Page 64 of When I'm Gone

Game seven is tonight, which is what brought this little get-together on, so we can all soak up the fresh night air and hopefully watch Blakely’s husband win his first championship. She’s been texting me damn near constantly since Texas won game six, forcing another game, a couple of days ago. She’s a yo-yo of calm, cool, and collected, saying things like they’ve totally got this, and Texas doesn’t stand a chance, to threatening to get shit-faced and pass out before it even starts because there’s no way in hell I can watch this. It’s been a fucking nail-biter so far, which I’m sure has Blakely turned entirely inside out by this point, and we’re not even through the third period yet.

“What do you think Landon said to these motherfuckers to have them be fouling him like this?”

Brady coughs a laugh. “He’s definitely been mouthing off by this point. Seven games against the same team so close together is an exercise of his patience.”

I rub circles on the sensitive skin at the crease of Easton’s thigh. “I’m still trying to get over the fact that you guys know a real live NBA player,” he rushes out to distract himself.

His back is to my chest while we’re stretched out across my outdoor sofa, and the blanket covering our legs and his lap is making me bold. Brady’s engrossed in the TV and isn’t paying my wandering hands on his brother the slightest bit of attention. I severely doubt he could see much in the dark anyway, the shadows from the screen and the firepit are my friends. Teasing Easton and getting him all wound up is way more entertaining than a basketball game, Blake forgive me,but I can appreciate the opportunity it’s providing me to have my fun without him being able to do a damn thing about it.

The spot where his throat meets his shoulder looks all too inviting, so I suck on it, making Easton dig his fingers into his thighs to keep silent. After releasing him, I say, “If you had seen him pining after Blake for years, you wouldn’t say that.”

A soft smile touches his lips. “It’s kind of sweet, though, isn’t it?”

There surely is something clever, or romantic I could have said there, but then Brady yells, “It’s a fucking free throw, my guy, a ten-year-old can do it.”

By the time there’s five minutes left in the game, Easton is squirming impatiently, and L.A. is only five points behind, which seems like a fucking lot to Blakely. Poor thing wasn’t cut out for a life of professional sports, there’s a very good reason Landon always takes her somewhere luxurious in the off-season. “Think they’ll manage to scrape out a win?” I ask Brady. Easton glares at me, most likely for reminding him that we’re not alone, but his patience will be rewarded soon.

Brady rubs his eyes aggressively. “Maybe. They’re tired but so is Texas.”

My sweet Chaos’s cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, and as my fingers ghost over the warm skin beneath his waistband, I feel him throb. He’s been hard most of the game, and he’s becoming progressively desperate to come. Just what I wanted. My best friend will not be sticking around long.

A couple of lay-ups and a last ditch shot from half court later, I get to see the guy who once passed out in the front yard of a frat house for an entire night win the championship only two seasons into his career, and we catch a money shot of Blakely finding the love of her life in the melee and getting scooped up and kissed within an inch of her life. Easton’sright, it is sweet. Landon and I were never nearly as close as I am to his wife, but there really isn’t a better match for her on the planet. She deserves to have a love that’s seamless, and it was obvious all along that he was prepared to be the guy she wasn’t afraid to fall for. Saying I’m happy for him is a gross understatement.

But now it’s time for the real show. If Easton is harboring any illusions that I’m not going to pounce on him the second Brady is out of sight, he has no idea what he does to me.

“Well, what do you know? Good for Landon. I wasn’t sure they would pull it off,” Brady admits.

“Good for us, too. Basketball season is over for a while.” Brady laughs, and thankfully, pushes to his feet.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” he advises in a teasing tone.

Yeah, I’m not super worried. Blakely didn’t really enjoy it much at first either. She’s his biggest fan, not the sport as a whole. “I’m not sure he’ll be conscious enough to be concerned one way or the other for a while.”

My friend rolls his eyes. “True. She’s going to have to peel him off the floor to get him on the plane this year.”

“Nah, she’ll be down bad right beside him.” The team is already worshiped in Los Angeles. They’re going to get treated better than the King of England when their jet touches down for years to come.

Brady mutters a fond probably before ruffling my hair as he walks past. “You kids have fun.”

Easton flushes crimson, but I only smile. “See you tomorrow, Bray.” He doesn’t know shit about what we’ve been doing, he says that phrase all the damn time, but I’m certainly not telling his brother that. We both twist around and watch through the patio door as Brady makes his way through the house. With one last final wave at the door that we return, my sweet, sweet Chaos and I are alone.

He meets me in a blistering kiss that I return with ferocity. He groans when our tongues connect, tangling in a battle of dominance that is so incredibly unlike Easton, it takes me by complete surprise. He’s submissive by nature, letting me take the reins and make his body feel good. Seeing him take over, rotating on top of me without separating where our bodies are joined, feels like earning another puzzle piece that he’s not quite sure what to do with. This one, unlike the others he’s given me, I know exactly how to handle.

A groan rattles his chest as he deepens the kiss and starts rocking his hips restlessly on my lap, seeking friction. “Unless you want your brother to hear the sounds you make for me, you better get your ass inside, sweetheart,” I growl, nipping his pouty bottom lip.

He scrambles off me faster than I’ve ever seen him move, pausing at the door to look back and ask, “You coming or what?” A challenge darkens his eyes, and it’s one I’m more than ready to accept.

~~~

Easton

The desire in his gaze goes straight to my already aching dick. He wants me. Me. Just as I am. There’s nothing special about my body, I’m not brilliant or beautiful. But the lust darkening his fascinating eyes is enough to have butterflies fluttering madly in my stomach. He’s not calling me attention-seeking or making me earn his affection. I don’t have to be “good” for him to find me attractive and worthy.

Chase is almost predatory in his obvious perusal, cataloging every square inch of me, like he has all the time in the world to drive me crazy. He stands slowly, and I resist the urge to gulp. I want him so fucking much, but no one has ever wanted me a fraction as much as Chase so obviously does. It’s confusing, but there’s no way I’m going to protest.He’s going to wise up one day and be done with me, but until then, I want everything he is willing to give me.

“Where’d you go just now, sweetheart?” he murmurs, a thumb stroking along my cheekbone. I didn’t even notice him approaching me. My train of thought is my worst enemy.

Winding my arms around his neck, I whisper, “I’m glad I have you to myself for the rest of the night.”

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