Page 124 of Playing for the Hat Trick
Jason freezes. His forehead drops to mine, chest heaving.
“Fuck, condom,” he mutters, already reaching blindly for the back pocket of his pants.
Something hot and stupidly sweet rushes through me, the way he’s still trying to think straight even when we’re this far gone. I catch his wrist, stopping him.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, brushing my mouth against his. “Blood work’s done a couple of months ago, no STDs. I’m on the shot. How about you?”
I’m sure he goes still, eyes boring into mine like he’s double-checking. My heart stumbles in my chest at the naked want written all over his face.
“Are you sure?” His voice sounds wrecked. “I can show you my last physical, but I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
I nod, dragging my nails up the nape of his neck. “I want you. I want all of you.”
For a second, he just stares at me like I handed him the entire fucking world.
Then Jason lifts me off the ground with a rough growl, kicking the discarded denim and sneakers out of the way as he braces me against the door.
Talking could wait.
Talking can always wait.
This?
This couldn’t.
He pins me higher against the door. I lock my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and his mouth crashes into mine again—desperate, open, messy—like he’s trying to drink me down all at once.
“You’re mine,” he rasps against my mouth, voice raw and wrecked and so goddamn full of everything I can’t say yet. “Always fucking mine, Crawford.”
I can’t answer. I can only nod, biting my lip to keep from saying too much, from falling too hard, too fast, when I’m already free-falling without a parachute.
His hands slip under my thighs, angling me just right, and then he’s there—thick, hot, sliding against me in a way that makes every nerve-ending spark to life. I tilt my hips, shameless, chasing the friction, and he hisses through his teeth, pressing his forehead to mine like he’s barely holding it together.
“Please,” I whisper, the word breaking free without permission.
Jason doesn’t make me beg twice.
With one hard thrust, he pushes into me, filling me completely, stealing the air from my lungs and the ground from under my feet in a single, shattering second.
We move together in a rough, frantic rhythm, every snap of his hips slamming me against the door. Each desperate grind drags a broken sound from deep inside my chest. My nails dig into his shoulders, clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered, the only thing keeping me whole.
It’s not careful.
It’s not pretty.
It’s necessary.
It’s every kiss we didn’t have, every call that ended with more longing than relief, every filthy late-night text that didn’t come close to touching this. It’s everything we pretended we could live without—and failed.
Jason presses his mouth to the hollow of my throat, breathing me in like he’s trying to memorize me from the inside out. His breath skims hot across my skin, my name falling from his lips in a rasp that’s both a prayer and a curse.
I slide a hand up into his hair, tugging him closer, crashing my mouth to his with all the things I don’t know how to say yet. All the apologies, the promises, the brutal fears we’ll have to deal with later.
Later, we can have the words.
Right now, all I want is him.
Us.
