Just Chance Page 9

  And the way Hawk’s body had responded?

  The way it was still responding?

  Yeah, that was real, too… and there was no way Hawk’s very-real hard-on was going away by itself anytime soon. It was going to need a little help.

  Hawk closed his eyes and let his free hand wander, playing along the light dusting of hair that trailed down his stomach. He normally didn’t tease himself like this—usually, getting off was just something he did, a quick release and then done, just a way to clear his head—but tonight? With the vision of Frankie so clear in his mind’s eye, it was impossible not to wonder what the gorgeous man with the deepest, most soulful brown eyes Hawk had ever seen might do if he had actually been there with Hawk.

  Wonder… fantasize… pretend, since that’s what the two of them were doing, right?

  So he’d pretend it was Frankie’s hand that was sliding slowly, lazily down past the ridges of Hawk’s abs. Would Frankie be in a hurry? He was such an adorable mix of enthusiasm and uncertainty. Which would play out in the bedroom? Would Frankie be looking up at Hawk with that same breathless excitement that he’d shown after their kiss as he touched him?

  Yeah. Tonight, in Hawk’s fantasy, that’s exactly how Frankie would look at him.

  And yes, Frankie would take his time—he’d draw out the moment for as long as he could while he drank in the sight of Hawk’s body with those big, beautiful eyes.

  He’d for sure want Hawk naked.

  Hawk groaned again, wondering if he’d ever been quite this turned on during a solo session before. If he’d ever even bothered to imagine someone he hadn't had yet in such detail. Usually, he was more of a “just go for it” kind of guy when he wanted something—or someone—but Frankie… Frankie was different.

  Even though, oh hell yeah, Hawk wanted to get naked with him.

  Pausing only for a second, Hawk hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and lifted his hips—just enough to slide them down around his thighs. Not totally naked, but fantasy-Frankie wouldn’t mind… and Hawk’s cock was starting to feel too impatient to bother with full-on method acting.

  That cock jerked against his stomach, urging him to hurry it up, and Hawk decided that fantasy-Frankie would be too distracted by the sight of it bouncing into view to notice much of anything else.

  Fuuuuuckkkkk…. if Frankie had been anyone else—someone Hawk didn’t feel so bowled over by—he would definitely have pushed to extend their night to include a naked portion.

  But this would have to do.

  Hawk closed his eyes, settling back onto the bed and nibbling at his lip, just the way he imagined Frankie might do. A low moan escaped as his hand—no, Frankie’s hand—slid lower and lower, until his fingers finally circled around the thick, silky-smooth shaft. It was already unbelievably hard, hot to the touch, and Hawk’s moan turned into a rumble in his chest as his hips rocked up to meet his hand, thrusting into his fist.

  He exhaled loudly as he forced himself to slow down, to savor the moment, to think about what Frankie would want to do.

  Would Frankie want to suck it?

  Hawk let out another moan at the thought. Fuck yeah, he would.

  He opened his eyes and rolled over onto his side, ignoring the pain in his ribs as he reached for the bottle of lube that he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. He might not have Frankie’s hot mouth here, but that wasn’t going to get in the way of his hot-as-fuck fantasy.

  He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his throbbing cock and leaned back again, closing his eyes as he picked up where he’d left off a few moments before.

  Yeah, that was better.

  He wrapped his hand back around his shaft and tried to picture Frankie kneeling there between his legs, looking up at him. Imagined watching the head of his cock slide in past those full, pouty lips. Imagined how it would feel as Frankie started to use his tongue on him… as Frankie took him deeper… worked him with a hand and sucked—

  “Oh, fuck,” Hawk whispered, his throat suddenly dry as he slowly slid his fist up and down over his cock, just the way he wanted Frankie to suck it.

  Frankie’s eyes would stay locked onto Hawk’s as he bobbed up and down, massaging the underside of Hawk’s shaft with his tongue as Hawk pressed deeper, sinking inch by inch into Frankie’s warm, wet mouth. As Hawk threaded his fingers through Frankie’s short, dark hair… pulled him closer… felt the head of his cock bump against the back of Frankie’s throat.

  It felt so… damn… good.

  He slowly pulled out and then slid back in, over and over, pushing his hips up to meet Frankie’s mouth as Frankie sucked Hawk’s cock deeper and deeper in a slow, steady rhythm that he couldn't bear to rush. Not with Frankie looking at him like that. Lips spread wide, eyes hot and smiling, cheeks pink and the sounds he’d make—the same needy, happy little whimpers Hawk had heard when they’d kissed.

  Frankie would love sucking his cock.

  He could feel the climax building inside of him, his balls tightening as the rhythm intensified and the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room. His hand slid up and down over his cock, faster and faster despite his desire to draw it out, and his other hand found his nipple again, giving it a little tweak that made him shudder. That made his fist tighten and his balls pull up and his imagination run wild.

  Frankie.

  Hawk’s hips drove up and he moved his hand over to roll his other nipple between his fingers. Rub his calloused palm across it. Pinch it—

  “Fuck,” he gasped. The jolt that went straight down to his cock combined with the fantasy of Frankie’s hot mouth was sensory overload, and Hawk’s mouth fell open as his panting breaths started coming hard and fast.

  He thrust his hips up to meet each long stroke, panting out Frankie’s name as his orgasm swelled like an unstoppable force, finally overtaking him in a hot wave of pleasure that rocked through him and didn’t let go.

  “Oh, Frankie,” he groaned, lost in it. “Fuck… yeah.”

  The first hot jets spilled out over his fist and shot pearly white streaks across his tanned stomach, streaking his body with his release as his hips bucked wildly, making the bed creak under his shifting weight.

  “Fuck,” Hawk repeated more softly as the burst of pleasure finally started to recede, leaving him feeling wiped out and amazing enough that he could totally ignore the dull ache all the activity had caused his ribs.

  He gripped his spent cock, laying perfectly still as he tried to catch his breath. Frankie—dream Frankie—had known just what Hawk needed… and he’d given it to him with a heat and a passion and raw desire that had felt far too real to have just been a fantasy.

  And that heat… it had been real earlier. Frankie had looked at Hawk with those expressive eyes in a way that had done all kinds of things to those damn butterflies in his stomach.

  But had it been part of the act?

  Just a way to sell it?

  Frankie didn’t seem like the kind of guy to do things just for show, but… isn’t that exactly what Hawk had asked him to do?

  And even if it wasn’t just for show, then what? What did that mean for Hawk?

  He certainly hadn’t been looking for anything real, anything meaningful while he was in Bridgewater. All the reasons he’d already decided the timing wasn’t right to ask Frankie out for real still existed, and making sure his family—his parents and their ranch—were taken care of had to be his top priority.

  Which meant his career had to be his top priority.

  No matter what he might or might not be feeling for Frankie, he had to remember why he was doing this. And sure, he could maybe have a little fun with Frankie along the way, assuming Frankie was into that, but no matter how hot his fantasies might be, he couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the ball.

  Hawk played games for a living, and the one he was playing with Frankie for benefit of the press was just as important as anything he’d done with the Falcons. It was like going to the Super Bowl, and the sta
kes were too high to fuck it up by letting himself get distracted by feelings.

  That’s what his head was telling him, anyway.

  Hawk sighed, heaving himself out of bed to go clean up. He’d just have to keep reminding his heart what the deal was. Would have to remember that—no matter how amazing Frankie was or how hot the looks he gave Hawk were, and no matter how real it all felt—what they were doing together was just a means to an end.

  It’s what they’d both signed up for, and Hawk couldn’t go changing the rules now.

  No matter how tempting that might be.

  Chapter 8

  Frankie

  Frankie rolled over in bed with a groan and reached out to turn off the alarm that he didn’t even remember setting the night before. He especially hadn’t remembered setting it for eight-thirty in the morning.

  Why was it still ringing?

  And why had he wanted to wake up so early on a Monday morning, especially when he didn’t have to be at work until after lunch?

  His hand flailed around the nightstand, pushing every button he could find on the beat-up alarm clock, but it kept right on ringing. It wasn’t until he cracked an eye open and sat up in bed that he realized that was because the ringing wasn’t coming from his clock at all.

  Frankie reached out for his phone and swiped to answer, finally putting an end to the obnoxious sound. He didn’t know who might be calling at that hour from an unknown number, but he might not be able to be polite if it was someone trying to sell him insurance or magazines or whatever.

  Not at eight-thirty-one in the morning.

  “Hello?” Frankie’s voice came out at least two octaves lower than normal and gravelly as hell.

  Mornings were so not his thing.

  “Am I speaking with Frankie Moretti?” The stranger’s voice on the other end of the line was all business, and not in the fake-friendly, way-too-peppy way of someone who was trying to sell something.

  This guy sounded more like a bill collector, and Frankie mentally went through the stack of bills on his dresser that hadn’t been paid yet, trying to remember if one of them was past due.

  But no… he was pretty sure everything was current.

  “Yeah…” Frankie finally answered, still trying to tick off the month’s bills in his head. “This is Frankie. Who’s calling?”

  “My name is Corbin Tucker,” the probably-not-an-insurance-salesman said. “I’m Hawk Hawkins’ agent. I know he jumped the gun with an arrangement he made with you, and I’m calling to clarify the terms of that arrangement. Is now a good time to talk?”

  Frankie blinked. None of that had been what he’d expected the man to say. “Hawk’s… agent? Corbin? Um…. Hi?”

  He shook his head, trying to clear the sleep cobwebs. Nope. Everything was still kinda fuzzy.

  “Are you alone right now?” Corbin didn’t seem to care that Frankie was still trying to wake up, or that his own tone was pretty direct for being a stranger who was calling someone at the crack of dawn.

  “Um, yeah?” Frankie said, a little thrown by the odd question. “I’m here—uh, at my apartment. Alone.”

  God, if he could string together a sentence that didn’t make him sound like a complete idiot, that would be great. This agent guy was probably going to think Hawk had lost his mind for fake-dating someone who couldn’t even answer basic questions about himself.

  “Okay, perfect,” Corbin said brusquely. “The topic we’re going to be discussing is very sensitive and needs to remain strictly confidential. I shouldn’t have to tell you the headaches it would cause if the press got word of our little arrangement.”

  Corbin was moving right along in his brisk, all-business-all-the-time way, and Frankie couldn’t help but grimace at the thought of having an arrangement with him. Hawk had made the whole thing seem like sort of a fun game, a little adventure. This guy was making it sound like… something else.

  “I haven’t told anybody anything,” Frankie said, trying not to feel defensive. This Corbin guy was just doing his job. He didn’t know Frankie, so it wasn’t anything personal… but Frankie was pretty sure he still didn’t like this Corbin man.

  “Good. Just keep it that way and we won’t have any problems.”

  Frankie snorted at what sounded almost like a threat, but Corbin didn’t even pause to let Frankie get in any of the sarcastic comebacks that popped into his head. Man, this guy was really something.

  “Now, I’ll send a non-disclosure form via priority mail. I won’t take the chance of faxing it or emailing it and letting someone else see it. You’ll have to sign for the letter, and then I need you to send it back to me right away. That same day. Do you understand?”

  Frankie furrowed his brow and took the phone away from his ear for a second. Was this guy for real? He’s just doing his job. Frankie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Just. Doing. His. Job…

  “Yeah, I’ve got it,” Frankie said, clipping the last couple of words in spite of his deep breaths and self-reassurances that Corbin wasn’t a huge jerk. Probably.

  Maybe.

  Or even if he was actually a pretty huge jerk, that it wasn’t anything personal. Probably.

  Maybe.

  “Just so you know,” Frankie continued, deciding that he was going to defend himself just a little, just in case the guy did have any preconceived notions about Frankie’s ethics. “I wouldn’t say anything. I know this is a big deal for Hawk, and I—”

  “Listen,” Corbin said, cutting him off. “This is business. We’re strangers. I appreciate your word, but I’d slap my own mother with a non-disclosure agreement if she had something on a client of mine. So let’s just keep going, okay?”

  “O-kay…” Frankie leaned back against his pillow and snapped his mouth shut before he could say anything else. At least Frankie knew now that Corbin was an equal opportunity jerk.

  “Did Hawk mention anything to you about compensation?”

  Frankie blinked. Corbin’s question—like most of the rest of the conversation—had caught him off guard. Compensation?

  “Like… money?” Frankie hesitated to even say the word. Is that what Corbin had actually meant?

  “Yes, money perhaps,” Corbin said. He was speaking slowly, and his tone was exasperated, as if he were speaking to a child. “Or maybe season tickets, team jerseys… whatever. Anything like that?”

  “No,” Frankie said. “Nothing like that. And I don’t want money, or… any of that other stuff, either. I’m not doing this for a check.”

  His voice had gone cold, and he was definitely matching Corbin’s annoyed tone now, but Frankie didn’t care. He was insulted that this guy was treating him like some kind of opportunist or… escort or something. Hawk had been the one to ask Frankie for this favor, completely out of the blue, after all. Frankie had just been making a delivery, just doing his job.

  But Frankie genuinely liked Hawk. He’d met the man’s parents, for God’s sake. And Frankie might be wrong, but he felt like Hawk actually liked him back—maybe not boyfriend-level liking, but Hawk had never acted like Frankie was just there to be useful to his career, or just some sort of prop.

  That kiss certainly hadn’t felt like something a person would do with someone they didn’t like at least a little.

  “Okay…” Corbin paused, as if maybe he was waiting for Frankie to say something else. When Frankie stayed silent, he cleared his throat and added, “Well, I’ll include a couple of lines in the agreement that specifically say you aren’t expecting any sort of compensation, then, if that’s okay with you.”

  Frankie rolled his eyes. And fine… maybe he could almost sort of see where some of Crobin’s skepticism was coming from—how the guy could think it was a little far-fetched that someone would just do a favor like this for a stranger solely out of the kindness of his heart—but it wasn’t even that, exactly, that had made Frankie agree to the deal in the first place. It was the sense of excitement and fun, and… Hawk.

  But whatever. Corbin
didn’t need to know all of that.

  “Fine with me,” Frankie said. “Whatever you need to put in there, I’ll sign it.” He sighed and looked over at the clock again. It really was too early to be dealing with all of this—and to be low-key insulted and condescended to at the same time. “Was there anything else, Mr.…” Oh God, what had the agent said his last name was? Whatever. “Uh, Corbin?”

  “No, thank you,” Corbin said. “I think that’ll be all. I’ll get this in the mail to you this afternoon, and I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Frankie lied, not even trying to mask the sarcasm as he hung up the phone.

  God. He set his phone back on the nightstand and flopped back down onto his pillow. That had been exhausting. Or maybe he had already been exhausted, since it was still the butt-crack-of-freakin-early, but regardless… that phone call hadn’t helped.

  For a moment, Frankie thought about calling Hawk and telling him what a jerk his agent or manager or whatever had been… or maybe just to have a laugh about how uptight the guy had been.

  But no. It would really just be an excuse to talk to Hawk—to listen to his voice, or to hear his deep, sexy laugh—and it wouldn’t even be a good excuse. Frankie didn’t wanna call Hawk to talk business. Not today. Not ever.

  He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head so he could maybe fall asleep again.

  But yeah. That probably wasn’t going to happen.

  Still, if he had to be awake for the rest of the day, he was gonna need to do some yoga or some serious meditation or burn some sage or something. Because he wasn’t about to let that Corbin guy ruin his day with those bad vibes and that arrogant attitude.

  Nope. Not gonna happen.

  Maybe he would call Hawk, after all. Frankie grinned—his body’s default response to anything Hawk-related—and reached for the phone again. Hawk would probably get a kick out of Frankie’s impression of the stuck-up agent. And maybe that deep voice that Frankie couldn’t seem to get enough of would work to soothe Frankie’s nerves and lull him back to sleep.