Free Playing With Fire (Glasgow Lads Book 3) by Avery Cockburn Page B

turned to Robert with an exasperated look. “After what we did last night. Did you not want another go? Was it that bad?”
    “No! I mean, yes. No, it wasn’t bad. Yes, I want another go.” He took a sip from the metal cup. “Especially if it’s at my place where I can have real coffee in the morning.”
    “Deal.” Liam tried not to grin with relief. “I’d take you to a club, but I cannae afford it just now. So maybe our usual Mates’ Night In after the game? Get some takeaway and watch Match of the Day ? Plus…whatever else happens.”
    Robert looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Sounds good.”
    It did. It sounded like bliss.
    Liam felt weirdly shy, having basically asked his best mate for a hookup. Whenever he felt shy, he made himself do something cheeky. “Is this batter sweet enough, you think?” He dipped his finger into the pitcher, then held it out.
    Robert’s eyes widened. He lurched forward, stumbling and falling to his knees in the sandy soil. “Fuck.” He brushed the spilled coffee from his hoodie, then looked up at Liam. “As long as I’m here.” Robert leaned in and wrapped his mouth around Liam’s finger.
    At the touch of those lips and tongue, Liam had to swallow a moan. The look in Robert’s eyes as he sucked…
    “Well?” Liam asked with the little breath he had left. “Sweet enough?”
    “Aye.” Robert got up to sit close beside him, then took Liam’s face in his hands and kissed him. It wasn’t a come-back-to-the-tent-right-now-you-delicious-beast sort of kiss. It was an I-just-want-to-kiss-you kiss. An I-don’t-believe-this-is-real kiss.
    Liam had to agree. This felt surreal, yet inexplicably right.
    The smell of smoke reached his nose. “Mmph—pancakes!” He shoved the spatula beneath the closest one and flipped it over. The other side was black and tough as tarmac. “Ugh, sorry.”
    “It’s all right. I’ll eat the burnt ones.”
    “You hate the burnt ones.”
    “I know.” Robert turned to face the loch with him, resting his hand on Liam’s knee. They just sat for a moment, watching the waves caress the shore with lazy strokes. Liam heard claws scrabble against bark as a red squirrel scaled the big tree beside their tent.
    “Talking of Saturday’s game,” Robert said finally, “shall we tell the team Tuesday at practice session?”
    “Tell them what?”
    “About us.”
    Liam hesitated. “Does everyone have to know? Right now?”
    “Why not?”
    Liam pulled a pair of plates and forks from the supplies bag. “It kinda goes against Fergus’s ‘Rule One: No Drama’ thing.”
    “How would there be drama? You and I are already mates, and now we’re…” Robert’s gaze shuttered as he saw Liam’s face. “I guess we’ve not said what we are.”
    Liam scooped the pancakes onto the plates. It would do no good to lie to Robert, to pretend this was something it wasn’t. “How long have you felt this way?”
    “About what?” Robert sounded defensive.
    “How long have you fancied me? It’s not a quiz show. There’s no wrong answer. Just be honest.”
    “Two months, maybe?”
    “And I’ve fancied you for less than twelve hours—not counting those daft eight weeks when we were thirteen.” He handed Robert the plate of burned pancakes. “Gie’s time to get used to this, all right? Can’t we just have a laugh for now and work out what it all means later?”
    Robert pressed his lips together, then nodded quickly. “Okay.”
    “Good.” Liam added more butter to the pan, then handed Robert the bottle of maple syrup. “Gonnae save some of that, aye? I want to lick it off your balls.”
    Robert’s plate slipped from his fingers, landing in the dirt. They looked at the pile of blackened pancakes, then back at the tent, then at the bottle of syrup in Robert’s hand.
    Liam was rather proud of himself for remembering to turn off the cooker before diving into the tent to feast on his best mate’s body. It would’ve been a shame to burn down