Page 34 of Game Changer
Scott returned and handed Kip a cold bottle of beer. “You want a glass, or...”
“Nah, bottle’s fine.” Kip forced a smile. He watched Scott fiddle a bit with his own bottle, his face twisting.
“I’m, uh, I’m looking forward to seeing you all dressed up at that gala.” Scott gave Kip an adorably nervous smile.
Kip grinned back at him, relieved. “Yeah? I clean up real nice.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Scott said, sinking to one knee on the couch and leaning forward to kiss him. Kip sighed and kissed back. He wanted Scott to cover him. He wanted to feel the weight of him everywhere.
He leaned back until he was lying down, then gazed up at Scott expectantly.
“Come here,” he said.
Scott took Kip’s beer out of his hand and placed it on the glass coffee table next to his own. He lowered himself carefully—too carefully—to cover him with his giant body.
“I’m heavy.” Scott said it as if it would deter Kip from wanting to be absolutely smothered by him.
“I won’t break.” Kip wrapped an arm around his back to haul him closer.
When Scott settled his weight on him, Kip let out a whimper that would have been embarrassing, but he was too happy to care. Scott nipped at the sensitive skin of his neck, and Kip’s cock stiffened for the fourth goddamn time this afternoon. He moved his hips to press it against Scott’s thigh.
“God, Kip,” Scott moaned against his throat.
Then his phone buzzed.
“Food’s here,” Scott said with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He headed down to the lobby, and Kip was left reeling on the couch.
Kip had thought he had this thing figured out: Scott needed someone to have sex with who wouldn’t go to the press, or post online about it. He, for whatever reason, seemed to feel he could trust Kip with his secret. They would secretly hook up a few times, and then Scott would get back to being a giant superstar and Kip would go back to his sad joke of a life. Simple.
But, goddamn, it was not going to be easy to walk away from this when the time inevitably came.
They ate their ravioli on the couch, and Scott turned on the television to catch a bit of the Pittsburgh vs. Boston game. It was interesting, watching hockey with Scott Hunter. Sometimes he would hunch forward, focused and chewing thoughtfully. Like he was working something out in his head. Kip wondered what he was seeing on the screen. What details he was noticing that almost no one else on earth would see.
“You’re playing in Boston this week, right?” Kip asked.
“Yeah. Thursday,” Scott said, his eyes still on the television. “We play in Philly on Tuesday.”
“And back here for Saturday?”
“Yeah. Montreal plays here on Saturday.”
“I’m, um, I’m not working on Saturday.”
There was a pause, and then Scott seemed to register what Kip had said. He turned his attention away from the television.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I’m working Tuesday to Friday this week.”
“Okay.” His brow furrowed.
“I mean... I could maybe see if Maria wants to—”
“No! No, don’t. It’s silly, right?”
Kip shrugged. “If it’s important to you, I could switch shifts.”
