Page 2 of The Try Line

We both stammered, falling over each other to apologize and then stumbling into silence when we realized we were both apologizing for the same thing. We'd crossed a line because we thought we felt avibe. A vibe we were both acutely aware of. Because apparently we'dbothbeen hoping for it.

Jason and I sat on the floor of our shitty apartment gym for hours, confessing feelings we've been hiding for years. He never said anything because he thought I was straight. I never said anything because, well, so did I. Until I met him.

But more than anything, I was afraid to ruin our friendship.

I'm still afraid.

Rainwater pours over us, and we're both shivering. I'm not sure if it's because of the drop in temperature and standing out in torrential rain, or if it's the adrenaline coursing through my veins. There's enough heat coming off our bodies to suggest that it's nerves. Somehow, knowing he's just as nervous as I am makes me feel better. Stronger. Braver.

I press my forehead against his, and our noses brush. Unlike our one and only kiss last week, I can feel this one coming a mile away. It’s like the thunder rumbling through the sky, the shiver of electricity in the air as lightning crackles. My lips have their own heartbeat, and it flutters with every warm gust of Jason's breath across my mouth. I bite down on my bottom lip to quell any obvious tremble, and Jason's grip tightens on the back of my hair. The brush of his lips against mine is soft, barely a whisper of a kiss. But it's enough to unfurl an entirely different kind of storm inside me.

The next crack of thunder is so loud the ground shakes, and a nearby picnic table tips over with a rough gust of wind.

"We should probably get to the car," he murmurs, so close to my lips I can feel the words better than I can hear them. I nod reluctantly, and he pulls away.

When we get to my car, I open the back hatch of my old SUV and toss my wet bag inside, gesturing for Jason to do the same. Then, just like we've done a hundred other times, I peel off my soakingwet uniform. Rugby is a rain or shine kind of sport. Whenever the forecast calls for rain or the field is likely to be muddy, we always bring towels and a change of clothes.

Usually, we'd change in the bathroom or shower room if there's one available, but the park is empty and we'd only end up getting wet when we run back to the car, anyway. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Jason's eyes on me heat my blood so much I half expect steam to rise from my skin. Stripped down to my boxer briefs, I cock my head at him. He hasn't moved past removing his cleats. His eyes continue to roam over my body before he notices me watching him watch me. He blushes, and it’s glorious. It lights me up as much as it does his skin. The reddish blond hair matted against his forehead looks darker wet and creates more contrast to his pale skin and the deep red flush of his face.

He swallows, and I watch the movement of his throat, zeroing in on a drop of water that has created a rivulet along the side of his neck. Before I realize what I'm doing, I've pinned Jason against the side of my SUV. The flat of my tongue runs up the side of his neck, licking up that tiny stream of rainwater. I drink from him thirstily, sucking on his neck. He moans, and I forget to be afraid. I forget the storm raging around us. I forget the guilt I feel about being so blunt with Janel yesterday when I made it clear we’re finished.

My mouth moves to his, and we open to each other. Our lips pull and suck and caress in a way I've never experienced before. Maybe it's the rain, but a kiss has never felt like this. I'm drowning in it.

Every movement of our lips against each other pulses with an energy stronger than the storm surrounding us. The first touch of his tongue against mine sends an electric jolt that would rival a strike of lightning through my body, and suddenly we're ravaging each other's mouths like we're starved for it. Iamstarved for it.

Why did I wait so long?I could have been kissing him like this for four years.

Jason flips us around so I'm the one against the cold metal side of the car. He nips at my lips and makes a rumbly sound in his throat that makes my cock twitch. I help him remove his jersey and push down his shorts, gasping when my hand inadvertently rubs against his erection through his briefs.

"Fuck," I whisper, and he must hear me because he grinds into me.

I gasp into his mouth. My fingers dig into his sides. His slick chest and thighs glide against mine, wet and hot. I could come like this. But I don't want to embarrass myself, and I definitely don’t want it to be over yet.

Pulling my mouth away from his, I pick up our bundles of sopping wet clothes and throw them in the trunk. Then I open the back door to usher Jason in, climbing in behind him. The rain is coming down too heavily to drive, and I'm not done kissing him.

Shit, I might never be done.

Once we're both inside and the door is closed, we attack each other all over again. The windows fog, cocooning us inside our tiny, sweltering shelter while the rain beats heavily on the roof.

"I never want to stop kissing you," I slur, feeling drunk on him. I can be mortified about my admissions later. Right now, I can't be responsible for whatever comes out of my mouth.Or in it.

Fuck.Would he let me…

Jason pulls me closer to his chest until I have to straddle his lap, and I kiss him even deeper, licking into his mouth as my hips roll against him. My throbbing cock is testing the confines of my wet boxer briefs. I rub against him like an animal in heat, panting between our hungry kisses and the moans we pass between us. Neither of us can seem to decide what to do with our hands. Mine flitbetween holding his head steady so I can kiss him deeper and roaming over his heated skin. His rake through my wet hair, grip my shoulders, and run down the center of my back. When he reaches my ass and pulls me harder against him, I nearly lose it. I gasp into his mouth, running my hands down his arms to encourage him to grip me harder.

He groans, thrusting up against me and using his grip on my ass to rock me against him.

"Jason…"

"Mmmphf."

"I'm gonna–"

"Oh, fuck, Mik–" His words are muffled against my collarbone, and he grips me even harder.

Fuuuuck.

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