Page 49 of Flagrant Foul
Teddy is still smiling at me, lips and chin slowly emerging from under my jersey.
Goddammit.
Does he have to look like this in the morning? He’s only just woken up.
I don’t know why he’s affecting me like this. I thought my defenses were fine. I’ve been working on them for years, and I thought I had this shit under control. I don’t know why the sight of him in my clothing is doing this to me.
Driving me wild.
Wild.
Wild.
Because that’s what’s happening. Something other is taking me over. Something bad. Something strong. Something so motherfucking strong, I can’t hold it back. It’s a hot, pulsing thing. A thing that clenches my fists and feels like a fight.No, not a fight.
A fuck.
I try to slow my breathing. To reason with myself, but it doesn’t work. I attempt to engage soft focus, but I’ve only just woken and haven’t had so much as a drop of coffee yet. It doesn’t work. My pulse speeds up instead of slowing.
There’s so much skin on display.
Pale and clear, draped over muscle like it’s been carved out of marble. My jersey is black. His skin is milky white. Flashbacks of the way his skin looked against his bed sheets last night assault me.
I should look away, but I can’t.
His upper body is completely covered. Long sleeves falling to his knuckles, demure, and mercifully covering his wrists.
His legs are bare though.
They’re the legs that gave rise to the sayinglegs for days.
The exact pair.
The only legs that have ever looked like that in a hockey jersey.
“You better be wearing something under there.” My voice isn’t my own. It’s an octave deeper and rough claws have raked over my larynx.
Teddy doesn’t flinch. It’s almost as though he’s expecting it. Like he knows this side of me, even though I don’t know myself like this at all. He arches his back microscopically and reaches back, taking the hem of my jersey in his hand and lifting it slowly.
The dip of his hamstrings appears.
The swell of ass cheeks.
Two soft semicircles of flesh.
Two perfect, full mounds with a deep cleft between them.
A curved shadow I want,need, to pry open.
I’m frozen. Mouth open. Rage, arousal, and frustration swirl and merge, becoming one thing.
A big thing.
A bad thing.
My arm swings back, and I land a resounding slap on his ass. Before he has time to react, I land another one on his other cheek.
He gasps and spins round, eyes widening and dancing with delight.
