Page 57 of Off the Pitch

Christian laughed. It was a rich, warm sound, so full of happiness. “Or maybe next year you’ll be fucking me.” His voice sounded a little breathless, and it made something flutter in my stomach.

“Maybe I will,” I said, leaning over and pulling him into a soft kiss. “Would you like that?”

Christian nodded, biting his lip and looking down at his stomach. “Yeah, I think I would. I’d like to try it anyway, even if it’s just once. Maybe not today, but soon. You make it look so amazing, and I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me.”

My spent cock twitched, heat pouring into my veins, and a soft groan slipped from my lips. “Fuck, I want that too,” I murmured, kissing him deeply, my tongue tracing his lips. “I want to make love to you and bring you so much pleasure that you can’t even remember your own name.”

He whimpered against my lips, allowing me to push him back onto the cushions and cover him with my body. He was so beautiful like this, so open and unafraid. I wanted to make him soar, to make him feel things he’d never felt before. I slid my mouth lower, a half-formed thought in my mind. Christian gasped, a deep, broken moan coming from him as I moved between his thighs. I was going to take him apart.

Chapter Twenty-Four

ENGLAND ON THE MARCH

England beat Croatia to top World Cup Qualifying Group

The Times

Christian

I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting whenGQmagazine said they wanted to interview me, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t this.

I’d been directed to a studio in Central London and then been ushered into a large, ornate room covered in various lighting rigs. I was currently sitting in one corner, next to a rack of expensive-looking suits while being prodded and poked by a sweet but fearsome lady armed with a makeup brush.

Lily was lounging in a chair beside me, chatting happily with the makeup lady about contouring and my complexion while something was dabbed below my eyes. I felt a little like a mannequin being dressed up to go on display.

The interviewer, a seemingly nice guy named Ryan, said they wanted to do photos first, and then they’d ask the questions afterwards when everything had settled down.

“Is there anything you don’t want to talk about?” Ryan asked as the scary makeup lady gave way to a slightly-less-scary hairdresser who sighed when he looked at my hair—although I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“I’d like to stick to professional subjects,” I said, looking at Ryan in the mirror and slipping my professional press face on. “No personal topics such as relationships.” I shot him my best charming smile. “There’s nothing to talk about there so I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Got it,” he said, with a laugh. “Don’t worry. After we get you all dressed up, you’ll be inundated with offers! No girl’s going to say no.”

I hummed in agreement, sliding on a false smile.

It was funny. I’d never thought I’d want to talk about my love life in an interview, mostly because I’d never thought I’d have one to talk about. But now, hiding David felt odd… and there was a sinking feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t because I didn’t love him, or because I wasn’t proud of him. I just couldn’t get over the idea of admitting to anyone that I had a boyfriend. I wasn’t even sure how to get the words out of my mouth. The longer we were together, the more I wanted to be able to tell people. I wanted everyone to know how amazing, talented, and smart he was, how much I loved him and how he made me want to be a better person each and every day. With him, things were so much easier, and the weight of my career that I’d always carried felt lighter, less of a burden, like David was helping share the weight.

The little voice that wanted to scream that I was gay from the rooftops was stronger now, and I was struggling to think of reasons to keep it quiet. But the nagging feeling that I was treading a fine line between success and failure was still there, and I still had no evidence to convince myself that everything I’d built wouldn’t come crashing down around my ears the second I opened my mouth.

My phone flashed in front of me, and I picked it up, carefully tilting the screen down in case it was David. I didn’t want anyone reading my messages over my shoulder. To my surprise, though, it wasn’t my boyfriend at all. It was a picture of some strange-looking purple flowers that Jordan had deposited into the group Whatsapp thread he shared with Liam and me.

Jordan[Sent A Picture] Tell Liam I’m right and that these are fuckin ugly

LiamTell Jordan it’s my wedding not his

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. I’d completely forgotten that Liam and Jordan were visiting florists this afternoon. They’d volunteered to go because Ali had important client meetings all week, and the pair of them had decided that they needed to choose a florist sooner rather than later. I’d only managed to escape being dragged on this mission because of the interview.

Apparently, though, just because I wasn’t there didn’t mean I’d gotten out of helping.

“Okay, Christian. Let’s get you dressed,” said someone behind me, and I nodded, handing my phone to Lily for safekeeping. By the time I’d been dressed up, dressed down, and re-dressed again by the stylist, there were another bunch of messages lined up for me.

JordanNo way Ali is gonna marry you if your taste is this bad

Liamomfg they’re just flowers mate

Liamanyway she picked me so she must have taste

Jordandude! Just flowers?! There’s gonna be hundreds of them – they gotta look nice

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