Page 15 of Fair Catch

And like with my roommate, I’m planning to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Five

Kason

Early morning lifting sessions paired with finally getting back on the field for practice has been kicking my ass the past two weeks, and now that we are officially back in classes, I feel like death warmed over.

But it’s our one day off a week, which means today, I have no intention of doing a goddamn thing besides veg out on the couch watching something mindless. The only task before that is taking a shower to wake my ass up.

Lathering shampoo in my hair, I allow my mind to start wandering wherever it wants to go, meandering through nothing in particular. Thoughts of practice, of some of the new plays, of what I could make for dinner tonight.

Food makes my mind shift back to the run-in with Hayes and his leftovers—which I still haven’t gotten him back for, seeing as he’s been such a douche ever since—and thinking about Hayes being a dick makes me think about all the bickering moments we’ve had over the past three weeks. One of which stands out most vividly in my mind: the morning he was in my bedroom wearing nothing but his underwear. Don’t ask me how that thought process happens, but it does, and what’s worse is my mind fixating on it.

I wasn’t wrong when I’d thought Hayes could pass for a Greek god, and seeing him damn near naked was further proof of it.

He must hit the gym at least a couple times a week with how lean and toned his muscles are, like that of a swimmer or a track runner. Otherwise, he has to have one high metabolism to have a body like that with little to no effort.

I’ve done my best to ignore the attraction I feel for Hayes—a feat that’s usually pretty easy, considering he’s more prickly than a porcupine in a cactus patch. But then there are moments where I can’t help but notice.

That morning was definitely one of them.

My dick feels heavy between my legs as I remember the lines between each of his abs on his stomach, the shape of his pecs where they meet his collar bone. The width of his shoulders and the curved muscles on his arms.

And God, those fucking eyes; two blue pools of animosity and disdain.

I’m aching for release in no time as I wrap my hand around my length. Giving a harsh squeeze to the tip, I do my best to push down the desire building in my lower stomach.

But I can’t fight the way my brain remembers details of his body I’d only seen once. Can’t keep my hand from reaching for the body wash. Can’t stop myself from pouring it on my erection that could cut diamonds.

Can’t hold back the harsh breath leaving me as I give in to the lust, stroking my length to thoughts of the one person I shouldn’t.

My teeth sink into my lower lip, biting back a moan so Hayes doesn’t hear me from down the hall. Things are tense enough between us, what with the alarms and the food and the completely opposite schedules. The last thing I want is to tack on another reason for him to hate me.

But as my fist moves faster over my cock, twisting around the head before dropping back to the base, I can’t help the little noises that manage to slip free.

“Mmm, fuck,” I groan, my head pressing into the cool tile of the shower wall.

My mind runs on a loop through images of Hayes’ body like a flipbook, each delectable piece turning me on, building the need for release in my balls and curling at the base of my spine.

And God, those stunning, hate-filled eyes that—

The sound of a faucet running a little too close to be coming all the way from the kitchen has my hair standing on end, and not in the pending-orgasm way.

Dropping my cock like it’s a live grenade, I grab the shower curtain and pull it back enough to see the rest of the bathroom, praying that my intuition is wrong. That I’m just hearing things, and I’m still alone.

But sure as shit, my worst fears are realized.

Because there’s Hayes, dressed in a hoodie and jeans with his back to me.

Only five feet away…brushing his goddamn teeth.

“What the hell, Hayes?” I snap, squeezing the tip of my dick painfully hard in efforts to deflate it.

He glances up, meeting my gaze through the mirror that’s begun to fog and arches his brow in one of those looks that sayswhat?

I let out a mortified laugh, because what the hell else can I do besides laugh about the object of my desire being in the same room while I’m getting off to thoughts of him?

“I…Um,” I stumble, attempting to wrangle my thoughts into a sentence. “Did you somehow fail to notice the shower was running when you walked in here?”

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