“I fuckin’ love you,” he breathlessly murmurs on my lips when we come up for air, finishing that thought for me. “So, no. Let me be clear about this, Gannett. Irejectyour offer of puttingfuckin’distance between us.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that,” I whisper, smirking. “Could you maybe repeat what you just said?”
He scowls at me. “I said I loathe that plan, and I’mnotgoing to fold on this over the threat of Trista-Lynn and her gossiping.”
“The other part.” I nip at his lower lip.
“You clearly heard me the first time I fuckin’ said it,” he grumbles.
“Yeah, well, I was about to, but then you kissed me. If it weren’t for that, I would have beat you to it.”
Gordy takes a step back, chuckling. “I’ve had you beat for a couple weeks now, Gannett.” He lifts up the side of his shirt, showing me his uncovered, now fully-healed tattoo—the lighthouse Colton etched onto his left ribcage.
My brows knit. “What do you mean?”
“You. I got this foryou, to symbolize what you mean to me. I was too chickenshit to tell you then, but I figured the timing would eventually be right, so I got something inked permanently on myself to show you just how much you mean to me while I worked up the courage. You have been a bright light over these last few months—steadfast and strong—unwavering in your ability to guide me towards safe harbor. You have given me hope and guidance in my times of darkness. Gannett Waters,I love you.”
I try to choke down the knot in my throat, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Goddamn, isn’t that the absolute sweetest thinganyone has ever said to me, and how thehelldid that ever come out of the mouth of Gordy Masterson?
“Hey, coach?” I rasp.
“What?”
I tip my chin over to the adjacent ball field at the high school. “I don’t know as I can wait until we get back to my place to show you just how much I love you. You remember how I told you I earned the title of Ternbay Middle School’s best kisser under there?”
He nods.
“Why don’t we take a stroll over and see if I’ve picked up any new skills since then?”
“Out in public?”
I shrug. “We’re apparently going to get caught either way, might as well give them more than a kiss behind a bar to talk about. Besides, you don’t think I scoped those things out to know where all the proper hidey holes are?”
Gordy skeptically scrubs his hand down his beard. “Fuck, Gannett. How do I let you talk me into this shit?”
I smirk, stepping in close and whispering in his ear. “Because you love me.” Then, I nibble my way down his neck, grinding my body against his.
He growls, and in one fell swoop, he hoists me over his shoulder—like I’m no heavier than a sack of potatoes—and hauls me off to those bleachers.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Iknow I’m not a very fuckin’romanticperson, so I certainly wasn’t envisioning rose petals, Barry White songs, and bubble baths—but having sex with Gannett for the first time under the bleachers of our old high school definitely wasn’t it either. Here we are, though. And how the fuck hadn’t I noticed he’d worn that friggin’ choker underneath his sun-blocking hoodie before now?
“I have a couple packets of lube in my back pocket,” he pants, after I’ve just kissed him breathless.
I shake my head. “Do I even want to knowwhyyou showed up to a t-ball game ready to get your ass stuffed full of my dick?”
“Probably not, but I’m going to let you know anyway. I didn’t want to be ill-prepared whenever you decided we should try this for the first time. That and I just genuinely like wearing the choker.” He splays his hand over my chest, slowly working his way down to the waistband of my athletic pants. “It’s like my little secret, but that way I remember who I belong to.” His hand slips under, and he grips my cock. “You.”
“Fuck, Gannett…” I sigh, arching into him.
“Back pocket,” he reminds me with a whisper. “If you need directions on how to get to my ass, this whole fucking it thing isn’t going to pan out too well.”
“Brat.”
He nods, gripping me a little harder and giving me a few slow, achingly languid pumps with his calloused hand. My groan is amplified by the acoustics under the bleachers, causing me to freeze and take stock of our surroundings.
“No one is going to see us here,” he reminds me. “Croot, trust me. Been under hereplentyof times.”
