Page 101 of Hot Streak

“Are you in it?” Connor asked guilelessly.

It was funny; only a week ago, Jackson had genuinely believed that he was immune to Connor’s flirtations. That none of his lines would ever work on him.

But it was impossible to ignore the pulse of heat inside him at Connor’s words.

He’d never forget the little groan Connor made at the back of his throat—surrender and desire—as Jackson pushed him against the closed door and nuzzled into his neck.

“That’s . . .that’s so good,” Connor gasped as Jackson’s hands slid under his T-shirt, stroking along his overheated skin.

“Yeah? You been thinkin’ about this?” Jackson could hear the roughness in his own voice. How desperate he sounded.

“Yes.” Connor chuckled. “You don’t even know how much.”

“All day?”

He nodded, eyes glowing brightly in the dim light of the apartment.

“Me too,” Jackson confessed, and it felt torn out of him, reluctantly.

“That’s why you . . .” Connor’s eyes grew even bigger. “That’s why you took Deke up on his offer.”

Jackson didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in and kissed him.

He’d told himself—promised himself—that he’d go slow. Take his time. Enjoy every second of having Connor in his bed, but the moment their mouths met, he got lost in the way Connor felt and tasted and smelled.

He angled his head, taking Connor’s mouth deeper with his own, feeling rather than hearing his resulting groan.

It was almost impossible not to chase after Connor’s hips as they thrust out, searching for some kind of friction to relieve the pressure.

“Please,” Connor panted as Jackson broke the kiss. “Goddamn it, I’ve waited.”

“You need to learn some patience,” Jackson said, but his own self-control was hanging by a thread, fingers tightening around Connor’s slender waist, his skin as smooth as velvet.

“Anything you want,” Connor said. “You wanna fuck me? I’d be down for that.”

That was not what Jackson had expected him to say. He’d certainly expected if they ever got to that—and he certainly hadn’t expected them to—that he’d have to cajole Connor into trying it.

He had not expected Connor to just offer, as easy as that.

And that offer did something that almost nothing else had—it broke the last remnants of his self-control, shattering them into nothing.

One second Connor was lounging against the door, Jackson’s hands up his shirt, and the next he’d slid them downwards, making quick work of his shorts and then his underwear.

“Are we—”

It was impossible, even in the throes of the fiercest craving he’d ever experienced for another human being, to miss the uncertainty in Connor’s voice.

“No. No. You’re not—” Jackson took a deep breath. Tried to get himself back under control, even as it felt like it was splintering every time he grabbed at it. “You’ve never done that before. It’s not something you just do.”

Connor grinned, so fucking bright in the dim light of the room. He was so gorgeous he took Jackson’s breath away. He missed the days when he’d been able to compartmentalize his attraction, when he’d been able to ignore how stunning Connor was.

Obviously those days were long gone.

“That’s not what gay porn would have you believe,” Connor said.

Jackson’s fingers, tucked into the waistband of his briefs, froze.

“You can’t say shit like that,” Jackson said, barely hearing his own voice. The roaring demand of take him now, now now now was so loud, it drowned out everything else.

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