Page 93 of Under Pressure

“I’m not going to ask my best friend to leave so I can jack off, baby. I’m waiting until I get home.”

I roll my lip between my teeth for a second. “That’s nice.”

“Are you going to do the same, or am I going to spend the next seven days thinking about you getting yourself off while I’m not there to help?”

My blood heats to a boil as I follow Bodi’s running form through the condo. He jumps onto the couch and starts digging at the cushion before curling into a ball.

“We’re not having phone sex right now, Beckett.”

“Oooh, pulling out the full name, are we? Am I in trouble?”

A giggle escapes me before I can trap it. And hell, it feels good. “Do you want to be?”

“Well, I do like when you get all sassy with me. But right now, I actually will come in my pants if you scold me. I mean it, I’m too on edge.”

“Already? Sheesh.”

“I’ve had all day to think about you. What else did you expect? I can still feel how tight your pussy was around my fingers, and the way you made this soft, mewling noise when I curled them?—”

“Okay, enough,” I bark, blazing between my legs. “Behave, or I’m hanging up.”

“Fine, fine. I just miss you. I’m allowed to say that, yeah?”

“Since when have you only said things that you’re allowed to?”

“Fair point. Well, then I definitely miss you. Are you sure you don’t want to fly down to watch a game?”

“I’m still catching up with work. Plus, I’m watching Bodi. Imeant it when I said we weren’t just going to dump him off with your parents.”

“Alright, but next time, you’re coming to watch. And you’re going to wear my jersey,” he barters.

“I didn’t know we were opening up a discussion.”

“We’re not. You need my jersey, anyway, and coming to an away game is a completely different experience than being at Summit. You’ll need to cheer even louder for me to drown out the boos.”

My frown is instant. “You get booed when you’re not at home?”

“Of course I do. I’m the guy every team knows will shut you down. If you aren’t winning by the ninth, then you’ve already lost.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“No. I like it.”

I sit on the couch beside Bodi and tip my head back, staring at the high ceiling. “You’re one special guy.”

“It’s an athlete thing. Knowing you’re that intimidating? It’s electric. It gets my blood pumping and makes me want to prove them right.”

“I’ve never understood athletes,” I say tightly.

“Never liked them either, have you?”

“No.”

“The guys I was friends with back then aren’t good examples. There are really, really bad ones out there who make it impossible for the rest of us to look respectable, but the ones I surround myself with are nothing like them.”

“I know.”

And I do. One of the biggest revelations I’ve had these last few weeks is that my experience with Beck and his friends in high school couldn’t be further from the ones I’ve had in the present. His best friends are kind and welcoming, although far better-looking than I was hoping. And Beck is the most different.