Page 44 of Cherry Picking
Riley laughs and squeezes my hand. “Nash put me on the injured reserve list… but I might not be cleared to play again.”
As if I don’t know that. As if I don’t know that this could very well be the end of us playing together. That life might change drastically for both of us once the healing period is over.
At least I get to keep him for the season. His surgeon said it’d be a good six months before he could be cleared to play heavy contact sports.
Six months of limbo.
“You should have taken me up on that quickie earlier.”
“Don’t worry,” Riley says with a cheeky grin. “I may have convinced Coach to room us together like usual.”
“Oh?” I lean back in my seat as his fingers trail up to rest at the crease of my arm. “Do you have plans, Easton?”
“Remember what I told you on the phone?” His eyes spark with heat. “Even with one leg, I can make you scream, baby.”
I have to play a whole ass game knowing this sexy fucker is waiting for me? Goddamn, I’m screwed.
“Hey,” he says, more serious than playful this time. “I wanted to touch base before the game.”
I furrow my brows. “What, you want to go over plays with me or something?”
His lips twitch, and staring at the copper hair there kind of makes me miss the beard burn I have to try to keep to a minimum during the season.
“No. I meant about the fight. You don’t hot-head yourself into penalties very often anymore.”
I stuff a fry in my mouth and shrug. “Guy just pissed me off. That’s all. He wanted to annoy me, and it worked.”
Riley’s sneaker thunks against the booth under the table and nudges my ankle.
“You want to tell me the truth?”
“Not particularly.”
His brows draw together, and I go to town on my burger in an attempt to avoid the conversation. Riley isn’t having it though, because he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms.
“Get over here.”
When I don’t move, simply set my half-eaten burger on the plate and wipe my hands on my thighs, Riley snorts and taps me under the table again.
“Griffin Foster.”
I roll my eyes and slide out of my seat, slipping into his booth with an exaggerated plop onto the seat.
“Yes, Riley Easton?”
He smiles, shakes his head, then weaves his fingers into my hair and draws our mouths together.
It’s a slow build with his tongue stroking mine, the hand in my hair moving to cradle my cheek.
Riley is a beast when he wants to play rough, but it’s the gentleness that has my heartbeat thundering in my chest.
“You’re hot when you’re bullshitting me,” he says with a smile against my lips. “But if you want to get lucky, you’d better spill it.”
Bartering sex for honesty. Clever man.
“It was stupid.”
He laughs and pulls away, dropping his arm to my shoulder. “It usually is.”
