Balls Up

by Lexxie Couper

Until Curtis told him he wanted him to.

  Now.

  They came together. The first time in Rhys’s life he’d shared a mutual orgasm.

  At the very second Rhys’s seed spurt from his cock, he felt Curtis’s release erupt into his body. Pump into his back entry.

  Fill him.

  Neither spoke a word as they recovered.

  Curtis removed his spent cock from Rhys’s arse, breath ragged, and then climbed from the bed, disappearing into the suite’s bathroom.

  A moment later, he returned, a warm, damp washcloth in his hand.

  He cleaned Rhys’s anus. Wiped the remains of their joining from his flesh.

  Rhys wanted to tell him to stop. Wanted to ask him to reconsider going.

  Wanted to beg him to change his mind about…them.

  To ask him if there was any chance, any chance at all they could maybe, perhaps, give being a them a chance.

  Watching Curtis’s face as the man gently cleaned his anus, Rhys opened his mouth.

  I’m not gay.

  Curtis’s words from the plane mocked him before he could make a fool of himself.

  He shut his mouth. Lowered his leg to the bed and, aching on every level, scratched at his belly with a wide grin on his face. “Not too shabby for a cricketer.”

  Curtis regarded him from the end of the bed, silent.

  Rhys threaded his fingers behind his head and wriggled his butt on the mattress. “Reckon you hit a six just then.”

  “Over the fence, not out?” Curtis asked, a guarded tone in his voice.

  Rhys laughed, even as his gut churned. “Definitely not out.”

  Jesus, what the fuck was he saying? Not out? Could he be any lamer?

  Tell the bastard how you feel. Tell him. It doesn’t matter you know he’s going to say no. Just. Tell. Him.

  Climbing off the bed, he gave his stomach another scratch. “Think I’ll have a shower and then head down to the restaurant for breakfast.”

  Curtis studied him silently. And then gave his head a sharp nod. “Kay. See you around then?”

  Tell him!

  Rhys grinned. “See you around.”

  He turned and ambled toward the shower, his gut a mess.

  No, that wasn’t right. His head was a mess. His head was a fucked-up, messed-up, churned-up mess. His gut was telling him to turn around and walk back to Curtis and kiss him senseless.

  Stupid gut. He needed to stop listening to it. If he hadn’t acted on gut instinct, he wouldn’t be in this wretched predicament now, would he? It was his gut after all, that had told him to follow Clarkson to the shower back at Heathrow. His gut that had started this whole thing.

  Stupid gut.

  By the time he flicked on the shower stream, the thud of his suite’s door closing filled the silence.

  “Fuck,” he growled, stepping under the cold water.

  The icy needles assaulted his skin.

  He stood there, waiting for his normal It’s-all-good attitude to come back to him. It would. It always did. Whenever he messed up a penalty shot, whenever he copped a speeding ticket, whenever he said goodbye to Josh after spending time with him, it always came back.

  Fifteen minutes of cold, drilling water later, he slammed the side of his fist to the tiled wall.

  “Fuck.”

  He killed the water.

  Damn near threw himself from the shower. Dried himself in five furious rubs of the towel, and then yanked on the same jeans and T-shirt discarded on the floor the night before.

  The night Curtis Clarkson changed everything.

  Running through the suite—not even bothering to waste time with shoes—he pulled open the door and bolted through it.

  Ran for the lift.

  Jabbed the Down button.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered glaring at the light indicating which floor the lift was currently on.

  “Fuck this.” He turned and sprinted to the stairs. Descended them two at a time, his bare feet an echoing tattoo in the concrete stairwell.

  Burst into the hotel lobby. Ran toward the doors.

  Taxi. He needed a taxi.

  He had no fucking clue where Curtis lived, but he knew where his pub was. Sorta. In Woolloomooloo. Maybe.

  Fuck it, he was going to find the bastard no matter where he was and tell him exactly how he felt about him. Let the bastard know there was no way he, Rhys, was letting him walk away from what was, quite possibly, the best fucking thing to ever happen to either of—

  “Oi!”

  Rhys stumbled to a halt at the chuckled shout behind him.

  At the familiar chuckled shout.

  At the familiar chuckled male shout.

  Blood roaring in his ears, pulse pounding, heart damn near choking him, he turned.

  And found Curtis sitting in one of the foyer’s plush armchairs, smirking at him. “You running after someone?”

  Rooted to the spot, Rhys stared at him.

  Lips twitching, Curtis unfurled his towering form from the chair and crossed to where Rhys stood. “Maybe,” he said, drawing closer…close enough Rhys could feel the warmth of his body radiating from him, “you forgot to ask that someone something?”

  Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it.

  Curtis grinned. “Something like, ‘Clarkson, is there any chance you’d like to see me again?’ Or however you soccer players word such requests?”

  Rhys swallowed. “Clarkson,” he began, his voice little more than a scratchy breath. He flicked a quick look at the people in the lobby, noticed every single one was watching them, and then returned his stare to Curtis. “Is there any chance you’d like to see me again?”

  “In what way, McDowell?” A devilish light glinted in Curtis’s eyes. A flash of dimple creased his right cheek. “As friends? Fellow sports celebrities? Or something much more significant?”

  Heart pounding, Rhys smiled. “Significant.”

  Curtis cocked an eyebrow. “Before I answer, tell me how you feel about public displays of affection.”

  Rhys frowned. “Why?”

  Curtis drew his head a little closer to Rhys’s, the dimple creasing deeper as his smile grew wider. “Because standing outside the hotel right at this very second, watching us through the glass like a slathering fiend, is Carl Holston, and I just wanted to be sure you’re totally okay with me kissing you senseless in front of him before I—”

  Rhys silenced Curtis with a crushing kiss.

  Plundered his mouth with a hungry tongue.

  The sound of people cheering filled the foyer. And the sound of gasping. And mutters about inappropriate behaviour. Curtis’s name was uttered more than once. As was Rhys’s.

  Rhys didn’t care. Neither, it seemed, did Curtis.

  When they both finally came up for air, Curtis laughed against his lips. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

  Resting his forehead to Curtis’s, Rhys let out a wobbly breath. Oh God, he’d just kissed Curtis Clarkson in public, in front of the country’s most notorious paparazzo, in front of everyone in the lobby, and he couldn’t feel happier. “Jesus, Clarkson,” he rasped, “I can’t believe I let you walk out.”

  “Took you long enough.”

  At Curtis’s low chuckle, Rhys pulled away slightly, giving him a frown. “Long enough to what?”

  “Figure out I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And that I wanted more from you than a quick…experience.”

  “In my defense,” Rhys pointed out, brushing his thumb over Curtis’s stubble-rough chin, “you did tell me you weren’t gay. And you did say you had to go this morning.”

  A wry grunt vibrated in Curtis’s chest. “Okay, I’ll give you the I’m-not-gay thing. Apparently, I am. For you.” He smiled. “Definitely for you.”

  “And the leaving thing?”

  Curtis rolled his eyes. “To work. Not out of your life. Dickhead.”

  Rhys pulled a mortified face. “Hey, how was I to know? You weren’t gay, remember?”

  �
��You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  With a low “hmmm”, Rhys ran his hands over Curtis’s backside. “After some serious punishment, I might. Maybe.”

  Curtis drew in a shaky breath. “Think we should get back up to your room. Now.”

  “What about getting to work?”

  “Work can fucking wait. I can’t. Can you?”

  Rhys grinned at him, and then shot a look over his shoulder at the paparazzo standing on the footpath outside the foyer—camera raised—and dropped him a wink. The guy would be calling Angel Waters ASAP. The pair were known to work together often. Rhys would’ve paid a squillion to see the tabloid journalist’s face when she got a look at the images Holston had shot.

  Turning back to Curtis, he raised an eyebrow. “It’s going to be on every news channel before the hour’s up, y’know. You okay with that?”

  Curtis grinned. “I am. Reckon we can break Twitter?”

  Rhys grinned back. “Hashtag BallsUp?”

  With a chuckle, Curtis tugged Rhys closer to his body. “Now that’s a perfect six.”

  “Over the fence and out?” Rhys asked, smoothing his hands up Curtis’s chest.

  Curtis lowered his head to Rhys’s once more. “Definitely out,” he murmured.

  And kissed him again.

  Compliance

  A Heart of Fame Story

  Courage is sexy…

  The last time Bethany Sloan was in Australia she helped two guys fall in love with each other. This time, it looks like she’s about to be responsible for two guys beating the hell out of each other. Not exactly how she’d planned to spend her long-overdue vacation, that’s for sure. Especially when what she’d really like to do is have wild, wicked sex with both of them at the same time. Because a threesome with a sexy nerd and a sexy jock is her idea of a perfect fantasy. And then her heart gets involved. Damn it…

  IT guru and self-made billionaire, Logan Hill wants the hot little American who strides into his best mate’s bar the second he lays eyes on her. The trouble is, his best mate falls instantly in lust with her as well. Logan would give his right arm for Curtis, but the moment Bethany Sloan smiles at them both, Logan is a goner. Sometimes a nerd’s got to get the girl, right?

  Curtis Clarkson always gets what he wants. It’s been that way since he was the captain of the school’s cricket team and has been that way ever since. Retired from captaining the Australian cricket team, Curtis spends most of his time running his bar. When your life is a scrutinized by the media as his is, sexual relationships bring nothing but trouble. And then the sexy American tourist walks into his club, with her sexy accent and her sexy attitude, and Curtis wonders if it’s time to rethink that stance. But what the hell does he do when introverted, woman-shy Logan makes it clear he’s interested in Bethany as well?

  Bethany’s got a solution. One neither guy has considered. One beneficially pleasurable to the all. She’s just got to convince them to see things her way. After all, two hot Aussie guys are better than one at going Down Under…

  An Excerpt from Compliance

  Standing there on Logan’s balcony with the humid summer air kissing her bare skin, and Logan’s and Curtis’s stunned stares roaming her body, Bethany had never ever been so turned on.

  And nervous.

  And excited.

  And scared.

  Fear had never gripped her before. She approached life without fear or hesitation, a lesson learnt the hard way after her brother had committed suicide due to the fear of living his life the way he wanted.

  She swore she would never do that, never let her heart race with terror, her stomach knot with apprehension. But right now, she was scared.

  Scared Logan and Curtis were going to reject what she so obviously presented.

  Drawing a deep breath, aware it made her breasts rise and fall, she arched an eyebrow. “Questions?”

  Logan didn’t move.

  Curtis frowned.

  Neither said a word.

  Bethany’s tummy clenched. She licked her lip, her mouth suddenly dry. Okay, this wasn’t quite going the way she’d expected. She kind of assumed they’d be—

  “What’s the tattoo say?” Logan’s low voice stroked her sanity.

  She hitched in a breath, touching the single word inked into the skin beneath her pierced belly button. “Courage.”

  Logan moved.

  A single stride that destroyed the distance between them.

  Stare locked on hers through the lenses of his glasses, he buried his hands in her hair, lowered his face to hers and took possession of her lips with his.

  Liquid shards of heat sank into Bethany’s core. She gasped into his mouth, the action granting his tongue access to hers. He took it, a savage kiss of dominating hunger and need.

  Bethany’s head swam. Fresh heat pooled in her belly. Oh God, she had not expected Logan to be like…this. Fuck, the sheer power in the kiss, the barely restrained desire of his tongue and lips was enough to propel her to the edge of sexual eruption already.

  A whimper escaped her, the sound captured by Logan’s mouth a second before he tore his lips free of hers. “Ask me again if I’m hungry?” he murmured, his breath ragged.

  Bethany licked her lips, not in a lame attempt at seduction. It was clear she didn’t need to resort to such measures now, not with Logan at least. His kiss had shaken her to the core, but she wanted more. Not just from him, but from…

  Breath puffing from her in shallow pants, she slid her stare from Logan to where Curtis stood motionless, watching them both.

  An inferno of lust and want burned in his blue eyes. His nostrils flared. His jaw bunched. “What about you, Curtis?” she asked, her voice a dry rasp.

  Logan balled his fists tighter in her hair. A low groan fell from him. She didn’t need to drag her stare from Curtis to know Logan still studied her. If it wasn’t for the fact he pressed his hips harder to hers and rubbed the solid pole of a very impressive erection against her belly, she would have worried her question to Curtis had disturbed him. Perhaps it did, but his body’s response spoke otherwise.

  Oh God, Bethany, what are you doing? What if they…

  “You’re hungry, aren’t you, Curtis,” Logan stated, his breath hot on her cheek.

  Curtis regarded her. The muscle in his jaw clenched again. “I’m hungry,” he agreed. His Adam’s apple slid up and down the strong column of his throat. “But are you sure you want to share, mate?”

  The low laugh that rumbled in Logan’s chest turned the apprehensive nerves in Bethany’s belly into an urgent need, a ravenous want. She’d never heard such a confidently aroused sound. Ever.

  She slid her stare up to Logan’s face, her breath catching at the open desire in his eyes. “Are you?” she asked.

  What if he said no? She wanted both men. She truly did, but Logan…

  A ripple of something elemental stole through her. Curtis was the sport-star fantasy almost every woman allowed herself to indulge in once in her life, but Logan…there was something about Logan that just set her on fire and made her truly feel alive.

  God, what if he said no? What if he walked away, leaving just her and Curtis? That’s not what she wanted. She wanted Logan.

  Logan. Full stop. Period.

  She met his stare, needing him to see that want.

  He gazed into her eyes, as if seeking an answer to a question she couldn’t bring herself to ask yet.

  “Are you?” she repeated, throat tight, heart fast. So fast. And hard and pounding.

  With a slow curling of his lips, Logan nodded. “I am.”

  His answer—loud and clear—detonated fresh waves of heat in her core. Her pussy contracted.

  “Fuck,” Curtis ground out, the response somewhere between a laugh and a moan.

  Logan answered with his own laugh, shooting a look over his shoulder at his friend even as he drew Bethany closer to his body. “Didn’t expect that?”

  “No.”

  The
undeniable shock in Curtis’s voice sent a flutter of fresh nerves though her. She arched an eyebrow at him, throbbing with an urgent arousal. “But now it’s happened?”

  Curtis’s lips twitched. “You know one of the things I was famous for when I was still the captain of the Australian cricket team?”

  Bethany shook her head, the raw desire in his eyes flaying at her sanity.

  His nostrils flared. “I never ever drop the ball.”

  And with that, he strode to where she stood in Logan’s arms and crushed her lips with his.

  She melted into the kiss, its passion as fierce as Logan’s previous one. As dominating and demanding. His tongue captured hers, coaxing it into his mouth, taking possession.

  About the Author

  Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn’t stopped since. She’s not a deviant, but she does have a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire. Sometimes all at once. When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family, a husband who thinks she’s insane, an indoor cat who likes to stalk shadows, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.

  Contact Lexxie at lexxie@lexxiecouper.com, follow her on Twitter (www.twitter.com/lexxie_couper) or visit her at www.lexxiecouper.com where she occasionally makes a fool of herself on her blog.

  Additional Titles by Lexxie Couper

  Now Available

  Standalone books

  The Sun Sword

  Tropical Sin

  Suck and Blow

  Triple Dare

  Dare Me

  Sunset Heat

  Twister

  Suspicious Ways

  Stone’s Soul

  Blowing it Off

  Copping a Feel

  Endless Lust

  Timeless Wrath

  Fire Mate series

  Ty the Sexy Dragon

  How to Love Your Dragon

  Heart of Fame series

  Love’s Rhythm

  Muscle for Hire

  Guarded Desires