Chapter 31 Evan
THIRTY-ONE
EVAN
Isaac’s game is at one today, which means we will be able to get to bed early tonight.
I’m exhausted after our trip to New Jersey.
It was great to see our families and spend time with everyone, but we didn’t get enough sleep and we both had to be at the stadium yesterday.
I needed to catch up on some ordering and Isaac had a workout session and team meeting.
“Evan,” Isaac calls as he emerges from his bedroom, dressed to impress in a light-blue suit.
I rake my eyes over him and lick my lips.
Yes, I licked my lips. My boyfriend is fucking delicious.
“Like what you see?” He steps into my space, causing my breath to hitch. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
The last week or so has been the best of our relationship. I didn’t realize how much we were both letting our past relationships and secrets affect what we have. Since everything came to light, we have both been more relaxed and happier.
I clear my throat. “Did you need something?”
“Oh, I need something alright,” he winks, then sobers and takes a few steps back. “Do you want to ride to the stadium together today?”
“What? Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Then, yes. I’d love that. Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.
Rushing into the bedroom, I brush my teeth, pull on a pair of dark jeans, my Flores jersey, and a pair of sneakers. I put my phone and wallet in my pockets and meet Isaac back in the kitchen.
Deciding it will be fun to tease him, I say, “You know, I’ve been thinking. Our jobs aren’t that different,” I state, keeping my tone even. “Running plays, running food.”
“Right,” he bites out. “Getting tackled by several hundred pounds of muscle is no different than carrying a tray of chicken fingers,” he continues sarcastically.
“Exactly!” I agree with fake enthusiasm as if I actually believe my words. “I have to dodge hordes of drunk people. It’s a dangerous job.” I rarely run food and drinks in this new position unless someone calls out, but that’s not important for this conversation.
Isaac stares at me like I have three heads. He considers me for a moment. “You really believe that.” It’s not a question. He thinks I’m being serious.
“Of course, I believe it. Why else would we be having this conversation?”
He stares at me unblinking, trying to figure out how I can possibly believe our jobs are remotely similar or equally dangerous.
The longer he stares, the harder it is for me to remain stoic and serious.
He opens and closes his mouth several times, fighting for words, his beautiful, dark features a mix of confusion and amusement.
I can’t take it any longer. I dissolve into a fit of laughter.
“You should see your face.”
“Wait. You weren’t being serious?”
“No. Did you honestly believe me?”
“Well, yeah, a little,” he admits with quiet embarrassment.
“A little?” I question with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re kind of an evil, little man.”
“Who are you calling ‘little?’” I’m tall and lean, but not nearly as tall as his six and a half feet and while I enjoy working out, I’ll never be a wall of muscles like Isaac. I guess in comparison, I am small.
He leans in, running one hand along my jawline.
He kisses me, gently at first then deeper.
After several seconds, he pulls back slightly.
“Not everything about you is little,” he croaks out in a deep, gravelly voice as he cups my hardening cock through my jeans.
Memories of last night flood my brain. It was a good night.
It was quick and dirty because we were too tired to make it last, but after not having sex for three days, we were both behaving like horny teenagers.
No matter how many times we’re together, I’m ready to have him in my bed again. Or in his bed. Or on the couch. Or on the counter. Or in any number of other places we’ve found ourselves in the past few months. Instead, I take a step back, leaving enough space so my brain will function.
“If we don’t get to the stadium, we’re going to end up back in the bedroom. Can’t have you worn out before the game.”
“Ha, you think you can me wear me out?”
“I know I can.”
He growls out a curse before adjusting himself. Isaac grabs his bag and tosses it over his shoulder then takes my hand and leads me to his car.
As we pull onto the highway a few minutes later, he glances my way and speaks for the first time. “When we get home tonight, I’m holding you to your words.”
“What words?” I ask innocently as if I don’t remember challenging him.
Another gravelly growl escapes him before he clears his throat. “You promised to wear me out.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess. I mean if you think you can handle it.”
Isaac hits the steering wheel. “You’re killing me. Please stop talking,” he squeaks out.
I laugh softly, proud of myself for getting under his skin the same way he gets under mine. Isaac takes a few deep breaths as we make the final turn into the back parking lot where the employee entrance is located. He pulls the car into my space and puts it in park.
I start to get out, but he grabs my hand and doesn’t let go.
Instead, he pulls me closer as he leans toward me.
His lips hit mine and for a second, I don’t kiss him back.
Then need takes over and I forget we are supposed to be keeping this quiet.
I deepen the kiss, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him even closer.
Much too soon, he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine.
“I love you. It’s time for everyone to know. I’m done hiding,” he whispers.
“Good. Because it’s not a secret anymore,” I tell him as my eye catches three smiling faces staring at us.
Some of my employees just got a show. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here. It’s likely there are already pictures of us online. No one knows the great Isaac Flores, best wide receiver in Miami Dolphins history, is gay. The three sets of eyes still staring at us just struck internet gold.