Page 8

8

Knox

The sound of the bat connecting with the ball echoed through the Rockies indoor batting cages where I’d been spending a lot of time since Schmitt had pulled me into his office. The pitching machine fired another ball straight down the plate, and I sent that one flying far into the net as well. Each hit was solid and felt good, but no matter what I did, my game stats had only improved slightly in the week since leaving Arizona.

“You’re just a fraction too soon,” Leland said from where he stood, observing the mechanics of my swing. “Wait on the ball a bit.”

For the next thirty minutes, I made the adjustments our hitting coach suggested until it felt like I was finally making some progress.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my T-shirt, I cracked open a bottle of water and stood next to Leland.

“You’re looking better. Once you stopped chasing, the balls were flying.” He looked down at the phone in his hand. “Schmitt wants to see you before you start getting ready for the game.”

Dread washed over me. It was the second time my manager had asked me to come to his office, and the first hadn’t gone well. I could only imagine how frustrated he was with my performance, but no matter what, no one was more disappointed than I was.

His door was open, and I caught his eye. “C’mon in, Singleton.”

“Hey, Skip.” I sat across from him, and my palms began to sweat.

“You’re getting the night off.”

“Really?” Sitting on the bench for a game was a sign to the front office, the other players, and the fans that the manager wasn’t happy with how things were going. “I know I need to keep putting in the work, but I’m only going to get better with more at-bats,” I tried to plead my case.

“You’ve shown you’re taking this seriously, and we all appreciate the effort. But part of improving is making sure your head is right too. Sometimes watching from the dugout helps with the mental aspect of the game.”

I nodded, although I hated the idea of being a spectator while my teammates were on the field. “Okay.”

Walking into the locker room, my gaze connected with Stratton’s, and from the tight smile he gave me, I assumed he’d already been told he was playing first tonight.

“You talk to Schmitt?” he asked as I tugged off my T-shirt and pulled my jersey from the hanger.

“Yep.”

He squeezed my shoulder, and I instantly stilled.

It was a simple gesture. Something I’d seen the other guys do plenty of times, but we didn’t usually risk touching each other when our teammates were around. Not because it would be obvious to anyone else that we had something going on, but because it felt different. At least it did to me.

What had started as a convenient hook up with a teammate had somehow morphed into something I didn’t quite have the words to explain. I wasn’t sure what had changed exactly, but I’d started to feel it when he’d invited me to lunch a few days prior. Of course, the day had ended with us in bed, but that hadn’t been the only part of our time together I’d enjoyed. Conversation between us flowed naturally, we joked around, and I didn’t have to worry he was only interested in me because he liked the idea of fucking a professional athlete.

He must have realized he was still touching me because he stepped back quickly and continued to get ready for the game. “Taking a game off usually helps. If it didn’t, the coaching staff would never recommend sitting a player out.”

“I guess you’re right. Just sucks.”

After we left the clubhouse and went through all the pregame stuff, I watched from the dugout as Stratton jogged onto the field and took my spot at first base. Because the dugout was on the right side, I had an unobstructed view of him as he and the other infielders tossed the ball around while our pitcher warmed up.

The umpire called for the game to start, and the first batter hit a grounder to Neal at second, who then tossed it to Stratton for the first out. The next two Brewers players hit fly balls that our outfielders easily caught.

As the game continued, neither team found its groove, offensively, and we were down 2-1. With my eyes glued to Stratton as he stretched to catch an off-balanced throw from third, I didn’t hear Davenport, our designated hitter tonight, come up behind me.

“He’s not half-bad out there, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

I glanced over my shoulder, my brow furrowed. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at Stratton all night. Figured you were worried about your job.”

When the game started, I may have been thinking along those lines, but my focus had shifted as the innings went on. Watching the guys not play any better without me in the starting lineup gave me a tiny sliver of satisfaction. It meant my struggles at the plate weren’t the only thing holding back the team.

Of course, I wanted us to win. I’d be a shitty teammate if I didn’t. But not feeling as if our wins and losses fell squarely on my shoulders allowed me to enjoy my view of the sexy-as-hell, six-foot baseball player standing at first.

“He’s decent, but I don’t think he’s after my job.” I chuckled .

By the eighth inning, the score remained the same. My teammates and I leaned against the rail, hoping someone would step up and start a rally. All it took was the first pitch, and Neal led off with a single. Davenport followed with a base hit, and it seemed as though the entire stadium could feel the momentum changing.

Stratton stepped into the batter’s box, and I mumbled a low, “You’ve got this.”

He fouled off the first two pitches, and as the opposing pitcher prepared to throw again, everything moved in slow motion. Stratton smacked a grounder into center field, allowing Neal and Davenport to score easily, finally giving the Rockies the lead.

We cheered as Stratton slid into second. The excitement didn’t last long because the next two batters struck out, and then Payne hit a pop up to the third baseman.

Thankfully, our closer was on fire, and he struck out the side in the top of the ninth, earning us a win we desperately needed.

The clubhouse was more upbeat than it had been in a while. Music was playing again, and the guys were joking around, having a good time. It felt more like the MLB locker room I’d imagined when I was playing in the minors.

A freshly showered Stratton dropped into the chair next to mine. “I hope you’re back out there for tomorrow’s game.”

I smirked. “Why’s that?”

He shook his head. “Because I prefer playing behind the plate.”

“So, you’re not after my job?”

He laughed. “Nah. I sort of like having you on my team.”

His response wasn’t anything that would sound odd to someone if they overheard us, but the heat in his eyes had me believing his statement held more meaning than what was on the surface.

Once the rest of us cleaned up, got dressed, and demolished the food spread, everybody started to leave. No one mentioned going out to celebrate, which made sense. We’d won tonight, but one game didn’t cancel out our numerous losses. We still had a lot of work to do to pull off a decent season.

“Night, rookie,” Stratton said as he followed a few guys out.

I grabbed my backpack from my locker and pulled out my phone to slip it into my pocket. That’s when I noticed a text from him:

You should come to my place tonight

I glanced at the door again, but he was already gone.

I threw my bag onto my shoulder and headed to the player’s parking lot, where I slid into my rental. Before starting the car, I typed out a response:

I like that idea. See you soon

I raised my fist to knock on his door when it flung open, and Stratton tugged me inside.

“And here I thought I was always the overeager one,” I teased as we stumbled across his condo to get to his bedroom, a trail of clothes left throughout every room.

“It must be the leftover adrenaline from the game,” he mused.

“Or maybe you just can’t get enough of me.” I winked.

“Not going to argue with that.”

We collapsed onto his bed, our mouths fused together. The kiss was urgent and addictive, but something felt different too.

My hands wandered all over his body, loving how solid he felt beneath my touch. Moving my lips from his mouth to his ear, I whispered, “I want to fuck you first tonight.”

The heat in his eyes was unmistakable. “I’m all yours.”

I kissed him again, slowly. Taking my time to savor the taste of him was something I wasn’t used to. I was usually the guy who bailed after one night. Maybe I’d stick around for two if the sex was decent. But with Crew, it wasn’t just sex. And for whatever reason that didn’t scare me .

My fingers tangled in his hair as I rolled us over so I was on top of him.

He widened his legs, and I kneeled on the mattress between them and unbuckled his belt. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I can’t seem to get enough.”

I snapped my mouth closed before I let any more truths fly. My feelings toward him and what we were doing might have been changing, but that didn’t mean they were for Stratton, and I didn’t want to do anything to send him running.

“I can’t either.” He watched me with his amber eyes as I tugged his jeans and boxers down and wrapped my hand around his already hard dick. I leaned down to kiss my way along his chest and abs before giving the tip of his shaft a lick.

The second my tongue touched him, his whole body jerked.

“Wait,” he gasped. “If you put your mouth on me right now, I’m going to come down your throat.”

I peeked up at him and grinned. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

“Yeah, but I want to come with you inside me,” he breathed heavily.

I nodded and shifted back, soaking in the sight of him laid out in front of me. If I ever stopped to think about what I wanted in someone I could date, he’d probably check all the boxes.

What the hell was happening to me? Crew Stratton was messing with my head, and he likely had no idea.

Reaching for the lube, I poured a generous amount on my fingers and slipped two inside him.

He winced slightly at the intrusion.

“You okay?”

He let out a sharp breath. “Yeah.”

I waited until I felt his legs relax on either side of me before I continued working him open with slow, steady strokes.

His muscles clenched around my digits, and I could hardly wait to feel him do the same around my dick.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yeah,” he panted.

I reached for the lube again, slicked myself up, and pressed the head of my cock to his asshole.

“Is this what you want?” I sank into him inch by inch.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Yes!”

“God, Stratton. Your ass feels like a vice gripping me.” I grabbed his legs and pushed them back a little so I could thrust deeper.

Watching his face twist in pleasure with every stroke had me picking up the pace and pounding into him.

“That’s it,” I growled. “Take all of me.”

He moaned and rocked back, greedy for every single inch. “Harder,” he begged.

My hips snapped forward, sweat rolling down my back, as I hit the spot deep inside him over and over again.

Feeling my own body tense with my impending orgasm, I fisted his shaft and began jerking him in time with my movements, so he could get off with me like he wanted.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Yes. Don’t stop!” he shouted as his body tensed, and with a few more thrusts his release shot across his six-pack.

The sight of him completely spent and panting sent me over the edge. I slammed into him one last time, filling him with my hot cum.

When my dick stopped twitching, I eased out of him and dropped onto the bed.

He rolled to his side and brushed the damp hair off my forehead. “I need to shower, but do you want to stay here tonight?”

He asked the question as though it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was to me because I’d never done the sleepover thing with somebody before.

“Yeah. I’ll stay.”