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“We’re not harassing him. We’re just having a conversation,” Sanaa replies, but she does change the subject. I try to ignore the weight that’s landed on my chest and how it’s crushing everything inside, but I do manage to lose myself in the conversation again while we finish eating.

Everyone is still sitting around the table chatting when I say, “Can I use your restroom?”

“I’ll show you where it is.” Oakley stands, and I do the same, following him into the house while everyone stays around the outdoor table, talking. Oakley doesn’t speak as he leads me down a long hallway, not stopping until he reaches the last door on the left. I’m surprised when he stops me from walking inside, instead backing me against the door and pressing his forehead to mine. “It’s been killing me not to kiss you.”

My hands find their home on his hips. “What’s stopping you from doing it now?”

“It feels wrong to do it here,” he says, but his lips brush against mine. “In Evander and Sanaa’s house when they don’t know.” Another brush of lips. “With Tiana here.” And another one, my hands pressing tighter into his skin. “But I feel like I have to do it, like I have to take advantage before I can’t have you anymore.”

Why wouldn’t he be able to have me anymore? As long as Oakley wants me, this is where I’ll be. “You can have me, Oak. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, his mouth comes down hard against mine, tongue pressing inside. I kiss him back just as hard and hungrily as he’s kissing me, hoping this isn’t a mistake, hoping we don’t get caught because it would kill me to be the thing to out Oakley and Serena before they’re ready, to hurt Tiana, Evander, and Sanaa—for them to discover Oakley’s bisexuality before he has the chance to share it himself.

He wraps his hand around my straining dick, just as I pull back. “Oak, we need to stop. We might get caught.”

“I want you,” he says breathily, pushing his hand beneath my shorts. “I want you so fucking bad. Please, Des. We’ll be quick. I just want to make you come.”

Shit. How in the hell am I supposed to turn that down?

I reach behind me and open the door. The two of us go stumbling inside.

Oakley closes it behind us, shoving my pants down, as I do the same for him. He spits in his hand, wraps it around both our dicks, and jacks us together. I grab his face, hold it, don’t let him pull away as I push my tongue into his mouth again, tasting him, savoring him, losing myself in the feel of our dicks as they rub against each other, and fuck into Oakley’s hand.

“This is so fucking wrong, but it’s so exciting too,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine again, then looking down at our erections.

I can’t help but look down too, watching how fucking sexy we are together, seeing both our hard, thick shafts, slick with spit and precum as we take our pleasure from each other.

I’m right fucking there, already needing to drain my balls, so I say, “Come on, baby. Shoot for me. Let me see you come all over my dick. Give me that fat load.” I lift my shirt just in case, and Oakley does the same. He bites into his lip as he comes, my eyes darting back and forth from his gorgeous face to his dick as he spurts thick streams of cum onto my stomach and in his hand, his release sliding through his fingers as he continues to jack us off.

Seeing him let loose does the same for me. I follow Oakley into pleasure, painting his abs the same way he did mine, my legs weak beneath me as we come down and I try to catch my breath.

“Fuck,” he says after a minute. “I need to get back out there.”

Oakley pulls back, and I immediately miss the contact. He doesn’t look at me as he washes his hands, then cleans his stomach, before grabbing for the door handle.

“Oak,” I say.

“I don’t regret it. I don’t regret anything with you,” he tells me, before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving me alone to try to figure out what the hell that means.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Oakley

A few weeks go by, and Des and I don’t talk about what happened at Sanaa and Evander’s—not the bathroom jerk-off session, not me saying I don’t regret anything with him, and not him saying he’s not sure relationships are for him.

We just pretend like there’s nothing to talk about when it comes to us, and maybe there isn’t. Maybe this is one of those things that’s different for me because I’ve just never done the no-strings thing with anyone. I thought I was doing it with him. It was the plan—still is the plan—but trying to pretend I don’t feel any fucking strings is getting harder and harder.

I hate strings.

Why can’t I be the kind of man who doesn’t have strings?

But I feel them more and more. Not only when I’m fucking him, something I’ve done each and every chance we have, but when we’re texting at night or during the day. When we talk shit to each other, talk football, hang out at his place, or even the one other time we ended up together with Tiana. Des went with me to one of her practices, and we spent some time together helping the coach, then the whole team went out for pizza together afterward. I acted like the whole thing happened just because it would be cooler for the kids to have not only one but two professional football players there, and while that’s part of the reason I went, it’s not the reason I invited Desmond.

I just like to spend time with him, no matter how disappointed I get in myself over that fact.

I do my best to push Desmond out of my mind. We’re playing in Denver tonight, and he’s got a home game against Arizona.

I pull up my group text to Ree and Tiana, like I do before every game.