I watch the rest of the game with my heart in my mouth, wondering if Wes’s lead will stand. And those last fifteen minutes of play are exciting. Good thing I don’t have a heart condition, because Chicago answers with their own goal, and Toronto pulls a penalty. I nearly die of stress while Wes’s team kills the penalty. In the last two minutes Eriksson scores, and they avoid an overtime situation. Toronto takes the game, 2-1.
Limp with relief, I collapse on the sofa. And now the real waiting begins. Wes will spend a solid hour or two with his teammates, his coaches and the press. Then, because it’s a short trip back to Toronto, the team jet will fly back tonight.
I spend some time tidying up our apartment. The kitchen is clean already because I did that earlier, so I open our mail and cringe at our heating bill. I pay for half of the utilities and a portion of our rent, though if it were up to Wes, he’d be paying for everything. I put my foot down when he suggested it,because I can’t live in this apartment andnotcontribute. Wes’s name might be on the lease, but this is my home too, damn it.
Wes’s giant suitcase is still beside the front door where he left it after his longer road trip. I have a little war with myself over whether to just leave it there or not. It seems petty to wash my stuff and leave his dirty. But I’m not quite sure what Wes thinks happens to his laundry when he leaves it in a suitcase or in a pile on our bedroom floor. He may actually believe there’s a laundry fairy that stops by once in a while to keep him in clean underwear.
Either way, it’s bugging me. So I give in and unzip the giant bag, pulling out piles of rumpled clothing. I deposit everything in the washer and start a load.
Then I go to bed, taking care to leave a light burning in the kitchen so that Wes can find his way to me.
When I wake up,there’s light escaping around the edges of our bedroom blinds. And there’s a muscled, naked man sleeping with one tattooed arm slung around my waist. I gingerly slide toward the edge of the bed, but the arm tightens its grip. “No,” Wes says sleepily.
“Let me take a leak,” I whisper.
“Come right back.”
“Deal.” On my way to the john I glance at his relaxed face. He may have been talking in his sleep just now, he looks so passed out.
After I do my thing and brush my teeth, I duck into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I’ve chugged half of it when I hear soft footsteps in the hall, and I turn to find Wes in thedoorway, slowly stroking an ambitious-looking erection. His gaze tracks me across the room as I set the glass in the sink.
“You didn’t come right back,” he rasps.
“Thirsty,” I mumble. I’m distracted by the seductive motion of his hand on his dick. The blowjobs we exchanged the other night were too hurried. Satisfying, yes, but not enough. It’s been too long since we’ve had an entire night to ourselves. An entire night to tease and explore and drive each other wild.
“Why are you still wearing those?” Wes’s eyes gleam in the early morning light as he gestures to my boxers.
He’s got a point. My boxers drop to the tiled floor. “Why didn’t you wake me up when you got home?” I counter.
He grins. “You were deep under.” His voice is gravel, and just the familiar smoky sound of it gets my blood pumping. “And we havea whole week.” He says these last three words the way someone else might sayten million dollars. Wes probably already has ten million dollars. His family is rich, and he doesn’t give a damn. What he wants most isme. And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t light me up. Wes is never stingy with his affection.
In fact, he’s reaching for me even now, pulling me in.
I press up against his hard body and smooth skin. As our groins make contact, my hardening dick says,where you been?Wes gives me a wicked grin and reaches between us to grasp my erection. “Hi,” I say with a grin of my own.
“Hi.”
“Nice goal last night.”
“You want to chat right now?” he growls. “Because I’d rather fuck you.”
“Chat later, then?”
Wes grabs the back of my head and hauls me in for a kiss.He grunts with satisfaction as our mouths collide. His kiss is rough. Hungry.
I take over the kiss, opening him up with my tongue. Wes groans, his forehead furrowed with concentration. I thrust against him, scraping our eager dicks together, and he grabs my hips as if forbidding me to do that yet.
“Bedroom?” I manage to choke out.
He releases my mouth and gives a shake of his head. “Too far away.”
The urgency on his face summons a laugh, but the sound dies in my throat when he suddenly drops to his knees and swallows my dick before I can blink.
Sweet Jesus.
My ass bumps the counter as Wes sucks me all the way to the root. His mouth is wet and hot and eager. My heart rate kicks up a million notches, pleasure gathering in my balls with each greedy suck and flick of his tongue. I love what he’s doing to me, but I hate that the base of my spine is already tingling. I’m close to coming, and that just illustrates how sex starved we’ve become with all our time apart. Usually I have more stamina, damn it. But these days my body is so excited at the rarity of having Wes around for more than five minutes that I explode the second he touches me.
“Don’t want to come yet,” I tell him, tightening my fingers in his hair.
