Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
He complies, and I wrap an arm around his chest, drawing a deep inhale of his neck. Sparks shoot down my spine. “Mmm. I’m getting horny again,” I whisper.
“Me too,” he says, pushing his ass against my cock.
I groan, dirty images flickering through my mind.
I’m about to ask Beck what he’s in the mood for when he clears his throat. “Do you like to top? Or to bottom?”
I’d been hoping he’d ask. “I like to top,” I say, then brush my lips to his ear. “And I like to bottom.”
He moans, but he says nothing. That’s okay. It’s my turn to ask. “What do you think you want?”
“I want both too,” he says.
The man knows his mind. “How long have you been planning to tell me that?”
Beck pushes his firm ass against my hard-on again. “Hmm. I’d have to say . . . since before I met you,” he says, then laughs.
I laugh too. “Good to know. But we’re not doing it tonight.”
“I figured. I mean, I get that it takes prep and stuff. I have researched sex, Jason.”
Of course, he has. “Does your research involve articles or porn?”
He shifts around and meets my eyes. “Both. I’ve read a lot and watched a lot.”
I go fishing. “You ever watch something and think of me?”
“Seriously? You think I haven’t? Ask me something hard, McKay.”
I slide a hand down to his cock, and grip it. “Maybe I’ll suck on something hard instead, Cafferty.”
“Maybe I will too,” he says, all fiery as he throws down another wish.
Far be it from me to deny him.
A few minutes later, we’re naked again, his face between my thighs, mine between his, blowing each other and chasing another first.
It’s his first sixty-nine with a dude.
But it’s my first with a guy I’m falling for—falling hard and fast.
When we’re finished, he drifts asleep in seconds next to me. As promised, I curl around him. But I don’t conk out yet. I’m too busy figuring out how to stop risking everything and how to keep living dangerously at the same time.
I can’t continue messing around with the Renegades’ quarterback. But I can’t get him out of my system either.
24
THE MAN WITH A PLAN
Jason
Moonlight shines through the bedroom window at five in the morning, just enough for me to make out the shapes of a thousand birdhouses hanging in trees.
As I zip up my jeans, I peer out the glass. Yards are rare in the city but not unheard of—I have one too. Is Beck into birds, like his landlady? Does he putter around in this yard? I could see him being all outdoorsy, mowing a lawn and raking leaves.
I have a million questions for him.
I want to take him out to breakfast at Lulu’s Diner around the corner and learn all the things I don’t know about him—how he felt when he threw his first touchdown, how long it takes him to solve the daily Wordle, and what he listens to when he works out, just for starters.
I want that breakfast so badly. I can see us reading the big floppy menu, me giving him a hard time about ordering mud to drink, then him mocking me for asking for a strawberry smoothie. I’d probably sneak a hand under the table and squeeze his knee. Sounds like a great morning.
But eggs and potatoes in public aren’t in the cards for us.
Of all the guys in this city, why did I have to fall for my rival?
I shake my head in frustration, then exit the bedroom. Quickly, I locate my shirt next to the beanbag in the living room, pull it on, and make my way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth with the toothbrush Beck gave me last night in between episodes of Unfinished Business.
When he’d handed it to me, he said: “I’m convinced dentists give you these after cleanings, so you have them for . . . guests.”
“Dentists—the secret enablers of . . . sleepovers,” I’d said.
Neither of us said hookups.
Beck is so much more than a hookup, even though I know that’s all we can be. Fans and teammates would lose their minds if we dated for real. No way can that happen. But, dammit, if I can’t have that breakfast at Lulu’s out in the open, I deserve one more night in private, just with him.
But I have to work out the details first because making plans would be a huge step for us. We don’t schedule time for sex and sleepovers. He shows up, I show up, we combust. We mess around and say this can’t happen again. But I’m tired of the uncertainty. I don’t want to peer out my living room window every night next week and wonder if he’ll bang on my door. I want a plan for his first time, even if we have to sneak around to make it happen.