I shook everyone’s hand and then walked to the men’s room. When I got inside, Slate was the only one in there. I locked the door with a huge grin on my face.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder.
“We’re alone in here.” I smirked.
He zipped up his jeans and went to the sink. “Until someone wants to use the bathroom and realizes it’s locked.”
“Then, we need to be fast.” I started to walk toward him.
“Be fast for what?” He furrowed his brows.
I grabbed his face and planted my lips against his, parting his mouth and slipping in my tongue.
It had been too long since I felt his scruff against mine.
Too long since I’d heard him moan just from my kiss alone.
Too long since I’d tasted him.
He pulled back and placed his forehead against mine. “Vaughn,” he pleaded.
“I know. I just had to kiss you goodbye.”
“You’re leaving?”
“As much as I want to stay and go back with you to your room, we both know that I can’t. It’s best I leave now.”
“Yeah,” he agreed with a sad smile.
“Saturday, though.”
Slate smiled finally. “I can’t wait.”
Finally, it was Saturday.
The band and I were done recording our new album, and I was on a high knowing I’d see Slate. The problem was that the game he was playing was in extra innings by the time I pulled up to the stairs of Sensation. I didn’t know how long it would take him to get to Sensation because it depended on when the game would be over and how fast he could get a ride to Beverly Hills. I sent him a text before I checked my phone at the coat check:
Checking my phone at the club. I won’t know when you’re game will be over, but I’m here and waiting. Find me. I miss you.
Then I walked into the red-hued mansion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Slate
Of all the nights we had to go into extra innings, it had to be the night that I wanted our starting pitcher, Clark, to throw a no-hitter. I was hoping—even though it was rare—for each of the innings we were on defense to go one, two, three. But no, that didn’t happen, and after nine innings, the game was tied one to one. Baseball was my life, and while I wouldn’t necessarily mind playing extra innings because I loved the game, tonight wasn’t the night I wanted it to go fourteen or so innings. So, when I got up to bat and with the bases loaded, I hit the shit out of the ball, watching it go over the left field fence.
Cheers and high-fives were given after I trotted around the bases and went into the dugout. I felt good, hitting the second grand slam of my career, and on a night I wanted to get off the field sooner rather than later. When the second half of the inning was over, we stayed ahead, and the game finally ended.
After taking the quickest shower of my entire life, I texted Leigh to have the limo driver pull up because I was ready.
“Did you win?” Leigh asked as I slid into the back of the limo.
“We did. I hit a grand slam in the tenth that ended up being the winning runs.”
She squealed and latched onto my neck. “That’s awesome!”
“Thanks.”
