Page 34 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

But he’s focused on me, leaning in. Like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

“You promised when we got together that you would trust me,” I say.

“I do,” he says.

“And bless you for it,” I say, holding back a sob. “But what good is that if I can’t trust myself to be honest? I don’t know how, Michael. I don’t.”

We sit there in silence, but I can practically hear Michael thinking.

“Do you want to be?” he asks.

“What?”

He swallows. “Do you want to learn how to be honest?”

I almost scoff, but it comes out as a laugh. “Of course I do,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Why do you think I’m all worked up about it now?”

He grabs my hand and starts rubbing my knuckles. I watch as his thumb gently pulls my knuckle hair taut, then lets it go.

“Then you can,” he says, looking up at me.

“But how?” I say with a sniffle.

“You’ve been going to therapy?”

I nod. “A ton,” I say, laughing. Or sobbing. I can’t tell. “But it’s not working.”

“Not working?”

I think back to all my sessions with Neeti, and my chest aches. “It hurts like hell,” I say. “Every time. I thought it was supposed to get easier.” I exhale through pursed lips. “Can you help me?”

Michael frowns and shakes his head. “I’m not qualified. Even if I was, I’m too close to you. And Kyle,”

God, I love it when he says my name.

“This is your journey. Only you can go through the pain. Only you can come out the other side. Nobody—not me or your therapist—can do it for you.”

I sigh. “So you’re saying it’s supposed to hurt? ”

“It’s not ‘supposed’ to be anything,” he says, adjusting himself to sit cross-legged and face me squarely.

“It just is . Sometimes, this work of digging into who you are is euphoric. Eye-opening. Transformative. Other times, it’s like wading through mud.

Painful. Exhausting.” He sucks on his teeth.

“And sometimes, it’s mundane and boring, and we see no progress whatsoever.

But it’s important during all these times just to keep going. ”

I grimace. “Why?”

He grabs my shoulders and tilts me so I’m squarely facing him, too. I comply and move one of my legs to the other side of him so he’s sitting right between them.

“Because you’re worth it,” he says, poking me square in the sternum. “Because there’s a little kid inside of you yearning to express himself. To be free. Authentic. To live a life of integrity.”

Integrity. I feel like I’ve been sacked on the field. My dad said that to have integrity is the best way to be, and that was one of the few things that he and my ma agreed on. And now Michael’s saying that I can have integrity by digging into who I am.

“You deserve that life,” he says. “And so do I. It’s why I do all that I do.”

I gently grab hold of both of his hands and look into his eyes. And then I pull him close. When his lips press against mine, a jolt of electricity more powerful than anything I’ve felt before surges through me: more powerful than our first and even when we made love for the first time.

“Sorry,” I say when I pull away. “I just had to.” More than anything, I want to pull him back in and taste him again. Push him over right here and fuck him senseless. But I want to see this conversation through.

“No unnecessary apologies,” he says, holding my hands and rubbing them. We sit there for a minute.

And then I take a deep breath.

“I’m going to learn how to be honest,” I say. “For us.”

He squeezes my hands. “Do it for you, Kyle. That’s the only way it will last.”

I think back to that last question Robyn asked me: Do I want to win the Championship Game to prove myself to my dad? Or myself ?

“I’ll do it for me,” I say.

He smiles. “And we’ll both benefit.”

I lean forward into him, my head on his shoulder, and he rubs my back. I can smell his sweat, so I deliberately breathe in his odor. I want all of him.

“We’ll need it,” I say. “For better and for worse, this fake-dating gimmick is really working. From what Timmy is telling me, it looks like the Tigers will re-sign me. That means like eight more months of this… secret. Assuming we make it to the Championship Game again. Is that something you can do?”

He exhales his warm breath down the back of my neck. “I think I can,” I say. “Let’s continue to be open like this. Do what you need to do work on trusting yourself better, becoming more honest.”

“I will,” I promise. “Starting right now. And I’ll contact my therapist tomorrow. But I can’t always promise to be perfect.”

“Neither can I,” he says. Every syllable he speaks vibrates my whole torso.

I look up at him, our faces inches apart.

“Then let’s come up with something,” I say. I kiss his cheek, then rub his face with my beard, and he moans.

“When I’m having a hard time articulating myself,” I say. “Opening up. I’ll say…” My mind goes blank.

Michael shrugs. “What about ‘it’s too hard right now’?”

I shift my legs and look down, realizing the double-meaning. My dick is about to burst out my pants. “It’s perfect,” I say.

Michael chuckles, but he’s still focused on the conversation. “And remember,” he says, lifting my chin. “You’re worth it.” He kisses me on the nose. “Even if all else goes wrong, that will remain true.”

I fall forward and kiss him on the lips, holding it there. God, he is so sweet. So divine. So perfect.

I pull away. Words are bubbling up inside me, but I don’t know how to say them. So I say the words that are clear in my head.

“I really wanna make love right now,” I say. “So bad.”

Michael grins and reaches down to my crotch. He feels me, and his eyes widen. “Oh my,” he says. “We have to take care of that. ”

We fall into each other, our lips dancing, our tongues lapping against each other.

Michael takes off my shirt. He kisses my sternum, then traces his tongue up my chest, my neck, my beard, to my lips. I’m leaking so much precum that it’s probably staining my pants.

He teases me with his tongue, and I growl. He likes to play with me, to see just how far he can get me until I lose control. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m calling the shots.

I push him down on my couch, and he looks up at me with a smirk.

“Take everything off,” I command.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

By the time I stand up and manage to shimmy my pants off, he’s in just socks and a jock strap.

“How do you want me?” he asks.

“Hands and knees,” I say.

He gracefully flips over and presents himself to me, and my cock is already twitching for him.

I come up behind him and trace my big hands down his muscular back, feeling every curve, patch of hair, and bulge of his body. Worshipping him like the divine man he is.

When my hands reach his ass, I stop and marvel.

I have big hands, but even I can’t wrap them around the orbs he has as ass cheeks.

I spread his cheeks wide and feel myself salivate as I stare down at his pink hole, adorned by dark blonde hair shining golden in the candlelight.

Like Midas himself had the opportunity to touch his gem.

Hungrily, I lower myself until my face is inches away from it. I’ve only eaten his ass once, and then I was too nervous, so I stopped before long. But after this conversation, Michael’s gonna need a crowbar to pry me out of here.

I take a deep breath, then moan as I press my entire face into his ass. “Fuck,” I say. “Michael, you are so perfect.”

“It’s all yours,” he moans.

I kiss his ass cheek, long. “Say it again. ”

“It’s all yours, sir,” he says.

I take in another breath, relishing his scent. “Good boy,” I say, intoxicated.

And then I dive in. My tongue digs into his hole greedily, selfishly tasting what’s mine. Michael’s moaning, trying to talk but uttering nonsense instead. Good. I want him incoherent and unable to walk when I’m done with him.

“I need you in me,” he manages to say.

I lift my head and pull up close behind him, letting my dick rest between inside his plump ass.

“Of course you do,” I say. “Because you’re a filthy whore for this dick.”

He pushes back into my dick, sending a jolt of pleasure all the way up my spine.

“I’m gonna destroy you,” I say, almost growling. “And you’re gonna beg me for it.”

“Oh, please, sir,” he says, reaching down to stroke himself. “Please, I need you. Please. Please.”

My dick resting on his hole while he pushes back against it, I reach down under the coffee table and pull out some lube.

I don’t regret stashing a bottle everywhere we like to fuck.

I lather myself up, then him, stretching him out with one finger.

Then two. Then three, gradually spreading them inside him.

“God almighty,” he says, banging his fist against the couch, followed by desperate, rapturous mutterings.

“Oh, you know I’m bigger than this,” I say.

He moans and pushes himself up, his back arched, showing me just how big his ass really is. “Then put it in me,” he says. “I’m ready. I deserve it.”

I chuckle. “Sure you do,” he says.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, sir.”

“There we go,” I say, kissing him on his back. He always loves it when I take charge like this. He’s been requesting it more and more lately, turning into an insatiable gremlin when I finally do. And I can’t complain. I love watching him grovel.

I insert myself into him. Slowly. Torturously slow .

“Oh, fuck,” he says, collapsing into the couch. It’s only halfway in. “You fucker. Come on.”

“Arch that back for me,” I command.

He erects himself and holds himself taut, his back muscles flexing. My dick twitches inside him at the sight.

“That’s right,” I purr. And then I slide the rest in.

His whole body shakes delight, and I have to let go of his ass and take a deep breath. I don’t know how long I can last. I take another breath, steeling myself, and then I pull all the way out.

Michael gasps, and the silence after is so thick I can taste it.

And then I insert it slowly back in.

Michael yelps and has to grab the back of the couch to hold himself up.

“Easy,” I say, stroking his back. He gets back in position, and then I pull out again.

I lean down and kiss him on the neck. “You good?” I ask.