Imagine his surprise when Dove appears at his hotel door. After all, they don't do this during the season. Is Dove changing the rules? And if so, can Mac follow?
All Romance Ebooks
"I'm not doing this." They didn't do this on the road. There was too fucking much to lose, too much to risk.
"You are." Dove's big hands wrapped in the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the back of the door with a bang, hard lips descending on his, not giving him a chance to breathe, let alone respond.
Near black eyes stared into him, bored into him as that tongue fucked his lips and the big, solid body gave him no quarter; he was stuck between the wall and a hard place.
Evil bastard. Mac hated him. Hated him.
He grabbed Dove's head, the short, tight, black curls tickling his palm. Growling into the kiss, Dove ground against him, hard cock the best damn thing he'd felt all god damn day.
He pushed back, fighting Dove's strength, making Dove work for it. They hadn't called him in for innings. They thought he was fucking washed up. He'd shown them washed up, pitching a fucking no-hitter in his innings. He'd show Dove washed up, too, fight that fine fucking son-of-a-bitch for it.
He could feel Dove's muscles working to keep him right there, feel them flex and shift beneath the tight jeans, the even tighter t-shirt.
"Hate you." He bit Dove's full bottom lip, wanting to make it sting.
Dove grunted, hands leaving his shirt collar. One wrapped around the back of his head, the other grabbed hold of his ass, hard. He could feel that heavy club of a cock, grinding against him, making promises that Dove kept, over and over.
Dove broke the kiss, moving to bite at his throat. "Go on and fight me. Show me how fucking mad you are."
"You asshole. This is my fucking hotel room. Mine." He shoved at Dove's shoulders, hands sliding on the t-shirt.
Dove pressed him back into the door harder. "Yep. And I walked right in."
Dove covered him, taller and broader. The fucking bastard made him feel small, and he wasn't. One big hand tore open his shirt and those hot lips moved to his right shoulder, teeth digging in.
"Asshole!" He jerked, head slamming against the wall. There was ink, right there. One of a dozen doves, scattered over his body.
Dove's lips wrapped around the ink, sucking hard enough that it wasn't soothing the sting from the bite, not one little bit.
"Bastard. I'm not yours, you hear me? Not during the season."
That stopped the bite, Dove straightening to look him right in the eyes. "You. Are. Mine. Always."
The next thing he knew, Dove was dragging him to the mattress and tossing him onto it like he was a featherweight. The tight t-shirt was ripped off, baring Dove's dark skin, his amazing six-pack. Dove undid his belt next, not dawdling, but moving slowly enough it was a show. A tease.
A god damn fucking promise.
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