Chapter 11
ELEVEN
“I know it’s not France or Brazil.” Kieran leaned forward, his expression uncommonly serious, no trace of his usual smile.
“But let’s not underestimate the US here.
It’s been a decade since they made it past the round of sixteen, granted—but we don’t want to open the door and tell them to walk right on through to the quarter final.
Their style has evolved, their players are internationally successful, and their coach knows what he’s doing. ”
Well, yeah.
Alex didn’t think anyone in the room really needed to hear that. Then again, complacency was why the Japan match had ended in a tie, so maybe they deserved this reminder.
Across the table, he caught Lee glancing at him and let the corners of his own mouth tug up in response.
He’d forgotten to set his alarm for the first time in years, and by the time Lee had gently shaken him awake, Alex had been running twenty minutes behind schedule.
A ten-second, toothpaste-flavored snog against the door had been the extent of their morning action.
“So,” Kieran said right into the little quiver of remembered heat in Alex’s stomach. “Gentlemen, I need you sharp.”
With just a hint of guilt, Alex focused back on Kieran.
The next hour was spent reviewing key players of the US team, along with the strategic cornerstones of how they’d played their three group-stage matches, two of which they’d won.
Alex spent the team’s half-hour break with Jeff, debating the best ways to navigate the possession-oriented style of their upcoming opponent, along with rumors that Prince Joshua would show up for the match.
Since Alex’s father hadn’t called to bemoan the prince’s lack of decorum, Alex rated the likelihood as fairly low.
Training started with an Economist article on sportswashing, which was slightly awkward given the national team encompassed players from both Manchester City and Newcastle United, proudly owned by Abu Dhabi and Saudi Arabia.
It did lead to possibly the most spirited discussion so far though, from the pros and cons of holding major sports tournaments in autocratic countries that wanted to polish their image, to star athletes being offered ridiculous sums to attend events in questionable locations.
“Everyone’s got a price.” Lee was the one who’d stated it.
“It’s a lot easier to turn down three million dollars to play in some Saudi golf tournament if you’re Tiger Woods than it is to turn down one million if you’re a player with a net worth of, say, five per cent of what he’s got.
For Woods, three million might mean hush money for another waitress—”
“Allegedly,” Oliver threw in, and Lee shrugged, continued.
“But for some other guy, one million could be setting the parents up for retirement.”
“What’s your price, then?” Lewis asked with a massive grin.
“Much more than you can afford, mate,” Lee returned.
Kieran gave them a minute to sling some insults around before he clapped his hands and called an official start to practice.
As they split into smaller groups for the warm-up exercises, Alex brushed by Lee.
It was the kind of thing that happened a dozen times with teammates during training, but they both paused for a beat and a smile before they kept moving.
Ninety minutes later, they returned to their room to shower and get changed before lunch. Alex hesitated at the foot of his bed, then slowly turned to watch Lee close the door to the hallway. They were both sweaty and covered in grass stains, which put them on equal footing.
So Alex walked right into Lee’s space, stopping just before making contact. Lee’s response consisted of a head tilt combined with a raised eyebrow that conveyed an unspoken challenge.
“Tell me, then.” Alex hooked a finger into the waistband of Lee’s shorts. “What is your price?”
Eyes darkening, Lee angled his hips forward just slightly. “I’m open to negotiation.”
“Are you.” Alex made it a statement rather than a question and pressed closer, Lee’s hands coming up to grip his waist. “Price of a joint shower?”
“On the house.” Lee grinned, a mischievous edge to it. “Help the planet by saving some water—it’s a win-win.”
“Oliver would approve.”
“Oliver does, in fact, approve.” One of Lee’s hands slid under Alex’s jersey, smoothing up along the curve of his spine. “He’s the one who told me to give this a shot. Shelly did, too.”
So that was why Lee had changed his mind? Alex owed Oliver one, it seemed.
“You’ve got excellent taste in friends and siblings,” Alex told Lee just before he kissed the spot under Lee’s ear and found salty skin, Lee’s breath escaping in a rush.
“I’m pretty gross,” Lee warned even as he angled his head to grant better access.
“So am I. Hence, shower.” Alex lifted his head and smiled in a way that brought out his dimples—he’d worked hard on his ability to be charming, might as well put it to good use.
With a snort, Lee removed his hand from Alex’s waist and brought it up between them. “I bet”—he poked a dimple—“that this got you out of all sorts of trouble when you were little.”
“Eh. I was a pretty quiet child.”
“You were?” Lee seemed to slot a new mental puzzle piece into place.
“Are you psychoanalyzing me?”
“Only a little.”
“What’s the diagnosis?”
“High need for affiliation.” Lee correctly interpreted Alex’s pointed look and elaborated.
“Heightened need to belong, to the point where you risk conforming to your parents’ and other people’s expectations at the cost of your own needs and desires.
Sensitivity to rejection, even if it’s perceived.
Struggling with decisions that could disappoint others. ”
“Jesus, don’t mince your words.” Alex retreated a little, and Lee drew him back in, smiling.
“Great team player.” Lee’s voice was warm, possibly even fond. “Nowhere near as comfortable with attention as you pretend to be, and one of those rare and wonderful players who are just as happy to assist in a goal as they are scoring it themselves.”
“You’re just glad I’m helping you score. Also, you just made all of that up.” Yet Alex couldn’t help but smile back, leaning into Lee’s fingers carding through his hair.
“One, I am hoping to score.” Lee raised both eyebrows to convey his meaning.
“And two, nope, I didn’t. Told you I read up on some psychology stuff when I started suspecting that my mum’s behavior wasn’t just down to substance abuse.
Need for affiliation isn’t a diagnosis, though.
Just something that’s part of the human condition, but some people have it more than others. ”
Huh. Something to consider, but not today.
“In that case…” Alex pressed closer, chest to chest, noses bumping. He lowered his voice. “A joint shower might satisfy my need for affiliation.”
“How opportunistic, Beaufort.” Lee’s hand skimmed down Alex’s back, then cupped his ass to pull him in, their hips aligning. For just a second, Alex lost his focus.
“Shower?” he asked, and he didn’t care if that wasn’t clever, didn’t care if he sounded breathless.
Lee’s gaze dropped to Alex’s mouth, his voice honey-slow. “Shower. Yeah.”
It felt good—being the sole center of Lee’s focus and the way Lee’s eyes narrowed when Alex wet his lips, instinctive rather than calculated. They didn’t have much time before lunch, so Alex started moving backwards, pulling Lee along towards the bathroom.
“Shoes off,” Lee protested, and somehow, it cut through the seriousness that had settled over them.
“Glad you’ve got your priorities sorted.
” With a huff of laughter, Alex kneeled to unlace his trainers and align them next to the door, ditching his socks too, before he headed for the bathroom and peeled off his jersey as he went.
Lee followed, clothes hitting the floor—his body leanly muscled, his abs outlined by the overhead light.
Alex’s attention rested on the tattoo on Lee’s hip before he let his gaze dip down further.
Of course it wasn’t the first time Alex had seen a guy naked, what with having spent a portion of his formative years in locker rooms, but, well.
This was different. The slight curve of Lee’s erection and how Lee paused, unabashed, so Alex could look his fill.
“Can I…” Alex didn’t quite know how to finish the sentence, and Lee’s grin softened into something more intimate.
“Answer’s yes.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“Answer’s still yes.” Lee tilted his head and drew closer. “Although we’re on a bit of a deadline, so the answer might be yes, but later.”
“Good point.” Alex reached back blindly to turn on the shower, focus still on Lee, and then they were pressed together, naked skin and Lee’s fingers trailing down Alex’s arm as they stumbled under the spray of water, the light dimmer inside the shower stall.
Alex wasn’t sure if he was the one seeking out Lee’s mouth, it didn’t really matter—he just closed his eyes as he gripped Lee’s waist and allowed Lee to walk him back against the tiled wall, solid and cool against his shoulder blades, Lee warm along his front, water surrounding them.
When Lee slid to his knees, Alex sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, watched Lee watching him.
Lee blinked against the water as he brought his hands to the backs of Alex’s thighs.
“Yeah?” he asked, a secretive murmur that made something tighten in Alex’s chest, his center of gravity tipping sideways for just a moment.
“Please.”
Lee moved Alex so most of the water hit Alex’s chest and didn’t break eye contact as he dipped his head.
Alex didn’t look away either. The first brush of Lee’s mouth was gentle, lips catching on the tip of Alex’s cock, tongue darting out for a quick taste.
Alex inhaled, legs shaky in spite of the wall behind him, reaching out to touch Lee’s jaw before he brought his hand around to lightly cup the back of Lee’s head.