Page 188 of Off the Pitch

I also got the feeling he’d hidden because he was worried someone might recognise him. From everything he’d said, I wondered if he’d told anyone he was hooking up with men. I highly suspected he hadn’t. That was one of the main reasons I didn’t fuck with footballers. I didn’t want to be blamed for their careers going sideways if and when they were outed by the media.

There definitely were queer footballers, my hookup was proof of that, but I didn’t know if there were any who were out to their clubs. There certainly weren’t any top-level professionals out in the men’s game that I knew of, only the women’s. It seemed things were still as bad now as when I’d played sixteen years ago.

It was a mess, but it was a mess I didn’t want to go anywhere near.

Instead, I grabbed our food and took it over to the large coffee table on one side of my room that was surrounded by plush-looking armchairs. Technically, the room was a small suite. I liked the amount of space it gave me, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t afford it. But for once in my life, I didn’t feel like bragging. Mostly because I didn’t feel like I had to impress Jordan, but I wasn’t sure why. There was something different about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Every time I tried to look at it my brain couldn’t focus. Like it was some sort of optical illusion.

Not that I wanted to look at it though. That would mean nothing but trouble.

“How long will you be in London?” Jordan asked. He’d pulled on a pair of boxers because he hadn’t wanted to risk freezing his dick if the plate was cold. I’d sighed but conceded that it was a necessary evil.

“A couple of weeks. I have some things to sort out.”

“Are you going to stop by the club again?”

“Maybe. It depends on if my brother wants me to. I hadn’t intended to come by today, but Lucas asked me to meet him there.” He’d wanted to ask me a couple of questions about one of the companies I was a silent partner in. They made a fitness tracker, and apparently, they’d approached the club about a potential sponsorship and some marketing. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t have asked me over the phone, but Lucas had always preferred face-to-face conversation.

“You should come to a game while you’re here,” Jordan said, popping a chunk of steak into his mouth.

“I might if I have time.” It was a polite way of saying no, or at least not committing myself to anything. I hadn’t been to a match in years, and I didn’t intend to start going now just because a boy with a cute butt had asked me to watch him play, even if said cute butt was talented on the pitch. The little taste I’d seen of his skills earlier had shown me that. I knew getting tickets wouldn’t be a problem if I changed my mind though, and Lucas would be happy if I went. I’d never intended football to become such a sore spot between us but perhaps it had always been inevitable given what had happened. I’d never begrudged Lucas his success, and I’d never told him how I felt because I didn’t want him to feel guilty. It was my problem that I couldn’t relegate the past to the past.

“Cool,” Jordan said, unaware of the thoughts racing around my head. “There’s a Champions League home match on Thursday if you’re around. Or we’re at home against Newcastle next weekend. Then it’s the international break for some pre-World Cup friendlies, and I don’t peg you as an England fan.”

“No,” I said. “I support Portugal.”

“Boo!” Jordan gave me a shit-eating grin. “Although maybe I should feel sorry for you, since we’re going to kick Portugal’s ass at the World Cup this year.”

“You sound confident.”

“I have to be, otherwise what’s the point? I know I’m probably not gonna be the next Messi, but I have to have confidence in myself and believe I’m a good player and that I’ll get better every day. I have to believe I can improve and be great. If I don’t believe in myself, how can I ask anyone else to believe in me? Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.” I was virtually ignoring my own food by this point, focused on watching him instead. I’d always found confidence sexy and always admired people who had that unshakeable belief in themselves. But Jordan’s seemed to be accompanied by a touch of humility. It balanced him out and didn’t make him sound overly cocky like so many guys I’d known. With what I’d seen of his skills, that belief could take him far. Half of success was just believing in yourself to begin with.

Jordan fascinated me, and the more time I spent with him, the deeper that intrigue went. Maybe it was his confidence. Or maybe it was the fact he was so much more interesting than most of my usual hookups. I wasn’t normally fussed about what came out of their mouths beyond a little begging and moaning, but Jordan’s belief that he could be the best at everything he did seemed to spill over into every part of his life—whether that was playing football or riding my dick.

My resolve cracked a little further, like a frozen lake being tested, and the desire to get to know him a little more bubbled up between the fissures.

Maybe I would consider going to see him play one day.

“Are you this confident about everything?” I asked, my brain rapidly trying to work out how to ask a question I’d very rarely asked before. Sure, I’d had fuck buddies, but I’d never been the one doing the asking.

Jordan laughed. “Most things. Except maths, ’cos I hate it, and cooking because my grandma is the best cook in the world, and I’ll never be as good as her. I could practice for a million years, and she’d still tell me I was getting it wrong.” He looked across at me, and his laugh curled into a hungry smirk. “But I’m guessing you weren’t asking about that.”

“No,” I said. I put my plate with my half-eaten meal onto the coffee table. “I wasn’t.”

“Then, yes, I am.” He rose out of his chair, taking two steps across the room until he was standing over me.

“I have a question to ask you,” I said, reaching out for him and pulling him onto my lap.

“Is it will I suck your dick again?” He ground playfully against me, and I could already see the outline of his cock against the tight fabric of his briefs. The stamina of twenty-somethings was incredible. “Because I will if you ask nicely.”

I groaned. He was going to kill me if he kept this up.

“Good to know,” I said, grabbing his hip and squeezing. “I was wondering, since I’m going to be in town for a few weeks, do you want to keep hooking up while I’m here? Just casually of course. You’re incredibly sexy and a great lay, and I thought we could help each other blow off some steam.”

Jordan stilled, looking down at me with a quirked eyebrow as he considered my question. The seconds seemed to stretch on, each one infinite. “Sure. Why not?” I released the breath my lungs had held without my permission. “You can give me your number before I leave,” Jordan said, leaning down to brush his lips against my ear. My skin tingled. “But first, you’re going to fuck me until neither of us can walk.”

Chapter Six

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