Page 26

Big Strong Caveman

Harrison

The first rays of sunlight peek through the thin white curtains, allowing me to admire Daniel’s sleeping form in all its glory.

Cute isn’t usually my thing, but on him, it works. His face is smooshed adorably into the pillow. His hands rest on either side of his body, palms facing up, fingers twitching. I wonder if he’s dreaming about catching fly balls.

The thin, crisp cream-colored blanket has ridden down his back from a night of tossing and turning.

The top of his ass crack is visible, immediately reminding me of how much I loved diving deep between his cheeks.

I shift onto my side, contemplating on if I should wake him or not.

I know guys dream of being woken up by a blowjob, but what about by a tossed salad? Is that a thing? I could make it one.

Ready with a plan of attack, I sit up, only to be interrupted from moving further when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reluctantly tear my gaze from Daniel’s delectable ass.

Mother

Where the hell are you?

“Good morning to you, too, Mother,” I mumble, tossing my phone to the floor. It’s seven-thirty in the morning. It’s way too early to deal with her bullshit. She’s probably pissed that I left without telling her.

Emily, her assistant, who had put together the entire shindig, kindly informed me that my mother had hired a photographer for a photo op. One that would be on the front page of The New Yorker , showing the elitist world what a loving family we are.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. If my parents can’t love me , if they can only love what having a son will do for their social climbing, then I need to cut my losses.

Maybe in the next life, I’ll have a family who cares. Brothers who protect me from bullies and include me in sports. Sisters who gossip about boys with me and give fashion advice. Parents who want to hear about my successes and give me all the annoying hugs and kisses I could ever want.

I slink back down into the plush hotel bed and pull the sheet up to my chin. I turn on the TV, lowering the volume to the point that I need to turn on the closed captions to understand what’s being said.

I flip through the channels and stop on the local news. They’re running a segment on the Ashford U Green Wolves and their current winning streak. Footage from the first game of the season plays.

The camera zooms in on Daniel stepping up to the plate with his bat held high. His stance is wide and powerful, his tree-trunk thighs straining against the tight uniform pants.

On the screen, he waggles his bat menacingly as the pitcher winds up. The camera zooms out, giving me an unobstructed view of his strong calves encased in those sexy knee-high green socks. Fuck, I love that even his legs are beefy.

He’s powerful and in control as he stakes his claim in the batter’s box. The complete opposite of how he appears now, drooling on the Egyptian cotton pillowcase.

The pitch comes in fast, but Daniel’s ready. He swings hard, his entire body coiling and unleashing with explosive power. The resounding crack of the bat echoes through the room despite the low volume.

He drops the bat and takes off running. His thunderous thighs pump furiously as he rounds first base.

“Look at him go,” the announcer marvels. “Hollingsworth is a force of nature out there.”

Damn right he is. I watch, captivated, as he makes the turn past second and heads for third. The throw comes in from the outfield, and Daniel hits the dirt, tucking into a slide. His wide foot plows into the base just ahead of the tag.

“And he’s safe!” the announcer cries.

Holy shit. A triple. The crowd goes wild as Daniel stands up, brushing the dust off that glorious rump. Not only did he nearly hit a home run, but two of his teammates were able to make it across home plate. God, he’s incredible.

I glance over at the man and become overwhelmed with affection. I want him. I want this amazing guy in my life, in my bed, back in Bushwick. I want to experience more of his strength and power firsthand, again and again…and again.

This isn’t just lust talking, mind you. There’s a connection between us—something real and undeniable. I felt it that night we painted the town, and I feel it now, watching him sleep, watching him dominate on the field.

The camera switches to an interview with the coach, but I’m no longer paying attention. My thoughts are consumed by the jock beside me and the desperate, impossible longing building in my chest.

I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Guys like Daniel and Charlie are on a whole different level. What could they possibly see in a scrawny troublemaker such as myself?

As if sensing the weight of my gaze upon his skin, Daniel’s shoulders roll, and his head turns, nestling deeper into the pillow. A soft sigh escapes his parted lips, and I hold my breath.

His eyes slowly flutter open, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. They’re unfocused at first, still hazy with the remnants of sleep. But as he blinks, awareness seeps in, and his gaze locks on mine.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice rough and gravelly. It’s the same voice that was crying out in ecstasy mere hours ago, begging me for more, for harder, for faster. The memory sends a shiver down my spine and causes heat to pool in my groin.

“Hey,” I whisper back, afraid to speak too loudly and shatter the intimacy of this shared space between us.

Daniel’s lips quirk up in a lazy half-smile. He picks his hand up, thick fingers stretching out to brush against my cheek. They’re warm and slightly calloused.

I lean into his touch, my eyes closing as his thumb traces the curve of my cheekbone. A blush rises beneath my skin, a rosy hue that reveals how deeply I’m affected by his simple caress.

“Sleep well?” he asks, thumb dipping down to skim along my bottom lip. It takes every ounce of restraint not to part my lips and draw that digit into my mouth, to taste the salt of his skin on my tongue.

“Mmhmm,” I hum. “You?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he says with a note of sincerity in his tone that makes my chest ache.

His hand slips around to cup the back of my neck, fingers threading through the short hairs at my nape. He uses that grip to tug me closer until our noses brush. The heat of his breath skims over my lips, making my toes curl beneath the sheets.

“I could get used to this”—his eyes search mine with a raw honesty in them that steals the air from my lungs—“waking up next to you.”

My pulse thunders in my ears. “Me too,” I admit softly. “I enjoy seeing you like this. All sleepy and soft.”

Daniel chuckles, rolling onto his back. “Don’t get too used to it. Most days, I look like a monster.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. “I don’t believe that for a second. You could never look like a monster. Not even first thing in the morning.”

Daniel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

Before I can respond, he throws back the sheets and rises from the bed. I gasp as I take in the sight of him, all tanned skin and rippling muscle dusted with a light smattering of hair. He’s magnificent, a Greek god come to life.

But then he hunches his shoulders, curls his fingers into claws, and contorts his face into an exaggerated snarl. “Rawr!” he growls, stomping around the bed like a Neanderthal. “I’m a scary morning monster! Fear me!”

I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, stop! You’re ridiculous!”

Daniel doesn’t let up, though. He beats his chest with his fists and lets out another caveman-like grunt. As he moves, I can’t help but notice the way his morning wood bobs and sways with each step. It’s an impressive sight, thick and flushed.

“Okay, okay,” I concede, giggling. “I take it back. You do have one monstrous thing about you in the morning.”

Daniel pauses mid-snarl and glances down at his erection. His eyes widen, as if it didn’t even register that he has a boner. A wicked grin spreads across his face, and he waggles his eyebrows at me.

To my shock and amazement, he clenches his pelvic muscles and makes his cock bounce up and down. My mouth goes dry at the sight, desire spiking through me like lightning.

“Me big strong caveman,” he grunts, voice dropping an octave. “Me have big throbbing club. Caveboy want to play with club?”

I laugh hysterically to the point that tears pool in the corners of my eyes. I grab a pillow and lob it at him. “You are such a dork!”

Daniel catches the pillow easily, tucking it in front of his groin like a makeshift loincloth. He executes a silly little bow, then straightens up with a grin. “Nah, you love it. Admit it.”

“I admit nothing,” I retort primly, even as my lips twitch with barely suppressed mirth. “Now go tame that beast before you poke someone’s eye out. ”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Daniel throws me a cheeky salute before turning and heading for the bathroom, the pillow still firmly in place. I watch him go, enjoying the sight of his ass jiggling with every clomping step he takes.

Parting is such sweet sorrow. Redressed in his tuxedo, Daniel leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Seconds later, my mother bangs on it, screaming my name and waking up every guest in the hotel.

“Harrison Garrison Price! Open this door now!”

I cringe at her shouting my full name, not because now the world knows my name, but because I’ve always hated that my first and middle names are essentially the same.

My dad wanted to name me Garrison, but my mom wanted to name me Harrison, and thus, Harrison Garrison was born on a blustery day in the middle of November.

Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed and peek through the peephole.

Sure enough, there’s my mother, more furious than I’ve ever seen her.

Her perfectly styled hair hangs loose around her face, which has turned an alarming shade of red.

She’s still in her dress from last night, though it’s now a disheveled mess, and her shoes are nowhere to be found.

I briefly consider pretending I’m not here, but I know she won’t quit banging and screaming until I open up. With a heavy sigh, I unlock the door and crack it open a smidge.

“What do you want, Mother?” I ask, working hard to keep my tone level.

But she doesn’t answer. Instead, she shoves the door the rest of the way open with surprising strength, sending me stumbling back into the wall.

Pain lances through my lower back where it connects with the closet doorknob.

I barely have time to register it before she storms into the room, steam shooting from her ears.

“What the hell is going on here, Harrison?” she demands, hands on her hips as she whirls to face me. “I just saw that Hollingsworth boy leaving your room, looking mighty pleased with himself. And in last night’s tuxedo, no less!”

I wince at the shrillness of her voice while rubbing my throbbing back. “It’s not what you think, Mother.”

“Oh, no?” She arches one still-perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Then please enlighten me. Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like you spent the night with him. In this very room.”

Her gaze darts around, taking in the rumpled sheets, the scattered clothing on the floor, and the tissues in the trash can. Shame and defiance war within me.

“So what if I did?” I challenge, lifting my chin. “I’m an adult, Mother. Who I sleep with is none of your business.”

Her nostrils flare, and for a moment, I think she might breathe fire. “None of my business? You made it my business when you decided to cavort with him under my nose at my anniversary party! Do you have any idea how this looks or what people will say?”

“I don’t give a damn what people will say!

” I snap, my temper flaring to match hers.

“I’m sick and tired of living my life according to your rules and expectations.

When do I get to be happy, huh? When do I get to make my own choices?

If you don’t care about me, then why the hell do you care what or who I do? ”

“Happiness? You think sleeping around with men will make you happy? It’s a phase, Harrison. A youthful rebellion. It’s time to grow up and face reality. You have a duty to this family, to our name and reputation. That’s what I care about.”

I open my mouth to argue back, but before I can get a word in edgewise, she holds up a perfectly manicured hand, silencing me.

“And another thing,” she continues, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, “you seem to forget that the Hollingsworth boy’s parents are pillars of this community, same as your father and I.

Do you honestly think they’ll stand idly by while their golden child runs around with other men? Especially someone like you? ”

Her words are a slap to the face, knocking the wind and fury out of me. As much as I hate to admit it, there’s a kernel of truth to what she’s saying. Daniel’s family has a legacy to protect. And the two of us don’t fit into their perfect picture of what his future should be.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry and tight. “What do you expect me to do then, Mother?” I ask, hating how small and defeated my voice sounds. “End things with him? Pretend last night never happened? That I don’t…”

I trail off, unable to say the words out loud. That I don’t have feelings for him.

That I’m not falling for him, hard and fast, and completely against my will.

She sighs, and for a moment, her face softens. She looks almost sympathetic. “I know it’s not easy, darling. Matters of the heart never are. But we make sacrifices for the greater good. For our family and our future. Surely you can understand that.”

I don’t have it in me to hear more from her. Maybe not ever again.

Grabbing my shoes and my jacket, I rush out, ignoring her angry cries to come back.