“They need you back out there against Pittsburgh. Tell me how it went. What did the docs say?”
I tried not to let my earlier panic return. “I have radial nerve damage. Everything else is pretty good, but my grip is for shit. I think that’s why the Colorado PT and the team PTs disagreed. They learned my shoulder was doing well but didn’t trust his assessment of my grip.”
“What does that mean for Sunday?”
I shrugged. “I managed to catch some stuff in practice, but I certainly wasn’t back to normal. I guess it’ll depend on Coach’s assessment of my current-level injured versus Brent’s current-level healthy. He’s going to let Mopellei chime in, too, which probably means they’ll put me in.”
“What’s your gut telling you about playing this weekend?”
I appreciated Markus not jumping on the bandwagon to get me back on the field, but at the same time, his interest was mostly selfish. I would make him more money the longer I stayed healthy. Going back too soon and fucking up my arm might be great for the Riggers’ season, but it wouldn’t be great for my long-term playability. I wondered which of those two things Coach would choose if he had to make a tough call.
“My gut is telling me I don’t want a career-ending injury, and right now this feels like it’s on the cusp of becoming one. Hell, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, and this is after a light practice and all the TLC afterward with icing and whatnot.” I held out my hand and made a fist before opening it back up and trying to hold it steady. It wobbled a little after the PT session and practice. There was no telling what a full-length pro game would do to it, especially against Pittsburgh’s defense. And what if Mopellei threw me the ball on a critical play and I botched it?
I met Markus’s eyes. “The PT in Colorado said if I got hit again before it fully heals, it can cause permanent nerve damage. The team docs couldn’t disagree.”
He studied me for a minute before pulling out his phone to type in a note. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get you in to see a private specialist who’s not affiliated with the team. We’ll get another opinion and then reassess. Sound good?”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yes. Thank you. That’s a great idea.”
Before he finished typing, he muttered under his breath. “Let’s hope we can find someone who doesn’t have loose lips.”
By the time we finished dinner and Markus dropped me off at home, I was ready to collapse. We’d gotten up early in the morning to make the drive to Denver, and it felt like it had been the longest day in history.
The kitchen light was already out, leaving only the night-light by the stove. I grabbed a protein bar and bottle of water before trudging upstairs to my room. When I saw a sleepy, sexy Mikey snuggled deep in my bed with his dark-framed glasses perched on his nose and an iPad propped on his chest, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
“Hey,” I said in a rough voice.
Mikey put the iPad on the bedside table and sat up, revealing a worn Riggers tee that gaped over his bare collarbone. Suddenly, it seemed like my whole entire body clenched with need, only this wasn’t some kind of physical or sexual need. I needed him here, like this, for me to come home to.
Forever.
Fuck.
“You okay?” he asked, frowning a little and tilting his head.
I shook my head, dropped my stuff in a nearby chair, and kicked off my shoes before stripping down to my boxer briefs and striding over to him. He opened the covers to invite me in. I saw his bare legs below his rucked-up boxer briefs. He was so beautiful, so hot and tempting and there.
“I need you,” I said, reaching out to pull his shirt off. When it pulled off his head, it left his hair every which way and knocked his glasses askew. “Sorry, baby,” I murmured. “I just—”
He knelt up to kiss me, stopping my words and giving me permission to touch him again. I wrapped my arms around him and laid him back down on the soft sheets before propping myself on top of him carefully and continuing to kiss him.
Within moments, we were humping against each other, pressing hot cotton between us while we devoured each other’s mouths. I wanted more. I wanted to taste him and suck him, make him come and then do it all over again.
I moved down the bed and pulled the elastic band of his underwear away from his hard cock. After stripping them off him, I nuzzled my nose in the crease of his leg. Fuck, he smelled good. Traces of my own soap lingered on his skin, and I felt satisfied, like it was a sign of possession or some caveman shit like that.
I hadn’t expected to jump on him like this when I got home. In fact, I was shocked I had the energy for it. But connecting with him, pressing my skin as close to his skin as possible and breathing in his very exhales… it was like sliding into my own bed after weeks away. He was comfort, he was home. He was mine.
“Come up here,” Mikey said between gasping breaths. “Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck.”
I couldn’t figure out if it was an exclamation or a request, but I moved back up his body and kissed his soft lips again. A little bit of late-day beard stubble scratched at my chin, but I didn’t care. I could be scratched raw from his stubble all over my body and still feel giddy with the taste and smell and feel of him.
“Want you inside me,” he begged again. “Please.”
I pulled back in a daze, long enough to look down at him to see if he truly meant it. I hadn’t intended to fuck him for the first time without at least making some kind of plan, but at this point, I was ready to throw plans completely out the window so I could feel the hot, tight squeeze of his body.
“You sure?” It was all I could give him. A lame-ass escape hatch he’d better duck out of quickly if he didn’t want me inside him.
He nodded emphatically. “More than.” He nodded toward the bedside table where I noticed a bottle of lube and three foil condom packets lying in wait. The man had plans.
“I guess you’re sure,” I said with a grin, lurching to the side to grab the supplies. I was relieved to see proof this wasn’t a spontaneous decision. I didn’t want him to have any regrets.
When I got back to him, I nipped at a spot on his neck before moving down to tweak his nipple with my teeth. The feel of Mikey’s sexy legs wrapping around me and his hard dick arching up into me made my brain fog. I squeezed a dollop of lube onto my fingers and reached for his hole, brushing his balls with my thumb as I began to smooth my slick fingers on his skin.
The sounds he made—whimpers, sighs, and moans—made me feel powerful, and I wanted to pull more out of them of him. I felt euphoric. We were okay. Being back home in Houston didn’t mess everything up. Mikey was still in my bed, and all was well.
“More,” he urged, grabbing my wrist with a strong grip and pushing it into him. The move made me so hot, my dick jerked against his leg.
“Fuck, baby. God.” I squeezed my eyes closed for a second. “You’re gonna make me come.”
His channel was hot and tight. Every time my fingers brushed over his spot, his groan of pleasure was so dirty, I was surprised I hadn’t already shoved myself inside him in desperation.
When he was finally ready and we’d both ramped up to a hair trigger, I leaned up to his face again and kissed him tenderly. “Thank you,” I whispered against his lips. “Thank you for being here with me right now.”