Chapter Fourteen #2
“You’re very thoughtful,” I murmured, wondering what else was inside.
“I’ve been known to be.” That cocky grin appeared, and I rolled my eyes.
“I have some beer in the fridge if you want.”
“Just water. I need a clear head for morning practice.” He dug into the bag and pulled out a paper bag. “Turkey and roast beef. I had them put the mustard and mayo on the side since I didn’t know what you liked.” His eyes twinkled. “That’s me being thoughtful again.”
Dammit. It was too easy to fall for this homey togetherness. But I was under no illusion Rip was my boyfriend. We’d decided to be only friends. Both of us had too much going on in our lives to dedicate time to a relationship.
“I agree.” At that moment, my stomach chose to growl loudly, and Rip laughed out loud.
“Let’s dig in and turn on the TV. I don’t wanna miss it.”
I took the sandwiches from him and got some plates while he found the remote. The last ten minutes of the news was on, and I handed Rip his sandwich and water.
“I wonder if they’ll give me a good lead-in to the show,” I mused, and ate without tasting as I stared at the screen.
“ ’Course they will,” Rip declared and took a swig of water. “Wait and see.”
As always on Sunday night, the news ended with the sports segment, and Bryan had attended the Hoops game and interviewed several of the stars after their win. The clip of him at the game switched to the studio shot, and he faced the camera.
“It was great fun to talk to the Hoops, and we all hope you’ll stay tuned for a new show that’s premiering tonight, right after the news, hosted by Adrian Hunt, sports intern and boyfriend of the captain of the Brooklyn Blades, Ripley Tremaine.
Tune in, and I hear you’ll get some insight into their relationship, as well as an interview with All-Star winger, Sebastian Crowe. ”
“Ooh, I know I’m looking forward to it,” Paula, the weekend anchor, gushed. “Adrian is just the nicest person, and I hear he and Ripley Tremaine grew up together.” She sighed. “So sweet that they’ve been reunited all these years later.”
I choked on my beer. “For fuck’s sake. It’s an actual interview show, not that hookup reality nonsense. Next thing you know, they’ll be wanting us to kiss on camera.”
“Don’t let it get to you.” Rip kicked my bare foot with his socked one. “Shh. It’s coming on.”
The theme music they chose was pretty catchy, and I leaned in close, heart pounding as my name flashed across the screen: Playing the Field with Adrian Hunt. The camera panned the three of us, then came to rest on me.
“Damn, you’re hot,” Rip murmured. “I’m one lucky guy.” His foot rubbed mine.
“You’re ridiculous.” But I didn’t pull away.
My phone started buzzing, but I ignored it to watch the show. Rip kept one eye on the TV and the other on his phone. He frowned and grunted, continually pressing the Delete button. A few messages earned a grin and a head shake.
At the commercial, Rip took another bottle of water I handed to him. “It’s looking good. I know you, so I picked up on the nerves in the beginning, but as the interview went on, you did better.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. Come on.” He patted the space next to him. “Sit next to me for the second part.”
I told myself he was being kind, but I was glad Rip was here with me. It was nice to have someone who’d tell me the truth. I sat next to him, and he put an arm around me. I side-eyed him.
“Is this how you sit with all your friends?”
He winked. “Only the cute ones. Look. It’s back on.”
During the interview, when onscreen Rip took my hand and kissed my cheek, admitting we were seeing each other, I caught Rip eyeing me, and his grip tightened on my shoulder.
Again, both our phones began to vibrate like crazy, but we ignored them.
I settled against him, content and amazed that this was my life.
I had no idea how long my luck would hold, but I was happy to bask in the glow for as long as it lasted.
We sat quietly, watching the rest of the show, until the final credits rolled. Rip picked up the remote and turned off the set.
“That was great. You nailed it. I’m willing to bet Rob will be thrilled when the ratings come in.”
“With him you never know. I’m just hoping he won’t nitpick too much.”
“People like him need to find a little fault in everything to justify exerting control. Agree with him and then wait for your fan mail to come. That and ratings are what’ll eventually get you in that anchor seat. Because I’m damn sure there’s gonna be nothing but positive feedback.”
His hair brushed my cheek, and our shoulders touched. If I turned my head, our lips would touch.
So I did.
“Adrian,” he whispered, that gravelly voice sending my heart into overdrive. Rip captured my face between his hands, and his mouth moved across mine, our tongues playing together, hot and sweet. Fire and honey. My hands found his hair, and I pulled him close.
“What’re we doing?” I kissed his rough cheek, his eyelids, his jawline. I was drowning in his scent, his taste. My cock throbbed, and I wanted to bury myself in his heat.
“Damned if I know,” he answered, returning my kisses with a fervor that let me know he wasn’t playing the game we’d put into motion. “But whatever it is, I don’t wanna stop. Do you?”
If I said yes, Rip wouldn’t push me and we’d stay friends, pretending we were dating. But this weekend, having tasted the forbidden fruit, I wanted another bite.
“No. I don’t.”
A slight grin tipped up the corner of his reddened lips. “I brought supplies. Just in case this might happen.” He ran his nose down my cheek. “But don’t for a second think I expected this.”
“Well, I’m not saying no.”
He took my hand, picked up his bag, and we walked to the bedroom, where we shed our clothes and lay naked on the bed. He hovered above me, his thick, beautiful dick rising between us. I ached for it. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, imagining Rip pounding into me. Wrecking me. Making me feel.
“Please,” I whispered.
“You are so gorgeous.” A large, rough hand smoothed over my body, stopping to cup a butt cheek. “Perfect.”
Our rigid cocks brushed each other, each skin-to-skin touch sending a lick of fire through my blood. I couldn’t stop trembling, and maybe Rip took that as a sign of fear because his touch ceased.
“No,” I cried out, then kissed him hard, leaving us panting and breathless. “I’ve wanted you for years. Don’t stop.”
Rip held my gaze, and I waited.