Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps, #1)

by Riley Hart

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.

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.

and I had a high tolerance for annoying people, obviously, since I myself was often one of them.

a self aware king

Franklin U,

hehe

“Goddamn, son of a bitch, Garrett fucking McRae.”

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.

The NFL had worked hard since Anson Hawkins, a former tight end for the Atlanta Lightning, had come out. He’d been the first in the league, followed by his teammate Darren Edwards, but…they hadn’t been fucking each other.

oh, you mean my children

“G…when did I say I’d be easy?”

“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.”

And you asked me to keep an eye on him. I mean, you gotta admit, it’s almost like it was destined to happen.”

“But I’m game. Go ahead, ruin me, Warner Ramsey.”

“Aww, my hero.” I pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, which was…what the fuck was that? It felt more intimate than having my dick in his ass.

I closed my eyes, didn’t move for a second, a minute, maybe ten minutes or a hundred years. I didn’t know how much time had passed when I felt strong arms wrap around me.

Because what I did know was that I’d liked waking up next to Ramsey maybe a little too much.

It was a rookie move crushing on your friend’s brother, on your teammate, but as we continued to eat, laugh, and talk, I wondered if that was exactly what I was doing.

“Spit is nature’s lube. Be resourceful, Ramsey, Jesus.”

“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.

Great. Tucker had figured out my secret, only he had the wrong brother in mind.

Like I was going to go all psycho on him and lock him in my basement because if I couldn’t have him, no one could.

My whole life I’d tried not to need anyone, but I did when it came to Garrett McRae.

“Did we win?” Garrett asked. “I love you,”

Houston laughed. Connie smiled. Dale looked puzzled as fuck—welcome to my world, buddy.

“I love you too,”

I went to Garrett’s bedside, kissed his forehead, his temple, before my lips found their home on his.

“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.”

“I love you, Garrett McRae, and I don’t give a fuck who knows.”

“Fuck, is my head inside out again?”

“Can I take back my ‘I love you’ now? Because fucking with a man in a hospital bed like that is cruel.”

“And I really love you, Warner Ramsey. I don’t care who knows it either.”

If someone saw, well, I hoped they enjoyed the show. We were hot as fuck together.