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“Same, but I didn’t care enough to mention it,” Cullen piped in next. He was a bit of an asshole, but we all loved him for it.
“On that note, I’m out.” I pushed to my feet.
“Wait. What? That’s all we get?” Cullen asked.
“I thought you didn’t care?”
“Houston might want to know.”
I laughed at him pretending he didn’t give a fuck. He and Whitt were actually alike in that way.
“Just know I’m always getting mine, and that’s all you gossip queens are getting from me.”
I peaced the fuck out of there before they could say much else. Patrick took a car service from the hotel, where I’d be all incognito while I picked him up in a designated spot. It was a whole-ass thing, but we tried not to have Uber drivers take us to each other’s houses anymore.
I bailed and drove too fast to where I was supposed to meet him. My SUV was only parked on the side of the road for about two minutes when he walked up from around the corner and jumped in.
“Don’t smile at me like that” was the first thing he said to me, which, of course, made me laugh.
“Aww, baby. I’m sorry we beat you tonight.”
“No, you’re not.”
I pulled away. “Truth. But it’s sweet as fuck of me to pretend, isn’t it?”
He shook his head, but I knew he was biting back his smile. Something about me made Patrick happy. I could see that every time we were together. I’d accomplished a whole lot of shit in my life, but none of it held a candle to that truth—that I did something for him, gave him something that no one else could.
“Does it help that I’ve decided you can have my ass tonight?”
Most of the time, Patrick bottomed, but sometimes he was in the mood to take all that bottled-up emotion he felt out on my hole, and damn did I enjoy it—we both did. I loved knowing that we were each the only men who the other had fucked. It gave me a rush.
“Maybe a little,” he responded, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching over, taking his hand, and squeezing it.
“I miss you,” I admitted.
“I missed you, too.”
“Jesus, we’re a mess.”
“We’re fucked is what we are,” he said, seriousness to his voice, so I tried to find a way to lighten the mood, to make him smile.
“I’ll be in a few minutes, at least.”
“Fucked?”
“Precisely.”
He chuckled and didn’t let go of my hand until I needed it back to drive. The second we were inside my house, we were on each other, the pain in my limbs no longer existing when Patrick was there, his skilled tongue stroking mine.
We stumbled into the wall by the table in my entryway, him kissing his way down my neck before he stopped. “You put the lube by the door?”
“Hey, I knew we’d be in a hurry. I didn’t want to waste time.”
“Thank god you think ahead.”
He grabbed the bottle, and then our mouths were fused again, tasting each other, taking out months of want in how we kissed and ripped each other’s clothes off.
His body was bruised, purple marks there that didn’t come from my mouth but from the hits he’d taken on the field. “I hope none of these are from me.” I brushed my fingers over them.
