“So don’t let a jealous dickhead with a loud mouth scare you off,” he says softly. “I want you, Eli. In every way a man can want another man. Fucking deeper. Stronger. So fucking intense that I can’t stand seeing you hurt.”
My pulse is hammering. My face is hot. My brain is gone…evaporated, melted, dust.
And before I can stop myself…before I can think or breathe or make a single responsible decision…I blurt:
“I’m a virgin.”
Skip goes still.
Not the kind of still a person does when they’re shocked. I’m talking Predator-still.
Then…
“Fuck.”
His breath quickens before he leans down and nibbles my chin.
“Fuck me,” he groans.
He rolls off me, sits up, stands, comes back…
“Eli. Fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have just blurted that out. But, every word that came out of your mouth was so intense, and I knew I had to tell you that before I chickened out.”
He freezes again.
“Sorry?” His voice cracks like thunder. “Sorry? Baby, that’s…fucking hell. Come here.”
He doesn’t wait.
He crushes his mouth to mine.
It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle. It’s possession and hunger and pure, unfiltered Skip.
His lips dominate mine, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my sanity.
His hand cups the back of my head. His tongue sweeps past my lips like he owns the place. Not asking for entry…demanding.
He kisses me like he’s been starving for decades.
I make a sound…embarrassing, needy…and he growls into my mouth.
When he finally pulls back, I’m dizzy and wrecked and clinging to him. He presses soft kisses down my jaw. My cheek. My throat. My collarbone.
Each one gentler than the last. Like he’s apologizing with his mouth for completely dominating me with it.
Then he drags me with him as he lies back, pulling me until I’m sprawled half on his chest, half on the mattress, his arm anchored tight around me.
My cheek rests over his heart.
It’s pounding…Hard.
We’re quiet for a long time.
Eventually, I whisper, “Skip?”
“Yeah, baby?”
