Page 30 of Too Hostile

I knew it was, but seeing him naked and actually getting to touch him? Yeah, that was a whole new level.

And I can’t bring myself to regret it. We ordered sandwiches, and now he’s searching through my Netflix for something to watch as we sit on my couch. His thigh is touching mine, and I feel his warmth through the material of both of our sweats.

“Oh yes! Murder doc!”

“What?” I ask, turning my head to look at him instead of the screen.

“Murder docs are my fave. I could binge-watch them all damn day.”

“Should I be worried?” I ask, a smile on my lips. “You’re awfully excited to watch a documentary about someone who was murdered.”

“Lots of someones,” he says, bright excitement in his voice, but then his eyes meet mine with a hint of vulnerability in them. “I mean, is this okay? We can watch something else.”

I chuckle at that and look back at the screen. “Start it up.”

“Yes,” he whoops and starts it, putting the remote on the coffee table and digging into his meatball sub. “And no, you don’t need to worry,” he says around a full bite.

I chuckle at that too and hand him a napkin. He takes it, wiping at his mouth.

“I just think it’s fascinating, you know? What people can do to each other. How wrong it can all go. It’s crazy.”

“Yeah, I guess I like a good murder doc too, here and there.”

I see a cute blush on his cheeks, but he just goes back to enjoying his sandwich. I like seeing this side of him.

“You know, I don’t remember you ever being that fascinated by economics.”

He laughs at that, swallowing an extra-large bite. “Sorry, Professor, but like I said... boring as fuck.”

I feign hurt, and he laughs at that, his embarrassment seeming to fade away. The much more confident Fletcher back. “Now, sociology...”

“Stop, or I’ll never touch your dick again,” I joke because yeah... he could read a sociology textbook out loud right now, and I’d gladly touch his dick.

He mimes zipping his lips at that, his eyes going wide. “I’ll never say another word about sociology.”

I chuckle and then playfully shove his heavy arm. “I’m trying to watch this,” I tease, looking back at the screen, but I can feel Fletcher’s eyes on me. I slowly turn to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

A shy smile slides over his lips. “You’re just...” I wait. “You’re different. Lighter. You’re like actually joking with me.”

I think about that for a moment. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he says instantly. “I like it.” His smile makes me smile. Damn thing is contagious.

“Good. I like it too,” I say and then I lean over and steal his lips in a soft kiss. One that lingers there for a while because I don’t want to pull away, and he doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry either.

I do feel different when I’m around him. It’s a strange thing. I get what he’s saying when he was talking about growing up fast. I had to grow up really damn fast too. I put so much on the back burner, and when I’m with him, there’s a lightness to my soul.

The kiss quickly turns heated though, our food forgotten as he tears his shirt off over his head and then instantly goes for mine. I help him remove the fabric from my body and pull his larger one on top of me as I fall back on the couch.

It’s a tight fit, but we make it work. His hand slides into my sweats, and I’m really damn glad I went without underwear because his deep, sultry groan fills my ears as he kisses me harder as he starts to stroke me.

“Fuck, Ronan,” he breathes. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

“Summer,” I gasp because I need to remind him—and myself—that this is only for summer. It will only work if we keep that in mind.

I can feel him smile against my lips as he trails kisses from my jaw and down my neck, his tongue peeking out and licking my nipple as he moves down my body. “Right. Summer.” He licks the other nipple, making it pebble with intense need. My fingers grip his hair as he moves lower and lower down my stomach. “We have the whole summer for me to explore this insane body you’ve been hiding.”

“Not hiding,” I gasp as his lips meet the waistband of my sweats that are tented by my rock-hard erection. He moves his hands to the waistband, slowly lowering them. Teasing us both. The tip of my cock escapes, but he doesn’t pull them any lower. No, Fletcher might actually kill me this way because his tongue flicks over the sensitive tip, playing with me.

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