Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Once we were at the hotel, I checked the score of LA’s game while Tucker was in the shower. They were up by one touchdown. It was shitty because I wanted them to win for Houston’s sake, but I wanted them to lose for ours. They were our fucking rivals, and I sure as shit would love not to have to face them in the playoffs. My need for Houston to succeed won out over my desire for them to lose.
“We’re going out tonight, Atwood,” Tucker said, coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Water droplets clung to his brown skin.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“We just won a fucking game. We’re going out for a drink. Houston will understand.”
“It’s not because of him.” I bristled. It kinda was because of him. It wasn’t like I was going to hook up, but I wanted to watch the rest of his game, then call and congratulate him when it was over.
Tucker cocked a brow. “You’re feelin’ him for real.”
“No I’m not,” I lied.
“You’d be crazy not to. He’s fine as fuck.”
My head shot up, gaze pinning him. What the fuck. He wanted Houston? “He’s taken.” Tucker busted up laughing. “Fuck you.” I threw a pillow at his head, which he caught.
“I’m giving you shit. I’m not tryin’ to steal your man. I swear you should have seen the way you looked at me. I thought you were gonna attack.”
“You suck,” I replied.
“Let’s go get a drink, Atwood. Your man isn’t going anywhere.”
I nodded because what the fuck could it hurt? I was just sitting there anyway.
Tucker was waiting for me when I got out of the shower. We both wore ball caps, trying to go unnoticed. When we got downstairs, Ramsey, Garrett, and Cross were waiting for us.
“Dude…is that my brother’s hoodie?” Garrett asked.
Fuck my life. It was a plain hoodie. How did he know? “It’s all I had clean.”
“You know none of us believe that, right?” Ramsey questioned.
“You know I don’t care what you believe, right?” I countered, but I totally did.
“It smells like his cologne,” G added, nearly tripping he laughed so hard. “Did you spray that with his cologne?”
“Fuck off, baby G,” I growled. No, I hadn’t sprayed it…but I also hadn’t washed it either. Houston had liked to wear shit with my cologne on it in college. I thought I’d give it a try, too.
The bar was within walking distance. People stared as we went. I figured the group of us together wasn’t real discreet.
One of the guys must have called ahead because the club had a table in the VIP section for us. It wasn’t until we were seated and I had a beer in front of me that I realized that other than my little welcome party when I joined the team, this was the first time I’d been to a bar since coming to the Rush…which wasn’t like me. Usually, I did a whole hell of a lot of partying. Now, I was too busy with Houston all the time.
I nursed my beer and talked shit with the guys, but I was also distracted as fuck. LA won tonight, and I knew Houston had to be stoked. That helped me relax some.
“You’re still staying at Houston’s?” Cross asked before taking a drink from his frothy mug.
“Yep. He’s my boyfriend. He better let me stay at his place,” I joked. Cross was the only one there with us who didn’t know this thing with Houston was for show.
“Bet it’s nice not to have him up your ass all the time. He used to give me shit for being too messy,” Garrett said.
“Eh, I like him up my ass,” I replied. “He’s really good with his cock.”
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Ramsey replied.
“Prude,” I teased, just as my phone buzzed. I tugged it out of my pocket and smiled.
Houston: I got something for you. I suggest you be alone when you look.
Fuuuuuck. I had a feeling this was going to be good. I hid the phone beneath the table.
Me: I’m waiting.
It was only a couple of seconds later that a photo came through—Houston’s cock hard, his hand wrapped around it.
Me: Ten minutes.
I shoved to my feet.
“Going to take a piss?” Tucker asked.
“Nope. Heading back to the room. You’re gonna want to stay gone for a couple of hours, at minimum. Houston and I have a FaceTime date.” They all groaned, and I added, “Can’t help it that we have better sex than y’all.” I tossed a twenty on the table, laughing as they cursed me out while I walked away.
I speed walked to the room, my dick getting hard at just the thought of what we were gonna do. The whole time, I had to fight myself not to look at the photo…Houston fucking McRae sending me a dick pic. He was a naughty boy.