Page 69 of Studs Up
I tried to drum up an image of Holden gardening. Except the only thing I saw was his naked body on grass, writhing under me. It was a happy thought that got my cock swelling.
“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll give you thirty minutes, and then I’m going back to bed.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
I rolled my head and looked at the glow of the phone.
“You fucking called me, you pick the topic.”
“God, you are so grumpy.” I could hear the grin on the other end. I covered my face with my hands.
“You woke me up asshole.”
“You didn’t have to answer dickhead.”
“Did you just call to argue?”
“No, but this is fun.”
I groaned. “Twenty-eight minutes.”
“What do you do for fun?”
“I play soccer.”
“Duh,” he deadpanned. “What else?”
“I watch footage of soccer.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Do you read?”
“Memoirs.”
“Oh, let me guess, about soccer players.”
“Bingo.”
“You need a life,” he said. His panting on the bike was reminiscent of the panting when I was fucking his ass. I was suddenly very hot.
“You need to sleep,” I retorted.
“Fine, let’s talk about something more interesting.”
“Like plants?” I muttered, which was a big fucking mistake.
“Sure!” He sounded delighted. “If you could have any plant in the world, what would you get?”
“Is there something poisonous that I could send you? I’d pick that one.”
He laughed. I rolled onto my stomach and wondered how to make him do that again.
“There are quite a few, but I don’t think I’ll tell you which ones they are.”
“Thank god for Google, then.”
He snorted again, and the whining in the background stopped.
“What’s your favorite plant?” I asked.
