Page 21 of Cold Comeback
"I'm not scared." His voice started to break, and his cock visibly hardened in his jeans.
For what felt like eternity, nothing happened. We stood there, breathing each other's air, with the tension building like we were waiting for the puck to drop. Then, something in his expression shifted—his pupils dilated and his lips parted—a decision made, and a line crossed.
When his mouth met mine, it wasn't the crash I expected. It was slow, deliberate, his lips pressing with an intensity that made my knees weak. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, demanding entry, and when I parted them, he groaned.
I slid my hands beneath his shirt, feeling the ridged ab muscles contracting at my touch. His skin was hot, almost feverish. When my fingertips touched the trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband, his hips jerked forward involuntarily.
"This is stupid." While he said it, his hands were already working at the hem of my shirt, calloused fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of my lower back.
"Incredibly stupid," I agreed. I pulled his shirt up slowly, inch by inch, revealing the toned muscle and scattered scars.
I touched a jagged mark near his ribs with my thumb. "How'd you get this one?"
"Misdirected slap shot. Junior year." He gripped my belt, knuckles brushing against my stiff cock as he worked the buckle. "Hurt like hell."
"Poor baby." I bent down to run my tongue along the scar.
He made a sound that landed somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "You're trouble."
"You have no idea."
We crashed onto the bed, arms and legs everywhere. Gideon shoved his thigh between my legs, creating delicious friction that made me gasp. Reaching down with a hand, he gripped my cock.
He was broader and heavier, pinning me with a weight that made my pulse race. When I found the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder and sucked hard, his entire body jerkedagainst mine, and he made a sound I'd never heard before—raw and unguarded.
"Fuck, Thatcher—" He reached around me and dug his fingers into my ass cheek.
"That's the idea." His laugh rumbled through both our bodies.
Gideon plowed forward like he was driving for the net. I kept thinking he'd break it off, and embarrassment would take over, but he kept going harder. When I unzipped his fly and slipped my hand inside, he tried to stifle a moan by biting his own forearm.
It was both flattering and unfair.
"You're allowed to make noise." My hand was already slick with sweat, and what he was leaking.
He glared. "You make enough for both of us."
"Not even close." I gripped his balls, and he damn near bucked me off the bed.
He yanked my sweats down so hard I heard a seam pop. "You owe me new sweats," I gasped.
He manhandled me onto my back, pinning my wrists. "You never shut up, do you?"
I grinned like a lunatic. "You like that."
He leaned down, placing his mouth right next to my ear. "Maybe I do."
I could have come from that alone, but I wanted it all to last. I wanted it to be so good for him that he'd never find his way back.
Gideon must have agreed, because he let go of my wrists only to shove his own underwear down. He glared like this was all my fault. Maybe it was. I had brought a condom, after all—slipped one into my pocket before leaving the hotel.
I fished it out and held it up for him to see. "Emergency preparedness."
He shook his head. "That's not normal."
"Sure it is. Boy Scout motto. Always be prepared." I pulled a travel-sized bottle of lube from my other pocket. "Some of us do the reading before the test."
He burst out laughing, and I thought he might lose his nerve, but he pressed his mouth to mine again, even rougher than before. I tasted sweat and the beer Gideon had with the pizza.
