Page 47 of Unspoken Rules

I get into position, trying to get the best angle, when I feel someone behind me. I stiffen.

“You need to relax,” Cole says gently. He puts his hands on my hips, pushing me to the side a little. I start to straighten, but his large palm is on my back, pressing me down. My eyes fall closed, and all I can imagine is him doing this in bed. Pushing me down so he can fuck me from behind. “Position is everything.”

Damn right it is.

He grips my forearm, giving it a little wiggle. The stick slaps against the table. “You’re holding onto this thing for dear life,” he says with a chuckle. “Loosen up, Bryson.”

I take a breath and try to do as he says. If he were in my position, he’d see how damn hard it is to relax around him in this situation.

“Okay,” I manage to choke out. “Is this better?” I look at him over my shoulder. His eyes are half hooded, jaw tense. He nods slowly, holding my gaze and taking a step back. I run my tongue along my bottom lip.

“Aim for the center of the ball and hit it hard.”

“Hard?” I question.

“Hard.”

I take another slow breath and bring my gaze back to the ball. I can’t concentrate with him behind me. All I can think about is his dick and him rubbing it along my ass. Getting hard for me. The way it felt in my mouth and how he tasted when he came. The way he worked his fingers into me to loosen me up before fucking me.

I shake out of it, blinking a few times, pull back, and thrust the stick forward. The tip of the cue hits the top of the ball, making it not go anywhere I wanted it to. Hell, it barely moves forward a few inches.

“Shit,” I groan, standing up straight and bowing my head.

“You need to practice your thrust,” he says.

My thrust is good, Cole. Trust me.

“It’s like baseball. Pitching, you know?” he adds.

I smirk at him. “I prefer catching.”

He shakes his head, and mutters, “wise guy.” He points at the ball. “You have to look where you want it to go. Look at the middle of the ball, if that’s where you wanna hit.”

Okay, he didn’t get mad at my joke. Good sign.

Cole takes his turn, sinking another ball. He stays in front of me when I take my turn this time, and I feel more at ease without him behind me. Enough that I can focus on what I’m doing, and I actually get the ball in.

“There you go, Bry. Great job,” he says proudly. I grin at him, my chest warming over how such simple words of praise can go so far. “Go for that one over there.” He points to the orange one that’s close to the side, but the cue ball is in the center of the table. “Hit it on the side, to slide it toward that corner.”

“The white ball?”

He shakes his head, moves to the edge of the table, and points down at the orange ball. “Hit it over here to make it go that way.”

I shake my head and get into position. “I’ll try.”

I lean over the table, this sudden need to impress Cole fueling me on. I like that he’s proud of me; I like that he’s interested in what I do, and that he wants me to do good. He isn’t waiting around for me to fail so he can call me out on it. Hell, I like that he cares enough to take me out to dinner to celebrate a job that a high school kid could do.

Cole moves to the side of me, his face hard as he watches. I aim where he told me, and the damn ball actually goes in!

“Holy shit!” I say, looking up at Cole.

He’s grinning at me, so damn bright.

“Good job, Bryson.”

He pats me on the shoulder and pulls me into his side. It’s warm, safe, and I want to get every ball on this table into a pocket if it’ll mean him doing this every time.

Chapter Nineteen

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