Page 34 of Cherry Picking
That doesn’t mean his hand traveling down my body doesn’t find my erection and give it a gentle tug.
“So naughty,” he grunts into my mouth, abandoning my cock to briefly rut his own against me.
When I wince, he pulls back, lips shiny and spit slicked as he swipes his tongue over them to taste us.
“I’m here for you, Riley.” Griff grabs my hand and places it over his heart. “No matter how this changes things. I want you in my life. Not just as my teammate or as my roommate, but as my partner.”
It’s not a discussion we’ve had, but goddamn does it feel right.
If I’m not playing hockey—if the excuse of not wanting the attention of an entire league on me for being queer is gone—does that mean I have to look at this part of myself that I’ve only ever allowed to live in the shadows out in the light?
Does that mean it’s time to stop hiding?
Am I ready for that?
Griffin takes my hand and drags it down his body, down the front of his jersey our equipment manager is going to kill him for taking out of the arena, down to the strain in his slacks.
I dart my eyes to the door, but Griffin groans deep and drags my attention back to him. Back to the heat in his emotion filled eyes.
“Touch me, Riley.”
I wrap my fingers around the outline of his length and give it a few slow, sensual strokes. His eyes flutter closed, and his head drops back as a rumbled moan slips from his throat.
“You’re mine,” he whispers as I find the damp spot around his tip and smooth over it with my thumb. “Even if it’s in secret: you’re mine.”
I don’t refute him, because he’s right. I’ve only ever cared for one other person the way I care for him, and it never held the intensity that I feel when I’m with Griffin—it doesn’t hold a candle to the pull he has on me.
He fucks his covered cock into my fist until his entire body stiffens and he spills into his jockstrap. I stroke him through it, watching the wet spot grow with a smug satisfaction.
His fingers fit under my chin, and he draws my eyes from his orgasm to his face. He’s heaving, and I wish he’d kiss me again even if it’s just to ease the ache blooming in my chest.
“I’m yours, Riley Easton. Whatever you do with me, I’m yours.”
But how fair is it of me to ask him to live a lie for the rest of his life? What if I can never accept us out in the open? What if something always holds me back?
I prop up on my elbows, and Griffin meets my waiting mouth with his eager one. It’s quick, reassuring, and then he’s climbing down and pressing his budding smile to my cheek.
“How about I run home and grab some clothes? Looks like we might be here a while.”
“You’ve still got games to play, hotshot.”
He grins full and wide this time, throwing me a wink as he grabs his phone off the side table and starts typing in for an Uber.
“And I’ll kick ass at every single one. But you come first. If I’m not on the ice, I’m going to be right here driving you insane.”
I bite back my own smile. “You’re acting like a proper boyfriend.”
Griffin rolls his eyes and taps his phone to my shoulder. “That would be because Iamyour boyfriend.”
A fluttering sensation that feels like nerves and happiness spring to life in my gut. I hate that I have to swallow a bitter pill around it.
“Be careful. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of other visitors.”
His smile dims, and he rolls his lip between his teeth again. The hurt in his eyes is worse than the pain in my leg, even without the painkillers. I wish I could do something to ease it, and though I know exactly what could, I can’t bring myself to say the words.
So, he places another kiss on the top of my head, ruffles my hair that’s in desperate need of a dye, and steps back.
It shouldn’t feel like a crater making home in the space between us, but it does.
