card into the door lock. “Most everyone clears out on Friday nights. It should be pretty empty inside.”
Dangerous. If he went to Justin’s room, he might not leave. But… He bit his lip. Grabbed the door and held it open for Justin. “After you.”
They jogged up the three flights of stairs as quietly as they could. Justin’s neighbor was in his room and, according to the noise, having a party—or an orgy. Justin shut and locked his door, and when he turned around, Wes was there, pushing him against it. Kissing him and grinding his whole body against Justin’s.
“This is a bad idea,” Wes whispered.
“I know.”
“I won’t want to leave.”
“Then don’t.” Justin ran his thumbs down Wes’s cheekbones. Nibbled on his chin. “Stay tonight.”
Groaning, Wes lifted Justin into his arms and carried him to his bed. He set him down in the center and peeled his shirt off, tossing it aside. He reached for his belt and his fly. “If we have all night, I’m going to use every single minute to make love to you.”
Chapter Twenty
The locker room was so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.
Couldn’t line up one thought with the next. Everything was a mishmash, a jumble of color and sound. It was almost like he’d taken a helmet-to-helmet hit, but he hadn’t. The game had been easy, in fact. The number-three-ranked team in the FBS was practically a joke. They’d fallen apart early in the second quarter as Wes and Colton picked apart their defense. Devon, Quinton, and Orlando had made phenomenal plays that would end up on SportsCenter all week long.
Wes’s body buzzed with restless energy, even though he wanted to close his eyes and lean his head back. His heels bounced, and he batted his cell phone back and forth from palm to palm.
He was desperate to text Justin. It was a hunger that crawled inside him. A need swimming in his veins. Everyone else had texted their girlfriends already. They were already winding down into that postgame buzz, relaxed after their showers, bullshitting each other as they waited for the official release.
But he couldn’t. Not yet.
The reporter from ESPN was still making her rounds.
She’d started off making a beeline for Wes, but he’d demurred when she asked him how he’d won the game that day. “It wasn’t me. It’s the entire team. Colton is a phenomenal quarterback, and Orlando is one of the league’s best running backs. Devon and Quinton are the best receivers I’ve ever played with. And none of us could do anything without Art, Josh, and Patrick on the line. How about asking them how their games were today?”
She’d spun off toward Orlando, who was an absolute clown and lived for the spotlight, and he entertained her camera for a good twenty minutes before turning it over to Colton. But she was coming back to Wes soon, and he had to wait until she did.
He closed his eyes and leaned back on the stool in front of his locker, imagining Justin. His smile. The sound of his laugh. The way he looked when he danced, every one of his muscles taut and tight. How he looked when he was arching in orgasm, head tipped back, mouth open, panting Wes’s name. The look in his eyes when he took Wes’s hand, or when he told Wes he loved him.
He squeezed his cell phone, his lifeline to Justin—his lifeline to his own soul—so hard the plastic case creaked.
“So, Wes Van de Hoek.”
He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a pair of long legs wrapped in a tight suit skirt. A silk blouse neatly tucked in, encasing her voluptuous chest, and waves of blonde curls tumbling over her shoulder. She smirked when his eyes met hers, as if she’d caught him eyeing her up.
He cleared his throat and stood, taking a step back and putting space between them. This was part of the game, part of the deal. He had to talk to the media. As the team captain, as the school’s representative. He had to put on his mask and smile for the cameras, be the man who loved football, who was born to play football, who was going to shake up the NFL because he was so damn good at football.
She shoved the microphone into his face before he was ready. “It’s been an incredible year for you, Wes. You’re leading an undefeated team with a major shot at winning the national championship. At the start of