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

by Leigh Lennon

  I focus on my thoughts, keeping the fear of reality from sinking in. Will the press go crazy? This will be the third gay man on the team, the third to come out in the entire league. Two of those men moving in together?

  In my mind, I don’t hear him round the desk, standing behind me, until his arms stretch around my neck. I lean my leather chair back to make our distance with one another as close as I can get to him.

  “What’s on your mind, babe?” Ryder asks, his hands dance down my stomach, stretching his arm until he reaches my cock and palms my erection.

  “Well, you keep doing that.” I grab his hand and grind my hips in for better friction. “My answer will be different.”

  When his touch leaves me, my whine is about to be heard throughout the entire house. He spins the leather chair around, and my head is at his waist. “Oh, this pretty boy, is this a hint, and you want to fuck my mouth?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, when I want to fuck your mouth, all I have to do is ask.” His arrogant comeback is typical Ry. He can’t prevent his brilliant smile from curling up on his full lips. He abruptly pulls me to his level, but he bunches his eyebrows together, the crease evident. “I’d never deny you any part of me, but you can’t distract me with a blowjob, babe. Please talk to me. Your body is as stiff as your cock normally is. And though I love your hard-on, I don’t like seeing you so uptight.”

  I run a hand down my face to smother my grimace. “You know me too well. What if this blows up in our face?”

  His expression clamps down into a frown. “Are you having second thoughts?” In the slight wrinkles of his eyes, he lets me in on a little of his vulnerability.

  In a dazed compulsion, I grasp both sides of his cheeks firmer than I’d normally do. “Ry, there’s not an ounce of regret about moving on with our life together. But I worry about the team. Three men coming out.”

  He returns his own stare, and a puzzled frown of sorts immediately carved on his face transforms into a tight smile. But it’s a smile. He covers my hands with his, which are still planted on his face. “I’ll never push you,” he begins.

  In dawning horror, he believes I have doubts. “Ry, I’m nervous, it’s the truth. But my life with you can only continue if we don’t hide it. And that’s what I believe in, you and me—forever—as a family. The two of us, Brooklyn, and a couple of kids who will call us both pops one day.” In the corners of the eyes of my strong man are a few tears that threaten to spill over. “I love this—I love you.” I tilt my head at him as I share all of this.

  “Me? Being a pussy, crying because I’m scared to lose what we have?” he asks.

  “Nope, Ry, baby. It’s that you’re so open with me, so honest, and you let me see this. I see everything that is you, Ryder Hanley. More so, I want all of you.”

  A flush of laughter escapes from him, meaning the more playful Ryder Hanley is emerging. I brace for what he may say. “So, what about that blowjob? Now that we have the mushy shit out of the way?”

  I wanted to fuck Ry’s face, but after the emotion of the past five minutes, it’s not what I have in mind.

  My hands run down his athletic pants, not doing anything for his growing erection between us. “Fuck my mouth, Ry. I need to taste you, all of you.” In one fluid motion, I pull down his pants, with his boxers, and fall to my knees. His hands instantly hold my head in place, and I don’t have to be told what to do as my tongue swirls the tip of his cock.

  “You set the speed, Ry. You do what you want?” One incredulous eyebrow raises higher than the other. I scrape my teeth lightly down the shaft of his cock. Just enough friction to give him pleasure.

  “I. Fucking. Love. When. You. Do. That,” he calls out. My hands become busy, one fondling his balls. I spit on the free one, working it around to his ass. My mouth completely engulfs his cock, and my finger enters him.

  “More, I can take more.” Yeah, I know he can. I inch three fingers in there, my hands a little more rough with his balls. “Ah shit, Crush, I’m not going to last.”

  That is the point. My speed increases, and with the grinding of his hips against my mouth, the thought of turning him on while in three parts of his gorgeous and hot body could make me come right now.

  My fingers are deeper, and I love every part of him, but his ass will forever be mine. “I’m close, lover. I’m so fucking close.”

  The word he uses—lover—spurs me on, and he’s so deep in my throat that when his body begins to writhe, I wait for everything of him. Yeah, I take it, I swallow it and love this part, and how we can undo one another in a way no one else gets.

  He pulls me to my feet. “I want to continue this in our bed.” I don’t argue, and it’s where we spend the better part of our evening, making love to one another

  After our night together, my arms wrap around Ryder. He’s lounging on me, half lying, half sitting against me. “Wow, you’re something else, Christopher Colton,” he exclaims.

  I lean over to view his profile and the sexy bastard sports a smug expression, and I slug him, slightly, but not wanting to let him out of my grasp.

  “Yeah, Ry, we’re something else. And to think, after you rearrange my entire house, and life, this will be our home together.”

  I’m beaming from our little impromptu sex fest. And when I pop my face over to his again, he’s glowing.

  “Yeah, but, babe,” his return is playful, his voice rising in pitch, “it may take me an entire year to organize this house.”

  I won’t deny that I have a lot of shit. I’ve even gotten rid of certain knickknacks that may seem a little obsessive, but according to Ry’s theory, if I’ve not worn or used something in the past three months, it gets tossed.

  “Yeah, I’m sure everything will be color-coded within a month of our official move in.”

  He pushes off me, only to lean his body against my waist, setting his head on my lap. “I don’t care if you’re a hoarder, Christopher Colton. I’ll sludge through all your shit just to get to you.” A glint in his eyes squeezes at my heart.

  “And I don’t care if you’re so anal and overly organized, that all I have left in my house is bare white walls, and everything hidden neatly in cabinets, according to a chart,” I retort.

  His hand lifts and tweaks my nipple. “Ah, you’re mouthy as fuck, aren’t you?”

  I lean over, my mouth about to crash with his. “I’ll show you mouthy, pretty boy.”

  His lips are so close to mine. I can almost taste myself on him from earlier. His phone rings, scaring the shit out of us. It’s late, past eleven, considering we need to get to the airport for the beginning of press week.

  “Who the fuck is ruining me getting lucky again, Ry?”

  He pushes to his knees, and on his way to his phone, he lowers a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Don’t worry, big country, I’m sure it’s Kelsey.”

  He grabs his phone, his brows angled down, and his mouth curved into a frown. He answers it, “I assume this is an emergency for you to be calling me the night before press week.” His tone is neutral, not annoyed. It could be Kelsey, but by the way his cheeks burn in anger, I’m guessing it’s someone else.

  “Ah, fuck, yeah, I was afraid of that. Can you give me a second to tell Crush who I’m talking to?”

  “Baby?” I ask, “Who is it?”

  He closes his eyes, holding his breath until he lets it out, rubbing the one spot on his neck he tends to when he’s upset or worried. “It’s Garrison. He wouldn’t call me at this hour if it wasn’t a…”

  I extend my hands to him. “Baby, it’s fine. He’s your friend.” I’ve gotten over my fear of Garrison when I witnessed he truly is a decent man on the day of Dallas’s press conference.

  “Okay, Gare, what’s up?”

  I wish I’d asked him to put it on speaker, but I fear it would show him I don’t trust him, and nothing has ever been more untrue.

  His face continues to redden, his ears turning the color of a beet. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? Please tel
l me you’re kidding.” I swing my legs out of the bed. But he walks toward my window, that looks out toward my pool.

  “Fucking son of a bitch.” He’s about to say more, and he stops mid-sentence. “Okay, what’s your suggestion, Gare? I’m all ears.”

  He’s quiet, and my skin pebbles in beads of sweat. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll be in touch. Yeah, after I talk to Crush.”

  Ry drops his phone, standing at the window. Opening the blinds, he looks toward my pool. With the discarded phone on the floor, he’s finished his conversation, one he had to take late at night. I’m able to make out his silhouette, with a little of the moon shining in from the slat of the shades.

  “Babe, you okay? Something wrong?” His fingers rake through his dark hair, but he doesn’t answer me.

  I swing my feet out from the bed and approach him, wrapping my arms around his thin waist and his tight muscles of his abdomen. “Ry, baby, you okay?”

  He continues to stay mute but grabs my hands and they connect at his chest. I lean in, kissing his ear. “Baby, you’re scaring me. Whatever it is. I’m here,” I promise.

  “But this will be a test. So are you here with me, Christopher?” His tone is barely audible, and he pulls one of my hands to his lips, peppering kisses on it.

  “You know I am, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” My heart falls at his voice. It’s not harsh or full of anger. “What’s going on, Ry? Talk to me,” I plead.

  My spare hand caresses his cheek, and I feel tears falling from his face. He twirls himself around so quick, bringing his face to mine. “Ry, baby. I love you. Whatever it is…”

  “The reason Garrison called…” With the beginning of his statement, Ry trails off without an ounce of emotion. I can’t read him, and I normally can.

  “Yeah, is he okay?” I ask.

  His head bobs up and down. “He was calling me to prepare us for something.”

  “Prepare us? What do you mean?”

  “Alison is going live in the morning to talk about her ex-husband, who’s now in a homosexual relationship with his best friend.”

  I could prepare for many things in my life, but this isn’t something on my radar. I never thought Alison would take this news well, but to out the father of her child on national news? I steady myself, holding my man, my strength.

  “Christopher, now it’s your turn. Talk to me, babe. I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

  I hear him, and his words float around me, but it’s an out-of-body experience. He pulls my head back. “Christopher, baby, I’m here. What can I do for you?” His hands are on my face, pulling my gaze to his.

  I let him hold me, and at one point, I realize I’m in bed, his strong arms being the comfort I need. I have no idea how I’ve gotten here, but I know I can trust Ryder to be the security he’s always been in my life.

  I don’t realize I’m crying when his fingers wipe them away. “Babe,” he whispers into the ear closest to him. “Garrison has an idea. I know you’re not ready for this, but…”

  “You’re my future. I’m tired of hiding us on the nights Brooklyn is here. I want you with me always. Even if it’s in your sterile house on your uncomfortable as fuck furniture. You and me—and my daughter—it’s all I care about. I’m so fucking tired of not being myself. And hiding the love I have for you isn’t being true to either of us.” My words, to him, make me as light as a feather.

  He moves out of my space for a second, on his knees, and jerks me up onto my knees. “Fuck, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear from you. Not in this way, but, baby…”

  It’s my turn to take my hands to his face, and I crash my mouth to his lips. We’re not gentle, nor do we want to be. And there’s no other place I want to be right now, and we have decisions to make together as the partners we are to one another. Ry pulls back, just enough, and his red cheeks of anger are still blotched. “In this way, babe, we get to control the narrative, turning Alison’s fucking plans upside down.”

  31

  Ryder

  Control the narrative. It’s what I’d told Crush, and we’re in planning mode. Garrison is hopping on the first late-night flight from Miami to Nashville.

  Crush is on the phone with the coach, asking for an early team meeting because the anti-Christ is due to go live at nine a.m.

  “We have two hours from the time we meet with the team to when Alison breaks the news,” Crush explains after spending an hour on the phone with the coach.

  “How the fuck do you think she found out?” In my question, this is not the time for smiles or being playful, but when a wide grin forms on Crush’s face, I match his expression. “What?” I ask.

  “Baby, we’ve been skirting the line for a while. You’re pretty much here six out of seven nights a week. And though I think not having your blingy Lambo helps, it’s not like your Audi is very discreet either. We walk into practice together. My eyes always find yours. It’s not hard. And if Al hired an investigator, then fuck, of course we’re screwed. And I didn’t want this as a distraction just a week before the big game, but at least we don’t have to hide anymore.”

  Crush circles his arms around my waist. “And I, for one, am happy we can be us, babe,” I reply, meeting his mouth halfway. “So what’s the rest of the plan?”

  “Garrison has an impartial reporter who will meet us for a sit-down, and it will go live. It won’t be a press conference. And, as you said, we control the narrative.” Crush has spent more time talking to Garrison with a plan of action than I have.

  “Y’all have it figured out, don’t you?” I question.

  “Yeah, no one is going to mess with my family, and you, Ryder Hanley, are part of my family, and more so, the bitch is messing with my kid, and I don’t care if she thinks she knows what’s best for Brooklyn by doing this. Hurting me is going to devastate her.”

  I have it in me to drive over to Alison’s house. Crush isn’t wrong—he’s my family, too. He needs support right now, and it’s what I’ll be. “She’s not doing this from the bottom of her heart,” I begin, “or to protect Brooklyn. She’s trying to stick one to you. Brooklyn already cries when you drop her off. At five, she understands how her mother is. And Al is only shooting herself in the foot.”

  “Everything you say about my girl is true. Unfortunately, everything you say about Al is also true.” He takes in a long breath, then blows it out. In it, he seems lighter than when the news had been forced on us. “Before we fly out tomorrow for Atlanta,” he continues, “we’ll go over and talk to Brooklyn together so she understands what we are and what we’re building to.”

  “You want me with you?”

  “Of course, you’re going to be a part of her life as her stepdad, and you love her, so of course I want you by my side.”

  “Well, y’all are fancy as fuck this morning?” Dallas croons as we walk into the locker room, and others on the team trickle in.

  I jut my head at the end of the lockers, waving Crush off. “Um, what’s going on?” Dallas asks. “We get a message of a mandatory meeting, and you both come rolling up all GQ.”

  I rub my hand down my freshly shaved chin. “Crush’s ex-wife found out about us and is going to leak it to the press.”

  He slams his hand against the wall. “Please tell me I misunderstood you?”

  “Nope, you heard me loud and clear.” He shakes off his hand.

  “Ah, shit.” He quiets when Crush comes around the corner. “Everyone is here. And we don’t have much time.”

  “Anything, for either one of you, anything I can do. Come find me.” He leaves us alone, and with a lump in my throat, we round the corner, and every eye is on us.

  Crush stands in front of the men, and I’m to the side of him. “Sorry, guys, for the early wake-up call. But I got a phone call last night from a friend.” He pauses, and if this whole thing wasn’t so fucked up, I’d laugh over Crush calling Garrison a friend. He clears his throat. “Anyway, I had some disturbing news. All of you happen to know my ex-wife.” Most of the l
ocker room erupts in groans. “Anyway, she’s going to the press about something I’ve attempted to keep secret until after the end of the season.”

  There are whispers within the locker room, and Solomon, our huge motherfucker, stands when Dex gives him a slug to the upper arm. “Sorry, Crush. Is this when you both are finally going to trust us enough to tell us you and Ryder are a thing?”

  The entire room is so quiet a pin drop could be heard. “Excuse me?” Crush asks.

  “We’ve been waiting for you to come to us. We’ve kept it amongst ourselves,” Solomon explains. “Who has had their suspicions about these two?”

  Three-fourths of the room raise their hands. “And I’m pretty sure I can speak for almost everyone when I say you’re less of an asshole with Ryder in your life, so if you’re asking, you have the team’s blessing. And we’ve got your back.” Solomon continues to stand and looks around the room, as most everyone echoes in agreement. “And if you need anything, just ask. As for stupid comments, you know they’re coming. But we’ve got you two, and we won’t put up with asinine remarks.”

  Solomon is a quiet man, but when he speaks, it’s profound. Crush puts his arm around the nape of my neck, pulling me into his space, and the entire team heckles us. I’ve never been so happy being heckled as I am in the here and now.

  The team clears out, and Garrison’s crew comes in to set up for the live newscast on several sports networks, introducing us to Hunter Graves, who’ll be interviewing us.

  I slide into a chair that sits in front of my locker with Ryder next to me.

  “Now, we’re going to start with you, Mr. Colton. And Mr. Hanley will be next to you, but in the beginning, the audience will only see you. I’ll ask you some questions, prompting your answer, where you can share about your relationship between you and Mr. Hanley,” Hunter explains.

  I nod, my knees shaking until Ry’s touch calms them.