Page 41 of Bad Call

He laughed, basically telling me I was full of shit. “Get in. Don’t forget, you owe me dinner.”

We ended up at Dixon’s Diner. By the time we arrived, it was so late the place was empty.

I drowned my loss in a strawberry milkshake and a greasy burger, and Casey celebrated his victory with a root beer float and a chicken sandwich.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Not really,” I said morosely. “But you keep coming up roses, don’t you? Not only did your team win, but this is the perfect date, isn’t it?”

He paused his chewing with a mouthful of fries, expression comical. “What do you mean? This isn’t a date.”

“Really? Tickets to a good game, followed by burgers at Dixons Diner. All that’s missing is…” I waggled my eyebrows to hint at the unspoken words.

Understanding dawned, and his eyes bugged out. Taking a sip of his float, he swallowed, practically choking. “You saw the interview?”

“Oh, yeah.” I grinned wickedly. “I’ve seen them all.”

“Jesus,” he groaned, palming his face.

“Are you going to finish that sentence, Coach?”

“I think we both know what I didn’t say.” He wiped his mouth on his napkin.

I tapped my phone to light up the screen and checked the time. Eleven-fifteen. “It’s not too late. The night ain’t over yet.”

Casey’s eyes dropped to my mouth. Abruptly, he pushed to his feet, tossing some money on the table. “Come on, it’s getting late.”

The drive to his house was mostly silent, with shared looks at every stoplight full of heat and hunger. The burger I’d consumed churned in my gut. Why was I so nervous? We’d done this once before, and about twelve more times in my head.

But this time was different. It wasn’t a fantasy, and it wasn’t a mistake.

This was purposeful. This was something we’d both agreed to, knowing the consequences and the risks.

We tumbled through his front door, and Rawlings tried to trip us up as we raced to his room. I stripped off my shirt, and Casey did the same, and then Rawlings parked her furry ass between us, looking up at us each in turn with her puppy dog eyes.

She was begging for attention.

She was begging for a treat.

And she was begging to go potty.

Casey sighed. “I’m not into voyeurism, so let me take her out real quick.” At the door to his bedroom, he called over his shoulder, “Don’t move.”

Cockblocker, I mouthed to her.

Kicking off my shoes, I looked at his bed and imagined him lying in it, texting me at night, jerking off to thoughts of me, to the memory of us in the hotel room. Was that the last time he’d been with a man? What about those boxers? I had to know if he still had them. I started pulling out random drawers, searching for them, but all I could find in his underwear and sock drawer was plain old cotton. No black silk with ridiculous baseballs on them.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, leaning against the door frame. “I told you, I don’t bottom, so if you’re looking for a dildo, you’re out of luck. But you’re welcome to use my cock instead.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I was positive they were turning red. “I was looking for those boxers.”

“The ones you made me buy? I donated them to charity.”

“I didn’t make you buy them. You could have put them back.”

Casey came closer, his eyes roaming over my naked chest. my nipples tightened under his gaze. “Are we really going to sit here and argue? I can think of a better use for your mouth.”

“Where’s your dog?”