Page 28 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

Kyle Weaver

I wake to a warm body pushing against me. My eyes shoot open, and I see the vague outline of Michael’s head just in front of me.

“Christ,” I say, and squeeze him tighter, pressing my lips against the back of my head. Still asleep, he nuzzles himself into me.

And that’s when I freeze.

I didn’t try to push Michael out of my bed. I didn’t jump out of the bed either. No. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer to me.

How in the hell am I supposed to choose football over him now?

He stirs in bed, rubbing his ass into my dick. And after running my mind over all that we just did, I’m rock hard. Again.

Asleep, he shifts his ass so my hard cock goes right between them.

And I get uncomfortable. I shift away from him.

Not because I don’t want to do what we did again.

I absolutely want to do that again, and again, and again.

But he’s not awake. I won’t do anything to him if he’s not conscious to agree.

But then he reaches around, grabs my dick, and puts it right back where it was.

“I see you’re awake,” I say into his neck.

“Feeling you woke me up,” he says, wiggling into me. God, I’m already so hard for him.

“Sorry,” I say, wrapping around him .

“No need for apologies,” he says, grabbing my hand and kissing it. And then he does the unthinkable and sticks my thumb deep into his mouth.

I groan and hump his ass, but this time he pulls away from me.

“That’s your punishment,” he says. “For saying sorry.”

“You give your ass back to me,” I grunt into his ear.

He starts sucking my thumb again, this time just like he sucked my dick. Using all my strength, I pull him close to me. And this time, he doesn’t pull away.

“Put it in,” he commands, his mouth still around my thumb. And he doesn’t have to tell me twice.

When I feel his sweet tightness, I roll my eyes in pleasure. This could be mine. For life. The conversations. The sex. His sweetness. Everything.

I pull all the way out, then I thrust back in. He whimpers. He’s still lubed up from earlier. From the silicon and my cum.

“Oh, I got you now,” I say.

He sucks my thumb harder and nods.

I pull it all out again, then thrust it back in, relishing his moan each time. And I do it until I can’t bear to not be inside him anymore. His arm is moving rhythmically, and I can tell he’s stroking himself. Good. I love to know I’m pleasuring him.

“Good boy,” I say into his ear. “Don’t cum until I say.”

He keeps sucking, but I know he’s heard me.

I thrust harder, so hard that Michael lets go of my thumb.

“Oh, I can’t hold it,” he says. “I can’t.”

And hearing those words sends me over the edge. We both reach our peak, whimpering and groaning. He clasps my arms, almost distressed.

“I’m here, Michael,” I say into his neck. “I’m here.”

His hands relax, and he melts into me.

And both of us eventually fall back asleep.

* * *

When I wake up, I groggily stretch my arm over Michael’s body. But I just meet empty sheets .

He’s gone.

My eyes shoot open and I look around the room, the spring sun shining through my curtains.

And that’s when I see him, naked, standing in front of one my bookshelves looking at a book in his hand, his beefy silhouette making me desperate for him in my arms. God, he’s such a specimen. I came in that man. Twice.

“What are you doing?” I ask, almost hurt. “Get back in bed.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, grabbing another book off the shelf and coming back to me. “Just wanted to see what you’ve been reading.” He slides back under the covers, his back to me, and I wrap my arm around him and pull him snug to me.

He sets down the two books in front of him: You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian, the book club book that changed my life, and The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood.

“You’re reading romance books that I didn’t even recommend,” he says. “Ali Hazelwood’s the GOAT.”

I chuckle and kiss his neck. “I’ve just read that one. It was good.”

“I don’t even think I’ve read this one yet,” he says. “Unbelievable.”

“Sounds like I’m a bigger romance fan than you.”

He scoffs. “I will die before that happens.”

I grin and wrap both my arms around him this time. Birds chirp outside my window, and I glance over Michael as he opens up my copy of the gay baseball romance.

“You’ve really shown this thing love,” he says, thumbing through the roughed up pages.

“It means a lot to me,” I say. “It was saying things that I had only thought up to this point. About me. My sexuality.”

My stomach sinks when I say that word.

Sexuality.

Here I am, waking up with a gorgeous man in my bed.

A gay one. If I was able to deny it before, I sure as hell can’t now.

I am a gay man. After what I felt last night, I can’t go back into the closet.

But I can’t just give up on football either.

It’s not just the promise I made to my dad, but it’s also for myself.

Winning the Championship Game is a big deal.

How can I just give it up? Especially when I might have another chance?

Overwhelmed, I bury myself in the crook of Michael’s back. I take a breath of his unwashed body, and I can see what he’s saying about stink. There’s a sweet and earthy, almost intimate smell to it. Like that’s what he’s like all raw. I like it.

I harden against him.

“Woah there, big guy,” he says, stroking my thigh. “Gimme a second to prepare. I woke up sore from last night.”

“Was I too rough?” I ask.

He turns his head over and kisses me, my Ali Hazelwood book open in his hands. “You could actually stand to rough me up more.”

“Don’t challenge me,” I say. “You might just get what you’re asking for.”

“I’m so terrified,” he moans. “We’ll see if you can be as rough as you say you are.”

I insert myself between his cheeks, the head pushing against the hole just enough to push through, but not. “Says the guy who needs a break.”

“Bottoming is a skill,” he says. “It requires patience and practice. Maybe you should try it some time.”

Imagining Michael inside me gives me butterflies. I can still taste his load, and I feel crazy to say I want more.

“I’d like that,” I say. “Maybe one day.”

We lay there for a while as he starts reading The Love Hypothesis.

“You got any plans for today?” he asks me.

I sigh. I gotta call Timmy and explain to him how I don’t have a picture of a girl yet. Jeez.

“I need to update my agent on my dating life,” I say.

Michael sets down the book, and I can feel his heartrate increase. He turns around, our hairy chests touching.

“What will you tell him? ”

I look into Michael’s hazel eyes. I want to tell him that this girl I’ve been seeing is actually this wonderful guy with a red mullet who fucks like a siren and has an even bigger heart. But I’m not ready for that.

“I don’t know,” I say, wiping my eyes.

He sighs, disappointed I can tell, but he says nothing. After all, I did tell him that it would take time to make a decision, and I couldn’t be pressured. He’s respecting that. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be sad about it.

He starts playing with one of my hands, stroking each of my fingers, digging into my knuckles. Massaging them. But he does it so gently, like my hand is as fragile as a hummingbird.

I can’t lose this man.

“Can I take you to breakfast?” I ask.

“Brunch?” he asks, light coming back to his eyes.

I chuckle. “Yeah, brunch. Is that what the gays call it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Breakfast is when you go to the cracker barrel at 8AM on a road trip. Brunch is for warm Sunday mornings after you’ve had the best sex of your life.”

“That was the best sex of your life?” I ask, surprised. But honored. “I’ve only had sex with a few other men. And not that many women. I’ve seen most if not all of your videos. Your body count is stacked compared to mine.”

He pouts. “Are you calling me a whore?”

I reach around and grab his ass. “Only if you want me to.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. Brunch sounds nice. We could maybe have some fun first,” he says, his dick hard against me. “That will only make waffles taste better.”

I frown. “Well, the only place that will have us is that restaurant I took you to last night,” I say.

He looks like I’ve just popped a balloon right in his face. “The one where we ate in secret?”

I search his eyes for that excitement he just had, but it’s long gone. “Yeah, is that a problem? ”

He sighs and stops playing with my hand. “It’s just that—we can’t…” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. I already know.

I stretch my leg around him, pulling him closer.

I kiss him on the forehead, and he gazes foreword to my chest, his eyes busy.

He’s thinking. And I can guess what about.

This bedroom is one of the few places we can be ourselves unless I decide to come out.

And if I choose football, then we can’t see each other at all.

I’ll have to find some girl. Michael’s mentioned before how much he’s wanted a legitimate, healthy relationship.

Is it healthy for him to date me in secret?

Only for me to potentially dump him for my career?

His dick has softened, and so has mine. But I still hold him close. Damnit. Why can’t I just make him happy?

He turns away, and my chest sinks.

“Will you please hold me?” he asks.

And I do so eagerly, giving the back of his neck three small kisses.

He picks up the Ali Hazelwood book and starts reading again. I rest my head and close my eyes, letting myself drift off. At least here it feels like time doesn’t exist. Nor does the outside world. I feel myself get sleepy breathing in Michael’s scent. If only we could stay here forever—

“That’s it!” Michael says, jumping up to his elbow.

I wipe my eyes and yawn. “What is it?” I ask.

He jumps up and faces me, sitting cross-legged. He’s holding the book open, and he points down at the page. “Fake dating.”

“Fake what now?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Fake dating. That’s our solution.”

I prop myself up on my elbow. “Fake dating… isn’t that the trope where the main character needs a partner, so they get someone else to do it?”

He nods eagerly. “And then they fall in love.”

I blink at him, processing what he’s saying. “But…”

“But what?”

“Forgive me… but doesn’t fake dating only work when the partner is accepted by those around them?”

“Yes,” he says like it’s obvious .

I grunt. “Then how can fake dating help us, Michael? You and I aren’t supposed to be together to begin with.”

He slaps his forehead with his hand, a smile forming on his face. “Oh, no no no. Sorry. I should have been clearer. You’re going to ‘fake date’ someone else. And then you and I can date in secret. That way you can play football for another year, and then you can come out after that.”

I look at him, deadpan. “You’re serious?”

He shrugs. “What other option do you have?” he asks. “This way, you can have both: you can ‘come out’ by dating me, but you can also still play football. It’s a win-win.”

I can’t help but wince. “But there’s so much that could go wrong. What about this person I ‘fake-date’? They won’t know it’s fake dating. And the media would be on me like crazy. That would be a logistical nightmare.”

His shoulder sags, and he starts twirling his beard. Then he lights up with another idea. “I know just the people who could help us come up with a plan. And they would keep the secret too.”

I raise my brow. “Oh yeah?”

“I do,” he says. He lays down next to me and starts stroking my thigh. Blood rushes to my dick, as if his touch alone can get me hard.

“But will you hear me out?” he asks. “Is this something you’re willing to give a chance? Or would you rather just decide on your own?”

His question comes across honest, not pushy.

If I were to do nothing, he and I would have a maximum of two months, and that’s if I found a girlfriend at the last second.

But Timmy’s on my ass about finding a girl.

I’d have to give up Michael practically right now if I chose football.

And I feel like I’d be missing out on something big if I just forewent this next season.

But if I went with Michael’s plan, I’d get both, just like he said.

And maybe we’d come out on the other end of the season still together.

And maybe then I could officially come out.

“Alright,” I say. “I’m willing to strategize.”

He smiles. “Great. But this will require one thing.”

I frown. “What’s that? ”

He sighs. “I’ll need the help of my writing friends,” he says. “So they’d know your secret. We can meet here to discuss it. Is that okay?”

I sigh as well. “Eh, what the hell. I trust you. Invite them over.”