by Saxon James
Or maybe I’m just thinking with my dick again.
Bag slung over my chest, I duck out of the emptying stadium as quickly as possible, rev up my car engine, and head home. Scrubbing my palms on my gym shorts, I try not to be sick at the rush of nerves exploding through me. He’s got me filled with butterflies and jitters at the thought of seeing him, and the feeling is weird, though, I can’t say I hate it.
I’ll take on a defensive lineup in front of hundreds of thousands of people and brush it off like it’s nothing. But planning a hookup?
What the hell has my life become?
Chapter Sixteen
Rainer let me borrow his BMW for the drive down, and while I wait, I check my hair for the umpteenth time, then brush the stray strands back and try to look presentable. I’m outside the address Taryn gave me, but I’m pretty sure he’s not back yet. The modern, two story house looks still and quiet. There are tall ferns screening off the lower level, but the top floor is all glass and black rendering—definitely not the type of place I’d expect Taryn to live.
But exactly the type of place I hope to own myself someday.
While I wait, I open my laptop and try to distract myself. There are a few updates I need to make, but my head’s not in it, so I save everything to work’s online storage system to come back to later. I keep replaying Taryn’s game. His strong legs, the big hits, the passes that seemed to go forever. His tight ass in those football pants. Damn. There’s no denying he’s sexy as hell, but that still doesn’t explain why my stomach is twisted into knots.
We’ve already decided this hookup is going to happen. Time to get my shit together.
No sooner do I have that thought, than a sleek navy Honda slows on the other side of the road and turns into Taryn’s drive. The garage door opens automatically and he parks inside, the door closing again before I’m able to catch a glimpse of him.
Not sure why a football player is driving such a piece of shit car—well, not shit, exactly, it’s top of the line, but still a Honda—I quickly jump out of the BMW, tuck my laptop into my overnight bag, and take a deep breath. The bag means nothing. Taryn stayed at my place last time. It’s just more convenient. So why does it feel like more?
I shake my head and push the door closed, only half wanting to bail. As soon as I hit the lock button, I’m off, walking up his short driveway, and when I reach the security gate, it buzzes and I let myself in.
Pavers cut through a short garden leading to the front of the house. I can make out a sitting room that overlooks the greenery outside, and for a second, I wonder what it would be like to live in a place like this. Somewhere that doesn’t smell or need constant maintenance. Somewhere I’d be proud to have people see.
Only five years. Five more years and somewhere like this will be mine. It’ll make the years of feeling like slime worth it.
Hope tries to take hold as I turn for the door where Taryn is already waiting. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, which are almost as hot as the soft smile he’s paired them with. He looks… sweet. My heart does this weird stumble, and my answering smile is automatic.
“If I’d known you lived in a place like this, I never would have invited you over to my dump.”
He chuckles. “But your place has, umm… charm.”
“Right,” I say, deadpan, and step up onto the porch. There’s an awkward beat as I hover there, not sure how two people with a predetermined hookup greet each other, but Taryn backs up and lets me pass.
After closing the door, he leads me down the hall and up a staircase. “Downstairs is that front room, a home gym, and a bit of a party area around back. Upstairs is the kitchen, living room, and bedrooms.”
Jesus. All I have is one combined living area, a bedroom, and a pitiful excuse for a bathroom. “Big house for one guy…”
“Well, it wasn’t supposed to be only me here.”
I cringe at leading the conversation there. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He shrugs. “Things change.”
The bitter tone I’m expecting doesn’t come, only a soft sadness that I’m not sure how to react to. So I don’t.
Instead my gaze drops to the way his shorts curve over his muscled ass and my lips pull up on one side. I’m a lucky bastard. Not only do I get to spend some time out of my shithole apartment, I’m doing it by spending time with Taryn. My stomach twists a little as I follow the lines of his broad back up to his neck, then to the back of his shaved head. His hair is shorter than it was when I last saw him, but paired with the stubble he’s got going on, I approve.
We reach the top of the stairs, and I try not to act like I have no idea where to go from here as I dump my bag on the floor beside his couch. Do we jump straight into fucking? I mean, it’s literally the only reason I’m here. His view looks out over the Philadelphia skyline and maybe I’m inspecting it too closely because Taryn starts to laugh.
“What?”
“Far out, Elliot. Anyone would think you’ve never done this before.”
“To be fair, I’ve never planned to hook up with a pro football player, then spend the night at his place. Usually I’m a hit and run kind of guy.”
“Classy.” He snorts.
I lift a shoulder. “It works for me.”
Taryn frowns a little at that, barely, and I might not have caught it if I wasn’t watching him. “I guess it’s what works for me now too.”
“It’s a little hard for you to hit and run when I’m in your house, though.”
“True. But I’m pretty sure I could easily throw you out.” He grins, that weird look finally passing.
“I don’t know. I’m pretty tough.”
“Tough? You’re teeny.” Taryn steps close enough to rest a hand on the top of my head and my stomach immediately starts swimming. He smells so good. And I know from experience he feels so good. I bat his hand away.
“Hardly. I’m six foot, jackass.”
“You’re lucky to be five ten on a good day.”
I roll my eyes at his ribbing. I’m done with this game. And while I might be a stranger at sleeping at guys’ houses, I’m ready to move this thing on to areas I’m more than comfortable in. I unzip my hoodie and draw Taryn’s eyes down to what I’m wearing underneath.
“A Sharks jersey?” His eyebrows lift as he tries to hold back how much he likes it.
“Yeah, there was a game on today. Seemed appropriate.”
He smirks, dropping his focus back to the jersey, and I can practically feel his hands smoothing over my chest. I shrug out of my jacket while he watches, then close the distance between us.
“Like it?” I taunt.
He grunts. “It’s okay I s’pose.” But his blown pupils are saying otherwise.
“What do you think about the number?”
His stare traces over the giant eighty-four again. I know what he thinks of the number—it’s his. Without responding, he grips the front of the jersey and yanks me toward him. My chest hits his, and when I think he’s about to kiss me, he ducks his lips down next to my ear. Warm breath tickles my neck.
“I like it so much that you’ll be wearing it when I fuck you.”
I shiver, and when Taryn pulls back, his dark eyes are lit with a combination of amusement and lust. “What are you waiting for, then?”
He leans forward, and I arch up to meet the kiss, but he grabs my bottom lip with his teeth and runs his tongue over it once before releasing me.
“Soon.” Taryn steps back and my dick can’t keep up with the sudden cool-down. “I’ve gotta eat. After that game, I need more energy for everything I’m going to do to you tonight.”
Oh, fuck. As Taryn walks away, I press down on my half-hard dick, willing it to behave. If Taryn needs energy, I can wait for that. Maybe.
I slide onto one of the stools at his counter while Taryn opens the pantry and stares inside. He’s looking for a good minute or two before something clicks.
“Can’t
figure out what to eat?” I ask, suspecting he’s not hesitating over that at all. From the amount of food I can make out over his head, there’s enough to feed an army in there.
He throws me a sheepish grin as he rubs the back of his neck. “The NFL supplies all my food, but… I don’t actually know how to cook.”
Somehow I manage to keep my laugh to myself, but, c’mon, Taryn. “You don’t know how to cook?”
He scowls at the obvious disbelief in my voice. “It’s not like I’ve had much time to practice.”
“Then what the hell have you been eating?”
“Takeout.”
“Takeout? I bet your coach isn’t happy about that.”
He flicks the pantry door closed and turns to lean on the counter. “He doesn’t know, obviously. Every time I try to cook something it either turns out like rubber, or I ruin another pan.”
“Ever heard of YouTube?”
“I honestly can’t say I even thought to look there.”
My lips twitch for a second before he looks at me, but I’m seriously struggling to get myself under control. “How have you survived for so long?” And maybe it should be pathetic that he can’t cook, but the way Taryn owns it gives me another thing to warm toward. I guess you don’t become one of the top wide receivers by playing house.
He shrugs. “Liam.”
And with one word, the warmth disappears. Of course Liam’s the reason he’s managed. He’s also the reason that this thing with Taryn and me is only temporary. Because I know if Liam ever wanted him back, Taryn would be there in a heartbeat. The thought almost has me zipping up my hoodie and hitting the road again, and it definitely makes me feel like a dickhead for sitting here in a number I have no right to—what the hell was I thinking?
I suddenly really want to change.
“Hey…” Taryn reaches over and brushes my fingers with his own. “You can’t expect me never to mention him,” he says softly. “Just like I can’t expect you not to mention your ex-boyfriends.”
“You don’t need to sweat it. I have no ex-boyfriends.”
Taryn smirks. “Surely you have—”
“None. Not in high school, not in college, not now. I’m good at keeping my feelings locked up, so you don’t need to worry about me falling for you.” Yet the words don’t taste true. Because it’s impossible to look at him without my heart thumping out an offbeat rhythm.
His fingers leave mine cold as he pulls back. “Yeah, good.” His voice is all tight, but I’m not going to let myself question why.
“So, food. Let’s see what you have, and I’ll show you a basic as fuck dish I like. Tell me you have cream?”
Taryn lifts an eyebrow suggestively as I round the counter, and I playfully shove his arm.
“Actual cream, asshole. Check the fridge.”
Once we work out that he has pasta, cream, bacon, onion, mushrooms, and parmesan, I walk him through how to make boscaiola. He boils the pasta—after I up the amount of water he’s using—while I chop the ingredients, then I show him how to combine it all in a pan, while adjusting the temperature as needed. He hovers over my shoulder, chest close enough to my back that it stirs goosebumps across my skin. To his credit, he looks like he’s paying attention at least, even if he does get distracted burying his nose in my hair.
“It smells delicious,” he growls against my ear before giving my earlobe a nip.
I bat him away, willing myself not to give in and jump him. “It will be if you let me concentrate.”
“You’re a good teacher.” His hands close around my hips, and I lean back into his hold.
“And you’re a terrible student.”
“Gonna punish me?” Before I can respond, he grinds his hard cock against my ass.
I drop the spatula, and the word I let out makes absolutely no sense. Taryn’s laugh is warm and low in my ear. I’m not great with self-control, but somehow I stop myself from bending forward and pushing back against him.
“You said dinner first,” I mumble.
He hums, but it doesn’t exactly sound happy. “I did.” He steps away. “So feed me.”
His slap on my ass is so hard and sudden, I yelp. “Feeling rough again, are you?” I ask, trying not to let on that yes, I am so down for that.
“What can I say? You bring it out in me.”
Chapter Seventeen
I keep stealing glances at Elliot. He’s got his feet tucked up under him, resting his bowl on his knees. We’re watching TV, and out of the two of us, he’s the one paying attention, because everything he does is so much more interesting to me than whatever is playing. He’s got this cute way of blinking too much, and every time he takes a bite, a small frown creases his forehead before smoothing out again. I can’t look away.
Scooping up another bite, my mouth waters, and it’s actually over the dinner this time. Elliot can cook. And okay, he said it was basic as shit, but no matter how basic, it tastes unreal.
Or maybe that’s because he cooked it.
His face is relaxed as he eats, and there’s something mesmerizing about the way his attention flows from his food to the screen, completely content. Here. On my couch. With me.
I shake my head to deter myself from that dangerous way of thinking. He’s here with me for now, and I need to remember that. Elliot has told me way too many times to count that he doesn’t do relationships, but… then he told me he’d never had one, and now I’m wondering whether it’s because he hasn’t tried it before.
Sighing, I turn back to my food. Even if Elliot was interested in more, we both know it couldn’t be with me. There’s no way I can deal with another man walking out on me. And I know that’s exactly what it would be like. Even thinking of Elliot makes me smile, and if we got into an actual relationship, I wouldn’t hold back.
Privately, at least.
And what kinda crazy person does it make me that I almost don’t care? If being a secret wouldn’t hurt Elliot, I’d jump right on making something happen. But I’m determined not to mess up this time.
I glance over at Elliot again and a muscle jumps out in his jaw as he goes to take a bite. He’s not wearing his glasses, but he is wearing that jersey, and even though it would be too small on me, he fills it out nicely. That’s one of the many things I like about him. I don’t have to worry about being too careful.
There is zero doubt in my mind if I got too rough, he’d knock me on my ass.
“You’re staring, Taryn.” Elliot’s expression stays neutral, but I can tell he’s amused.
“I think I’m done with dinner.”
Elliot drops his bowl on the glass table and the loud ching makes us both cringe. Setting my bowl aside in a pointed, more careful way, prompts an angelic smile from him.
“Sorry,” he says.
“You can apologize by getting your ass over here.”
I almost laugh at how fast Elliot’s feet hit the ground, but then he’s closed the space between us and straddles my lap, and suddenly, there’s nothing to laugh at.
My hands find his thighs, loving the way the light muscles feel under my palms as I give them a squeeze. He tilts a challenging smile at me as I grip his thighs tighter, sliding my hands farther up but as I reach his crotch, he angles his hips forward, and I release his legs completely.
Elliot gives me a throaty laugh. “In a teasing mood, are we?”
I don’t answer him. I reach around to pull the band from his hair and even though it’s barely long enough to pull back, his hair springs free into a chaotic mess that surrounds his head. That mouth that drives me crazy parts a little as I flick the band away and bring my thumb to the beauty spot over his lips. How on earth did I manage this? What are the odds of bumping into the most beautiful man in existence in a fucking bathroom?
Elliot’s clearly picked up that I’m not playing. This might be a casual thing, but I’m going to make sure it’s incredible for both of us because I want him to come back over a
nd over, until we’re both sick of each other.
My hand slides to the back of his neck, and I coax him closer, lightly brushing his lips with mine. He tastes so good, and damn do I want to fuck him, but I’m not going to push it.
Still, even as I have that thought, Elliot decides he’s done waiting. His mouth seeks mine, harder and more demanding than before. I moan against his lips, and when his tongue prods forward, I immediately meet it with mine. Heat surges through me, waking my cock up as Elliot grinds against my leg.
Finally giving in to the urge, I grab Elliot’s ass with both hands and squeeze, encouraging a little noise from him that I immediately swallow with my kiss. I tilt my hips up into his, and as our erections rub together, we both let out a groan. It’s not enough.
Without giving him warning, I slide forward, position my arms under his ass, and stand. Elliot breaks our kiss as he yelps, scrambling to grab my shoulders.
“Holy shit. I can honestly say no one has ever picked me up before.”
“You’re clearly not hooking up with the right kind of guys.”
His eyes are heavy with lust as his gaze meets mine, and something zings through right to my chest. “Clearly not.”
I catch his mouth with mine again, knowing the way to my bedroom well enough to not bump into any walls. I’ve gone from horny to fucking needy in five seconds flat, and I need to focus my attention on getting off and not on how right Elliot feels in my arms.
I kick my bedroom door open and toss Elliot unceremoniously onto my bed. The jersey rides up a little, exposing the strip of hair on his stomach. I dive in, running my nose over his warm skin before licking a line from the top of his pants to his belly button. He’s so fucking sexy, and I’m done with this clothes bullshit, so I unbutton his jeans and pull those and his underwear clean off.
His cock bounces back against his stomach, the tip already shiny with precum. I can’t pull my eyes from it as I kneel up and strip off my shirt, then push my shorts down my thighs and kick them onto the floor. Elliot reaches for the jersey, but before he can get it halfway up his stomach, I yank it back down.
