Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps, #1)

by Riley Hart

Warner Ramsey was the Rush’s quarterback, and an undeniably great one. Also, my brother’s best friend.

Because another undeniable thing about him was that he was even hotter in person. Tall, leanly built, with a stubbled square jaw, dark hair, and the kind of blue eyes that could pierce you even from the far end of a hallway. Which they were definitely doing now.

I’d learned two things tonight. One: these were my people. Or at least, I wanted them to be, and I was hell-bent on spending the next four years getting there. And two: I was most definitely bi.

“I just can’t figure out how one human can contain so much genetic lottery winnings. It seems like even nature would say, ‘That’s not fair. Let’s give him a weird eye or ears that stick out.’ Something. Some flaw.”

Garrett McRae was ridiculously fucking hot too. I liked knowing he thought that about me. I’d liked hearing it even more.

“Guess you kinda feel like my little brother too.” Totally not true, though stepbrother porn was hot. I’d be down for some roleplay if he was.

We’d done it. We’d won our first preseason game, and I was pretty sure Garrett was flying. Damn, did I like to see him soar.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, or where I was going, or why I suddenly wanted him so much, it was hard to breathe. Yeah, I’d always been attracted to him. He amused the shit out of me. I loved how he never stopped giving me hell, but this craving for him was different. The second we were around the backside of the building, alone in an alley that, unfortunately, stank like trash, I pushed him against the wall and took his mouth with mine.

“Holy shit, I finally get how annoying it is when I talk too much. Shut the fuck up and get my cock back in your mouth.”

“What will you ever do?” I teased back, and he kissed me again. “Give you what you need, Rams. Always.”

My heart sputtered, an engine that had needed a slight tune-up, but then rumbled to life again under Garrett’s care. He meant sexually, obviously, but something about the rasp in his voice, about the low way he’d spoken, made me wonder if it could be more.

“Wow…you’re going to marry my baby brother.” “No I’m not.” “And have his babies.” “Ha-ha.” “You’ll adopt a bunch of them, fill that big-ass house of yours, buy a minivan with stick figures on the back windshield.”

“I’m pretty sure Garrett’s wanted a minivan and ten kids with you for years.” That shouldn’t have made me smile—I didn’t even want children—but it did.

“Humans have been making dumb choices since the dawn of time. Some more than others,”

“But I thought you were my concerned teammate. You wouldn’t soothe my dick? Sounds like dereliction of duty.”

“You’re telling me.” I kissed him again, just needing to know he was there and was okay. “Seeing you get hurt like that…nothing else mattered. I don’t give a shit what the league says or if the media freaks the fuck out. You make me feel…” Happy. Loved. Worthy. Important. All those things and more were true, but I settled on, “Everything. You make me feel everything.”