Rikker always asked this question, and sometimes I told him no, to give my ass a break. But now he was kissing me so hard that I couldn’t answer right away. “Yesss…” I said eventually.
“Yes,what?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Yes, doofus?”
Sputtering with laughter, he reached down to pinch my ass. “I don’t think you have this whole submissive thing down yet.”
“I’ll listen better after you make me come. Get on it already.”
Rikker grabbed me by the hips and turned me around. “Pushy bottom.” I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. “Spread.” He tugged my hips back, angling my ass away from the wall to give him better access.
If ever there was aholy shitmoment for me, it would be that one. Because you can’t bend over in the shower for your gay boyfriend and pretend that your life hasn’t totally changed course.
But did I freak out just then? No. Because Rikker pressed his hips against me, wrapping his arms around my chest. And I was so turned on that I was practically vibrating. But first, all I got was this full-body hug. And when I turned my head to the side, I could see him in the mirror. The shower was already steaming up the glass walls, but I got a blurry view of him, eyes closed, a look of unconscious, blissful affection on his face. As I watched, he held on tight, kissing me between the shoulder blades and groaning into my back. “Iloooveroad trips,” he said.
I laughed, because that was just so easy to do when I was with him. God, I had it so bad for Rikker. Whenever we were alone, the world shrank down to a manageable size. In his company I became my real self. And it wasn’t just the sex. We might be arguing about the NHL entry draft, or dining hall food. It was all just right.
The shower rained down on us, and I closed my eyes and pressed back against Rikker’s body. Groaning with anticipation, he began to stroke me.
I wanted him on me, around me. In me. Right where he belonged.
—Rikker
The next morning, I woke up halfway off the hotel bed. I rolled over. Or rather, I tried to. “You are such a bed hog,” I whispered to Graham, who was sleeping spread-eagled on the double bed that we’d ended up sharing. It was so much smaller than the big bed that Graham had rigged up in his dorm room.
Graham did not reply, seeing as he was dead to the world. His face was serene, chin tipped up toward the ceiling. In the stillness of our hotel room, I could hear the faintest whistle each time he exhaled.
I liked to study Graham when he was sleeping, because only then did he look truly peaceful.
But nature called. And it was a luxury to stumble into the hotel bathroom and take a piss without worrying that one of Graham’s neighbors would spot me.
When I came back out, Graham’s phone alarm had just gone off in the little docking station he traveled with. It played — naturally — a Clapton tune. Though I’d never admit it, the acoustic version of “Layla” was a really good song. And kind of sexy, too. Even though it was time to get up, I slipped back into bed. Or I tried to. “Move over, hottie.” I swatted his big thigh.
Without opening his eyes, Graham gave me a sleepy grin. Then he stretched his legs a little wider.
So what could I do but climb on him? I maneuvered into position, straddling his sleepy body. “The bus leaves in thirty minutes. I’m on the fence about breakfast. But I’m not leaving here until I know you’ll get up.”
“Good of you,” he slurred, turning his face away from the light.
I reached up, stroking his cheekbone. He had such a beautiful face, I loved touching it. “Wake up, baby.”
His lips twisted. “You are too cheerful in the morning. I don’t like it.”
I leaned down, dropping kisses onto his hairline. “I know better ways to wake you up. But I don’t think we have the time.”
“Mmm,” he said. His eyes were still closed, but his hips shifted underneath me. At least one part of Graham was properly awake. The feel of him beneath me was divine. Too bad I didn’t have a half an hour to waste…
Sleepy hands rose up to grasp my ribs. I dropped my lips down to his neck, kissing softly along the sensitive skin beneath his ear. “Wake up,” I whispered.
He turned his head then, capturing me in a kiss. So sweet. I still got a thrill whenever he made a move on me. It was stupid, really. We were together now in every possible way. But I craved his affection. Every kiss still felt like a gift, because I knew how much they cost him.
I sank into Graham’s kiss, my hips riding him just enough to probably frustrate the both of us. I was so absorbed in the moment, and in the sound of each breathy exhalation that I didn’t hear the door open.
“Graham, I gave you my key by mistake! Had to get another one from the…” Bella’s voice died away. Then there was a loud gasp. And then, “Rikker? What the…?”
Beneath me, Graham went absolutely still. I turned my head to see Bella standing there, her face reddening, her mouth open.
I eased off Graham’s naked body, giving him time to yank the sheet up higher. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” he rasped.
