Page 33 of Topping the Jock
“Can I ask you something?” Monty said.
“You can ask, but there’s no guarantee I’ll answer.”
“Why did youreallycome into the locker room yesterday?” he asked. “My head’s still spinning from it.”
“I told you why. To talk.”
“We did a hell of a lot more than talking.”
Yeah, I remembered. I had gone home and taken a shower, stroking myself to the memory of Monty’s groans as the water had fallen down on me. Then, I’d gone to Reed’s house and stayed for a few hours before going back home and touching myself a second time. My hand seemed to be glued to my cock because of Monty. The bastard.
“Whatever we did… it won’t happen again.”
It was safer that way.
“Why?” Monty asked, nearly closing the gap between us as he took another step forward. We were definitely standing too close, but I couldn’t bring myself to step away. Because I wanted to be close to him. Wanted to push him against the wall and claim his lips again. “You shocked the hell outta me yesterday, Quinn. I didn’t know you had that in you.”
That makes two of us.
I glanced around, seeing a few members of the team coming down the hall toward us. “We shouldn’t talk about it here.”
I went to step away, and he touched my arm. “Whencanwe talk about it?”
“Hey, Coach Adams!” Trent, the biggest boy of the group, called out once he was ten or so feet away. “Gotta question about tonight.”
“Duty calls,” I said to Monty, taking a step back.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he responded. “Not by a long shot.”
“We’ll see.”
But as I turned and went down the hall toward the exit doors, I knew he was right. None of it was over—not the conversation or the urge to make him scream my name as I pounded into him.
No… things were just getting started.
Chapter Seven
Monty
“Happy Birthday, you sexy bastard,” Zane said as I answered the phone at the butt-ass crack of dawn Saturday morning.
“Huh?” I croaked, half-asleep.
“Your birthday is September nineteenth, right? Shit, I’ve been your best bud for fifteen years. I better not have mixed up the days.”
Squinting through bleary eyes, I sat up in bed and looked around the dark room. “No. You’re right. I just forgot that was today.”
“You forgot about your birthday? Man, that’s sad.”
Well, when you didn’t have many friends who lived close by or family, things like birthdays and holidays didn’t mean as much. It felt like any other day. No one to celebrate with.
“You wanna come up to Seattle and stay the night? We can hit a club or something.”
“Courtney would kill you,” I said with a nervous laugh. His wife was a hard-ass. But she had a reason to be. Over the summer, Zane and I had gone to Vegas for a week, and he had gotten totally wasted one night and hooked up with a random chick. I had been drunk too at the time and hadn’t really done much to stop him. It had made Courtney dislike me a little.
Okay, more than a little. She said I was a bad influence and believed he never would’ve cheated on her if he hadn’t been with me.
“Shit. You’re right,” Zane said, breathing into the phone as he sighed. “The girl’s paranoid that I have a side piece.”
