Page 11 of Rebel Obsession

He stopped when he got to my dick, only harder now for having him in the room. He raised an eyebrow. “Stubbing your toe gives you a hard-on?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. He always did this. He lived to call me out and wind me up.

There was no point in answering that. All I could do was try to change the subject. “Why did you touch me back there?”

He chuckled. “I haven’t touched you ‘back there’ in a really long time, Vaughn.”

My dick kicked at the memory.

For fuck’s sake. This was mortifying. “I meant in the hallway,” I choked out. “You touched my hand.”

“Is that illegal?”

I clasped my fingers around the edge of my sheet and pulled it a little higher on my chest, trying to cover up how very naked I felt. “Don’t do it again.”

He folded his arms across his thickly muscled chest. “Don’t offer you a tiny bit of concern after a really shitty night? I barely brushed your fingers. Is that seriously what you’re asking?”

I swallowed thickly, knowing that actually wasn’t what I meant, but it was the only thing I could voice. “Yes.”

Something changed in his eyes. His jaw hardened, and he moved forward, sleek, like a panther, until he was right at the edge of my bed. Before I could stop him, he reached out and caught my wrist. “Or what?”

My breath sucked from my lungs. His fingers were too warm. Too rough. Too fucking tight around my wrist, preventing me from pulling away.

At least that’s what I told myself. That I couldn’t get away, even if I wanted to.

His thumb rubbed over the same place he’d touched me earlier.

Just like before, it burned.

Just like before, that tiny touch did things to my dick that it had no business doing.

His left hand wrapped around my other wrist. He pried my fingers away from the sheets and pinned them down on the mattress, sliding them up until they were either side of my head.

“Or what, Vaughn?” he asked again. “If I touch you like this, what are you going to do?”

Absolutely fucking nothing.

“Stop,” I begged.

He put one knee on the edge of the bed and leaned over me so our faces were mere inches apart. “If I thought you meant that for even half a second, I would.” He threw his other leg over my hips, straddling me, his towel loosening in the process. But if he noticed, he didn’t show it. Inch by inch, so slowly it was maddening, he lowered himself on top of me.

We both hissed at the contact, my erection grinding on his.

He was as hard as I was.

“I don’t want this,” I managed to get out around pants of breath that easily gave away the lie.

Kian rubbed his dick against mine. The sheet and his towel were an unwanted barrier, but my dick didn’t seem to care. Precum wept from my tip, wetting the sheet with my need for him to keep going.

He dipped his head and licked a path up my neck until he got to my ear.

I waited for it. For him to whisper something dirty. For him to kiss me there while he groped, pulling the barriers away so we were skin to skin.

It was the same old dance we’d done a bunch of times before, only now we weren’t eighteen, sneaking around, hiding from our parents.

I wanted him. There was no doubt about it. I moved against his dick shamelessly, wanting more.

His teeth clamped down on my earlobe, and warning tones went off in my head. I was going to come, and he’d barely even fucking touched me.

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