I glanced up as Ivanovich plopped back down, and I looked at his tray in disbelief. He’d gotten one of the quinoa power bowls, with a huge helping of perfectly seared salmon on top and another serving of Jell-O—lime this time. “Seriously?”

  “I’m a big guy,” he said without an ounce of shame. He squeezed lemon over his bowl. “So fuck off.”

  “The kitchen is probably tapped out by now. Glad I got my food first.”

  “You mean your dainty four slices of pizza?”

  I had to grin.

  “So do you know what you’re going to do?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  Whatever he saw in my face made him smile a little. He tucked back into his bowl. “Glad I could be there for the momentous occasion of you getting your head dislodged from your ass.”

  I glared, but… well, he was right. “Thanks, E.”

  “No problem. So… enough of that. We need to talk about something important.”

  “Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow. “What do you have on your mind?”

  “When are you going to go all Queer Eye on our uniforms? ’Cuz I think cobalt would be so much better than this navy-and-silver shit they’ve got us in. It would match my eyes perfectly.”

  I sighed. I’d better get used to the ribbing. I had a feeling I was going to be hearing a lot of it, so I ignored his chuckling and pulled out my phone.

  I shot off a quick text to Kelly. We really need to talk. It was only after I sent the message that I realized how ominous it sounded and that I’d better add something else so he didn’t freak out. I thought for a minute, biting my lip, and texted him again.

  I know what I want.

  Chapter 28

  Blue

  BY THE time I finished my workout, Kelly still hadn’t texted me back. I checked my phone after my shower as water dripped on the screen. No messages, no missed calls. I snorted. Kelly’s avoidance game was strong. But I didn’t want to be too pushy, too desperate. Everything didn’t have to be on my schedule just because I’d finally, in Ivanovich’s eloquent words, “dislodged my head from my ass.” So I stopped by a chain restaurant to grab some takeout and headed home.

  My house was pretty far from the Outlaws’ facility, which more than once made me question my decision to live out in the boonies. I readily admitted that moving inland would probably make more sense and make my life a little easier. But my love of Coral Bay won out every time, and I resigned myself to an hour commute each way.

  A guard booth sat at the entrance to Coral Bay, manned by the laxest guard in the world, a partially retired former cop named Ray. He hit the button to raise the gate as I approached, and a smile creased his round, grizzled face as he waved me through.

  I drove a short way through the neighborhood until I reached my property at the end of the cul-de-sac. Coral Bay seemed to be made of two kinds of homes—big and bigger—and my house was probably too big for one person. I bought it more for the neighborhood than the house itself, although the Mediterranean showpiece wasn’t half-bad. Most importantly, being surrounded by so many canals and lakes and long stretches of shoreline gave me great views from pretty much any angle of any room in the house. You really couldn’t put a price on that. Actually you could put a price on it, and that price almost made my Realtor salivate over her cut.

  Regardless of the expense or the size or having to evacuate at the first whiff of a hurricane, I still enjoyed living there more than anywhere else. It was home, or at least it used to be. It didn’t seem too much like home without a certain unmentionable person—an unmentionable person who hadn’t seen fit to answer my text.

  I dropped my bag in the entryway and headed for the kitchen. The Realtor had gushed over the white cabinets and quartz countertops, but I hadn’t cooked a meal in the spotless room yet, and I wasn’t planning to. I put my bags of food on the gleaming island and checked my phone again. Radio silence. I gritted my teeth and warned myself to be patient—never my stronger suit.

  I convinced myself it was treat night, had a couple of brownies with dinner, and ate in front of the television. I left it on mute, content to mull over my own thoughts. Beyond the abject, undeniable fact that I wanted to be together, I didn’t know what I was going to say to Kelly. I wanted to try to build something together.

  I had no delusions that everything would be perfect, no idea that everything would be hunky-dory and just fall into place. I still didn’t know what I wanted to do about the team. Did I really want to open that bag of worms and tell them about my sexuality? Or should I just live my life and let the chips fall where they may?

  I thought briefly about what it would be like to tell my coach or the GM or my father. Picturing my father’s expression after an admission like that made my stomach twist a little, and I sat the last brownie back on my plate.

  My jaw firmed. I wanted to be with Kelly. We could figure the rest out as we went along, but I wanted to discuss some of those issues and see if we were on the same page. And I would do exactly that… if he ever saw fit to call me back.

  Would he would be willing to put up with even more of my waffling bullshit? Did he ever call Tomas back? Or maybe even saintly Graham, the fucking panda whisperer?

  By midnight I was tired of waiting and wondering. I pulled on a pair of sweats over my boxers, threw on and a shirt, stuck my feet in some sandals, and headed for my garage.

  By the time I finally made it to Kelly’s, the house was dark. I was halfway pissed that he decided to go to bed without even so much as texting me back, but then I remembered his face when he told me I needed to figure out what I wanted—half-scared, half-determined, 100 percent sure I was going to walk away. I’d made him feel that way.

  I simmered the fuck down.

  Even as I let myself in, I gave myself a stern lecture. If he was in bed with someone else, I was going to be mature. I hadn’t made him any promises, and he hadn’t made me any. Yet. In fact I’d been doing my best to push him away and keep him jealously for sex. So, yes. I would be mature and reasonable.

  I peered through his doorway. He was completely covered with sheets and blankets as usual, but there was only one lump in the bed. I sighed in relief. That “mature and reasonable” stuff had been straight-up bullshit.

  I toed off my sneakers and got undressed down to my boxers. We needed to talk more than we needed to have sex, but we could certainly talk with him in my arms. I wanted to feel him against my skin. I didn’t count on how he rolled toward me as the bed dipped. Or how I suddenly had my hands full of sexy, impatient, sleepy Kelly, and it really turned me on.

  I tried to put some space between us. “Kel. We need to—” He sank his teeth into my neck, and I moaned. “Talk.”

  “We can talk anytime,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

  “Why didn’t you text me back?”

  He paused almost imperceptibly and then continued to kiss down my neck… but I knew him too well. “Does it really matter?” he finally asked.

  I fought to keep from shivering as he licked a stripe behind the shell of my ear. “Yeah, it kind of does. And what happened to you needing space?”

  He chuckled softly next to my ear, and the sound made my stomach actually quiver. “Turns out my dick hates space.”

  I knew what he was doing because I knew him. He thought we were breaking up, and he didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to face any kind of truth. He wasn’t in a place to hear and believe what I had to say, and I had no one to blame but myself. When he pushed me flat on my back, I didn’t resist. Whatever he wanted, we’d do.

  Not that it was a hardship, exactly. When he started to suck me, I had to close my eyes to keep from coming. He knew how visual I was, and he drew it out to give me every dirty visual I’d ever imagined. No one gave head like he did—no one. And mushy or not, it was even better because he was my best friend. If I made a raunchy joke, he’d get it, and if I wanted to hold hands, we could do that too. Everything was okay and up for grabs because it was us. And that made me a little crazy.

  “Kelly. I need to—”

  “Yeah. So do I.”

  I was a little relieved when he rolled the condom onto my dick—-not because I didn’t like getting fucked—but some part of me would always like fucking him better. Something about the way he responded to me and how tight he was all around me, trying his best to take it all…. That just turned my fucking crank. And when I hit his prostate and he made those noises? It took me a minute to realize I was working myself up to an orgasm with just my thoughts, and I hadn’t even gotten inside him yet.

  “Wait.” I put a stalling hand on his thigh as he prepared to sink down on me. His barely contained energy vibrated under his smooth, warm skin. “Come up here for a sec.”

  He looked down at me, and I realized he was still trying to gauge what would freak me out and what wouldn’t. So I slapped his ass—hard. He was about to find out that nothing would freak me out. Not with him. I might not know how to do everything, but I was one hell of a willing student.

  He pretended not to like it when I slapped his ass again, and a slight blush colored his cheeks. When he spoke, his voice was sardonic as ever. “I don’t know if I told you this, Blue, but I’m not into kink.”

  “Your dick is.” It jerked as I watched, and a thin trail of come leaked from the head. I wanted to lick it away, but I kind of liked looking at it. It was proof that he was just as crazy for me as I was for him.

  And then I didn’t have a choice anymore because he crawled up my body. He could barely get his knees down on either side of the width of my chest, and when I looked up at his dilated pupils, I could tell that turned him on too. He was leaking on my chest, and my dick jerked in response.

  “Fuck, that’s hot.”

  “’Bout to get hotter.” And he straddled my face. “Open for me.”

  I barely had time to open my mouth before he fed me his dick, and I gripped his strong thighs on either side of my head. I was a little nervous, but I shouldn’t have worried. He thrust carefully, at a measured pace that was easy to manage. The sounds he made… the smell of him… the taste of him alternatively assaulted and mollified my senses, and it was all at once too much and not enough.

  He gently, almost reverently slid his hand up my jaw. I relaxed and trusted him to control his movements, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t go too deep or too fast. I was still amazed I could share something so innately raw and honest with the person I cared about most in the world.

  His quicksilver eyes were steady on mine and filled with something so inescapably tender that I almost wanted to look away so I wouldn’t get emotional. Good God. It was fine to get teary during The Lion King, and I wouldn’t apologize for that, but shit, not during a fucking blow job.

  I gripped his ass to get him to go faster and deeper, and he complied. He dug his fingers in the short length of my hair and pulled hard. With his other hand, he held my mouth still and used me exactly like I wanted, and I realized I couldn’t even really move my tongue when he was using my mouth as a sex toy. I made a desperate noise, ever glad to discover a new kink. And apparently I liked getting my face fucked, especially since I was a little more confident in my blow-job skills.

  I reached down and began to work my own dick. I almost gasped at the sensitivity, and I ripped the condom off and tossed it on the bed. I wouldn’t make it inside him, and that was such a fucking shame. But there was always tomorrow.

  I worked my cock to an almost painful state until I felt that telltale tingling in my spine. Then I pulled off his dick, and it slid wetly against my cheek. I wanted to chase it back into my mouth, but I held off. I was going to come hard, and I didn’t quite trust my own teeth.

  Eyes shut, neck straining, I sped up until an orgasm came thundering through my body like a team of out-of-control thoroughbreds. My heart thundered in my ears as I spilled over my fist.

  Sex wasn’t supposed to feel like that, or at least it never had before. When I opened my eyes, Kelly was cupping my face and looking down at me with a soft and remarkably affectionate gaze. I didn’t mind him watching me.

  He rubbed a thumb over my lips. “You have no idea how good you look when you do that.”

  I took him back in my mouth without further ado and used some of the come on my hand to lubricate my path and slide a finger in his ass.

  “Oh God,” he managed.

  I worked my finger until I found that special spot, and that was all it took. He erupted with a helpless cry, and I didn’t pull away. Instead I let him flood my mouth, and I swallowed as much as I could. I felt strangely proud of myself as I stroked his shaking thighs and nursed his dick a little longer, unwilling to let him go just yet. He finally made a soft noise of protest and pulled back. Then he rolled off me and fell into an exhausted heap in the blankets.

  I glanced over to find his face buried in a pillow, his eyes firmly closed.

  “We need to talk,” I said in the darkness.

  “We will,” he murmured as he rolled into my side. “In the morning. Okay?”

  “I have PT in the morning.” I looked at him suspiciously. “Are you just putting me off? I have some things to say about—”

  “Blue, we have to go in around the same time.” He snuggled in closer. “Trust me. There will be plenty of time to talk in the morning.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but I heard his soft, even breathing as he dropped off. He probably wasn’t faking—it wasn’t unusual for him to fall asleep that fast. And I guess I had woken him up… and worn him out. I glared at his peaceful face. Figures. I finally found my courage, and he found Morpheus at the same damn time.

  Chapter 29

  Kelly

  I SPOTTED Blue the moment he entered the back of my class.

  He slunk toward a seat near the door and slid into it quietly, and I briefly forgot what the hell I was saying. I glanced back at the whiteboard I’d been writing on and then at the purple marker in my hand and hoped for inspiration. Resuscitation.

  I guess sneaking out of the house only got me so far. I knew Blue wanted to talk to me over breakfast, which is why I waited until he was in the shower to leave the house on quiet feet and pull the door closed behind me with the quietest of clicks. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, of course, but I was no fan of difficult conversations. And right then I was pretty sure Blue was there to have a difficult conversation with me.

  I wasn’t ready to let him go.

  The marker slid down too far in my hand, and I got a little purple ink on my fingertips. If I had to guess the topic of conversation? Probably that he’d had fun, but he was ready to go back to being just friends—that he wanted to break up with me. Although there was nothing to break up in the first place. We’d just been fucking—an experiment for him, a goddamned booty call.

  Something finally Ctrl+Alt+Deleted in my mind, and I was able to reboot and hone in on my drawing on the board. The arrow-tipped lines I’d drawn went in all different directions, and I quickly picked up the threads. Vectors, Cannon. You were in the middle of a goddamned lecture about vectors. Now get it together.

  I cleared my throat. “You all should really have this concept down by now, but we’re going to go over it one more time. It’s important that you remember scalars are quantities fully described by a magnitude alone. And that vectors have both magnitude and direction.”

  I tried to avoid Blue’s general direction altogether, but that proved nearly impossible. Especially when one of my students, some spiky-haired girl with a nose ring, was flirting with him. As I watched, Spiky Hair scribbled something on her notes and shoved it his way. Whatever she’d written netted her a quick grin.

  I made some notes and capped the marker, and the class scrambled to scribble my chicken scratch down as I walked back to the lectern. “Writing it down is all fine and good, guys, but what about a little bit of application. Who knows what five meters would be?”

  Laura’s hand shot up so fast it was almost a pale, skinny blur. She answered before he could so much as form her name on his lips. “Scalar.”

  I nodded. “Exactly. No direction for it.” I tried again. “Thirty meters, east.”

  “Vector,” she blurted.

  “Twenty degrees Celsius.”

  “Scalar.”

  “Yes. Two hundred fifty-six bytes.” I saw her hand and shook my head with a smile. “Someone other than Laura would be nice.”

  A kid in the front with thick, square glasses raised his hand, and I nodded. “Scalar,” Glasses said.

  “Nice.”

  Ugh. Spiky Hair leaned over again and said something to Blue, and my jaw firmed tightly enough to click. And was that a hand on the bicep? I turned toward the other half of the classroom, determined to keep my cool and not be such a jealous bastard.

  I questioned a few more students at random until I was satisfied at least some of my lecture had melted through their skulls and fused to their brains. Then I glanced at the clock. “Okay. For the last fifteen minutes, I want you guys to break off into pairs and complete the last section in the chapter.”

  It was an easy exercise—thirty questions for them to qualify each item as vector or scalar. That was the thing about this kind of science, though—if you skipped the easy stuff in the beginning, you had nothing to build on when things get difficult. Solving a problem about thermodynamics was no time to wonder about the material in chapter one.

  “Make sure you get started on distance and displacement,” I called over the growing din. “This will be on the exam, people.”

  When I glanced up near the back, Blue was surrounded by students who were probably fans. I headed for my office.

  THERE WAS a brief knock on my office door about fifteen minutes later, and I glanced up from my computer. “Ed McMahon?”

  “No,” Blue said patiently through the door.