Page 12

Eleven

Knox

I ’m so ready to be home, in my bed, after days on the road. Even luxury hotel beds don’t hold a candle to my customized Alaskan king mattress that lets me sleep like a baby, and I miss it. I can't sleep well on planes, so my night was trash, and I’m feeling every gritty hour I spent not dreaming on our overnight flight back from San Francisco, where we won our Thursday night game. The team stayed later than expected on Friday for a partnership with the Firebirds as part of a youth sports initiative their foundation launched, then took a redeye home. I’ll need at least a three-hour nap before even thinking about being human again. We have another away game next week in Tennessee, but I get a few days off before we start practice again to reset.

I unlock the door and stumble inside, dead-tired and already feeling the relief of being home. A gasp from the kitchen has me turning that way as I drop my suitcase in the entry, looking for the source. A woman with messy black hair and makeup-smudged eyes is standing naked in my kitchen, wearing only a man’s button-down shirt that’s fully open and showing off her considerable assets.

Her surprise turns into interest as she smiles. “Well, hey there, handsome. Are you joining us for round three?” she asks, her voice smoky and, I’m sure, seductive to the right person, but she does absolutely nothing for me.

“Wrong fucking tree, baby girl.” I keep my tone kind and even when I answer her, but what the actual fuck?

Fucking Ryder . I close my eyes and pray for patience. That motherfucker brought a woman home and let her parade naked around my house. I told him to give me a heads-up if he was having company. Could the asshole think to do that? No, he was selfish and only cared about sticking his dick in something.

“You’re home early.”

I look up to find Ryder walking in from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. His dark brown hair is extra messy, like the woman in my kitchen spent the whole night with her fingers in it. He’s shirtless so his tattoos and muscles are on full display, and he’s wearing those damn gray joggers that make him look like a snack and let his dick swing freely again. He leans against the kitchen island like he doesn't have a care in the world, while I’m uncomfortable as hell with the strange woman propositioning me to join their threesome.

I turn to the woman and with the utmost respect and compassion say, “Sweetheart, it’s time for you to go home now. Go get your things, and I’ll call you a Lyft.”

To her credit, the woman isn’t dumb and doesn’t try to stick around somewhere she realizes she’s unwanted. She shrugs and saunters up to Ryder, grabbing his dick and squeezing it so he groans. “That was a lot of fun. I left my number on the notepad in the kitchen. Call me anytime.” She lifts on her toes, and Ryder kisses her while she continues to cup him through his pants, all while I watch. This is a fucking nightmare.

When she walks away, Ryder is sporting an impressive semi. I have to look anywhere but at him or the cock saluting me through his loose joggers.

“Are you serious right now?” I say, keeping my voice low. “You did that in front of Goldie? How dare you expose her to your questionable choices.” I point at the fish tank in the living room where the fish swims. She probably has a four-second memory, but it’s a good enough start for the lesson he needs to learn today. I pull my phone out and open the Lyft app, calling a car that will arrive within ten minutes.

“Goldie liked watching. It was nice for her to be the voyeur instead of the exhibitionist for once. She gets tired of always being watched,” Ryder says, cracking a smile as he presses the heel of his hand into his erection, willing it to go down.

I groan at his bad joke and the fact that he’s touching himself right in front of me. What is wrong with him? He knows I’m attracted to men. He has to know this will more than do it for me. Why would he tease me like this? I have to be tripping from not getting enough sleep. A horrible thought occurs to me, and I whip my head to the living room.

“You better not have had jersey chaser sex on my couch,” I say. “I don't need skank juice on my favorite spot to nap.” I’m too tired to deal with this. It feels like a nightmare I stumbled into where I can’t wake up, and Ryder gets to torment me.

“Relax, we just made out as we walked through the living room.” He pauses and looks at me with a guilty smile. “But…I may have dented the drywall in the hallway. I picked her up, and the way she moved on my cock like she was riding a damn pole about buckled my knees, bro. I hit the wall to catch myself. I’ll have it fixed.” He’s so damn nonchalant, sharing details of his hookup like I’m one of the boys and want to hear it.

All it does is make me picture him naked, ass flexing and clenching as he drives his cock into a faceless person, his powerful body in control and dominating the other as their flesh slaps together and the scent of sex fills the air. He has to be a top, with his masculine, alpha energy, and authoritative way about him. He would absolutely crush his partner into submission, and they would thank him for it as they drooled into a pillow.

I should be drooling into my pillow, none-the-wiser to Ryder’s bedroom proclivities or what his dick looks like saluting me, passed out getting the sleep I desperately need, but here I am thinking of being bent over the couch and fucked hard. But it’s Ryder who’s doing all the fucking. I’m having none of it, and it should stay that way.

Stalking into the kitchen, I rip open the refrigerator and grab a water bottle. I open it and chug the contents to calm the raging volcano of lust that erupted when I started thinking about the way Ryder fucks. I can't be picturing this man fucking anyone. He’s not here to be my personal porn fantasy, he’s here because I have to teach him to be a better person, in interviews and in life. That effectively clears my brain enough of the sex fog and allows me to have some kind of rational thought again. I level Ryder with a murderous glare so he knows I’m serious.

“You’re here as a favor. I don’t want you bringing random puck bunnies, or whatever your sport calls them, here and fucking them in common spaces, or letting them prance around naked for me to walk in on. Show some damn respect.”

“Come on, Golden Boy, let me have some fun,” he says with a devastating smile, his hand roaming his bare chest like he knows where my thoughts have strayed, and he wants my attention to stay there. He can’t know, but I turn away and run through offensive plays in my head to keep from matching the semi he was sporting.

“You can have your fun somewhere else, Reckless,” I grumble, pulling out the blender base and a cup attachment, then the protein powder and ingredients for a shake.

“You should still be able to appreciate the finer things in life, even if you don’t like women. Her tits were nice, but her ass was truly spectacular. I bounced her on my cock like a rodeo queen, and she rode me like a bronco she wanted to break in. You ever been to the rodeo, Knox? I think you’d like all those cowboys in their tight jeans, riding the shit out of those horses and bulls. It’s really something to see.”

He comes up next to me in the kitchen, picks up a banana I’ve placed on the counter for my protein shake, and grips it like he’s measuring its girth while I try to keep my heart rate under control. He has to be doing this to get under my skin, to see how far he can push me and what it will take for me to snap. Too bad for him, my line is a football field long, and he’s nowhere near the end zone.

“Fuck off. I don't need to hear the details. I don't want them. Fuck your skanks at their places, while you’re on road trips, or at a hotel, but don't bring them here and mess with the only peace I have.” I snatch the banana out of his hand, peel it, and throw it into the blender cup with the rest of the ingredients before screwing the cap on.

“What if I like talking about it with you?” He gets a devious look on his face when I glance over, so I quickly avert my gaze back to the shake, setting it in the blender base. His voice is low, rough, and close as he moves into my space, one hand on the counter next to me, his mouth right at my ear, and his body pressed against my side so I can feel every hard ridge and muscle of him as he boxes me in before he continues. “She let me bend her over and fuck her ass like I had something to prov—”

I cut him off when I turn on the blender and let it cover his salacious words that are stirring up shit in me that I do not want to confront right now. If I can’t hear him, he can’t tell me more details of how he fucked the woman. And hopefully, I’ll stop picturing him bending someone over, gripping their hips, and driving his cock into them in a punishing rhythm. I bet he split that poor girl in half. Her ass has got to be sore after taking his fat cock that likes to swing around in his sweats, showing off his size when he’s not even aroused. What’s he like, fully hard? Ugh. This isn’t what I need in my head now or ever.

He slaps my back like he knows where my thoughts have strayed, but instead of leaving me alone as the blender whirs, his hand smooths up to the back of my neck and squeezes.

Oh, fuck, no. I have an embarrassingly visceral reaction to the small touch, my body shivering under his palm and goosebumps racing down my arms to my hands that grip the blender like a lifeline. I can’t move, not to push him off or get away. I’m frozen, stuck here like I’ve been electrocuted, and he’s the live wire that is rewiring my neurons and frying my circuits until my brain is no longer capable of rational thought. It must be the lack of sleep and his proximity. I can smell him, his slept-in woodsy cologne mingling with a hint of sweat and musky sex invading my nose and wrapping around my brain, making me salivate for the sinful scent and the feel of his hot skin that burns even through the layers of my suit.

“Stop,” I beg, the word guttural despite keeping my tone low. I have no idea if he can even hear me over the blender, which has more than crushed the ice and done its job at this point, but I can't shut it off or he’ll hear my heartbeat galloping in my chest and my breaths coming out in labored pants from one stupid, errant touch he didn’t even mean. He’s fucking with me, and I can't let him know it feels too good even though I know it’s stupid and reckless, and everything about this—him—is so wrong for me.

His mouth is close again, speaking directly against the shell of my ear so I feel each word down to my toes. “I don't think you actually want me to stop doing any of this.” The hand on my neck slides down slowly to my waist and squeezes, pulling me tighter against his body. Is he…hard? Fuck, he is, and he’s not hiding that he’s turned on, he’s subtly grinding his cock against my hip so I’m sure not to miss it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” My voice breaks with confusion on the question. I don't want Ryder, no matter how attractive he is, or how often he wears his slutty sweats and shows off his muscles and tattoos, I’ve known him too long. I’ve been on the receiving end of his cruelty and seen how he likes to mess with people. This is all to prove a point, not because he wants me. Right?

“This is…interesting. I guess my cock just likes the way you feel. And you smell so damn good. What the fuck is that cologne? Or maybe my dick thinks you’re going to feed me again with that shake and he got excited,” he says, confusion and curiosity coloring his gravelly voice.

Is he amused by this? Does he find it funny that I’m dying inside, knowing he’s turned on by teasing me? Is he turned on because he knows it will fuck with me? I don't know what caused the other, but I do know none of this should be happening.

With more self-restraint than I realized I was capable of, I stop the blender and take a few unsteady steps away from Ryder and his savage humor. “You’re just horny. Go fuck your puck bunny once more before her ride gets here and get it out of your system. Fix this.” I can't look at him. I turn my back and scrub my hands across my face, my chest heaving with my jagged breaths as my mind races.

“I don't know how.”

I look up at the vulnerable confession and catch the confusion on Ryder’s face, quickly infused with disgust. He narrows his eyes at me, and I know whatever just happened is going to be an enormous boulder in our path to getting to the end of this forced roommate situation. Great, just what I need, him to be disgusted by his reaction to me, and to turn it into another reason to make my life a living hell. Because the one thing I do know for sure is Ryder will use this against me later, and he’s going to be vicious and brutal with his words and actions because he’s uncomfortable with what just happened.

The sound of heels on the hardwood has me straightening up and moving further away from Ryder like my ass is on fire. I don’t want to have any accidental touches or meaningful looks caught by anyone, especially some random woman Ryder spent the night with. I look at my phone and see the notification for the Lyft arriving shortly.

“Your ride will be here by the time you get downstairs. White Nissan Altima, the driver is named Marissa,” I tell the woman who is now dressed, if you can call it that, in a tiny skirt, cropped top, and tall heels. Her smudged eye makeup has been fixed, and her hair is up in a bun on top of her head, so she looks more presentable than she did when I walked in and got a good look at her full frontal.

She smiles at me as she approaches Ryder. “You didn't tell me you had such a nice roommate. If you like to share, I’m into that, too.”

Ryder’s eyes shoot to mine, and he gets a dirty grin, but I stop him before he can say a word. “I’m not into him, and I don't like sharing. You should go before the driver leaves.”

Ryder pouts, but he remains remarkably silent. The woman puts her hand on his chest and leans in. Instead of the full-on makeout session like earlier, he only gives her a perfunctory kiss before he straightens up and guides her toward the exit. I hear him speaking to her in a low voice at the door, but I make a point not to listen. I rescue my shake from the blender, putting everything away and cleaning up any mess I’ve made quickly so I can escape to my room and fall into a deep sleep. Hopefully, I’ll wake up and realize this has all been one long, horrible nightmare.