Page 39 of Iced Out

We go on like that, touching, tasting, and teasing each other for God knows how long. Could be minutes or hours, but it feels like only seconds before he tears his mouth from mine again, leaving us both a panting mess.

“We need to stop.” It’s more a request than a demand, and in a tone much lower than normal. More broken and grated too. “I’m gonna come if we don’t.”

I smile into his mouth before taking his bottom lip between my teeth and tugging at it. It’s already swollen, probably bruised from how rough we’ve been with each other.

And it’s only the beginning.

I can’t think of anything I’d love more than Oakley coming apart right here and now from some heated kissing and fan-fucking-tastic dry humping. But I want to see it, feel it, and hell...maybe even taste it again. Whatever he’ll let me have, I’ll lap up greedily and probably come back asking the asshole for more.

Which means we need to move this little party to somewherea lotmore private.

“Hold that thought,” I murmur, the rasp in my voice giving away all the filthy things I plan to do to him soon. “At least, until we get back to my place.”

Which won’t be soon enough.

Thirteen

Oakley

I’m not one to get nervous about something like sex, but as Quinton pushes open the door to his apartment, my stomach rolls with the same nerves it was earlier when I tried to back out of this whole plan. Only now, it’s churning with a mixture of anticipationandanxiety.

I don’t know what it is about himthat’s got me all out of sorts.

Maybe it’s because whenever I hook up with a guy, most of the time, I’m the one doing the chasing. Coming onto him, picking him up at the bar or club. The first message online if I’m looking to find a quick lay on Toppr, this hook-up app for the gay community.

It’s where I’m most comfortable. In charge and in control. Taking the lead.

But this? Planning out sex? The when and where, and all of it being on someone else’s terms? Someone else doing the chasing for a change? And to top it off, having that person beQuinton?

It’s got me off-balance. And not in the fun, new, exciting way either. It’s more in the weird way you get when you’re about to have sex for the first time. More anticipation than is healthy, and even when you know what you’re doing—thanks to the extensive amount of porn you’ve watched—it all goes out the window the second the two of you are alone.

“Hayes is gone for the weekend,” Quinton says, cutting into my thoughts.

“Hayes?” My eyes flick to where his hand is clicking the deadbolt into place, and my body hums even more.

“My roommate.”

Oh, right.

I thought he’d live alone, seeing as the de Haas family has more money than God and might as well own Chicago. So why would anyonewanta roommate in college if they can afford to live on their own?

Add it to the list of things I clearly had wrong about Quinton de Haas.

My throat works with difficulty as I lift my gaze to meet his eyes. The heat in them is searing, the same way it was before practice, as he crosses over to stand in front of me. His lips are still red and swollen from my kiss back in the locker room, and from the way he’s got his stare locked on my mouth, mine isn’t faring much better.

“Okay, well I don’t…” I trail off, clearing my throat. “I don’t think we need the whole weekend.”

His lips lifts in a lopsided grin, popping a dimple out on one side. “All-weekend sexcapades aren’t your style? Good to know.”

“It’s not what we agreed to.”

“And you’re always a stickler for the rules, aren’t you?”

Compared to you? Always.

“I—”

His grin grows, and paired with the mischief dancing in his eyes, I realize he’s just giving me shit. At least, I think that’s what he’s doing, because while Quinton joking around is nothing new, having him do it withmemust mean I’ve been tossed into some sort of alternate reality.

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