73

Kassie

Where'd That Arrogance Go?

My heart thumped away in my chest. I knew without a doubt that Ryan was being a hundred percent honest about everything and I was just— ugh— all soft and gooey on the inside for him. He was definitely getting a blowjob tonight.

"So, I do have one question for you guys." Brad shifted forward in his chair, giving us both an eager look. He raised his eyebrow, prolonging the moment. "There's been some talk about…hand size difference?"

I grinned. Ryan was just a big dude. When we took photos together, sometimes we had to position them just right so they didn't crop the top of Ryan's head out of the picture. But when I glanced back at Ryan, my boyfriend wasn't grinning too. His muscles tensed and he sat silent in the chair, watching the host with narrowed eyes.

"There's all these jokes," Brad continued, an obvious entry point.

Noemí winced. "Uh—Brad—I don't know if that's a good idea—"

"I don't think so either," Ryan said with a chilly tone.

There was some unspoken thing going on but I had no idea what they were talking about that could upset Ryan.

"I mean, there's—what—eight inches between you?" Brad waggled his eyebrows. "Changes up the conversations you can have."

Oh. Wait. Duh. He's talking about sex.

My eyebrows shot up to the hairline in surprise. While I was flustered when I talked with Ryan about anything intimate one-on-one, I could talk to anybody else, no problem.

But we were on a very public podcast and I was certain when Cleo told me to play nice in interviews, it wasn't with graphic descriptions of our sex life.

I glanced at Ryan.

Oh, shit.

All his muscles were taut and he sat on the chair like he was four seconds away from pushing up from it. Anger rolled off of him in waves. Danger flashed from his eyes.

"There's all these people asking for an OnlyFans link," Brad quipped.

"What is that?" Ran asked me, staring directly at Brad.

"I—um—" I cleared my throat. "We can talk about it later."

The podcast host didn't even realize he was poking the bear. Ryan kept everything professional when this was beyond professionalism, Ryan's fist clenched on the other side of the chair.

Danger, danger .

"I specifically told your producers that's not something we want to talk about," Ryan warned, the threat laced in his words. "We were very clear about that."

"Brad, not a good idea," Noemí whispered, halfway to hissing.

"She's so tiny," Brad pressed, like I wasn't five-foot-six. "Do you have to break her in every time?"

That was it.

Ryan shoved himself up from the chair and Brad's eyes shot wide. What the hell was he expecting? The only thing that stopped Ryan was the headphones over his ears and he reached up to rip them off.

I worked faster than he did.

Pushing up too, I reached over the table and clicked the big red button to stop the interview. A screech carried over the headphones and all the podcast hosts struggled with their headphones while I reached for Ryan's hand before he could go around the table.

"Hey, baby," I called to him.

Ryan glanced back, his dark eyes smoldering with fury. The rage extinguished the moment he settled on my face. His eyes flickered down to my hand, holding his.

I nodded at his chair. "Sit with me."

For a moment, I could see him wrestling with the decision. He wanted to walk over and do something stupid.

The door shoved open and two of their assistants came out, no doubt watching us through the monitors. All four of us glanced at them and they stood frozen at the door frame.

"Can you close it?" I smiled at them. "We're not done yet."

The assistants glanced at the hosts and Noemí nodded at them. Brad finally stayed shut the hell up.

With a grunt, Ryan took his chair again and I squeezed his hand, still holding it tight. The restlessness didn't leave him entirely. He was the metaphorical tiger, pacing outside of his iron bars.

"You turned off our audio program," Brad told me, eyes flickering back to Ryan.

"Oh, yeah. That was on purpose," I assured him, running my thumb across the back of Ryan's hand. "I'm confused. If you're asking about our sex life, why are you just asking him? He's not fucking himself. He's not you on the weekends."

Brad's eyes widened and Noemí shrank back in her seat.

"Sorry, I—uh—take back the question." Brad cleared his throat.

"Oh, no. You're asking the question."

Maybe I said the words but Ryan shifted up in his seat and I knew both of us were gazing at Brad expectantly. I raised my eyebrow at Brad, still waiting on the question.

His eyes flashed to his co-host and she shook her head. "Don't look at me."

Brad shifted uncomfortably and finally faced us. Without the conversation recorded, he seemed to lose that confidence, and finally recognized how uncomfortable this whole thing was. "How—uh—is it?"

"Oh my god, amazing." I smiled sweetly at him. "The only thing I do in the morning is drag him back to bed. He's so good at eating pussy."

Brad made a noise at the back of his throat.

"And I do shit for him I wouldn't do for anyone else," I continued, watching him. "I signed up for a gym class twice a week for flexibility. That's how into him I am, I'm learning how to drop to my knees better."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a lofty grin raise up Ryan's lips.

"And I love sucking his dick."

It was so funny, Brad asked the question, but the moment I started responding, I could immediately see how awkward he felt. Clearly, he didn't see the conversation going like this. Brad shirked into himself, nodding along to what I was saying while he grimaced at the table.

"But I don't think you wanted to hear that," I said slowly. "Which is confusing to me because why the fuck would you ask?"

Brad didn't say anything. I didn't expect him to.

"Unless your looking for another viral moment? Maybe get something good of Ryan losing his temper?" I suggested. "Which—we're just getting past the last viral bullshit. People don't haggle us at the grocery store anymore. I'd hate to lose out on that."

He was still silent.

Where'd that arrogance go?

"And here's the thing," I continued, my voice dropping low. "My boyfriend is so good at being presentable. Better than me every day of the week. And he works so hard for his team image. But I don't have to worry about any of that. So I don't need to stop myself when I ask what the hell are you trying to fuck with him for?"

"We apologize," Noemí tried to say.

"You don't have anything to apologize for." I smiled at her. "Noemí, you've been wonderful. We'll tag you in everything. We'll take photos."

Her cheeks flushed pink.

"No, I want an apology but I don't want it from you." I put my elbow on the table and watched Brad with my head in my hand.

Brad tapped his pencil against the desk and he wet his lips. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry, what?" I pressed.

I could feel Ryan's eyes burning from the side but I couldn't look at him yet.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Brad mumbled.

"But you're not apologizing to me ." I finally looked over at Ryan and found a football ball player breathing in slowly, watching me with smoldering eyes. That look alone made me press my thighs together but I kept steadfast and nodded towards him. "You're apologizing to him ."

"I'm sorry…sir," he finally said.

A grin tugged up on Ryan's lips and his eyes trailed down my face, landing on my lips. "No harm done."

"Exactly." I beamed and pushed up from the chair, hovering over the red button again. "Want to get this going again?"

"I—uh—need a few—" Brad shoved off his headphones and pushed up from the table, turning back to say a couple of words. "I just need to use the restroom. I—I'll be right back."

I smiled. "I'm sure you will."

Noemí stared at me while the door closed shut and her mouth slowly dropped for a shocked grin. She mouthed two words. Holy. Shit .

"We'll actually take the photos," I assured her.

"Can I take five too?" she blurted out, trying not to laugh. "I'm so sorry, the producers are right over there, and I'm going to freak out if I can't tell anyone about this."

Ryan answered, still gazing down at me. "You're welcome to take five."

The moment the door closed, Ryan reached over and grabbed both arms of my chair, yanking them around to face him head-on and dragged them forward until our knees were an inch apart.

He tilted his head back, watching me. " Kassie. "

"Why are you saying that like you don't have a boner?"

A pleased sound emitted from the back of his throat. "You can tell."

"Uh—duh," I teased him. "Could practically hear it bulging against the zipper."

"You don't have to defend me," he repeated and reached out to wrap his fingers through my hair, tightening his hand to a fist. The breath caught in my throat. All those little pinpricks of pleasure shot across my skull. He pulled me back, still gazing down at me. "But it's so fucking hot when you do."

"Prove it."

"Oh, fuck it," he muttered and crashed his lips to mine, drawing me in for a long kiss. He breathed me in, tightening his hold on my hair until I was completely sloped towards him, unable to move. "I want to fuck you so bad, it's going to make me look stupid for the rest of the interview."

"What do you have after this?"

His eyes darkened for just a moment. "I have a gameplay meeting," he admitted reluctantly.

"What time?"

"Five-thirty."

"If we cut the last ten minutes off of this, wrap up early, you'll have fifteen minutes free," I whispered. "Captain showers?"

"I walk faster than you." He grinned. "If I cut through the north hallway, I can open up the last door and that'll save you the roundabout way. Two minutes tops, two minutes back to the meeting. Eleven minutes in the shower."

The door opened and one of the assistants came out with a full apology. I just waved it away and Ryan sat grinning on his chair. But before everybody else came back, we put our chairs back and I leaned over, keeping my voice low.

"Hey?"

"Hm?"

"Nobody's fuck with you, ball dribbler," I promised. "That's my job."

His grin lifted. "Nobody fucks with you, art girl. Or I'll beat their ass."