“What—and I mean this in the absolute nicest possible way— the actual fuck was that, Hayes?!” Logan shouted at me the second Ryan cleared the doorway.
“Go the fuck after him!” Donovan orders.
I’m moving before he even finishes the sentence. I sprint across the floor, push the heavy bar door open with a lot more force than necessary—thank god no one was standing on the other side of it—and burst out into the parking lot.
I frantically search the dark car park when I finally spot him. He’s leaning casually against the brick wall of the building, one foot kicked up against the stone, looking aimlessly up at the Seattle stars.
I stop, my chest heaving. Yeah, I’m nervous as fuck, but this is Splash. He came all the way here to see me. There is no fucking way I am letting him leave like this. This man has been livingrent-free in my head and in my heart for months now; he is absolutely not just walking away from me.
“Where are you going?” I ask, breathing heavily as I approach him.
“Just back to my hotel,” he says quietly, not looking at me.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” I say.
I step directly into his personal space, pinning him gently but firmly back against the brick wall of the bar. My heart is hammering.Fuck, have I got this wrong?
“You came here for me,” I say, ensuring my voice doesn’t waver. It’s not a question; I just desperately need confirmation that we are on the exact same page.
Ryan looks down at me, his eyes instantly darkening in the dim parking lot light. “I did, but it appears I might have read this situation wrong?” The sound of his voice makes my chest ache. “I need you to be really direct here,” he repeats quietly.
“Ok, let me make this perfectly clear for you, Ryan,” I say, reaching up. “You’re all I can think about. The image of you has just been a blur in my head all this time, but fuck… the real thing is completely incredible. We promised to be one hundred percent honest, and we always will be.”
I run my fingers slowly through his hair, anchoring him. “I am so fucking attracted to you, Ryan. And it’s not just because of this beautiful body you have.” I shift my hand down to his chest, pressing my palm firmly over his heart, feeling it race beneath his shirt. “It’s for your fucking incredible mind. The way you think, the way you feel… how big your heart is.Thatis the man I fell in love with.”
Ryan’s eyes widen in absolute shock. Without a single second of hesitation, his hands slide up my jacket, his lips crashing down onto mine, pulling me closer against the wall. “Fuck!” I pant, I’m so fucking needy for this man already. As soon as our lips touch, I know I’m screwed, well and truly fucked.
66
Jackson
I suck Ryan’s lip into my mouth, biting down to check this is actually real and he is here. “I’m sorry I haven’t written lately,” Splash whispered against my lips, his breath hitching as he pulled back just enough to look at me, his fingers fisting my shirt. “Everything just… it got so loud.” I squeezed his hand, the apology unnecessary but deeply felt. “I’m just glad you’re here now,” I replied, my voice thick with relief. The initial, desperate kiss didn’t last. I broke away first, my chest heaving, my eyes wide as I looked at the man I’d only known through ink and paper. He was solid. He was here. I grabbed his hand, his skin was rougher than I imagined, calloused and warm, and pulled him away from the bar’s brick wall and the curious, probably gaping eyes of my teammates. “We’re leaving,” I managed to choke out, my voice low and vibrating with a shakiness I couldn’t suppress. “Right now.”
The truck ride to my house in Tidehaven was a blur of neonlights and suffocating silence. My hands were literally trembling on the steering wheel, a frantic kind of nervousness clawing at my throat. I’d spent so long imagining this, but now that he was sitting in my passenger seat, the reality felt overwhelming. I kept stealing glances at him, making sure he hadn’t vanished back into a desert ghost. The silence between us wasn’t empty; it was thick, heavy with months of shared secrets and an electric, terrifying need that made my heart hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Once the door was locked behind us in the quiet of my home, the world narrowed down to just the two of us. I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t. I pulled him close, my hands finally allowed to roam over his shoulders and his back, confirming over and over that he was solid, that he was real. My kiss was a lifeline, deep and affirming, a physical manifestation of every promise I’d ever written in those letters.
Clothes hit the floor in a frantic mess. Being shirtless in front of him, the man who already saw every hidden part of my soul, felt less like a discovery and more like a long-overdue homecoming. I reached out, my hand skimming over the hard, warm landscape of his chest. His skin was taut, a resilient layer over muscle forged in years of service that no gym could ever replicate. I found the scar high on his shoulder, tracing the thin white line with a reverence that made my throat tight. This was Splash. He was breathing beneath my touch. “I just want to see you,” fuck he was so beautiful.
My fingers drifted lower, finally finding the defined contours of his abs. His toned abs were breathtakingly firm under my palms, a beautiful, stark reminder of the harsh world he had endured, now surrendered entirely to me. I pressed my mouth to that taut skin, tasting the faint salt of his sweat, a primal confirmation that he was finally here. Ryan shuddered, a low, guttural exhale catching in his throat, a sound of pure,unarmored release. I shifted, burying my face into his neck, letting the weight of his body and every breathtaking plane of him press against me. We were finally beyond the letters, anchored only by the desperate, beautiful reality of each other’s skin. “Please tell me this is real, please fuck Ryan, I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.”
67
Ryan
The world didn’t just slow down when he pulled me close; it finally, completely stopped. Jackson was no longer a beautiful abstraction on paper; he was heat, muscle, and the deep, hungry sound of a man who’d also been waiting too long. When he looked at me in the car, I felt the terror of being seen, but here, under the soft light of his house, I feltchosen.
“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered as I took the lead. The second his back hit the wall, it was the soldier in me reacting, but this time, the mission was pure, unadulterated desire. I pushed him away from the hallway and toward the bedroom, my hands already moving with a feverish urgency. Every letter we’d exchanged was a layer of armor he didn’t need to wear for me, and I wanted to see every inch of the man who had loved the duck-drawing soldier.
The muscles in his chest were just as powerful as I’d imagined, sculpted by the game he loved. I pressed my mouthto his shoulder, tasting the faint salt of the bar, the scent of his skin a dizzying confirmation of his reality. He stumbled back as I stripped the rest of his clothes, pushing him toward the bed with my body, letting the momentum carry us both down onto the mattress. Fuck there was a wet spot on the front of his boxers, fucking fuck!
As I pulled back to catch my breath, my eyes caught something on his ribcage, a small, dark smudge of ink that hadn’t been there in the photos he’d sent. I leaned in, my heart skipping a beat as the details came into focus. It was a tiny, perfectly rendered duck, and on its feet were miniature hockey skates. I traced the fresh, slightly raised lines of the tattoo with a trembling fingertip, a lump forming in my throat. “Jackson,” I whispered, looking up at him. He gave me a shy, vulnerable smile, his hand covering mine over the ink. “I got it a few weeks after we started writing,” he admitted softly. “It was the only way I knew how to carry you with me through the noise.” It wasn’t just a doodle anymore; it was a permanent promise, a mark of the man I loved on the skin of the athlete who’d fought to bring me home.
The touch was everything. I finally had him, not just his words, but the solid, breathing man who had saved me from the dark. My own clothes were gone in seconds, my focus entirely on his body. I ran my hands over the smooth, hot planes of his skin, tracing the heavy, defined muscle of his thighs and chest. I felt an almost protective tenderness, a reverence for the man who had trusted me with his life without ever seeing my face. When I finally claimed his mouth again, it was a silent promise,I see you, Jackson. I have you. And I’m never letting go.
Falling to my knees, I grabbed Jackson’s shaft, giving him a long, slow lick from base to tip, my eyes on Jackson the whole time, his stare filled with complete lust. I relaxed my throat, sliding him over my tongue. Fuck he tastes incredible.“Ryan, if you don’t want this to end soon, then you’d better stop, fuck it’s too good.” I pop off of him and push him back onto the bed. Climbing on top of him, reclaiming his mouth, our cocks touching, the friction so fucking perfect. Both panting, deepening our kiss, hands touching him everywhere I can get them. “I’m so close,” Jackson moans into my mouth, “fuck I’m gonna” before I even finish, sheer pleasure takes over, and we are both cumming, cum smeared all over our abs. Rolling off of him, but still not ready to lose contact, I curl up into his side, a complete feeling taking over. I’m home, finally.
I woke up slowly, the kind of heavy, satisfied weight that felt impossible in the field; it was still dark outside. The first thing I registered wasn’t the dust or the silence, but the insistent, feather-light pressure of Jackson’s lips tracing paths across my body. He was awake, fully attentive, mapping my skin with his mouth. I felt a slow burn of pleasure as he kissed the side of my neck, then followed the line of my jaw, planting a soft, reverent kiss on the corner of my mouth before trailing down to my chest. He kissed the old, thin scar on my shoulder, a deliberate, tender acknowledgment of my history, before moving lower, worshiping the sharp lines of my abs. The tenderness was a fire, and I felt the swift, undeniable response in my body, hardening instantly against the soft sheets. I groaned, arching into his touch, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to the intense desire he was creating. I looked at the moonlight reflecting in his eyes, no panic, just raw, focused hunger. “Jackson,” I managed to whisper, the single word a plea, a command, and a confession. “Please.”
