Page 44 of Playing the Game
The indecision was killing Jonas. He desperately wanted to believe Adam. Yet he’d seen footballers in action many times.
Then he stared into Adam’s deep blue eyes and he was gone. Whether he accepted that fact today or in a few weeks’ time, it wouldn’t change.
NINE
ADAM
Two weeks passed in a flurry of football and fucking. Adam lay in bed staring out of the window at his gardens. The shower running in the en suite gave him comfort.
He hated being alone. Especially in a house of this size.
They had fallen into a routine frighteningly quickly. Jonas was singing in Swedish in the shower. A warmth spread through Adam that he hadn’t had since Jen.
I’m falling for him. That much is clear.
The shower and singing stopped. Soon enough a naked Jonas wandered through, towelling his hair.
“Are you dripping?” Adam asked.
“Are you?”
“Come to bed.”
“No can do. I need to get home before they get up,” Jonas replied. “Tito caught me the other day. So now I have an early morning jogging habit.”
Adam lay on the pillow and pouted. No matter how much time they spent in bed, he could never get enough.
“You’ll see me at training in about three hours anyway.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Jonas winked. “Look but can’t touch.”
Adam snuggled into a pillow.
“Sounds kinda horny.”
Jonas sat on the bed to put his socks on. Adam stroked his leg.
“There’s always a late-night booty call,” Jonas said.
“We should be resting more.”
“Oh okay, Skipper.”
Adam seemed lost in thought. “I suppose an afternoon nap would safeguard against unnecessary fatigue.”
Jonas kissed him. “Now you’re talking my language.”
With a snarl, Adam grabbed Jonas.
“Oi.”
He nuzzled Jonas’ neck. “One more hit.”
Jonas giggled. “The man’s got it bad.”
“He certainly does.”
