then chuckles to herself. “You know that Friends episode where Ross buys a sports car and all he wants to do is drive it, but it’s stuck between two cars? He tries to pull out and he keeps going back and forth quickly, reversing and going forward, but barely making any progress because there’s not enough room? Well, that’s what it felt like with Joseph: up, down, up, down, getting stopped before I even got started.”
A howl of a laugh comes out of me as she demonstrates the short movement.
“So then I thought, oh, I’ll just rub the head and twist it like I was undoing a bottle cap. Boy, did he like that and he actually grew a little bigger, but when I went to stroke him again, he stopped me and whispered, ‘Do it like your fingers are feathers.’ So then”—she shrugs—“I twiddled his dick, played it like a piano.”
“It’s disturbing how well you remember a hand job from your junior year in high school.”
“Trust me, if you were in my shoes, you’d remember it too. It was weird. I tested the piano playing on another guy and he thought I was fucking with him. He gave me the strangest look, so then I went back to doing the old yank and pull, which honestly, I’ve never been really into hand jobs.”
Hope falls from her admission, especially after her going into detail about playing with the head of the cock. I immediately envisioned her doing that to me and it feeling—
“I prefer blow jobs.”
Err . . . what?
I blink a few times.
“I really like having a cock in my mouth. Is that weird?”
Blinks more.
“There’s just something about the power I gain when I have a penis in my mouth, because frankly, with one firm bite down, I could ruin a guy’s night.” More like life . . . but night’s fine. “He has to trust me to give him pleasure, to allow me to sweep my tongue up and down his length, to suck hard, only to let up and swirl my tongue around and around and around—”
“I get it,” I say, my cock hard, my body thrumming
She chuckles. “Why, Maddox, are you getting turned on?”
“You know I am.” I shift to my side and prop the phone on the pillow next to me. “What happened to the shy girl from last night? You’re okay with talking freely about this shit now?” I free up my hand and shift my hard cock to the side, aching for more.
“We’ve talked about all of this before, Maddox. Remember, I told you about my first orgasm ever in detail. The only difference is, you want me now.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve always wanted you, I’m just realizing it now.”
“Well, just because you had an epiphany doesn’t mean I’m going to censor our
conversations.”
“I don’t even know why I assumed you would.” I smile and she laughs. “Please, tell me more about how you love blow jobs.”
“Why, so you can picture me giving you one?”
“Don’t need you describing it to picture it, babe. I’ve pictured it many times already.”
Her eyes widen and then she whispers, as if she doesn’t want Herman to hear. “You’ve pictured me on my knees, in front of you, your cock shoved in my mouth?”
Jesus Christ, she has zero filter.
“I mean, one of many positions.”
“What’s the one you think about the most?” She’s so serious, so interested, that it makes me want to tell her rather than tiptoe around it.
This is new territory for us, but territory I think we need to jump in feet first, even if the water is cold.
I scratch the side of my jaw. “The one I think about the most . . . probably where I’m lying on the bed, stark naked, cock jutted up against my stomach as you walk around the room, naked. Your nipples are hard, your flat stomach pulls my eyes toward your bare pussy, enticing me, making my mouth water, reminding me how goddamn lucky I am to have the privilege of seeing you in your beautiful skin.” She rolls down the bed and props the phone on the nightstand so her hands are free and are tucked under her head, as if I’m telling her a bedtime story. “You’re completely unaware of the effect you have on me, until you turn toward the bed to ask me a question. That’s when you spot me, turned on, lounging, and waiting for you.”
She licks her lips.
“You don’t jump on me right away. No, your eyes slowly peruse my body, like I’ve seen them do so many times since you moved in.” Her cheeks go pink. “But unlike every other time, you have complete access to all of me. You can put those thoughts into action. The lust in your eyes can turn into more, and that’s what propels you forward. There is no hitch in your movements, just sexy confidence as you dip a knee on the bed and then climb up between my legs.”
Her breathing picks up, her eyes become heady and hell, every part of my body comes alive. The thought of her over me, on her knees, so real in my head, that it almost feels like she’s here, in my hotel room.
The Change Up Page 18