Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps #1)(33)

I smacked him on the shoulder, hoping he knew I was telling him he did a good job, before he was pulled away by another reporter. I watched for a second while more questions were thrown at him—thankfully just about Garrett’s game and none about Houston. He fielded them like a pro, a wide smile on his face, totally enjoying the attention. This was exactly what Garrett had wanted—to win and to be in the limelight.

My body ached as we went into the locker room. Most of the time, we flew out after the game, but we were staying tonight and leaving early. We showered at the stadium, then loaded up on the bus to head back to the hotel.

Garrett sat with Cross, the two of them loud, clearly buzzing from the night. I remembered what that had been like—my first real game. Houston and I had been the same, though, maybe taken down a couple of notches.

As we unloaded at the hotel, Coach said, “We’re out of here at four a.m. No going out, no women, get your sleep, and then get your asses up to get back to Denver. We won tonight, but the work’s not done.”

They led us in the back door. Garrett squeezed in beside me in the elevator, he and Cross giving a play-by-play to each other on the game. His hand brushed against mine, making sparks zing up my arm. The hairs on my arm stood on end, my nerve endings sparking and somehow connecting with his, before he immediately pulled away.

I didn’t want him to.

I wanted to tease him, and to have him tease me, in plain sight of everyone who would be none the wiser.

Goddamn, he made me feel reckless.

I really needed to get ahold of myself, but as I stood there listening to him talk shit to Cross, as I smelled the familiar woodsy scent that always clung to his skin, my fucking dick twitched. Yeah, I was always boned up some after a game because all the endorphins gave me a bit of a high, but this was ridiculous.

My stomach tumbled, muscles tight with pent-up energy. Maybe we shouldn’t have pulled the brakes the other night. Maybe we needed to get this shit out of our systems and move on.

Maybe G was right and he was actually the best person for me to explore my sexuality with. It wasn’t like either of us would want more. We could keep a secret. A little sex on the side wouldn’t screw up the team because it wouldn’t be anything more than getting off.

Aaaaand, sixty seconds in the elevator with him and my wires were already getting crossed. That should tell me I needed to stay away.

We hit our floor, and the doors slid open with a ding. The group of us made our way out.

“Wanna chill in our room for a bit?” Cross asked him, and damned if I didn’t hold my breath waiting for the answer. This whole situation was getting out of hand quickly.

I glanced over at him, trying not to make it obvious, but of course G’s gaze darted to mine at the same time. They locked for one crackling moment, before he turned back to Cross.

Say yes and say no played tug-of-war inside me.

“Nah, man. I’m gonna hit the sack. I’m beat.”

Be a good boy, Ramsey. Stop wanting your teammate to suck your cock.

Well, if that wasn’t something I never thought I’d hear myself think, I didn’t know what was.

When we were safely…unsafely tucked away in the room, I went straight for the mini fridge. “I need a drink. Do you need a drink?”

“That’s not very responsible of you, Cap.”

No, no it wasn’t. “We can have a drink before bed.”

“Thank fuck,” Garrett replied. I tossed him a small bottle of whiskey and kept one for myself.

He went to his bed and me to mine, both of us toward the center, too fucking close while we took off our shoes.

“Jesus,” Garrett said, “I’m almost coming out of my skin after that game.”

“Get you that hot watching me play?”

“You played?”

I laughed. The motherfucker always gave just as well as he took. Great. That couldn’t have sounded more sexual if I’d planned it. Now I was thinking about Garrett taking my cock. “I get it. It’s that endorphins rush. Makes you feel invincible. Like you wanna fly or fuck or…” I shrugged. “You know, whatever.” It was probably better if I didn’t talk about sex.

I opened my bottle and took a drink. Garrett did the same, the long column of his throat moving deliciously while he did.

He set the drink down, stood up, and pulled his shirt off. “You, um…done anything else?”

It said a lot that I knew exactly what he was talking about without having to ask. “Nah, doesn’t feel safe. Like I said, I don’t want my business out there like that.”

I shoved to my feet too, slowly working the buttons on my shirt. When he didn’t respond, I added, “We did the right thing.” Did we, though? drifted through my head.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want you going and falling in love with me or anything,” G responded.

“Not likely.” I tossed my top to the bed just as Garrett tugged his slacks off, the bulge behind his tight boxer-briefs looking like it matched my aching prick. I cocked a brow at him.

“I can’t help it. The fucking game and then… I mean, it was a hot kiss so…”

Lust consumed me, damn near swallowed me up, and I knew there was no escaping this. We’d drive ourselves out of our minds if we tried.

I watched him, not speaking, hell, maybe not even breathing as I unbuttoned my slacks and pulled them down, my dick aching for release.