Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
When he rammed into me, I tackled him to the turf as Ward, with the ball tucked close to his body, bulldozed his way through the crowd of defenders and got us four yards.
I spit my mouthguard out. “Having fun down there?” I pumped my brows at him.
“Fuck off, Tucker.” He shoved to his feet and jogged away.
Goddamn, this was fun.
It was probably one of the most brutal games of my career, but we’d squeaked out the win. My body ached beyond belief, and I knew that I was probably hurting less than a lot of the guys when you compared some of the hits they took.
“Winning against the Royals makes me horny. Hurry the fuck up, Rams.” Garrett was bouncing on the balls of his feet in the locker room after the game. We’d already had press conferences, satisfied the media’s ferocious hunger for more, and like always, G was a ball of energy. Sometimes, I didn’t know how Ramsey kept up with him.
“What doesn’t make you horny?” Ramsey asked as he tugged on his underwear beneath his towel.
“No shit,” I added but knew Ramsey loved the fuck out of everything about G.
“Stinky cheese,” Garrett teased. “Atwood’s hairy feet—WTF, Atwood, my brother doesn’t make you shave those things? Come over sometime, and I’ll give you a pedicure.”
Everyone ignored him. Cullen’s feet weren’t hairy.
“All I know is I have the whole fucking night to spend with Houston, and I plan to enjoy the shit out of it.”
Another pang of jealousy hit me because, again, G and Rams were going home together, and since Houston was the Royals WR coach, he didn’t have a curfew like the rest of the guys. Where the four of them would get the whole night together, Patrick and I would only get a few hours.
I’d never been such a mopey motherfucker in my whole life.
“What’s up with you?” Garrett playfully swatted me with the towel that had just been around his boyfriend’s ass. “You haven’t been talking about all your hookups lately.”
“I noticed, too,” Rams added.
“Same, but I didn’t care enough to mention it,” Cullen piped in next. He was a bit of an asshole, but we all loved him for it.
“On that note, I’m out.” I pushed to my feet.
“Wait. What? That’s all we get?” Cullen asked.
“I thought you didn’t care?”
“Houston might want to know.”
I laughed at him pretending he didn’t give a fuck. He and Whitt were actually alike in that way.
“Just know I’m always getting mine, and that’s all you gossip queens are getting from me.”
I peaced the fuck out of there before they could say much else. Patrick took a car service from the hotel, where I’d be all incognito while I picked him up in a designated spot. It was a whole-ass thing, but we tried not to have Uber drivers take us to each other’s houses anymore.
I bailed and drove too fast to where I was supposed to meet him. My SUV was only parked on the side of the road for about two minutes when he walked up from around the corner and jumped in.
“Don’t smile at me like that” was the first thing he said to me, which, of course, made me laugh.
“Aww, baby. I’m sorry we beat you tonight.”
“No, you’re not.”
I pulled away. “Truth. But it’s sweet as fuck of me to pretend, isn’t it?”
He shook his head, but I knew he was biting back his smile. Something about me made Patrick happy. I could see that every time we were together. I’d accomplished a whole lot of shit in my life, but none of it held a candle to that truth—that I did something for him, gave him something that no one else could.
“Does it help that I’ve decided you can have my ass tonight?”
Most of the time, Patrick bottomed, but sometimes he was in the mood to take all that bottled-up emotion he felt out on my hole, and damn did I enjoy it—we both did. I loved knowing that we were each the only men who the other had fucked. It gave me a rush.
“Maybe a little,” he responded, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over, taking his hand, and squeezing it.
“I miss you,” I admitted.
“I missed you, too.”
“Jesus, we’re a mess.”
“We’re fucked is what we are,” he said, seriousness to his voice, so I tried to find a way to lighten the mood, to make him smile.
“I’ll be in a few minutes, at least.”
“Fucked?”
“Precisely.”
He chuckled and didn’t let go of my hand until I needed it back to drive. The second we were inside my house, we were on each other, the pain in my limbs no longer existing when Patrick was there, his skilled tongue stroking mine.
We stumbled into the wall by the table in my entryway, him kissing his way down my neck before he stopped. “You put the lube by the door?”