Rebound

by Andrew Grey

  “So….” Obie humphed softly.

  “That means that while I’ll need continued exercise for strength, I should be good to go on the therapy angle.” Bri nuzzled the base of Obie’s neck, and he groaned. “So, officially, I’m no longer a client, which means that you—Obie Kenoble—are definitely on the celebratory menu.” Bri took his hand and walked steadily through the house. “I’d run, but the doc said to work up to things.”

  “I see,” Obie said, grinning.

  “Yeah, and I’ve been working up to that for weeks now.” He climbed the stairs, and Bri led them to his bedroom, kicking the door closed as soon as Obie was inside, pressing him down onto the bed. “Let’s see, no longer a client, check. No more madmen after us, check. You looking absolutely edible… check, check, check.” Bri’s voice deepened with every single word until it resonated down Obie’s spine. He leaned over him, Bri’s heat radiating through Obie’s clothes. “Is there anything else standing in our way?”

  Obie swallowed and shook his head. “No.” Damn, all he could think of were those incredible eyes and the way they looked at him as though he was the very center of the universe. To be looked at like that, wanted that badly, was almost too much and too good to believe. But there was no mistaking it, and that was impossible to fake, as far as Obie could figure. He had to believe that this was real, and if it was, then the sexiest man he’d ever met was about to strip him bare, physically and spiritually, and make him his.

  “Any other rules I should be aware of?” Bri cocked a sideways smile. “So long as I’m not breaking any rules or causing any moral dilemmas, I think I can finally—”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you talk way too damned much?” Obie groused, and pulled him down on top of him. Bri’s lips found Obie’s easily, his hands sliding under his shirt. Obie mewled softly under his breath as Bri found his nipples, plucking lightly and sending quivering ripples of heat running through him.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re way too mouthy?” Bri retorted.

  Obie humphed. Did he know him at all? “My dad, aunts, my whole family—in fact, basically everyone I’ve ever known at one time or other. And this surprises you?” His quip drifted off into a groan as Bri sucked the base of his neck. “What are you doing? Oh God.”

  “Giving you one hell of a hickey,” he whispered, and Obie was about to protest, but gave up as Bri tugged up his shirt, getting it over his head and off within seconds. As Bri kissed him, he worked Obie’s pants open and down, with Obie kicking off his shoes and then the rest until he was naked.

  This was Grade A naughty. At least he felt that way, with Bri still dressed. Obie pulled at his clothes, desperate to get at the rippling muscles he knew were under that red polo shirt and jeans. He didn’t get very far, but then Bri slipped off the bed, standing near his feet, slowly tugging off his shirt. “Striptease?” Obie asked with a giggle as Bri rolled his eyes. “Just a minute and I’ll see where I put my body glitter.” Where this was coming from, he had no idea. Maybe it was the simple fact that he was happy, joyously happy.

  “No, thanks.” Bri pulled off his shirt, dropping it to the side of the bed, his muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat. God, he was stupendously amazing, and when his shoes and then pants joined the pile, and Bri stood in front of him in all his naked glory, Obie’s mouth went dry. He could only nod slowly.

  “No glitter… right.” Obie grinned, staring up at Bri. “Not that you need anything to get you more attention.” Hell, he’d watch him forever, especially as Bri stalked closer. “Don’t hurt yourself, whatever you do.”

  Bri nodded and turned to the side, giving a little hip thrust and then a burlesque-level hip bump that sent Obie into peals of laughter. “What? I was trying to be sexy.”

  He covered his mouth. “It didn’t work.” Obie held out his hand, and Bri took it, holding tightly as he drew Bri closer. “There’s no need for you to be anything but you. No fancy moves, no stripteases, and definitely no glitter. You heat up a room just by walking into it.” Obie drew him down, loving the feeling of having Bri’s weight on top of him and their lips together.

  Obie loved kissing. In his opinion, it was as intimate, or maybe more so, than sex itself. And Bri was an amazing kisser. Heat rose between them, and Obie was afraid he was going to come just from kissing Bri. Weeks of separation, being forced apart by his ethics, only heightened the pull between them.

  “I’m sorry for….”

  Bri shushed him, gently slithering down his chest, peppering a trail along the way with little nips and kisses until he reached his cock. Obie wanted to say again how much he regretted the many weeks of forced celibacy, when Bri took him between his lips, stealing his ability to make any coherent sound. Not that it really mattered right now. “You taste amazing. Did I tell you that?”

  Obie mumbled something along the terms of a yes, but then his eyes crossed and his breath hitched as Bri sucked him harder and deeper. “Oh my God.” He thrust his hips upward, and Bri took him hard before backing away. Obie groaned at the loss.

  “It’s okay,” Bri soothed before kissing him hard enough to send shudders through him. “I’m not stopping. I just want you to know how I feel. You are the center of my life.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Bri sighed. “I’ve decided that I’m not going to back away from us. I’m not going to make some huge announcement about my private life, but I will not hide you. I don’t want a bunch of attention around my life… our life. But I will never deny you or ask you to stay in the background. When we have family team events, I want you to go with me. People may talk, but that’s up to them.”

  Obie threw his arms around Bri’s neck and held him as closely and as dearly as he had ever done with anyone, at any time in his life. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I don’t want secrets to hang over us. So I’m not going to keep any. Maybe there will be some difficulties, but we’ll weather them as they come along.” He sighed and held still, locking his intense gaze on Obie’s. “Are you with me?”

  “Without a doubt,” Obie answered. “That what I love about you, Bri. You make up your mind and go for it. No holds barred. It’s what makes you such a good player on the court.” He tugged him down into a kiss, and Bri spent the next half hour showing him just the kind of player he was in the bedroom. When Bri rolled on a condom and slid into him, Obie was over the moon in ecstasy, holding Bri as tightly as he dared, their bodies moving together, spirits joining.

  Obie barely held it together as Bri slowly rocked back and forth, filling him, pushing him higher and higher. “I could spend hours talking about the things I love about you,” Bri whispered, pressing deep and hard.

  Obie gasped, mouth open. “Yeah…. Oh yeah!” He quivered as Bri pulled out, then slid back inside him, both of them groaning in wonderment.

  “Yes.” Bri gritted his teeth as Obie teetered on the edge. Bri had brought him here before, holding him there and then pulling him back enough times that Obie gasped. This time Bri pushed him over, his body tingling, his mind bathed in light and excitement as he plunged into a pool of passion he never wanted to climb out of.

  “Oh God. Is it bad to say that this was worth waiting for?” Obie muttered half under his breath as Bri lay on the bed beside him.

  “No, sweetheart,” Bri whispered, lightly stroking his cheek. “But let’s not wait so long before we do it again.”

  Obie chuckled, slowly rolling onto his side. “Okay.” He leaned closer. “I love you, you know.”

  Bri nodded. “I do. And I love you.” He pulled Obie closer. “And I have to thank you for all the assists, with my knee, at the hotel… with my life. Just by being yourself, you made me see I could do the same.”

  “You’re welcome,” Obie whispered and pulled Bri down for a kiss.

  Epilogue

  “GO GET him!” Obie yelled as Bri raced down the court. He was on his feet, much as he’d been for most of the game. “Make him pay!” He turned to
his dad, who sat next to him, rolling his eyes. Obie sat down slowly. “Sorry.” This was Bri’s first game since he’d been injured. But it didn’t look like his knee was slowing him down any.

  James had given up a while ago trying to get Obie to sit down and not yell at the top of his lungs. “It’s okay.” He shook his head, chuckling, and then jumped to his feet along with Obie as Bri scored a basket. They sat back down again. “When I agreed to take the night off and come with you, I thought it was going to be a night off. If my days were like this at work, I’d ask for hazard pay.” He rubbed his ears and his shoulder, and it was Obie’s turn to roll his eyes.

  This was the first game of the season, and it had been a nail-biter from the first tip-off. Needless to say, Obie had been anxious and excited from the beginning. New York was playing well. They’d replaced Young, who had been suspended indefinitely on a number of charges and was facing plenty of separate legal issues. “I’ll sit down and try to be still.”

  New York scored, and Obie groaned as the Rockets took possession. Obie found that no matter how much the players moved around and changed positions, he always knew exactly where Bri was and watched his every move. “Forget it,” his dad teased. “Just be yourself. It’s good to see you happy.” James put an arm around Obie’s shoulder for a fatherly squeeze just as Bri hit a three-pointer. Obie shot to his feet and nearly knocked his dad out of his seat. “I’m definitely right about the hazard pay.” The buzzer sounded to mark the first half, with Philadelphia up by two points.

  Obie sat back down, breathing heavily and wondering if he was going to have enough nerve and energy to make it through this. “Hey,” the man behind him said, tapping him on the shoulder. Obie tensed and turned around.

  “Can I help you?” Obie asked.

  “It would be nice if you could stay seated. We can’t see when you stand.” He was a few years older than him, sneering as he spoke.

  “I’ll try,” Obie said as his father snickered next to him. “What?” He glared at his dad.

  “I somehow doubt that’s possible,” he said loud enough for the guy to hear him. “Really, you need to try to settle down. If you’re going to come to all the games, you’re going to spend a lot of time on your feet if you carry on every time Bri makes a basket.”

  “I noticed you have a thing for him.” His voice lightened a little. “Is it the whole gay, coming out thing?” the guy asked, looking Obie over as though he was assessing him. The woman with him turned away, obviously embarrassed as hell.

  “Not really.” Obie stood, putting his hands on his hips. “It’s more the ‘I sleep with him’ thing.” He lifted his eyebrows and waited, challenging the man to say something derogatory.

  He stammered and it was pretty clear that he wanted to die. His wife, on the other hand, began laughing. “I told you, Stan, that I recognized him.” She leaned forward. “I love your hair. I tried for that color once and it was a disaster.”

  “I was born with it.” He chuckled and turned around to sit back down. Bri jogged out onto the court, moving to where they sat in the front row. Everyone around them got to their feet and tried to get Bri’s attention, but he came right over to Obie, earning him plenty of dirty looks.

  “How is the knee?” Obie asked.

  “It’s doing okay. Probably going to be a little sore,” Bri told him, “but I’m not in any pain.”

  Obie smiled. He wanted to kiss him, but this wasn’t the place. “I’ll massage it when we get home.”

  “James, are you enjoying the game?” Bri asked his dad.

  “Yes. Though your biggest and loudest fan tends to be a little hazardous for the people around him.” His dad glanced at him, teasing.

  “Yes. He’s a little loud.” Bri smiled and turned back to Obie. “There was a message on my phone when I got back to the locker room. I’ve accepted an offer on my house. We’ll settle in six weeks.”

  Obie jumped to his feet, hugging Bri. “That’s great.” Then he sat back down, feeling a little sheepish.

  “What’s even better is that the Realtor also said that the house we were looking at, the one near the park, is going to be coming up for sale. He’s going to arrange for us to get an early look at it.” He took Obie’s hand right there in the arena. “I’ll talk to you after the game and we can make plans.” Bri trotted away, waving at the fans up in the seats as he took his place on the bench, the other players joining him.

  Obie sat back, smiling. After the fire, Bri had decided to sell his house, and he’d moved in with Obie, full-time, a few weeks ago. Their plan was to buy a house together, and Obie had always had his eye on the neoclassical house near the park. He had no idea if it was going to be what they needed, but he really wanted to see it. He barely noticed anything until the buzzer sounded, and then his attention was back on the game.

  THERE WAS less than thirty seconds to go, with Philadelphia behind by one. Unfortunately, New York had possession. They passed it in bounds and dribbled to about midcourt. The player faked left but Bri was ready for him. He snatched the ball, racing back toward the basket, the clock ticking down. Ten, nine…. He jumped and took a shot. Eight, seven…. Obie was on his feet, as was the rest of the stadium. Six, five…. The ball flew through the air. Four, three…. It hooked the rim, slid around the edge, and fell through. The buzzer sounded and everyone went absolutely wild. The cheers shook the entire arena, and Obie whistled and stomped as Bri jumped into the air along with the rest of the team.

  The coach hurried over, patting Bri on the back and pressing the ball into his hands. He held it up, and the cheers began all over again. Obie grinned, his chest warming.

  “That was amazing!” Obie’s dad said from next to him, but Obie barely heard it. His full attention was on Bri as the team lined up to shake hands with the opposing players, who then filed off the court. Bri jogged in his direction once again, leaning over the rail, pressing the ball into Obie’s hands. “None of this would have been possible without you.” He leaned closer, pulled Obie to his feet, and kissed him right there. “You gave me a second chance and helped me get the rebound of a lifetime.”

  More from Andrew Grey

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  How can heartbreak turn into happily ever after?

  Tommy Gordon is all set for happily ever after—until heartbreak strikes when his husband-to-be leaves him at the altar. In a bid for distraction, his best friend, Grayson Phillips, suggests he takes advantage of the luxury honeymoon anyway! But the last thing Tommy wants is to go alone, so he invites Grayson and his son, Petey, along.

  Beautiful Bonaire lends itself to romance, and along with close quarters, relaxing on the water, and a matchmaking kid, Tommy and Grayson soon find themselves closer than ever… and considering more, much to Grayson’s delight. But before they can plan the best best honeymoon ever, dark clouds descend in the form of Tommy’s ex and a sting from paradise that could ruin everything.

  Avery Rivers is a country music sensation, selling records by the millions and playing to sold-out crowds. But behind that persona is Robert, a burned-out musician cracking under the pressure. He’s unable to write any new songs, and he wants out
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  In matters of the heart, there’s no such thing as business as usual.

  Thomas Stepford spent years building a very successful business and now at thirty-nine, he wants a quieter life. With his parents needing help, he decides to return home. He can’t get away from business completely and needs an assistant—but the man who is hired isn’t quite what he had in mind.

  Brandon Wilson, the ink on his degree barely dry, needs a job, and his mother helps him get one as Mr. Stepford’s assistant. Thomas doesn’t seem to remember, but Brandon worked mowing the stunningly attractive older man’s lawn years ago. Thomas was Brandon’s teenage fantasy, and now he’s Brandon’s boss.

  Thomas and Brandon are both determined to keep their relationship strictly business, but the old attraction is still there. They learn to work together even as the tension between them reaches the boiling point. But just as they start to surrender, Thomas’s old life in New York calls him. Even if he resists that pull, can their newfound relationship survive when Brandon receives the call of his dreams… from Hollywood?