Chapter 16
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t get me the inside scoop,” Nate grumped good-naturedly as Ramsey moved around the kitchen, preparing his chicken parm for the second time on a night before a game.
“I think even if I asked Brody to pump Dean for info on the game, he wasn’t going to give it to me. Not since we started dating,” Ramsey said as he stirred the sauce.
When Ramsey had offered, Nate had slyly suggested that not only should the chicken parm be a home game tradition, but a blowjob in the kitchen too. Ramsey had only shot him an amused look and promised he could do one better.
Anticipation was simmering at the thought, right along with his tomato-basil sauce, but he wasn’t going to give away the game just yet.
It was too fun teasing Nate.
“But you didn’t even try,” Nate said. He was so cute like this. Ruffled and soft, hair messed up from Ramsey’s fingers when they’d kissed hello. Sitting on one of his barstools, looking at Ramsey as he cooked then dinner, like he was the greatest thing in the whole universe.
Maybe Ramsey wasn’t the best at this dating thing, but he was trying. At least Nate didn’t seem to have very many—or any—complaints. Ramsey wasn’t naive enough to think that was a permanent situation, but for now, he’d take it.
“Are you saying you need me to get you an inside scoop to beat Dean and the Riptide?” Ramsey asked archly.
Nate shook his head emphatically.
“Good,” Ramsey said. “Because I didn’t start dating a football player only for him to not be the greatest football player ever.”
Nate laughed, the sound tugging at that brightness that seemed permanently lodged in Ramsey’s chest these days.
He was specifically not asking himself what that feeling was.
Not because he was scared of the answer.
Nope. That wasn’t it at all, because Ramsey didn’t shirk from things.
He’d never shirked from things. He’d always faced even the most difficult situations head-on, and this was no different.
Didn’t matter if both Wes and Brody kept telling him he was delusional.
Brody would see himself, tomorrow night.
“I’ll beat the Riptide for you, baby,” Nate promised.
Even though they both knew that the Riptide was a tough opponent and that Nate couldn’t actually promise that. It still made that warm place inside Ramsey burn a little hotter.
“You’d better. I gotta hold my head high with Brody, after.”
“Oh, speaking of that.” Nate slipped off the barstool and headed into the living room. Coming back a minute later with a package. “I got something for you.”
He slid it across the counter and the bashful excitement in Nate’s face had Ramsey setting the wooden spoon down and coming to investigate immediately.
It was from the Thunder team store, and Ramsey had a feeling he knew what was inside, before he opened it.
“I know you’re not a football fan,” Nate said, “but I thought, for the game, because your friend Brody will be there—”
Nate stopped, as Ramsey shook the jersey out. As expected, it had Nate’s name and his number on the back.
If anyone had asked him a month ago if he’d be willing to wear not just a football jersey, but his boyfriend’s football jersey, Ramsey would’ve told them they were absolutely fucking crazy.
But then back in June, when he’d first met Nate, he hadn’t ever imagined willingly watching a whole football game without bitching the whole goddamn time.
But now he was not only willing to do it, he was analyzing the play and texting Nate a whole string of comments during the game.
When Brody had texted him, asking if he was interested in watching with him, he’d said yes, despite how much crap his friend was going to give him.
“You don’t have to wear it,” Nate said hurriedly, and Ramsey realized he’d been standing here staring at the fabric for too long, a weird mix of incredulity and happiness swirling through him.
He was not only doing this, he was happy doing this.
“I want to wear it,” Ramsey said and then pulled his T-shirt off. “I better check the sizing.”
“Well, you usually wear something underneath, the fabric’s scratchy. That’s an authentic game jersey—I would have given you one of mine, that I’ve worn, but you’re smaller than me—”
“Nathaniel,” Ramsey interrupted as he tugged the jersey over his head. Sure enough it fit great. And at least the color would look fucking killer on him.
Nate’s pupils had already dilated though. Probably imagining what Ramsey looked like from the rear, Nate’s name and number on his back.
Nate’s gaze jerked up. “What?”
“I think we need to workshop this outfit,” he suggested, pushing the waistband of his sweatpants down until fabric pooled at his ankles.
Sure enough, Nate’s jaw dropped as Ramsey stepped out of his sweatpants, now clad only in Nate’s jersey and his briefs.
“Don’t move,” Nate said, voice dipping low and roughening. “I’m taking a mental picture for every lonely night in my future.”
“Oh baby, they aren’t going to be any lonely nights.” Ramsey had still been turning over the geographical problem over and over in his head, and even if he was based in Toronto, the hockey and the football schedules were going to be tough to navigate.
If Ramsey was doing this—and it sure seemed like he was doing it, that they were doing it—he wasn’t going to let physical distance fuck them over.
“No? So you’re never going to go anywhere else to play hockey?” Nate teased.
He seemed unconcerned, which was fine. Ramsey could be concerned for both of them. That was generally how it worked, anyway.
“Funny you’d assume that we wouldn’t still be having sex. It’s called FaceTime sex, baby.”
Nate shot him a hot look as he rounded the island.
It was easy for Ramsey to melt into his touch.
Easiest thing in the world. Slightly harder but even more rewarding for Ramsey to jump onto the counter, wind his arms and legs around Nate’s powerful body.
Lean in and murmur into his ear as Nate’s mouth found the sensitive curve of his neck.
“No need for FaceTime sex right now, though.”
Nate didn’t need any other instruction. He picked Ramsey up and less than thirty seconds later, Nate was depositing him on the bed and stripping his shirt off.
But when Ramsey’s hands went to the hem of the jersey to tug it off, Nate stopped him with a dark, intent look.
“No,” he said. “You’re keeping that on.”
Ramsey couldn’t help but tease. “Am I though? You said it, it’s kind of scratchy—”
Nate silenced him with a hard, hot kiss. Pressing Ramsey into the bed in exactly the way he’d wanted. Nate’s tongue in Ramsey’s mouth, stroking his insistently, hands smoothing over the fabric of the jersey, like Ramsey might still be tempted to take it off.
But anything that got Nate this hot, his cock a burning hot line against his bare thigh, was worth it in Ramsey’s book.
He’d always imagined that sex so many times with the same person might get boring, but so far, it was actually even better each and every time.
Different too. Sometimes it was heartfelt.
Sometimes quiet and intimate. Sometimes hot and sexy.
Sometimes playful, and Ramsey experienced laughing through sex for the first time.
How could he get bored when there were so many varieties, and Nate seemed determined to try it every way?
Nate pulled back, Ramsey still tasting him on his tongue. “What do you want, baby?” he murmured. “Didn’t you say something about big plans?”
Oh yeah, he had. The jersey had distracted him, but Ramsey was adaptable, and the jersey actually added a fun, sexy wrinkle.
“Nathaniel, I want you to fuck me. In your jersey.” Ramsey fluttered his eyelashes. “How does that sound?”
Nate’s jaw dropped and he leaned in, kissing him again. Hot and wet and perfect, his mouth saying without words just what he thought of that idea.
The kissing was really fucking good—Ramsey had never been tempted to forgo the sex part for the kissing before—but the idea of wearing this jersey as Nate fucked him and then wearing it to the game stuck with him. Smugly looking over at Brody, while only he knew what had happened in it?
That got him so fucking hot he didn’t want to waste a second making out when he could be being fucked into next year.
“Come on,” he panted into Nate’s ear, fingernails digging insistently into his broad shoulders.
“Impatient?” Nate teased.
And normally, playing at impatience could be fun and sexy, but he wasn’t actually playing around this time when he nodded.
Nate leaned in and gave him one more kiss before pulling back and not just grabbing the lube but shedding his sweatpants too.
Ramsey went to turn over, because what was the point of doing it in this jersey if Nate couldn’t see the name on the back.
The very idea of belonging to anyone, even playacting at it during sex, would’ve normally been the opposite of hot, but Nate was apparently magic and had a magic dick, because Ramsey wanted to give him that.
But Nate stopped him. “No,” he said, shaking his head as he tugged Ramsey’s briefs off. “Like this. I wanna see your eyes.”
Was it any wonder that some of Ramsey’s wires were getting crossed? The hottest, sexiest guy in the world, even by football player standards, was going to make him come hard and was saying earnest, sweet shit like that and meaning it.
“Get to it, then,” Ramsey demanded.
Nate rolled his eyes, but a minute later was between Ramsey’s legs, gently rolling up the hem of the jersey so he could slide his cock into his mouth as he got his fingers inside him.
Even one of Nate’s fingers was better than two of his own. And two? Ramsey swore his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
He kicked a heel against Nate’s back. “I’m ready. I’m really fucking ready.”
But Nate would never be rushed and this was no exception. “Not yet,” Nate said, but his voice sounded frayed at the edges, hopefully losing the lock he usually kept on his self-control.