Page 29 of Go Deep

My lips curl upward. “I hope so. I like games.”

Fuck, I did it again.

Electricity crackles in the air between us, and all of the voices fade to white noise leaving us in our own little bubble of lust.

Well, it’s my bubble, but now that I have Vince in here with me, I’m going to keep him until he begs me for a way out.

I’m mesmerized by the way his lips move, forming each and every word. I don’t even blink, I’m so entranced by that mouth…the one I want wrapped tight around my throbbing cock.

“I never play games where money is concerned.”

“That’s too bad.” I squeeze my knees together. Why the hell am I torturing myself like this? I only came to this shindig because Neil told me I needed to show my face a little morebefore the season begins. He’s sniffing out endorsement deals, so he figures the more I’m in the public eye, the more of a shot I’ll have to be the new face of a brand of some product or other.

I know coming out made his job that much harder, since there are so many bigoted pricks out there. I guess he wants me to show people I’m not some diabolical freak. If I become the face of Nike, I’ll be his golden boy again.

Jesus, like we’re back in the goddamn Stone Age or something. But since being a gay football player isn’t exactly mainstream, not all people are accepting. Some ignorant assholes still believe strength and brawn is reserved for the heteros, even though I can run rings around most of those straight yahoos.

Case in point, Jase Maxwell, my dickhead teammate who’s supposed to be protecting me on the field, not causing me massive shoulder trauma because he believes all gays should be banished from the planet.

Vince is still talking about his portfolio. At least, I think he is. I kind of zoned out after that first minute or so, not that my gaze moved away from his face. I don’t give a damn about his strategies for managing money, but I’d listen to him recite the Gettysburg Address just to keep him close.

His olive skin is slightly flushed, his eyes glimmering in the dim light. His voice rumbles through me like an ocean wave gathering force as it moves closer to the shore. I want it to wash over me.

No, I take that back. I want it to pummel the fuck out of me.

Okay, I may need to lay off the booze. My head is starting to get a little fuzzy, and I’m not sure what’ll happen if I try to stand. But the waitresses keep coming around with shot glasses, and I’m tossing them back like they’re water. Maybe it’s because Vince Castro has my cock swollen to the pointwhere I can’t even shift in this chair without advertising his effect on me.

I swallow a groan. The guy has a fucking hot ass girlfriend. I’m sure his dick is thoroughly occupied. He’s not interested in mine.

Jase Maxwell appears out of the crowd, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Kelly! Good to see you’re still in one piece after practice the other day. I thought your old ass was on the brink of retirement after that shoulder pull.”

What an asshole. God, I hate that guy. And for the record, I’m exactly twenty-three months older than him. Who the hell invited him, anyway?

“Shoulder’s fine, thanks for asking.” I down the rest of the shot. My mind isn’t nearly numb enough to have even a semi-civil conversation with him. Not since my announcement. I thought teammates were supposed to be tight, like family. Stupid me, since I’d learned the hard lesson when my own father disregarded my lifestyle.

That’s part of my problem. I always give people the benefit of the doubt. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they don’t deserve it. Jase is no exception.

Jase raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Vince. “Friend of yours?”

I hate that accusatory tone. If I could stand up without pitching a tent in my pants, I’d knock that smug smirk off his face.

“I’m his portfolio manager.” Vince’s voice is so smooth, it slithers right through me. Makes me warm all over. Well, maybe that’s part Jack Daniel’s, but the half-hard on buried in my pants? Yeah, that’s all Vince.

Vince stands, holding out a hand. “And you are?”

I have to swallow a laugh. Of course he knows who Jase is.Guy was the biggest draft pick a few seasons ago. Vince would have to be living under a rock not to recognize him.

The look of shock that flits across Jase’s face is priceless. Oh Christ, I’m so glad to be conscious enough to witness it.

“Jase Maxwell. Cincinnati Crusaders.” Jase takes Vince’s hand and pumps it a couple of times before dropping it like it’s on fire.

“Nice to meet you. Vince Castro.”

The look of shock morphs into awe. “VinceCastro? The finance guru? It’s great to meet you. I’m a big fan of your father’s. He’s doing great things for the state and for the country. He’s got such strong values and beliefs.” Jase flashes a look of disgust at me. “I can definitely see him as president one day. You must be really proud.”

What the hell was that whole diatribe for? I’ve never really been into politics, although I’m vaguely aware that there’s an election coming up soon. I’ve never been much into the voting process, and since this state is full of ignorant rednecks anyway, they always end up electing their own.

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