Page 75 of Save the Game

“Hello, you,” he says, crossing the room and running a hand over the top of my head before kissing me. I circle my arms around his waist so he can’t get away, or, god forbid, get dressed.

“Hi.” I kiss his stomach as he brushes his fingers through my hair. Trying to contain the butterflies erupting in my stomach, I let myself take a small detour along the ridges of his abs.

“Oh,” he sighs, long and breathy, and I look up through my lashes to see him tip his head back, eyes closed. More kissing—lower now, along the edge of his towel. I’m chasing water droplets across his skin with my tongue, ghosting my lips across him in a slow crawl. His fingers tighten in my hair; loosen, and tighten once more.

“I need to ask you something,” I say, mouth against his bellybutton.

“Anything you want, it’s yours,” he concedes immediately. I laugh, lifting my head and resting my chin on his abdomen so I can look at his face.

“So easy to manipulate,” I tease, as he catches my face between his palms and keeps me from picking up where I left off.

“What did you want to ask?” His voice is soft, punctuated by slow strokes across my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

I take a deep breath. “I wanted to ask if you’d be comfortable being with me if I was on the bottom and you on top. It’s not how we usually do things, and I didn’t want to assume you’d be okay with changing things up since…” I stop, taking another deep breath and feeling my cheeks redden. “It scares me a little, is all. Not you, but being on my back or my stomach, and having someone on me… Not you, though, I’m not insinuating that you scare me. I’m saying this all wrong.”

I laugh shakily, embarrassed. Luke doesn’t join me, staring down at me seriously and holding my face still.

“You’re not saying it wrong,” he soothes. “Why do you want to do this, if it scares you? There are so many things we can do—why choose something you know makes you uncomfortable?”

“Because it didn’t used to. Because I prefer to bottom—I always have. But now it freaks me out, and I thought I’d be okay with keeping things as they are between us but I want you so bad, Luke. I want this with you. I want you,” I squeeze him a little tighter, “to fuck me.”

“No, love,” he says tenderly, “I am not going to fuck you.”

The flush that had burned in my cheeks travels down my neck and chest. It is, I realize, unreasonably hot in this room. He pulls me to standing, eyes traveling appreciatively over my chest even though it’s hidden in a baggy shirt. His hand creeps inside and comes to a stop in the groove above my hip.

“Take this off?” He asks, just like he does every time we do things like this.

“Yes,” I answer, just like I do every time we do things like this.

He’s got the shirt up and over my head, tossed aside onto the floor in seconds. This time, the look he gives me trails over my naked chest; it makes my skin feel two sizes too tight. He hums a low noise in the back of his throat as he puts his hand flat at the base of my throat and draws a line to my waistband.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had my shirt off around you,” I remind him. His eyes flick to mine, amusement dancing to life above the heat.

“Can’t a man appreciate his boyfriend in peace?” He asks, exasperated. I smile.

“As you were, then.”

For a time, he does nothing more than touch me. Only the top half of my body is unclothed, but he makes no move to finish undressing me; instead, his fingertips dance across my skin, tracing each line like an artist with a paintbrush. When he finishes with the front, he turns me around and does the same to the back. Closing my eyes, I breathe in deep. Behind me, Luke chases the lines of my ribs before flipping his hand and smoothing his knuckles down my spine. When he gets to the base, he grips my hips and presses his thumbs into the dimples on either side.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“What?”

“I am really fucking obsessed with you,” he says, palms now smoothing up and down my sides. Still facing away from him, I smile. A kiss lands between my shoulder blades and he turns me back around. I open my eyes.

Luke’s eyes snag mine, their dark, lovely brown filled with trepidation. “We don’t have to do this,” I tell him, heart fluttering in panic. I’m not sure what the panic is for: the thought of going through with this or the possibility of him backing out.

“I’m nervous,” he admits. “I haven’t been nervous about having sex since I was a virgin.”

“Sorry,” I reply, because there really isn’t anything else to say to that. He frowns.

“It’s nothing to be sorry about. You have to tell me though, exactly what you want. How do you want to be positioned? How do you want me positioned? Where can I touch you, and what’s off limits?”

I drop my forehead down to his shoulder and his hand comes immediately up to cup the back of my neck.

“I don’t know,” I admit, “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I was mostly concerned with asking if you’d even be amenable.”

“Oh, I’m amenable,” he mutters, tugging gently on my hair to get me to lift my head. “You have to tell me, Maxy.”

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