Page 18 of Provoking the Punter

Only then did he realize his error: the mistake was letting Garrett leave.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Garrett hadn’t drunk any alcohol, but he felt rough as if he had. Maybe it was the lack of sleep caused by the memories of sucking Chester’s cock.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

He’d dropped to his knees without a second thought. Like he hadn’t been able to resist the offered dick… and he hadn’t. He didn’t even have the excuse that he’d been drinking.

He’d come out to a stranger.

He pushed his anger and frustration into the weights. Sure, it was Tuesday, and many of the guys took half the day off. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He wanted to adjust to his new training program, and he wanted to get some extra practice with the long snapper, Hulme.

What had happened to his vow of no drinking and no hook ups?

The first was intact, but the latter was in tatters.

Though was it really? They’d met in person and flirted a little. Well, Chester had flirted. He’d been awkward as fuck because he didn’t know what to do. But Chester had made it easy and let him take what he wanted.

There’d been chemistry. Not teenage lust mixed with convenience which he might have confused for being love once upon a time, but a snap of attraction and a heat he’d wanted to bask in and explore.

He should’ve stayed.

As much as he’d wanted to, he didn’t need to double down on one bad idea with another one. On the drive back to the hotel, with his dick throbbing, he’d questioned his sanity. It would’ve been much nicer to have Chester’s hand or mouth on him instead of his own hand.

The thing was, random guys had sucked him off. That was easy to get with an app and a flick of a finger. It wasn’t any harder to find someone to fuck. But he hadn’t wanted that with Chester. Which was fucking stupid because he didn’t have anything with Chester.

He didn’t even know him.

No, but he knew enough that boxes had been ticked before he even arrived at Bathtubs. Smart, successful, out. Garrett had been primed for the fall before they’d met. Shaking his hand, he thought he’d imagined the warmth in Chester’s brown eyes. He’d almost convinced himself until that comment about only lasting two minutes. The way Chester had looked at him as he’d taken a drink… That had been something else.

That is what people meant when they said there was chemistry. It was a completely different feeling—one that made his heartbeat unsteady versus the scratch the itch kind of sex he allowed himself.

He completed the reps and lay on the bench, catching his breath.

Chester knew everything.

And if he knew everything, how many other people would piece the truth together? What happened then? What would come out with the inevitable divorce?

He did not want to be part of that circus.

Nor did he want to be forced out. Not while his position was so insecure. He sat up and shook his head. He’d believed his position was secure at the Copperheads. If he hadn’t gone out for his birthday, it might’ve still been.

“Fuck.” He raked his fingers through his hair. His mind filled with memories of Chester doing the same, of watching him as he swallowed.

“Double fuck.” It was a mistake. They both knew that. Yet, he’d do it again in a heartbeat if given the chance. He liked the way Chester had let him explore and take his time. He wanted more of that, of exploring this attraction instead of burying it.

He groaned and took a drink of water.

He shouldn’t have swallowed.

It’s not as though he asked about Chesters’s history. They hadn’t discussed any of that. Having those kinds of conversations was why he found it easier to scroll through an app, arrange something, and turn up with a condom in his pocket. Everyone knew what they were getting.

But that kind of sex had become like tearing up a cereal box, pouring milk over the top, and eating that instead of the cereal. He needed more than cardboard sex and forgettable faces—assuming he even saw their faces.

Fuck, his life was sad. Yet there were a thousand people willing to take his place without needing to be asked twice. He exhaled, wiped the bench, and moved on to the next stop in his workout plan.

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