Page 18 of The Head Game

Damn it. It was a new phone too and he hadn’t put a screen protector on it yet.

Careless, Nico, someone scolded him, a faint memory from his childhood rising up. He’d heard it so many times in his life he couldn’t remember who’d said it. One of his early coaches, maybe.

He dropped to his knees, still caged in by August’s body and fumbled on the ground for his phone. He finally snagged it but when he glanced up, he froze at the sight of August looking down at him intently.

It was hard to see his face at this angle. It was mostly in shadow, but Nico still shivered.

Not from cold but from want.

He was tempted to change his mind and suck August off right here.

He reached out, running his palm along August’s length. He wasn’t quite as hard as he’d been before but he certainly hadn’t gone soft either and Nico let out an appreciative hum at the heft of him.

Oh that would be nice.

He leaned forward, mouth opening in anticipation.

August groaned, settling a hand on the back of Nico’s head. “Stop it,” he growled.

“You don’t like that?” Nico asked playfully, fluttering his lashes though he wasn’t sure August could see him in this light.

“Do you ever do what you’re supposed to, Arents?” August answered, digging his fingers into Nico’s hair.

“Rarely.” Nico rose to his feet, grinning, pressing close again. “But why don’t you meet me at the hotel and see if I’ll make an exception for you?”

“This is a bad idea,” August said roughly.

“Baby,” Nico leaned in to whisper in August’s ear. “I’m the best bad decision you’re ever going to make.”

CHAPTER THREE

Nico was not subtle.

August didn’t know why he’d expected anything else but as he sat at the hotel bar sipping a passable Scotch, he debated why he hadn’t turned around and left already.

Nico had strutted in, shot a showy wink at August, then leaned over the bar to flirt with the bartender.

He ordered something—he was too far away for August to hear clearly—then swiped one of the napkins.

He pulled a marker out of his pocket—because of course he was the kind of guy who assumed he’d be mobbed by fans wanting his autograph—and scrawled something on the napkin.

August watched as he flirted with the bartender a little more.

Nico was … not unfortunate looking.

His chin-length hair was somewhere between dirty blond and golden brown and he wore it in a messy, shaggy style he had raked off his forehead.

His cheekbones were high and wide, his lips full, his eyes a warm blue August associated with the Aegean Sea.

He had a hint of a tan and August shivered at the memory of Nico’s soft stubble brushing his cheek.

Hints of several small tattoos peeped out of Nico’s sleeves as he reached out to touch the bartender’s arm, bright smile gleaming as he laughed at something.

A single hoop earring shone with small diamonds and he wore several rings and a flashy watch.

Nothing about him was August’s type.

He was the antithesis of Daniel.

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