Page 25 of From Coast to Coast

“This isn’t some elaborate plan to fuck with me, is it?”

“I just figured out it was you tonight, I swear,” I tell him earnestly. “I wouldn’t mess with you on this, believe me.”

I hold my hands up again like I’m surrendering and wait for Grayson to say something.

CHAPTER SIX

Grayson

There issomething seriously wrong about the way my heart leapt with excitement when Remy said he’s the one I’ve been chatting with. Remy with his saltwater and sun-bleached hair; smooth, tan skin; hazel eyes and crooked smile. He’s exactly the sort of guy I picture when I allow myself to fantasize about the future. He’s also my teammate, roommate, and friend who apparently, just recently, got divorced and is wanting to experiment.Fuck.

“I wouldn’t mess with you on this, believe me,” he says, eyes wide with distress and mouth pinched as he raises his hands up. I believe him. He looks too panicked to be saying anything but the truth.

Trying to give myself another second or two, I look down at Remy’s phone screen which is a terrible fucking idea. He’s still got that damn photo pulled up—the same lightly muscled abdomen that’s standing in front of me right now, complete with a very nice and very erect cock. I close myeyes.I jacked off to a naked picture of Remy Stone and had the best orgasm I’ve had in months. Way to fucking go, Gray, you goddamn idiot.

“This is a little bit humiliating,” I say, opening my eyes and meeting his.

“I know,” he answers, an apologetic twist to his mouth. “More for me than you, though. I’m the idiot who didn’t figure out it was you even though you used your real name. I’m sorry, Grayson.”

“I…I’m sorry about your divorce,” I say, feeling the lines between our real and our internet selves dissecting.

“Thanks. I was too, at the beginning. But now…” He trails off, biting the side of his lip and looking up at me. “Now I’m feeling okay about it. It was the right call. So was that”—he points to his phone—“for the record. I really enjoyed talking to you and stuff, and that doesn’t change now that I know it’syou.”

Christ, I wish he would put a shirt on. I reach out and click the lock button on the side of his phone so that his dick isn’t staring me in the face any longer. My eyes track to the slim, white surgical scar on his stomach becausethat’san appropriate place to rest my gaze. Feeling the burn of embarrassment deep in my chest, I stare resolutely at the wall above his left shoulder.

“I hope I didn’t offend you, or anything,” he says slowly. “With the whole straight-guy-wanting-to-experiment-with-dudes thing. I thought a dating app would be the safest place to do that, but…”

“But then you matched with the only gay guy you already know in Canada?” I ask wryly, and Remy laughs. “You didn’t offend me.”

Honestly, offended was the very last thing I felt when hetold me he wanted to experiment with guys. The thought of teaching him and showing him all of those firsts had been enticing. Offended—definitely not. It had been a turn-on.Fuck, how am I supposed to live with the guy now that I’ve been using him to get off for the past couple of weeks?

The thought makes me laugh. A strangled, slightly manic sound that bubbles up from my stomach and breaks the silence between us. Remy, as though waiting for this exact thing, laughs too. He leans forward, elbows on the island and palms over his eyes, as he chuckles softly. Staring down at him, I watch the fluid motion of his shoulder muscles. He’s got something of a swimmer’s build: broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist, not overtly muscular but more beautifully so. He looks like a work of art.

“This isn’t going to work,” I say, when my fingers start buzzing with the desire to trace the line of his spine. He looks up at me.

“What?”

I indicate the space between us with my pointer finger. “This. Living together and working together…it’s not going to work. Not now that I know you’re the one I’ve been?—"

“Why?” He stands up, placing his palms flat on the island and leaning toward me. He looks genuinely curious, like he really cannot fathom why this clusterfuck is the precursor to disaster.

“Why? Because I’ve been fantasizing about fucking that man”—I point to his phone—“ever since he sent me that first picture. I can’t just go back to living with you and treating you like my roommate—I haven’t got that level of self-control. Not when you walk around like that.”

I wave a hand at him, trying to encompass the raw sex appeal of grey sweatpants and a bare chest. He looks downat himself as though needing a reminder of what he’s wearing. Or not wearing, because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have underwear on. He runs a hand through his hair and grins.

“I can put a shirt on,” he offers, and I scowl at him. His smile kicks up another notch. “I’ve had a few fantasies myself.”

Oh, dear god.He rakes his eyes over me, lingering on my chest before trailing slowly downward. I’m fully dressed, but might as well be naked with how that look makes me feel.

“This isn’t going to work,” I repeat.

“Grayson,” he says, and takes a step around the counter toward me. “Let’s just…can we just have a conversation about this? It’s not a big deal.”

“Listen,” I start, swallowing around the knot in my throat. “We play together, and we live together, and I’m already a fucking pariah on this team. I’m not bringing you into that shit, Remy, I’m not going to do it. Besides, nothing’s happened yet. We can chalk this up to an embarrassing coincidence and move on.”

“I like you, though,” he says, and I hold back a frustrated groan.

“You can find someone else.” I push his phone back across the counter to him, but he doesn’t make a move to pick it up or look away from me.

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