The Tight End (Red's Tavern 6)

“And now look at you,” Brody called out as he walked back over to the bed, still in his post-orgasm happy-go-lucky haze. “You’re the reason I was covered in cum in bed, this time.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up, even now. Brody hopped back into bed and cozied up under the covers, reaching over to turn out the light on his nightstand. He pulled me in close, wrapping his arm around me just like he’d done earlier in the night.

“I know it wasn’t much,” I said. “Just a hand job.”

“My favorite hand job in recent memory,” he said. “And it wasn’t just that. I also got to kiss you, and it made me come really hard. So fucking good, Logan.”

“I feel like I have a lot to learn,” I said.

“I will teach you anything you want to know,” Brody said. “You’re tutoring me for free. I can tutor you right back.”

“Brings new meaning to the term sex education,” I murmured.

He snorted. “I can teach you all sorts of things, roomie.”

If I wasn’t already falling asleep in Brody’s arms, that phrase would have driven me absolutely crazy.

Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe Brody just wanted to be able to repay me for the help I was giving him in history class. I definitely knew there was no way in hell I’d ever get the chance to be with someone like Brody, in any real way.

And also, Brody didn’t do relationships.

He’d told me that he’d sworn them off, never wanting to have a repeat of the public fiascos that had haunted his ex-boyfriend.

But maybe that was all I needed.

Hell, maybe it was all I wanted, too.

Brody could teach me all of the things I never thought I’d be able to learn. I could try to have fun with it, even if I knew it was a temporary arrangement. A senior-year secret fling. The hottest secret I’d ever had. I felt like I was getting away with something—like I was a lowly pauper who had made it into the prince’s castle, and I could stay here so long as nobody caught me.

It wasn’t going to last forever. But it was worth it, to be able to fall asleep right here next to him.

It was probably only a few minutes later that I woke up from my half-asleep haze to feel Brody gently sliding his arm away, turning off the light, and walking quietly out of the room.

I’d forgotten. He never, ever spent the night with his hookups.

It was one of his rules.

I heard his footsteps pad out toward the couch, where I was sure he was going to post up under a blanket and fall asleep. I missed his touch immediately—the warm bulk, the scent, his presence. If I didn’t feel like a brick of lead, I would have gotten up and slunk off to my own room. Our couch was comfortable as hell—I’d napped on it more than once—but I still felt bad taking up Brody’s bed.

But it smelled like him here. And I was more exhausted than I’d been in years, it felt like. And in the dark comfort of his room, I fell back asleep the next time I blinked.

10

Brody

“Holy shit, you are so fucking hot,” I heard a voice saying from behind me. A girl’s voice—which was very flattering, but also meant it wasn’t Logan saying it. And right now, I kind of only wanted to hear that from him.

I’d just left the locker room. My team was still piling out behind me, in a mess of fist bumps, pumped arms, and big pats on the back.

My quads were aching as I headed back in toward the stadium, walking over to the bottom of the bleachers. My whole body was tired as hell all the way down to the bones, but I’d earned it.

We’d done well again tonight. So well. The crowd was still streaming down from the bleachers, chatting and laughing and giving each other high-fives, everyone proudly decked out in their KMU green, white and gold.

For a moment I was lost in the shuffle, and I definitely couldn’t figure out who was calling me hot or where she was. A bunch of eyes were on me as I walked through the crowd—people telling me I’d played well and had a great game.

My heart soared. These were the moments when I felt proudest. Nights like tonight were what I wished football could always be.

Especially because I knew Logan was here in the throngs of people somewhere, wearing a Wolves jersey way too big for him that I’d let him borrow earlier today.

It had done something to me when I’d seen him come out of his room in my jersey, grinning at me as he showed me how big it was on him. I’d been overtaken with a strange mixture of pride and affection and being undeniably turned on. It had been almost a week since we’d hooked up, and with every passing night, I craved being near him again.