Page 81 of Game Changer
Scott: I’ll meet you there. Text me when you’re leaving.
Kip smiled. He was equal parts excited about moving things back to Scott’s place, and touched that Scott had given him his access code.
He wrote back,I’m leaving now. Just gonna tell Elena.
* * *
Scott was trying to leave when Carter stopped him.
“Scotty! Was that her? Was that her? Isawyou, man!” He threw an arm around Scott’s neck and hauled him in. “I saw you! Fucking gorgeous lady, Scott! Nice work, my friend!”
Carter had clearly been drinking. “Don’t worry,” he said in a whisper that was louder than most people’s speaking voices. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Uh, sure, thanks, Carter,” Scott said, pulling his arm away. “I was just heading out, so...”
“I get it, man, Iget it. She leaving in another car?”
“Um.”
“I feel you. Have a good night, Hunter! Agoodnight!”
Scott exhaled as he walked away. Things were getting complicated.
His car service was waiting for him downstairs. He let the blissful silence wash over him once he was alone in the back seat.
The driver took him home.
Chapter Fourteen
Kip considered removing all of his clothes and just waiting, naked, on Scott’s bed for him.
Then he considered that he was wearing a very expensive suit and looked damn good. And hadn’t Scott said something about wanting to strip him out of it?
Kip grinned into the empty apartment. He kept the lights low and sat on the couch, admiring the view of Brooklyn.
He got an idea.
He synched up his phone to Scott’s Bluetooth stereo and put on a Spotify playlist of romantic jazz standards. He waited.
It was almost half an hour later when he heard the click of the door being opened.
He stood, but didn’t move toward the door. He just stayed in the dimly lit living room with the lights of the city behind him. He would let Scott come to him.
“Kip?” Scott called out in a soft voice.
Kip didn’t reply. He leaned a hip against the side of the tall entertainment unit that housed Scott’s television and crossed his arms as Frank Sinatra sang “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
Scott entered the room. “Kip. Oh my god.” He strode over to him like he was the first glass of water Scott had had in days.
Kip had expected to be thrown against a wall and kissed aggressively. He had expected to be punished for working Scott up at the gala. Instead, Scott placed a gentle hand on Kip’s face and just seemed to take him in for a moment. There was an urgency in Scott’s eyes, but when he finally leaned in and kissed Kip, it was slow and deliberate. It wasn’t a conversation; it was Scott telling him something important, and making sure Kip was listening.
When their lips parted, Kip felt limp. “Wow,” he breathed.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Scott said. His voice was husky and he was gazing at Kip like he couldn’t believe he was real, his brow furrowed and his face almost pained.
“Hey,” Kip said, and kissed him. He rested a hand against Scott’s chest, over the lapel of his jacket, and let his tongue explore his mouth, unhurried and reverent.
They kissed for a long time that way, with Kip pressed against the entertainment unit, never escalating. Etta James started singing “At Last.”
