Risk

by Baylin Crow

  “Nah, I’m good.” I took another pull of my beer.

  “Sure, okay.” He rolled his eyes. “Is there a reason you’re staring daggers at your phone?”

  I hadn’t realized I’d been doing that, but then I had a genius idea.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ASHER

  “You didn’t tell me you had a houseguest.” Blake arched a brow.

  He and I met up at least once every other week to shoot the shit, so we were sitting in a pub not far from my apartment.

  “Don’t start. It’s not like that.” I took a sip of my water, hoping he’d leave it alone. I didn’t want to discuss Drew. He wasn’t anyone’s business, including my best friend’s.

  “Sure about that?” Blake asked, looking surprisingly concerned.

  “Yup,” I clipped, not even attempting to disguise my irritation. “He’s my coach’s nephew, and he’s only staying with me temporarily. Anything else?”

  “Okay, okay.” He raised his hands in a placating manner. I’d been looking forward to getting out of the house and away from Drew, and here we were talking about him.

  “I’m serious,” I insisted. “Nothing’s going on.” And nothing was going to happen. Drew had made it clear he wasn’t going to act on whatever this was, and I was done thinking about it.

  “Why do I get the feel—”

  “How’s Halle?” I interrupted him.

  Blake’s face lit up, all traces of worry vanished. “She’s great. A little morning sickness and tired most of the time, but the doctor assured us it’s normal and should ease some by her second trimester.”

  “That’s great news.” I smiled, genuinely happy for them. “You planning on tying the knot soon?”

  “She wants to wait until after the baby’s born. She wants a mermaid-style dress, whatever the hell that is. Says she can’t do that with a belly full of baby.” He looked so damn happy, and an odd pang attacked my chest.

  We talked some more, and when the waiter brought our food, Blake made a crack about what I’d ordered, reminding me again of Drew. I couldn’t get him out of my head. Done, I reminded myself.

  My pocket buzzed, and I automatically reached for my phone.

  “Hows yourr date”

  What in the actual fuck? My brows furrowed, wondering what had gotten into Drew.

  “Everything okay?” Blake asked. I looked up to see his brow furrowed, his head tilted in question.

  “I have no idea.” I shook my head and started to type out a response, but my phone buzzed again.

  “I hop you enjoy your date. There a hot redhead sit ting at the brr with my name practically stamp ed on her ass.”

  Attached to his text was a photo of a pretty girl with a martini glass pressed against her red lips.

  Anger swiftly rose and blood pounded in my ears. My jaw clenched, teeth grinding. What the hell was Drew playing at? Was he purposely trying to piss me off? And he was at a bar? I growled. Drew had made it crystal-fucking-clear he wasn’t interested and then he pulls this shit, acting a like a jealous boyfriend? Before responding and making things worse, I took a few calming breaths.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Of course not. That would be breakking the rutes.” Only a second passed before the next text appeared. “rules*”

  I closed my eyes, taking a calming breath and wondering why auto-correction seemed to be failing him.

  “Where are you?” I wanted to sigh over the situation, but Blake already had enough questions without my outward frustration sparking more.

  “With Brody. Y you going to leve your hot date and com come savey me?”

  Shaking my head, I turned to my friend. “Look, Blake, I’m sorry. I have to go deal with something.”

  “Something or someone?” Cheeky bastard.

  Shooting him my best glower only managed to make him laugh.

  “I’m going to finish my beer and then head out,” he said, slouching further into his seat.

  “I’m sorry, man.” I stood and gave him an apologetic smile.

  “Nope, don’t apologize. Good luck.”

  “I’m not the one who needs it,” I grumbled, grabbing my wallet out of my pocket.

  “We’ll agree to disagree,” he said, hiding his smile behind his beer. He was enjoying this way too much.

  I threw down a fifty. “Later, man.”

  The two blocks we’d taken on foot to get to the pub seemed much farther on the way back as I speed-walked. As soon as the parking garage was in sight, I broke into a jog to get to my truck, taking my key fob out of my pocket and unlocking the door before climbing up. After I closed my door, I pulled my phone back out of my pocket. There hadn’t been another text from Drew so I typed quickly.

  “Where the hell are you?” My fingers drummed against the steering wheel as I waited for his reply. After two minutes passed, my fingers began to ache. I’d been gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles had turned white. Finally, a new message popped up.

  “Out.” His response had me gritting my teeth in frustration. It was extremely tempting to leave his ass where he was, but I couldn’t do it, and that made me angry at myself.

  “Real mature.” Scrubbing my face with my hands, I blew out a steadying breath. He was still my friend after all.

  Pulling up Brody’s number, I sent him a text. “What’s going on tonight?”

  My eyes stayed glued to the phone. His response came back less than a minute later. “Hanging with some of the boys at Bailey’s. You coming out tonight?”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I started up my truck and pulled out of the garage and turned into the busy weekend traffic. I’d been to that bar a few times. It was on the other side of town. I may have broken the speed limit on my rush to get there.

  When I found the place, the street parking was full, so I pulled around the corner to a lot where I managed to find a single remaining space.

  After throwing the truck in park, I took off for the bar. The dim lighting inside made it difficult to find him as I scanned the room. The redhead from the picture still sat at the bar, but I didn’t see Drew around her.

  After walking in a little farther, I found my drunken friend alone in a booth, head perched on one hand, elbow on the table. Since he was looking down, he didn’t see me approach. When I got closer, I saw his other hand’s fingers were stained with ink as he doodled on a napkin, squinting in concentration.

  I looked around and spotted the other guys playing darts. Brody looked up, and I motioned at Drew and then the door. He nodded back but looked confused.

  “Let’s go,” I barked, causing Drew to jump and drop the pen. He recovered quickly, shooting me a glare but still got up. He snatched up the napkin and balled it in his fist before shoving it into his pocket and left the pen behind as he followed me through the maze of tables and out into the night. I was glad he hadn’t fought me or caused a scene.

  As soon as the door closed behind us, Drew laughed. “I’m surprised you were able to get away from your date.” His slurred words let me know he’d had too much to drink, as if his drunken texts had left any doubt.

  I whipped around to face him and stared him down. “It wasn’t a date. What the hell is your problem?” I couldn’t help but think he was acting like a spurned lover, and I was tired of trying to figure him out. Furthermore, he’d gotten me riled up like some jealous boyfriend, which wasn’t my style at all.

  He stood there, staring at me, and I realized we’d stopped on the sidewalk to glare at each other.

  “Whatever you say, man.” He tried for casual, but there was an undertone of disbelief.

  “Blake is a friend. He’s getting married, and his soon-to-be-wife is pregnant.” When his eyes grew wider, I raised an eyebrow. “You know what I think?”

  “Nope,” he said and started walking in the wrong direction.

  “Wrong way, idiot.” I gripped his arm and spun him around.

  He said nothing and headed the correct way this time. I wasn’
t going to let this go though. I bent down and whispered from behind him. “I think you had a problem with me going tonight because you thought it was a date. I wonder why that is.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into it.” He stumbled a bit, and I reached to straighten him but was shrugged off.

  “So what’s with the hostile text messages then?” I challenged.

  He released a sigh that felt heavy, even to me. Finally, he stopped walking and turned to look at me. I saw it. The want. I practically growled. His eyes darkened, and I imagined mine had done the same.

  I had to remind myself how much he’d had to drink and to get him in bed as soon as possible. In bed. The thought struck like lightning, the image searing itself into my brain. Drew Everly in my bed. Naked. Underneath me.

  My jeans grew tighter at the same time he reached for me. He’d definitely had too much to drink. We were out in the open. I twisted his body back around and pushed him forward before he could do damage he couldn’t take back.

  “Home. Now,” I ordered. He didn’t give me any more trouble as we found my truck and I lifted him in. I turned the radio up loud enough that I wouldn’t be expected to say anything. If I spoke right now, I was afraid I’d tell him how much I wanted to fuck him. And how much he’d enjoy it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DREW

  “You need to sleep it off.” Asher had the sexiest voice I’d ever heard. He’d ushered me upstairs and through the apartment until we stood in my bedroom.

  “I’m tired, Asher. I’m tired of it all,” I mumbled, trying to organize my thoughts.

  “Tired of what?” He looked perplexed, and I couldn’t blame him. I’d been sending mixed messages but didn’t know how to stop. How the fuck do you just stop being straight?

  When I didn’t respond, he gently pushed me by my shoulders down onto the bed. “You had too much to drink. Sleep it off,” he repeated. “If you still need to talk about whatever’s eating you, I’ll be here tomorrow.”

  He turned to go, and before I could talk myself out of it, I reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling on it until he turned around. His eyes went wide when I yanked hard. His heavy weight fell down on top of me.

  “Drew, what are you—”

  I didn’t have any answers. The only thing driving me was need. I grabbed the back of his head, the short buzzed hair scraping against my hand, and guided him down to me. My lips were on his again, finally. The firm yet soft feel drove me crazy, and I showed it by nipping at his lower lip and tugging on it.

  Asher’s groan made my already hard cock twitch. He lifted his head away, but we were still nose to nose. “This isn’t a good idea. You’ve had too much to drink.”

  Ignoring him, I dragged him back in and kissed him again. He growled against my mouth, parting his lips. His tongue licked the seam of my lips, coaxing me to open. I did, inviting him in fully to tangle his tongue with my own. He tasted so good, like mint and man, and I never wanted him to stop.

  He pulled away again and I desperately gripped his neck, needing him to continue the kiss, but he resisted. His breath fanned over my face before he leaned forward again, this time angling his face to the crook of my neck. My back arched and I clung to his shirt when his tongue darted out to trace down the rapid pulse on my neck. I moaned, instinctively thrusting my hips upward, grinding against the hard shaft in Asher’s jeans.

  With a violent jerk, Asher whipped his head away from me and stared at me with shock.

  “Fuck! I’m so sorry. Shit,” he said again as he jumped out of my bed like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

  “What’s wrong?” I watched as he paced with his hands rubbing his face.

  “You’re drunk and I just mauled you!” His voice boomed in anger, and he threw his hands up.

  “I pulled you down, remember?” I looked at him, waiting for him to realize he hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “Yes, I do. And I also remember picking you up after you drunk texted me. This was a mistake,” he mumbled. “Shit!”

  Without another word, he left, but was back within a few minutes. He set down two painkillers and some water on the side table and then left again, this time closing the door softly.

  What had just happened? Granted, the timing probably wasn’t the best, but what just happened wasn’t because I was admittedly tipsy. I’d already known I wanted him.

  I could fix this tomorrow. Maybe.

  The problem was I didn’t know if I’d be bold enough to explore that new side of my sexuality without some liquid courage. And above everything else, I had to remember Asher wasn’t into having a serious relationship. Not that I was looking for that either. Maybe I wouldn’t like everything that went along with being with another man. But since I was living here, even temporarily, this thing between us could get messy. I also didn’t have enough patience to resist his pull any longer either.

  ---

  I felt better than I deserved. Thanks to Asher, I only had the slightest hangover, and the drinks hadn’t done a thing to erase the memory of pulling Asher on top of me. I flushed with embarrassment over the whole thing. The immature jealous texts, making a move on him in public, and then the kiss. Not my finest moments, but I was glad I got to taste him again. Relief also washed over me. Climbing out of bed, I changed into a pair of soft blue shorts and cracked open my bedroom door.

  The smell of something amazing teased my senses, drawing me toward the kitchen where Asher banged around. Thankfully he’d given in and let me keep my own set of groceries, so I didn’t have to eat like an athlete without the payoff.

  I stood at the entrance of the hall with a clear view of the open-concept kitchen. Asher had his back to me while flipping the waffle maker from one side to the other. He hadn’t bothered to dress yet and was only wearing a pair of black shorts. His back muscles flexed with every movement, and now that I’d allowed myself to look, I didn’t stop myself from fantasizing about the rest of his body.

  “You want a waffle?” His raspy voice startled me. “They’re cinnamon, just the way you like them.”

  I cleared the sleep from my throat. “Sure, sounds good.” It actually sounded amazing. On cue, my stomach grumbled, and one side of his mouth quirked up. It was that half crooked smile. The man was devastatingly sexy.

  He flipped one waffle on each of two plates, added bacon to the side, and brought them to the table where syrup was already waiting. After taking my seat, I reached for the sticky sweet goodness and dumped it on top of my breakfast. Asher went back to the kitchen and returned with two cups of coffee before settling down in the chair across from me.

  My brow lifted, and I gave him a questioning look while pointing at his plate with my fork that I’d just stabbed into a piece of my syrup-drenched waffle.

  “What? I can cheat every now and then.” He cut a piece and brought it to his mouth.

  He made a noise of appreciation as he licked his lips. My fingers ached, wanting to touch him. I shook my head and cleared my throat, and remembered it was Saturday. “Why aren’t you training?”

  “I’m going after breakfast. I’ll make up the time. It was a late night.” He gave me a meaningful look.

  My throat was dry, so I lifted my coffee cup to my lips. At my first sip, I groaned. Asher chuckled. “I thought you might need that this morning.”

  “I’m sorry about last night,” I began.

  He interrupted by holding up his hand to stop me. His voice went a little cold as he said, “I know, don’t worry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”

  “You know?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Yeah, you were drunk. If you can forgive me, let’s just forget about it.” He took another bite and stared down at his plate.

  “I don’t want to,” I admitted in a whisper. Did he want to forget it because he wasn’t feeling the same pull I did or because he thought I regretted it? Because after last night, I wanted to explore what this new attraction meant.

  A
sher stilled, and his eyes snapped up to meet mine. His intense gray stare seemed to look straight though me. “You don’t want to?”

  “I wanted it. I still want it.” I swallowed hard as I watched a hundred emotions play over his face. His mouth opened and then closed. He repeated the action one more time then released a pent-up breath and closed his eyes.

  “You’re not gay.” He seemed to be trying to work something out in his head. I wasn’t sure what there was to clear up.

  His eyes opened once more to look at me. He searched my face. Whether for answers to unasked questions or for signs of dishonesty, I didn’t know.

  “I’m not,” I replied automatically. Shaking my head, I corrected myself. “I wasn’t.” I threw my hands in the air. “Hell, look. I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve never been attracted to another guy before. With you, it’s different. It has been since the day I met you. I didn’t know what it was at the time. It became a little clearer over time…if you know what I mean.” I coughed into my hand uneasily.

  Finally, I relaxed for the first time since sitting at the table when a small smile broke across his handsome face. “No, what exactly do you mean?” he growled.

  “My shorts became a bit uncomfortable around you.” I smiled, feeling free to tease him back.

  His eyes narrowed. “You got hard looking at me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “All the time.” I nodded.

  “Fuck.” He groaned and rose from his chair, roughly pushing it to the side before rounding the table.

  I tensed. What would he do, and was I ready for it? When he leaned down, I thought for sure he’d kiss me, but at the last second, he turned to the side to whisper in my ear.

  “I don’t think you’re ready yet, but I can’t go to the gym like this.” He pointed to the obvious bulge in his shorts. “So I’m about to go jack off to the thought of being on my knees, between your legs, your cock in my mouth. Licking and sucking you until you come.” Asher growled the last bit, and the image of Asher on his knees came to life so fast I almost came in my shorts. My balls ached as I held back my orgasm.