Scoring With Him (Men of Summer, #1)

by Lauren Blakely

If I don’t stay disciplined, if I’m not obsessed with doing my best . . . I’ll do my worst.

Even though some part of my lizard brain means everything because I would love to play with him in the bedroom.

“Some things are hard to look away from,” I say. “I’ll say,” he murmurs. He stares shamelessly. Hungrily. Making this my best morning workout in ages—and also my hardest.

“I’m already jealous of the possibility of you fucking someone else,” he says, a plain admission that scorches me. Declan’s jealousy sets me on fire. Every square inch of me burns for him. “You are?” “I am.” His voice is smoke in the desert night. “And what you said this morning?” he prompts, like I didn’t remember it perfectly. “Yeah?” I ask, letting him lead this conversation wherever he’s taking it. “Grant,” he says, his tone shifting, full of vulnerability and heat. “It’s driving me absolutely crazy.”

“You and me fucking would be the worst idea ever. And yet I can’t get it out of my head.”

Our fingers slide together, and my entire body becomes a lightning rod. We clasp fingers, and it feels like a prelude. Like it’s just the start. That’s the good news. And that’s the bad news.

“Fuck it.” I inch closer, lick my lips. “Kiss me, rookie.” He smiles. “Hell, yes.”

Is there a website with a how-to guide for making a deflower-my-dick-and-ass-please offer to your teammate?

I feel like I’ve won the sex lottery.

Because right now, right here, all that pretending, all that practicing, and all that rapid heart-beating disappears. This is where I want to be.

“What can I say? I’m different with you,”

“I love getting more woke,”

“What are you? Like the Santa of sex?” Miguel puts in. “Maybe I am. Or Oprah. You get sex! You get sex! You get sex! Everybody gets sex!”

Time to kick this funk to the ground. Tonight, I’m getting laid, and that’s what I want.

Yep, fire.

But it’s so much more. I burn deeply for him. He’s not only all I can think about. He’s all I want to think about.

“I want to say yes. To everything, Grant.”

I want to remember every second of tonight. Want to imprint it on my mind so I can use it for fodder.

Hunt me, Declan. Please. Have me.

Not just any man though. The man I’m pretty sure I’ve inconveniently, stupidly fallen in love

“You’re out of this world,” I say, running a finger down his chest. “You’re a moonshot. You’re a grand slam over the fences. That’s you, rookie. You’re my walk-off home run.”

Grant Blackwood is my undoing because he gets me. He understands me. He gives more of himself to me than anyone ever has. I want him beyond these walls, beyond this room, beyond tonight.

“I am so crazy for you, Grant. I don’t know what happened in the last few days, but that’s how I feel. Out-of-my-mind crazy. I know this has to end, but I don’t want it to end. I want you to be mine,”

“I’m falling so fucking hard for you,” he says, and that’s it. I’m just done. I’m too far gone. I grab him, kiss him, and give him everything I can. For now. Because that’s all we have.

“I waited years for a guy like you. I can wait all season for you,” he says, his voice stitched with a vulnerability that cracks my heart wide open. “I’ll wait for you, rookie.”