11. Chapter 10
Alfie stopped where he was, his hand clenching on the towel, when he saw Rhys stil leaning inside his stall. When Alfie had come into the locker room earlier and hadn’t seen him, he’d thought Rhys had already left. Here he was. Why couldn’t Alfie make his own feet move forward now?
He took a deep breath, but that wasn’t enough to dislodge the boulder in his chest. Not when Rhys stepped back, his keys in his hand, and looked over at Alfie.
A quick flash of something, then it was like everything shut down.
Blinds closed, doors locked. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of that look. Rhys turned away.
“Espera.” Alfie held a hand out toward Rhys, though Alfie doubted he would have waited, even if he’d said it in English.
Rhys looked over his shoulder, his eyes still guarded. “I can’t do this.”
Alfie flinched at having his words from the previous week thrown in his face.
Rhys was walking away, definitely not waiting, and Alfie stood there in just a towel.
He swore and took clean clothes from his locker, yanking up cargo shorts and already heading away while he tugged his shirt over his head.
He barely caught up to Rhys before he unlocked the door of his car. Rhys looked over at him, his keys stuck into the lock. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. “You don’t even have shoes on.”
“I asked you to wait for me.”
“I said I can’t do this. When you told me that, I left you alone.”
“I just want to talk to you.”
“I’ve done enough damn talking for today.”
For a moment, Rhys’s face wasn’t guarded. There was a bleakness there that made Alfie’s insides tremble. “What’s going on?” Alfie asked him. “What did Skip say to you?”
Rhys turned back to the car. “It doesn’t matter. I’m done talking for today. If you’re okay with that, get in. Otherwise I’m going home alone.”
That was the last thing he needed to be, Alfie was sure. He’d seen Rhys in a mood like this before, and it ended up with him drinking and hooking up with a stranger. Then calling Alfie to come pick him up, as if that wasn’t a punishment for all of them.
His stuff was still in his locker, but it would be fine. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t grab when he came here in the morning before the game. He climbed into the passenger seat and looked over at Rhys, whose jaw was set. Alfie didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.
Not as they left the parking lot or passed the antiques shop where Alfie had found an old clock he’d taken back home last fall for his mother. He hadn’t figured out what he should say as Rhys drove past the diner and a coffee shop.
“Are you in trouble?” He finally found the words as Rhys turned into his parking lot.
“Said I don’t want to talk.” He started toward the building.
Alfie stepped out of the car, the asphalt burning the bottoms of feet. Running out after Rhys hadn’t been the smartest move ever, but his feet were tough enough to take it.
Rhys needed him more than Alfie needed shoes, even if he refused to admit it.
Rhys moved fast for having such a stocky build, but Alfie’s long legs quickly caught up to him. Rhys didn’t look over at him, didn’t crack any jokes.
Something was definitely wrong.
Alfie held on to his worries, waiting for Rhys to talk to him. He couldn’t force it, which would only cause Rhys to shut him out as well.
That wouldn’t do any good.
As soon as Rhys shut the door, he grabbed onto Alfie’s shirt and pulled him down toward him. “Tell me if you don’t want me, don’t want this.”
“I always want you,” Alfie said, his voice rough. Wanting was not the problem. It never had been.
“Then why do you keep walking away from me?”
Alfie didn’t have an answer for him. Not one that would satisfy, not one that was even clear to him.
“I’m not walking away right now.” He reached out to cup Rhys’s face.
Rhys pulled him the rest of the way down, until their mouths were lined up.
He released Alfie’s shirt, his hands going to Alfie’s hips, digging in. Alfie couldn’t help but groan.
This was a mistake. Once again, he couldn’t do anything but make it.
You have to keep your feet on the narrow path or the devil will lead you over a cliff.
Alfie tried to shut out that voice as he backed Rhys farther into the room and slid his hands up under Rhys’s shirt, over the softness of his stomach, his thumb stroking the line of hair above his navel in the opposite direction.
Rhys shivered under his touch, a reaction that made everything else stop.
“Off.” Rhys pushed at the waistband of Alfie’s pants.
Alfie wanted to say, “Wait” or “slow down” or “let me touch you.” Rhys wasn’t waiting. He’d already managed to shove the pants, and Alfie’s briefs with them, down over his hips, and he sank to his knees.
“You don’t,” Alfie said, but then Rhys wrapped his lips around the head of Alfie’s cock, his tongue playing against the slit, and Alfie’s words stuttered out. He slid one hand into Rhys’s hair, and Rhys’s moan reverberated through him.
Rhys took more of him into his mouth, and Alfie thought his eyes might roll back into his head.
“God, that feels good. You feel good. I want… Damn it, Rhys, I want so much from you,” he said, slipping back into Spanish. Sometimes it was the only way he could make sense of his thoughts. “I know you won’t give me more, so I’ll take this.” Even if he felt like it would kill him.
Rhys’s hands slid up the back of Alfie’s thighs, pulling him in, and Alfie could swear his cock hit the back of Rhys’s throat. His legs shook as his climax hit him hard. Rhys pulled away, licking his lips, and looking up at Alfie with those lust-glazed eyes.
Alfie hauled him up and managed to keep his legs working as he kissed Rhys and started backing him toward his bedroom. Thank goodness this apartment was small.
Rhys fell back on the bed with a laugh then hauled Alfie down on top of him and continued the kiss. Alfie pulled his shirt up off his body. He yanked Rhys’s shirt off as well. Finally, he could really touch him.
He took his time, even when Rhys rocked his hips up toward Alfie.
This man needed to learn to have some patience.
He had a deep well of it when behind the plate, but that dried up once the uniform came off.
Alfie kissed his way down Rhys’s chest and stomach.
Only then did he slide Rhys’s pants down over his hips, running his hands down the insides of those thick thighs.
He tossed the pants down to the floor and came back, his shoulders resting against the back of Rhys’s legs, slowly taking Rhys into his mouth. Those thighs pressed up against the sides of his head, and he couldn’t stop the moan. They might suffocate him, but he would certainly die happy.
The words tumbling out of Rhys’s mouth jumbled together, but Alfie got the point. He was close, and Alfie was going to take him over. Give him all the pleasure he’d already given Alfie. It only seemed fair.
Once Alfie swallowed him down, he crawled up Rhys’s body, before dropping down onto his side.
A tension took over Rhys as he lay there, but Alfie ran his lips over Rhys’s cheek and rested a hand on his stomach.
Rhys shifted so his back was to Alfie’s front, and then Alfie’s eyes started to grow heavy.
Tomorrow. They’d talk about what was up with Rhys tomorrow.