Page 19 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Zeke
Then
“You didn’t have to come all the way up here,” Micah says by way of greeting when he opens his apartment door. He’s all purple today—purple hair, purple scarf, purple nails. His outfit is a lighter shade than his hair, a lilac-and-white oversized sweater partially tucked into a pair of white pants. He always looks so beautiful and put together. “I would have come down. I know the elevator bothers you.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” I respond with a cheeky grin, leaning on the doorjamb.
Rolling his eyes playfully, Micah slips his arms around my waist for a hug. “Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas. I was at your game earlier. Congrats on the win.”
“Thanks. I—ouch.” I wince when he tightens his hold and presses on a bruise covering my ribs from a hit on the field.
Micah releases me like I’ll break if he doesn’t. “Oh! Are you okay? I’m sorry!”
“It’s fine.” There’s a wheeze to my voice from the lingering pain, and I know he can hear it. “Roughing the passer, you know? It happens.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but his hands inch toward me slowly as if I’ll tell him to stop. His fingertips make contact with the hem of my shirt before slipping beneath to run his nails along the top of my jeans. They rise up my belly, half tickling and half scratching, taking my henley with them. His palms pause on my pecs when my torso, along with the bruise on my ribs, is exposed. It’s not pretty, already dark and mottled and spreading. It’s nearly the size of a helmet— I wonder why —and even if he hadn’t watched the game from Hendrix’s family seat at the stadium, he probably wouldn’t need a hint as to what caused it.
“It’s not that bad,” I lie when his plum-painted lips part in a silent gasp. His makeup is smoky and dark today, fitting for winter, as he’s informed me. I like the way the charcoal and color around his eyes brings out their caramel color, and I like that he doesn’t cover up his natural beauty, only accentuates it. His face isn’t an inch thick with foundation, and the flush on his cheeks is all from him.
“Oh, Zeke,” he breathes, one hand drifting down to ghost over the bruise. “This has to hurt.”
“Only a bit. It helped with coming up here to get you.”
Micah tilts his head in question.
“It’s hard to notice shallow breathing from panic when I can’t take a full breath anyway.”
He purses his lips and sniffs, looking off to the side. “Not a good joke, Zeke.”
Dropping my teasing grin, I cover his hand on my chest with one of mine, holding him close to my heart. “I’m sorry, bunny. This is normal for me. Aren’t you used to Hendrix having bruises after games?”
“Well, yes, but I—” He breaks off, licking his lips. “I don’t have to worry about how long it will take him to recover so we can have sex.” There’s an unusual flatness to his voice, and I wonder if he was going to say something else.
I almost wish he’d say it’s different because he cares for me, worries about me, likes me. Almost. Then, I remind myself that I don’t do relationships. Haven’t ever tried. This, right here, with Micah, is uncharted territory for me, and we’re only friends with benefits. It isn’t right for me to wish he wanted me when I know I couldn’t give it to him. Not only do I not know how to do relationships, but I don’t want to have to hide him—which I would if we didn’t want the media doing a deep dive into his entire life. I’m sure he has things he’d like to keep secret.
Instead of going down that impossible path, I curl my mouth into a smirk and press closer to Micah. “Oh, don’t fret, bunny. I am still more than capable of fucking you,” I purr.
His eyelids flutter, bottom lip rolling between his teeth. “But,” he begins, breathless already, “you flinched from a hug.”
“Hmm.” I dip down to run my nose along the length of his ear before nipping and sucking the lobe. “I guess we’ll have to try every position to find out what works best.”
“Zeke!” He squeals and giggles when I throw him over my shoulder, all pain in my ribs forgotten at the prospect of getting my dick wet, and carry him back inside his apartment. The wall of windows makes my stomach roll in a very unsexy way, so I put my back to it.
Plopping down on the oversized chair in his living room, I adjust Micah on my lap until his ass lands on my crotch. My hardening dick thanks me for the friction. “Yeah, I think this will work.”
“What about your parents?” he gasps, rocking forward to rub his cock against my abs.
We’re supposed to be on our way to my childhood home to spend Christmas evening with my parents since his are sick and don’t want to risk passing anything to him. They’ve scheduled a video call for later to open the presents they shipped to each other.
It was instinct to ask Micah to join my family for Christmas once I heard about his dilemma. All I knew was that I didn’t want him here alone on a holiday when I wouldn’t be able to join him. I practically spend all my free time with Micah, and even that isn’t enough. Hell, I’d even extended the invite to Hendrix, who apparently usually goes to Micah’s parents’ house as well, in an attempt to sweeten the deal. Rix declined the offer, and I can’t say I’m upset it will just be Micah and me. Well, and my parents.
“Dinner isn’t for a few hours yet. Why don’t you show me how worried you were that we couldn’t have sex?” I grasp his chin with two fingers and ghost my lips teasingly over his. “Ride me, bunny.”
The bruise doesn’t hinder us nearly as much as he seemed to think it would, and we aren’t late to Christmas dinner either.
Win, win.