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)
Does he want to fuck me?
Does he want me to fuck him?
I like both ideas a lot. I rock my pelvis, my cock getting half-hard again.
He swivels his hips a few times, letting me know he’s down for another round. But maybe not quite yet, since he breaks the kiss and flops next to me once more. Works for me. I’m digging the talking too.
“I had a crush on you before I met you,” he says, and that’s Beck for you. Hitting me out of the blue with intel.
Good intel.
“That so?” My skin feels like it’s glowing. I’m all warm and hazy.
“That whole year when I was a backup, I did. Before I got the starting job, I looked you up online, checked out your pictures, watched your games. I had a big crush on you. Then I met you.”
I snort. “And that pretty much ruined it.”
He shakes his head. “No, it didn’t. Not one bit.”
Now my heart glows too.
Beck is so much more dangerous than I ever imagined. I should have seen the warning signs—stopping to steal a moment with him outside the gym, calling him on the phone after games, making declarations about not dating anyone else.
But if I’m playing detective, I need to go back further. I liked Beck the first night he came over a year ago, and those feelings have only grown.
I’ve been ignoring boundaries ever since he showed up at my house last month.
Now, I’m just giving in to what my heart wants despite what my head says.
And my heart wants him.
I turn on my side, lift a hand, and finger a strand of his dark brown hair. “Like I said, you’re fearless.”
“I had to learn to be. I used to panic real bad before games, Jason,” he says, swallowing roughly as he serves up a difficult truth.
“When was that?” I ask softly.
“In high school. I used to throw up before I played. My nerves were a mess.”
“Oh shit, that’s so hard,” I say, aching for what he went through as a teenage athlete. “But you don’t anymore?”
“No. I can manage it now. I do meditation and breathing exercises before every game now. A lot of times before interviews too,” he admits.
“Playing on a national stage is tough, and I’m glad you found something that works for you,” I say, sympathetic.
“Do you ever get nervous?”
When we talked at my house about nerves when it came to guys, I answered him truthfully. I give him the same candor now. “Not about playing. I probably should, but I don’t. I can tune out the world,” I say, and maybe that makes me lucky. But I do understand fear. I have my own. “If I’m afraid of anything, it’s getting hurt. Like a career-ending injury. Or a season-ending one,” I say, shuddering involuntarily. “I fucking love this game. So much. It’s like a part of my soul. That sounds crazy.”
He smiles. “Not to me.”
“You get it. You get me,” I say. I could stop there. With anyone else, I would. But now, I peel back another layer. I swallow and answer the full scope of the question. “I’m afraid in other ways too. I was with this guy on and off for a couple of years.” Beck’s eyes flicker with excitement. Like he’s been dying to know my story. “Wyatt was my college boyfriend,” I explain. “We were together when I was in school, but after graduation, he got a job in New York, and I was drafted here. We both figured being apart would be too hard, so we split.”
“Did you miss him?”
I missed his exuberance. I missed his passion. I missed all the things we had in common. We used to go for long runs together and work out together. We played golf. I loved all that. “I did,” I admit, but then I grimace, dragging a hand along the back of my neck. “But I made some bad choices. I missed him a lot. Missed the companionship. Missed the closeness, you know?”
He nods, urging me to keep going.
“And I thought all that missing meant I needed to try harder. I convinced him to give us another shot.”
Beck’s expression falters, flickering between anger—toward Wyatt, I presume—and maybe feeling sorry for me. “So what happened?”
I blow out a long stream of air, wishing I hadn’t given so much of myself to my ex. “We got back together a few years ago. Did the whole long-distance thing. He worked at a venture firm, but he started getting enough time off to come to all my games. At first, it was cool. He was a great, supportive boyfriend. I think I was too. But soon, he started asking me to fly out mid-week to see him.”
Beck frowns, immediately seeing the problem. “But there’s practice mid-week.”
“Exactly. Or he’d want to see me on Sunday night. Every week, it escalated. He wanted more and more. He asked for more. I tried. He said I wasn’t a great boyfriend since I couldn’t give it to him.” I grit my teeth and shovel a hand through my hair. “I should shut up. No one wants to hear about exes.”