Page 56 of Playing His Game

“Wow,” Adam said when Mo finally pushed open the door to his bedroom. “When you said she was a queen, I didn’t think you meant literally. How do you even manage to have a decent orgy in here?”

Mo flushed. “Don’t be dumb or I’ll make you go sleep in the orgy room. There’s no sheets in there.” He’d bought a king-size bed when he moved in. After three months, the emptiness got to him.

It felt less conspicuous to sleep alone in a queen. The space next to him didn’t seem so vast. So he’d moved the king-size bed into the guest room.

Adam gave him an assessing look, like he was reading more into Mo’s snappishness than Mo intended. “Small-bed jokes are off limits. Got it. The Mo version of global warming.”

“Oh my God.” Mo face-planted onto his mattress before digging under the covers. “We just got that stress out of our systems. Let’s not go there again.”

“Seriously, though.” Adam pulled the cover and top sheet back and pushed on the mattress like he was testing it. What was he going to do if it was too soft? Sleep on the floor? Mo didn’t find out, because apparently, it passed muster and Adam climbed in. “What’s their deal? Why do you even talk to them?”

“Money.” Mo pressed his face into his pillow. “They’ve got my trust fund until I’m twenty-five.”

“What amount of money could possibly be worth them?”

“Enough to set me up with a garage I can tinker with for fun and never worry about anything for the rest of my life. Besides, they get to keep it otherwise.”

“Ugh. Fair. But they piss you off so much, you have to get fucked against a wall about it.”

“It didn’thaveto be against the wall.”

Adam made a soft, noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. Mo’s brain translated that as,It definitely did. Well. At least they could communicate in bed.

He didn’t have the chance to say so out loud, though. Between the wine and the sex and the warmth of another body in his bed, Mo quickly fell asleep.

When he woke up in the morning, however, it was a different story. For one thing, apparently, Mo needed to turn the thermostat down, because in the middle of the night, he and Adam had gravitated so close that he woke up with his face pressed to Adam’s chest. And not justtouching, either; they were plastered together by Mo’s drool.

Fortunately, Adam slept through Mo’s horrified crisis about that, and his subsequent sneak of shame out of his own bedroom.

The shame was for the drool only, of course. And maybe the illicit snuggles. He wasn’t ashamed of the sex.

He did wonder if he’d woken up in the twilight zone, though, when he opened his phone to find a text from Claire hoping Adam had recovered from his indigestion, and commenting that sheandOrson were pleased Mo had picked such a nice young man.

That was just… too weird.Thank you. He is feeling better this morning, he typed out, aware that Claire would find it rude if he responded with a simple thumbs-up.

And then he opened his thread with Sage.

So, good news, bad news. Bad news: Claire and Orson were on their worst behavior last night. Good news: I got laid about it.

He sent the text, then paused and considered.Is it still laid if you’re vertical when it happens?There should be a specific euphemism for getting railed against a wall. Not that Mo believed in euphemistic language most of the time—being direct had its advantages; case in point, last night—but sometimes, it was just moredramatic.

Sage didn’t bother to text back before putting in the FaceTime request.

“Girl, did you fuck Adam Murphy?” they all but screeched.

Mo was so grateful he’d put earbuds in before answering—it was too late for his eardrums, but at least Adam wouldn’t overhear. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Second, I have thoughts on that, but first, I need all the details.”

Mo cast a look toward the kitchen door. Once he’d ascertained Adam wasn’t about to catch him talking about his dick, he turned back to Sage. “Girl,he lifted me up and fucked me against the wall.”

“Bitch, he did not,” Sage said with delight.

Mo waggled his eyebrows.

“Well, damn. Score one for hockey, I guess.”

“Did it hurt to say that?” Sage had taken a vengeful dislike to the sport when the locker room started to sour for Mo.