Page 78 of Melting the Ice

Dean’s eyes flicked down to his lips, and Brody knew exactly what he wanted.

Because he wanted the exact same goddamn thing.

Why had they agreed to go to this party?

They could be home, now, on the couch, or in one of theirbeds, finally naked together.

Fuck restraint. Fuck teasing.

Brody was just about to suggest they get out of here when a noise behind them made Dean move back a fraction and then Ramsey’s voice called out, “There you two are. We’re gonna have a big beer pong tournament, and you guys have to team up.”

Dean looked at him. “Do you want to play beer pong?” he asked.

Brody didn’t. Not really. He was shit at it, and what heactuallywanted was to drag Dean back to the apartment, to do things he was probablyalsoshit at, but craved all the same.

“Come on,” Ramsey entreated. “One game. Then y’all can go do what you want to do.” Ramsey was behind them, and Brody couldn’t see his face, but he knew the kind of knowing grin his friend was wearing.

“Fine,” Brody said, rising from the step, Dean following behind him.

“You good at this?” he asked, dipping his head low so he could murmur in Brody’s ear. He shivered at the feeling of Dean’s warm breath against his neck.

But before Brody could answer, Dean’s hand was latching onto his, and he was tugging him away. “One second,” he called out to Ramsey. “We’ll be there in one sec.”

Then Dean was practically dragging him around the frat house, to a dark corner by the trash cans. Not exactly the most atmospheric conditions, but Brody didn’t even have a moment to comment on it, before Dean was crowding him up against the house.

“I had to do this first,” Dean admitted and then, after framing his face with his hands, kissed him.

It was like a shot of pure adrenaline to his system.

Brody understood now why people got addicted to this give and take. Why they’d do anything to get another hit. Because he’d do the same. His fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders and he hung on for the ride, and it was aride.

Dean’s mouth was hot and eager on his, tongue brushing against his own, and for a second everything disappeared. The frat house. Ramsey and his friends waiting. The beer pong tournament.

Even the uncertainty that had dogged Brody these last few weeks.

Brody almost sank into it, lost himself to that feeling, but before he could, Dean pulled away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed, face shadowed. “I’d been wanting to do that since you showed up and Icouldn’t, and I sure as fuck couldn’t wait to do it through a whole beer pong tournament.”

Brody smacked him lightly on the side. “Don’t apologize. I liked it. I liked it enough that I wish we could do it again.”

“We could always escape, tell Ramsey and his beer pong to fuck off?”

They could. There was a part—currently pressing into Dean’s thigh, hot and hard and throbbing—that really wanted to do exactly what Dean suggested.

But if they couldn’t keep their hands off each other for even a few hours, what did that mean?

Brody wasn’t sure he wanted to look too closely at the answer.

So, better to just hold on. Hook up at the end of the night, as he’d expected they would.

That was what friends with benefits did, right?

That was his assumption, anyway.

“We should go play,” Brody said, making sure it was clear just how regretful he was about it.

“Alright.” Dean pushed back from the house and Brody immediately felt the loss of him. “We can do that. You any good?”

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