“I was thinking of introducing you to the world of frottage.”
“Sounds like a kind of cheese.”
Miller laughs. “It’s like grinding up on each other.”
“So, like, dry humping? Totally haven’t come that way since I was fifteen.”
“Well, you got turned on by Jackson and Noah doing it, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
Flashes of Noah writhing under Jackson’s big body has my dick twitching like it wants to go again but is not quite ready to.
“You wanna try it?” Miller asks, taunting me because I’m sure he can sense the flare of heat in my gut.
“Fuck, yes.”
* * *
Miller is so fucking beautiful when he comes. I’ve seen it before, I’ve heard it, but when it’s me making him do it? It’s the best thing in the entire world.
Waking up next to him is even better.
“Come on, lazy-ass. Time to get up.” I swat his ass.
His naked and deliciously round, firm, and surprisingly non-hairy ass.
I figured a guy who’s built on pure testosterone like Miller would have hair everywhere, but he’s smoother than a woman’s legs on a third date.
“Fuck off,” he mumbles.
“Hmm, it totally sounded like you just told me to fuck off, but that can’t be right. Not after the orgasms last night.”
“Exactly,” Miller complains. “You kept me up half the night, and now I’m fucking tired.”
“A brisk walk will wake you up.”
“In the snow? I’ll probably slip on black ice and injure my leg again. Or worse, the other one.”
“Treadmill. Gym. Your PT said you should be walking every day, just not fast.”
Miller’s phone beeps on the bedside table, and he reaches for it with that long and muscular arm. Seriously, how had I never noticed how sexy a guy’s biceps are?
It’s like I’ve been living my entire adult life with tunnel vision. These thoughts had to be simmering under the surface, right?
Or is it like one of those crazy-ass religious cults where I’ve seen the light! I’ll have to go to sermons and raise my hand to the gods of dicks, abs, and biceps.
Boom, there’s my cult name.
“Oh no. Looks like we’ll have to skip the walk,” Miller says. “Mom wants me home for breakfast.”
“Show me.”
Miller hands me his phone, and there is a text from his mom.
“This says I’m invited, so we’ll go have breakfast with your family, and then training. Easy.”
“I hate you again,” Miller grumbles.
“We established yesterday you far from hate me.”
“Yes, but I distrust my taste in men, because clearly, you’re evil. Am I at least allowed coffee today?”
“Learn how to drink it black, and you can have as much coffee as you want. Creamer is not conducive to your diet.”
“The NFL is so lucky to have you,” Miller says, but I don’t buy it.
“Why do I feel like there’s an insult coming?”
He stretches and slowly gets out of bed. “All I’m saying is, if you weren’t with the NFL, you’d probably be some personal trainer who makes all his clients cry.”
I light up and beam with pride. “You think so?”
“Dude, that wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’m taking it as one. Who doesn’t like making people cry?”
“Normal people?” Miller shrieks. Then he realizes I’m fucking with him. He hastily dresses himself while grumbling, “Yep. Definitely hate you.”
“Again, not what you said last night.”
“That’s because your dick was distracting me.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that. ADDD. It’s like ADHD but it’s attention deficit dick-distraction disorder.”
I’m still laughing at my lame-ass joke when Miller says, “I’m thinking about telling my mom.”
“About your dick disorder?”
“Okay, we’re so not calling it that, and no. I mean … about us.”
I can’t stop the smile from taking over my face.
“Would you be okay with that? I know we need to keep it a secret from the press, but I figured … I can tell her just about me if you don’t want anyone to know we’re together or whatever.”
I want to tell him to shout it to the world, but he’s right. We can’t tell the press. I want this with Miller, and for the first time in my life, I want something real, but what does a future look like with three out players on the same NFL team? What will Miller and I coming out do to Jackson’s career? There’re too many variables right now to put that kind of pressure on something so new.
It’s not that new, my mind reminds me. We’ve been fooling around for months—just not in person. And we’ve been dancing around each other for years, but I just never knew it.
“Or I could not do it at all,” Miller says when I realize I haven’t responded.
“No, no, you should. I want you to tell your mom. And your sister, if you want. I was thinking that it’s a shame we can’t tell the press or the team or anyone else.”
“You want to do that?” Miller sounds surprised.