My Only Reason (A Love is Love Book Book 1)

by Leigh Lennon

  I slow down at the end of the drive. A large covered front porch is the first part of the log cabin that greets us. With the trees overhanging, it’s at least ten degrees cooler.

  He steps out of my truck and whistles.

  “It’s not a huge house. Maybe sixteen hundred square feet with three bedrooms and an open loft with bunk beds. If the weather is right, I want to be outside, not inside. And if it’s cold and snowy, I want to be cuddled up on the couch with hot chocolate while watching movies, so I don’t need much.”

  “You say that as if it’s not luxurious, Crush.”

  “Well, I never did say it wasn’t fancy, pretty boy,” I throw back at him as I grab our bags. He moves around to the trunk to get the Yeti with all our food.

  “Shit, I got the heaviest part, asshole,” he jests, following me close to the front porch. I fish for my keys and am a little slower, just to mess with the man.

  “Fuck, you’re purposely taking longer.”

  Opening the door, I drop our bags at the entryway, then take the large cooler from him. “Make yourself at home,” I demand, and when he remains quiet, I turn to see him walking around my space.

  I leave everything in the Yeti cooler for the time being because I don’t want to be out of his sight.

  I nestle myself into the corner of my couch, the best spot in the living room to view the front yard. “I’m doing something easy for supper.”

  Our stuff is still piled in the entryway because I don’t know where to put him for the night. I hadn’t really thought past walking in the front door. My plan for the weekend was spontaneous, but if we want no distractions from the outside, this is it.

  “I’m fine with anything.” He takes a seat catty-corner in the large overstuffed chair. I wasn’t lying when I said this place was only for those most important to me. And because of it, I didn’t need much seating.

  He sets his hands on his knees, rubbing what looks like sweat on his shorts. He hasn’t made himself comfortable, not for one second.

  “Ry, you need to calm the fuck down. You’re stressing me out, and I don’t allow for this in my place of Zen.”

  This garners a loud laugh and breaks the silence on his part.

  “What are you going to do now, big country, some yoga to help with your state of Zen?” Ry quips.

  “Yeah, right after you pull that stick out of your ass,” I retort.

  “Okay, it’s just that…”

  I hold up my hand. “There’ll be time to tackle the elephant roaming throughout the whole fucking house, but for now, let’s get a beer and start dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m a growing boy, and I need some sustenance.”

  “Yeah, yeah. And let me mention, asshole—you’re a bad influence on me. I never drink during the season and look at you, here I’ve done it almost every time we’ve been together.”

  “Nah, I’m what your life has been missing, pretty boy. You need to be a rebel every now and then.”

  Twisting my body around, I catch how he averts his eyes away from my ass. I don’t point this out, only give him a little wink, which awards me the most adorable, shy smile I’ve seen on Ry’s face.

  We start to unpack in amicable silence, both pulling out items at the same time and shelving them in my fridge. I keep out the ingredients for tonight’s dinner, along with a bottle of wine.

  “You said beer?” he mentions.

  “Yeah, I figured wine is better suited for dinner.” He peruses all my ingredients. “I make a kick-ass margarita pizza, and I even got a cauliflower crust for your girly figure.”

  I pull out the pancetta, fresh tomatoes, basil, and fresh mozzarella. Taking the knife, I cut the tomatoes in small pieces, then combine the rest of the ingredients. I pour olive oil and fresh garlic on the crust and top both pizzas with the mixture.

  “Look at you, Betty Crocker. I think you forgot your apron.” Ry is sexy when he’s an asshole, but his comment causes me to stifle a laugh.

  Turning around, I flip him off. I slide the pizza into the oven, then bring the wine, corkscrew, and two glasses to the back deck. “Want to enjoy the outdoors while it cooks?”

  He follows me, and it’s all the answer I need. The back deck is both covered and screened. There’s a nice breeze, breaking up the heat we left in Nashville.

  I pull the cork of our Merlot and pour us both a generous portion. One could call it liquid courage or setting the ambience, but I call it just being with my best friend.

  “So,” Ry starts but doesn’t finish.

  “So?” I ask, this time in a question.

  “Are you going to tell me why you brought me here?” Ryder is inquisitive tonight. But he’s also anxious, in the way he holds onto every word of mine. I wonder if he knows this night very well may be the turning point for us.

  I shrug my shoulders at first. “I thought we needed to get away from any outside distractions. And maybe, we can be honest with one another.”

  He takes a sip of his wine, peering at me over his glass. “I think we hit honest on the fucking nail earlier in the week.”

  “I don’t disagree. But the conversation isn’t over. And we both know it.”

  Ry leans over, placing his elbows on the wrought-iron table. “Were you serious when you said you’re attracted to guys?”

  “Yes.” It’s simple and to the point. The whole truth is a lot wordier and a conversation we’ll have later, but I keep it uncomplicated for the time being.

  He doesn’t have a follow-up question, and the timer dings. He stands to follow me back, and my hand connects with his chest. “I got it. Just stay out here and enjoy the view.”

  I can’t answer any more questions, not now, because once the truth comes out, I won’t be able to keep my hands off the man.

  Three hours later, we’re still on the back deck, reliving our glory days of college. Ryder made us switch to soda and water a couple of hours ago after we easily finished the first bottle of wine.

  The sun has set, and in the darkness of the outdoors with the dimness of the overhead light, it’s perfect. Anytime and anyplace with Ryder is textbook perfect.

  He begins to yawn, and with our days starting so early, it’s not surprising we’re both a bit tired by ten.

  “I think I’m going to call it a night, man.” He pushes to his feet, grabbing the plates and cups we let pile up.

  “Not a bad idea. I want to get up early and do some fishing. You up for that, pretty boy?”

  With the faint light, I can still look upon the furrowed brows of Ryder.

  “Is your frown an answer?” I quip.

  “I’m not going to commit until I get at least eight hours of sleep.”

  I follow him into the kitchen and deposit everything in the sink. “Fair enough. I know you need your beauty sleep,” I reply, not wanting to let Ryder out of my sight for the night.

  But when he follows me back into the living room where our bags still sit by the door, he darts a glance at me, then back at the door. Tucked on the left-hand side of the house, is my master suite. It’s located on the opposite side of the living room, from where both Brooklyn’s and the guest room are.

  “Is the guest room that way?” he asks, and every bit of restraint I’ve had for this man drains from my system. I don’t let him get far from me before I fist the collar of his shirt and push him up against the closest wall.

  13

  Ryder

  He’s internally warring against himself. His eyes rake over me. Taking his hands from where he fisted my shirt, he cups my chin, bringing our faces together.

  My best friend’s hands encompass my cheeks as he pushes me forcefully and rough against the wall. His crystal blue eyes are on fire but not from anger. I’ve seen Christopher Colton full of rage, and it’s not what I’m looking at.

  “Walk away, pretty boy, if you don’t want this going any further,” he orders, and I stay planted in place.

  With our noses touching for what feels like an hour, I take in his stron
g evergreen scent, as though he showered in Christmas trees.

  “Do you want to know why I was pissed off when you came back?” With Crush’s question, his breath is shaky, and his hand is still on the scruff of my face. “You strolled back into my life, and you have me wanting more than just your friendship. I can’t think straight at the thought of you with someone else. And I can’t not touch your thick black hair or stop myself from running my fingers through it. Or burn to memory the aroma of your scent in my mind. I need to feel the stubble of your five o’clock shadow against my calloused hands. I’ve never been satisfied with a girl. And I’ve known this for longer than I care to admit. I realize what I’ve been missing. You.” He pulls away, just enough to look in my eyes.

  With this understanding, with his revelation, I pull his lips to mine. We open at the same time, our tongues dueling for control. His hand begins moving through my hair while one of my hands is on his tight ass, but my other one is palming his dick.

  I can’t pull away because I’ll never get enough of this stunning man in front of me. When I’ve been denied the most crucial element in my life, I can’t ever let go. He pushes me farther against the wall, and when his arm moves down my body, his fingers unbuckle my shorts, and I anxiously await for them to reach past the elastic band of my boxers to play with the tip of my cock. I moan into his mouth, and he answers me with his groan. When he removes his touch from my body, his grin sets my whole heart on fire.

  “This, right here, is why I wanted to get away with you. Have you to myself. And fuck, do I want you,” Crush admits.

  He relaxes in my touch, and though he is bigger than me, I pull at the collar of the simple green T-shirt with my fist and tug him toward me. Reversing our positions, I spin, colliding with his hard body to push him into the same wall where he had just had me pinned. The smile overtaking his face is sexy, a lopsided grin with his right dimple bigger than the left.

  I don’t loosen my hold on him, and I won’t, not with the warning I’m about to decree. “I can’t do this with you if there’s no chance of a future, Christopher.” Using his full name gets his attention.

  “Ry,” he starts, “I came over last week when Garrison was there to tell you…”

  “Baby.” My hand connects with his cheek. “Less talk, and a fuck ton more action…”

  He’s still against the wall, but unlike ten minutes ago, I’m fully awake. Sleep could have evaded me for months, but I’d still never be able to fall asleep right now. It’s his turn to pull at my shirt, fisting it and pulling me away from the wall, all the time pushing me back to what I assume is the master bedroom. His mouth is on me, and he heeds my warning of less talk. Yeah, we’ll have time for that. And I don’t know where this night is leading, but it’s been my dream since our freshman year in college.

  He pulls back, and my brows narrow because when the hell did he become a fucking chatty Cathy? “Ry, I don’t want you sleeping in the spare room.”

  I move my lips to his ear. “Yeah, I certainly don’t plan to but stop fucking talking…”

  “I need to say one last thing.” I’m quiet but also very frustrated—he has to feel my hard-on between us. “This isn’t a quick fuck or a one-night stand.”

  “Thank fuck, now shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

  The pushing toward his room becomes more frantic when I pick up the speed, and he guides me through the threshold of his door until the foot of the bed stops us, and he shoves me onto it. He’s on a mission, and I hope to fuck he is. I don’t speak when he pushes me down. It’s harsh and intense, and as soon as my head catches up with my mind, I welcome the intrusion of his mouth on mine again. His face is over mine when he pulls back just enough for me to admire his smile. It tells me everything. Crush has always been a little more intense than my easygoing nature, and it’s one thing that attracted me to him.

  We aren’t gentle as he continues to straddle my body. We’re laughing, and he connects his lips back to mine as if the seconds away from each other were brutal. I wonder if he likes the slight pain of my five o’clock shadow as I love his. I move my free hands, unbuttoning his shorts, placing my hand through the elastic of his boxers, as he had with mine. I’m greeted with his raging cock, wet with pre-cum.

  He pulls away just long enough for me to miss his touch, but he’s not gone far, his lips sucking at my neck. “Oh, yeah, oh, hell. I want your fingers wrapped around it.”

  My face has to reflect his own look of pleasure. “I can do you one better, babe,” I start, humming into his ear as I shove both the boxers and shorts far enough down, but he stands to let them drop to the floor. I follow him and fall to my knees. “Say the words, and I stop, babe.”

  His hands knead through my hair, my head tipped to his face, his eyes locked on mine. “No, don’t you stop. I’ve thought of your lips wrapped around my cock for six years,” Crush confesses.

  I stroke him up and down. “Six years, huh?” I laugh. “That’s too fucking long, babe. I can’t let you wait for a second longer.”

  When my tongue connects with his tip, he sucks in a deep breath and releases a hiss. He places his hands on my head, setting the tone for me. “Mhhhhhhmmm.” His nonsense words spur me on to continue, and my entire mouth sucks his large cock all the way. I deep throat him, and he begins to groan. “Unless you want to swallow me, I’m not going to last for long.” Is he kidding? Of course I’m going to swallow all of him, I want him to mark me in every way, and fuck, this is our first time, and I want it all with him.

  “Ry, baby,” he calls, and the little term of endearment is not lost on me. “I’m about to come.”

  I continue to urge him on with my free hand coddling his balls, squeezing, rubbing, and just altogether giving him pleasure as only a man knows.

  “Fuck.” His cry is like ecstasy as he comes in my mouth, and I swallow without a second thought. I clean him off with my mouth and push to my feet. His embrace is all I’ve dreamed of, and he deposits us, without tearing our bodies from each other on the bed.

  We’re quiet, and I have this big muscular quarterback wrapped in my embrace. He’s a good two to three inches taller than me and certainly a little bit bulkier, but I have him—and it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  “You okay, babe?”

  “Hmm,” Crush answers. His hands are resting on mine wrapped around his waist. “Keep calling me babe, pretty boy, and I’m fine.” He drops his lips to mine. “Fuck, you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he whispers, and he doesn’t start at the lips. He’s at my cheeks, nipping at them, moving to my jaw, then to my ears and neck. He pushes off me, just enough to check me out, and lowers quickly, taking my nipples into his mouth. “And I love your body.”

  I’m taken aback and lost in everything that is Crush, and I don’t feel it coming. Not when he pulls my pants down, not until his mouth envelops my cock. He swirls at the tip, and his hands cup my balls. “Ah, shit, Crush, I—ah— amazing. Fucking amazing.”

  I imagine it’s hard to reply when his mouth is full of my hardening erection. “I fucking love this, you and me, us.”

  His motions speed up, and as he licks along the back of my shaft, the most sensitive part, I know I won’t last long. “Christopher, baby, I’m going to come.”

  But he continues with the up and down motion, all the while his free hand pinches my nipples. The pain and ecstasy of both actions is heaven. Knowing this is Crush, my Crush I’ve loved for years, only makes the reality more special.

  “Oh, fuck, babe, I’m going to come.” But Crush doesn’t remove his mouth from me and continues to suck me through my orgasm, licking up every part of me. I lie motionless, almost in fear I dreamed the entire thing.

  “Can I ask you something?” I break the silence when he gives a swift bob of his head. “How are you not freaking out? I mean, I’ve known since my early teens, and the first time I was with a guy, I freaked out something awful.”

  A frown forms on his face, and I let out a chuckle at his reaction.


  “I don’t want to think of you with another man.” A pouting adult male who’s six feet five and two hundred and thirty pounds is adorable.

  “Says the man who’s been with more girls than he’d care to admit,” I jest back.

  “Not too many but, point made.” He takes in a deep breath. “Remember how pissed off I was when you came back in my life?”

  “That was just three weeks ago, babe. I certainly can’t forget.” At my reply, Crush moves his hand over to my chest to flick it.

  “Anymore smart-ass comments and that continues,” he states, but the gleam of lust in his eyes tells me he actually likes causing me pain. I’m down for it, too, so I pocket this idea for another day. “Anyway, I couldn’t get my head in the game because I’ve known for some time you affected me. Maybe if I was with another man, I’d be freaking out, and honestly, I’m not sure if I’m gay, bi-sexual, or even pan. All I know is I’ve been wanting this for some time and wasn’t able to express it. So the reason I’m not freaking out, pretty boy, is that I’ve wanted this for longer than I can admit. You’re the only reason I’m not freaking the fuck out.

  “I can’t promise you when I’ll be ready to make this public, but…” He tapers off. He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for me to understand where his head is at.

  “Christopher, it’s not a blip on the radar, babe. We figure out what this is, and then we go from there. It’s not easy being a gay man in professional football, but it’s come a long way, and somehow, I hope I’ve paved an easier road for men to follow and be able to express who they are.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “You know some, don’t you?” I won’t answer him, and before I joined this team, I hadn’t—not until Dallas—but it’s not my story to tell.

  “Okay, so it doesn’t matter,” he replies. “This thing with you and me; it’s not going away, Ry. It’s why I wanted to get to my cabin where no one would bug us. And I certainly wasn’t planning on attacking you and pinning your body to my wall.”