Page 159 of Game Changer
“I’m sorry,” Scott said, “were you having dinner? I should have called first. It smells delicious in here, though.”
“It’s fine,” Kip said, still dumbfounded.
“Have you eaten, Scott?” Mom asked. “It’s just meat loaf, but you’re welcome to join us.”
Scott looked at Kip. “If it’s no trouble.”
“No trouble at all! Come on in,” Mom said. She squeezed Kip’s arm excitedly as she passed him.
“Um,” Kip said, “maybe we should...talk. First. For a moment. Upstairs?”
“Yeah,” Scott said, “all right.”
“We’ll be right there, Mom,” Kip called out. “Scott and I just need to talk for a minute.”
He felt giddy and oddly nervous. He gestured for Scott to follow him, and they climbed the narrow stairway to the second floor.
When they got inside Kip’s bedroom, he closed the door behind them and turned, ready to hear whatever the reason was that had brought Scott here. “What—”
That was all that Kip got out before Scott was on him, crowding him against the door and kissing him hungrily. Kip grabbed whatever he could—Scott’s T-shirt, his neck, his arms, his hair—and kissed back. He loved the feel of Scott’s soft beard against his face.
Scott picked him up so Kip’s legs were straddling his waist. He carried him over to the wooden desk that had sat in Kip’s bedroom since he was six years old, and sat him on it. He spread his legs and kissed him harder, pressing Kip back against his bookshelf.
Kip felt hot everywhere. He couldn’t get enough of Scott’s mouth or hands. And, yeah, maybe he was getting a little too turned on, considering they were in his childhood bedroom, but this was fuckinghot.
“Fuck, Scott,” he managed when they finally broke apart. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t lose you,” Scott said, kissing him again. “I can’t.”
“Okay.”
They kissed some more, and Scott’s thumbs slid up the insides of Kip’s thighs. Kip decided to do the responsible thing.
“We can’t,” he panted. “We have to stop. Holy shit. My parents are waiting for us. Fuck.”
“I know.” Scott let out a breath and stepped back. They both had very obvious erections, which would be awkward to take to the dinner table.
“Let’s sit for a minute,” Kip said. “Just...talk to me.”
They sat together on Kip’s bed, and Scott said, “I like your room.”
Kip glanced around at the familiar—and embarrassingly juvenile—décor of his bedroom. He still had his grade school spelling bee and academic awards on a shelf above his desk. And that wasn’t a humiliating thing for your NHL superstar boyfriend to see.
“It’s pretty glamorous, yeah,” he joked.
“It’s very...you. I like it.” Scott took Kip’s hand. He let their clasped hands rest on the bed between them. “I told some of my teammates.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I told my three closest friends on the team.”
“What did you tell them, exactly?”
“That I’m gay. That I’m seeing someone. That his name is Kip. That he’s wonderful.”
Kip blushed and smiled. “Really?”
“Yes.”
