Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps #1)(72)

Fuck my life. “But came with its own set of complications.”

“It did, yeah. I guess I just wanted you to know that despite everything or how it might all play out, I don’t regret anything you and I did.”

“I don’t either.” Double fuck my life, because I did look over my shoulder then, to find Ramsey’s blue gaze. Our eyes locked, and I’d been right; I definitely wanted to pounce him.

“Garrett,” Ramsey’s voice was a quiet command.

“Yeah?”

“You have to get the fuck off my bed now.”

I nodded and hopped back over to mine, too afraid to make one of my usual quips until there was more space between us. He’d been hard too. I’d seen it as I moved. Now my mouth was dry, my dick aching. I scrambled for a distraction and reached to put the top back on the balm. “Jesus,” I said, glancing into the little pot to find it near empty. I was gonna smell like this stuff for days, get it all over the sheets. “How much of this shit did you put on me?”

“Exactly the amount you wanted me to.” Ramsey smirked and flipped off the TV. “You know me. Concerned teammate and all, just wanted to make sure your muscles were properly soothed.”

“Yeah, you’re very dedicated that way.” Damn, the images just saying something like that conjured. Ramsey’s hand smoothing down my back, his fingers patiently working me open… I thrust the memory from my mind and pulled the covers around me.

Ramsey reached out and switched off the light.

“Have you ever jacked off with this stuff?” I asked into the darkness.

“The fuck? No!”

“Good. I do not recommend it.”

“If you start jerking off over there and give yourself third-degree burns, you can suffer alone.”

“But I thought you were my concerned teammate. You wouldn’t soothe my dick? Sounds like dereliction of duty.”

“Night, G.”

I grinned. “Night, Rams.”





25





RAMSEY





Los Angeles was one of my favorite cities to play in. Yeah, I fucking hated the team, and Whitt was a dickhead of epic proportions, but I loved playing here. There was something electric about it, an extra current of energy zipping through the air, all coming from the fans that loved their team so much.

That made the win even sweeter when we kicked our rivals’ asses.

And we would tonight. I’d make damn sure of it.

I wanted that for G. Wanted him to claim the W from the team I was pretty sure he already felt plagued him.

Even though there was no reason to, he blamed himself for our loss the first time we went against them earlier this season. The second time hadn’t been his fault, but they’d beaten us a-fucking-gain, and there was no way I was accepting that shit this time. Not in the first game of the playoffs. They wouldn’t be the reason our season ended early.

I caught Garrett’s gaze. He’d just finished getting his uniform on. As if feeling my eyes on him, he glanced my way, and I winked. Fuck, I missed him. It had taken everything in me the other night not to strip him bare and bury myself in his ass until I fucked away all the want inside me, want that should have been extinguished by now, but it hadn’t been. All it did was grow, multiplying at an even faster rate now that I couldn’t have him anymore.

I hadn’t watched even one single episode of The Good Place without him because it wasn’t as enjoyable without Garrett teasing and saying, “What the fork,” along with Kristen Bell.

He was supposed to be an itch I’d scratched, then moved on, but somehow he had burrowed beneath my skin, sank down, and rooted himself in the marrow of my bones, and yeah, that was some poetic fucking shit, but it was how I felt. He’d somehow become a part of me, this extension of myself that lived inside me.

And it definitely wasn’t beneficial when we were about to go play the biggest game of Garrett’s career so far.

This fucking guy had totally ruined me and— “Ouch. Shit.” I rubbed my side where Tucker elbowed me.

He cocked a brow that said, You dumbass. You look like you’re about to jump his bones in the middle of the locker room.

My dick was on board with that idea, so I figured it was smart to look away. “Thanks, man.”

“I can’t believe this,” he said in a low voice. He’d muttered those words countless times since finding out about Garrett and me, so I ignored him. Mouth close to my ear, he added, “Focus on football tonight.”

Now wasn’t the time to get lost in thoughts about Garrett. It was the time to win a fucking football game and rub it in Whitt’s face when we did. I was a vindictive motherfucker. So sue me. And if I planned to pummel them, I should probably get my head in the game. “We’re gonna go out there and show these motherfuckers who we are!” I said loud enough for the whole team to hear.

Everyone but Nance cheered. He’d decided he hated both Garrett and me. Good thing the feeling was mutual.

“Hell yeah!” Cross concurred.

“Let’s fucking do this!” Garrett chimed in.

Coach gave us one of his speeches about playing as a team and being smart with the football, all the shit we’d heard before, before telling us it was time to show them what the Rush were all about.