Playing With Fire (Glasgow Lads Book 3) (12 page)

“Quality, mate. McKenzie and Carroll are back.” Colin lifted his hand as if for a high-five, then lowered it with a wince. “I keep forgetting I cannae do that just now. Stitches and all.”

“Sorry. And thanks.” Robert felt a glow of pride at Colin’s praise. “Things are good between us again.”
Did that sound suspicious?
“I mean, good for all of us in the back four, plus Heather. Not just me and Liam.” He swiped an arm over his forehead, feeling himself begin to blush. He never blushed.

Colin angled a penetrating gaze at him. “Robert? What’s going on?”

“Aye, fine.” Robert peeked at Liam, who was talking to their delighted-looking manager. His fellow center-back flashed him a thumbs-up and a radiant grin, his eyes crinkling. Robert felt his face mirror Liam’s as he returned the gesture.

“Robert.”

He jumped at the sound of Colin’s voice beside his ear, sounding low and serious. “What?”

“Is there some…thing between you two?”

Robert made himself meet Colin’s pale-green, infuriatingly perceptive eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Just a hunch I got from watching youse on the pitch. And then just now, when you looked at each other, your eyes were like four wee hard-ons.” He illustrated with the first two fingers of each hand, pointing them at each other and making laser noises. “Pew-pew-pew!”

Robert felt lighter for having one fewer person to hide this from. “Liam doesn’t want anyone to know yet.” He paused. “Is that weird? This only started a week ago, so maybe he just needs time to get used to it?”

“Or to see you don’t change your mind and go back to girls?”

“I won’t.” Robert shook his head. “I mean, I still
fancy
girls, too, but I only want to be with him.”

“Oh.” Colin took a step back, then looked at the ground beneath his feet as though treading in a mine field. “Is that what Liam wants too?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Nothing.” Colin rubbed at the black thistle tattoo on his inner forearm. “It’s not my place to say anything, but…maybe Liam doesnae want to tell the team because he never tells the team.”

Prickly heat spread across the back of Robert’s neck. “Tells them what?”

“When he’s hooked up with one of us. It’s like an unspoken Warriors rule. We don’t kiss and tell. Or wank and tell. Or suck and tell.”

“Or fuck and tell. Got it.” Robert grasped the top of the fence to keep his hands from shaking.

“Actually, not fuck and tell. Not with Liam. He’s got a strict no-anal-with-mates policy.”

Robert’s jaw dropped at Colin’s bluntness. “Huh?”

“He told me that when it comes to fucking-fucking, it’s got to mean nothing or everything. So he only does it with one-night stands or guys he’s serious about.”

Robert wondered whether he fell into the latter category or whether he was like all the other Warriors to Liam. “How did I not know this about him? I thought he told me everything.”

“He probably thought you’d freak out knowing guys around you on the pitch were hooking up. It’s nae big deal. And now you can join the fun.” Colin leaned in and beckoned Robert closer. “You know how for preseason Sunday practice sessions, you’d show up at one o’clock?”

“Aye.”

“Well, us poofs would all arrive at noon for the orgy.”

Robert tried to laugh. “Very funny.”

“Did someone say orgy?” asked a smooth, cultured voice to Robert’s right. “Where’s my invitation?”

He turned to see Lord Andrew, whose golden-brown hair and expensive clothes seemed unruffled by the rising wind. The toff was pulling a bottle of antibacterial hand gel from a large bag slung over his shoulder.

“Here, love.” Andrew held out the bottle to Colin, his finger poised on the pump. “It’s been ten minutes, and you’ve been touching”—he gestured to Robert—“sweaty people.”

“I cannae live in a bubble.” Colin took a dollop of gel, then wrinkled his nose as he rubbed his hands together. “Och, you know I hate the lavender-scented one.”

“It’s lavender-chamomile, and it’s meant to keep you calm.” Andrew planted a soft kiss on Colin’s cheek. “Is it working?”

Colin took a deep whiff of his own palms. “I only want to strangle you a wee bit now, so…yes?”

“Good.” Andrew rested his head on Colin’s shoulder. “I’m shattered, love. Take me home and have a lie-down with me?”

Colin gave him a grateful smile, the shadows beneath his eyes curving into half circles. Andrew didn’t look tired at all—he was obviously trying to salvage Colin’s pride. While the young aristocrat’s demeanor grated on Robert’s nerves, he’d done a bang-up job of looking after Colin during his convalescence.

“That’s us away, then,” Colin told Robert. “Congrats again on the match.”

“Wait. What about”—Robert looked at Andrew, then back at Colin—“the thing we were discussing. Should I worry?”

“Nah.” Colin’s eyes shifted away, undermining his word.

“Why not?” Robert asked.

Colin shrugged. “Cos maybe you’re different.”

G
LASGOW
’
S
W
EST
E
ND
was a mere five miles from where Liam had grown up with Robert, but it might as well have been on another continent. The reds and golds of its buildings seemed to gleam even on cloudy days, whereas Liam’s East End street looked gray even in sunshine. The West End was hip and leafy, and featured a refreshing lack of babies playing with heroin needles found on the pavement.

Liam pondered this only fleetingly, since his thoughts were laser-focused on what awaited them inside Robert’s flat. He felt pure knackered, between today’s match and last night’s shift at the pub, which had been extra busy due to Scotland’s 1-0 victory over Ireland. But he knew his fatigue would vanish the moment they were alone.

Inside his flat, Robert dropped his kit bag next to the bedside table. “So, shower?”

“Nope.” Liam tackled him around the waist and dumped him on the bed. Then he crawled atop Robert, straddling his hips and pinning his wrists above his head. “Filthy now, clean later.”

Robert’s lips could barely curve into a smile before Liam crushed them with his own, tasting sweat and spit and a hint of wind-protection lip balm. Robert kissed him back, arms straining to be freed—but not with full strength, so Liam knew he was loving this.

I’ll show you what it’s like to be held down, overpowered, ravished. Something no lass can do.

Liam angled back to grind his arse against Robert’s crotch, feeling the hardness trapped beneath the jockstrap. With an animal groan, Robert dug his heels against the bed and thrust upward.

Liam shoved his hands under Robert’s mud-stained football shirt, grasping at his broad, dense pecs. “I’ve been dreaming of this all week.”

“Me too.” Using only his abs, Robert sat up far enough to wrench his own top off.

“Couldn’t wait to get you naked.” Liam shifted down and dug his fingertips under Robert’s waistband. “The entire match, I was dying to tear this kit off your body.” He drew down Robert’s long black shorts, shimmying them over his thighs and past his knees.

“That would’ve got you a yellow card.”

“Hah, right?” Liam wrenched the shorts over Robert’s socks and boots. “An unsporting behavior foul.”

“You could’ve kissed me. The refs probably would’ve allowed it, especially after the final whistle.”

“Would’ve started a riot, though.” Standing at the foot of the bed, he gazed at Robert splayed out, wearing nothing but his black jockstrap, socks, and football boots, his legs and arms streaked with dirt and blood. “You are so fucking hot.”

“Liam.”

He snapped his gaze up to Robert’s face. “What?”

“I wasn’t joking about you kissing me after the match. I wanted you to.”

“What, in front of everyone?” Liam asked, stripping off his own violet-and-white-striped top.

“Why not?”

“Because once people know, they can never
un
know.” He stepped out of his shorts and jockstrap, holding his breath at the latter’s sweaty stink, then tossed them far away, under Robert’s desk.

“So what if they know?”

“They’d make a fuss, and then we’d never have any privacy.” Leaving their boots and socks on for efficiency’s sake, Liam crawled up the bed to lie beside Robert. “It’d never be just you and me anymore.” He pulled Robert into another ravenous kiss, and after a few moments, he was relieved to feel his mate’s body mold itself against him.

They ground together, gloriously matched. Robert yanked Liam’s hair, pulling his head back to feast upon his neck. “God, we reek so bad.”

“It’s great, aye?”
No girl would take you to bed smelling like this, but a man? A real man?
This
man loves it.

Robert inhaled hard against Liam’s collarbone. “Call me a coward, but I’ll not put my face anywhere near your stinking crotch just now.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of my worst enemy.” He reached down and tugged Robert’s cock free of the jockstrap. “We’ll come against each other like this. You first.”

Robert dragged his teeth under Liam’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “No, you first.”

“I said ‘you first’ first.” Liam rolled over, pulling Robert atop him. Robert stopped protesting and started thrusting, slowly at first, his cock pressed between Liam’s abs and his own. With one hand he grasped Liam’s shoulder, the other latching onto the top edge of the mattress. Once anchored, he ground harder and faster, his eyes locked with Liam’s.

Liam tried to watch Robert moving above him and
not
imagine Robert moving inside him, tried to ignore his body’s urgent message that the only way it could live was to join with this man’s.

Then Robert slowed to a stop, his face turning pensive. “All right?” Liam asked him.

He shook his head. “I don’t care if people make a fuss. I don’t care if their heads explode. I want them to know who I am.”

Sighing, Liam slid his hands down over the twin curves of Robert’s arse. “I know who you are.” He squeezed hard, pulling Robert tight against him. “Isn’t that enough?”

Robert groaned, then kissed him, straining against Liam once, then twice more, fast and harsh, before stopping again. “No. It’s not enough.” He pushed off and rolled to the side, tugging his jock strap to cover himself. “I know people will freak out because I’m supposed to be the straight one. But I’m not straight, and I want everyone to see that. I don’t care what they say.”

Liam bit his lip, trying to catch his breath. He really didn’t feel like talking just now, but clearly that’s what they were doing. Maybe it was what they
should
be doing. “You think you don’t care what they say. But you
will
care.”

“The Warriors, our fans—why wouldn’t they be happy for me?”

“They would be, some of them. But then they’d talk about you nonstop. You’re not used to that.” Liam slid his forearm under the pillow, wincing at a pain near his elbow. “Coming out’s not easy, mate. That’s why most of us start with people we trust, not the entire fucking world.”

“I don’t care what the world thinks. I’m ready to be me now.”

Liam rubbed his face, silently cursing Robert’s cluelessness. “Okay, forget our fans for a second. Think of our opponents. Remember how they treated Fergus and Evan when they were a couple? Asking which was the girl? Or purposely tackling one of them too hard just to wind the other up so he’d get called for a foul?”

“I remember how that crap never worked. Fergus and Evan never let it get to them.”

“But I would. When that striker cut you today”—he pointed to the gash on Robert’s knee—“I wanted to murder him, and it wasn’t even a foul. If everyone knew how much I—” Liam stopped, unable to complete the sentence. “Anyway, that’s why I can never kiss you after a match. I cannae risk hurting you or the Warriors.”

Robert’s blue eyes went wide and round. “So we can never tell anyone? You’re ashamed of me?”

Liam flinched. “Are you mad? You’re magnificent. Anyone would be proud to be with you.”

“If I wasn’t bisexual.” Robert’s jaw set into a hard line. “If I wasn’t an embarrassment to you in front of your gay mates.”

“Rab—”

“No, I get it.” He rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed, where he began to unlace his boots. “You want me to go on pretending I’m straight so we can have our hot little hookups with no one suspecting.”

“It’s not about me. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“Aye, well, it’s pure safe here in the closet.” He wrenched off his right boot. “So thanks for that.”

“Go on, then. Tell everyone.” Liam moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed and yanked on his own mud-caked laces. “I’ll not stop you. And if anyone gives you a hard time, I’ll have your back.”

“As a mate, right? Not as a boyfriend?”

Liam looked down at the cascade of dirt crumbling from his laces onto Robert’s blue linoleum floor. He pictured the reactions of his friends and teammates, the looks of pity they’d give Liam if they knew he was with another bisexual man.
Good luck keeping this one, mate
, they’d think or perhaps even say out loud. Then if Robert moved away—like Tom—Liam would suffer another humiliating heartbreak. “It’s too soon. I’m not ready.”

“What would make you ready? What can I do?”

Promise you’ll never leave.
No, he couldn’t say something that pathetic, not even to Robert. “Just give me time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know! Fuck’s sake, man, just relax.” Liam pulled off his boot and peeled down his sock, again holding his breath against the smell. “I thought we agreed to keep this fun.”

“It’s nae fun sneaking about like a couple of closet cases. I’m not into that.” There came a thud from Robert’s second shoe hitting the floor. “This is so backwards. Shouldn’t
I
be the one who wants to keep us a secret? Shouldn’t I be the one who’s afraid?”

“Yes!” Liam yanked the lace of his other boot, his temper boiling over. “You should absolutely be afraid. Coming out is hard, even when you’ve got support. And if you think people are mean to gays, just wait’ll you see how they treat bi men. Straights will say you’re just looking for attention, or that you’re a filthy slag, and gays will say you’re—” He cut himself off.