He hesitated only a moment, then met my mouth with a hunger I hadn’t yet seen. We virtually ripped the clothes off our bodies, and I tossed him onto the bed, jumping on top of him, claiming his mouth.
“I want you. All of you. Your heart as well as your body. Say it. Say you love me.”
“Yes,” he moaned. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
Joy surged through me, and I cupped his face. “We’re going to make this work. I can’t lose you now.”
Our tongues played and danced. Fallon’s cheeks flushed red, his golden hair spread on the sheets, body hard and anxious beneath me. His harsh breath drove every thought from my mind aside from the need to possess. Take. Slightly unsteady, my hands glided over his naked body, tracing the swell of muscle and the hardness of bone. The rough hair of his thighs rasped against mine, and my heart thundered, causing my vision to blur.
I grabbed the lube from the end table and poured some on my fingers. I pierced his hole with my thumb and moved in and out, preparing him for me.
“Oh God, more,” he begged. “Everything. Fuck me raw. Hard. I need it now. Please.”
I slathered my dick with the lube and inched inside him. Hot muscled walls throbbed and clenched around my aching dick. “Fallon,” I groaned. “I can’t stop.”
“Don’t. I need you. Want you so bad.”
He writhed on my cock, and I tried to take it slow, but Fallon locked his ankles round my waist, and I drove in deep. Again and again.
“More, Patrick. I need it all…every inch of you in me.”
I was lost, a pulsing, quivering ball of need that could only be sated by the man under me. Fallon was in his own world, eyes squeezed shut, stroking his leaking cock with short tugs. His mouth fell open, and I knew he was ready. I increased my thrusts, hips snapping until I fell apart and came. We lay holding each other for who knew how long. I slipped out, but made no move to leave, and he held me tight, lips pressed to my shoulder.
“I’ve never gotten carried away like that. Outside of my marriages, I’ve never had sex without a condom,” I murmured. “If you’re worried—”
“I’m not,” Fallon cut me off with a shake of his head, his hair stuck to his cheeks, dark with sweat. “I know I’m safe with you.”
I slung my arm around Fallon and pulled him close. “You always will be. I promise. You’ll see.”
Chapter Nineteen
Fallon
At some point we’d gotten under the covers, and when we woke, Patrick was spooning me, his large body molded to mine. The sun had crossed the sky from the morning to noon. I sighed and shifted, but Patrick held me firm.
“Still worrying?” he rumbled against my nape. He pushed my hair away and began to press kisses to my neck and shoulder.
“It’s my job. Professional worrier. I have to think about your public face.” I scooted away, knowing if he continued, we’d end up having sex again, but my organizational brain needed to work through all the obstacles first. “How do you plan to handle this?” At his snicker, I rolled my eyes. “Not funny, Patrick. I’m trying to be serious and figure us out.”
Propped up by a few pillows, Patrick folded his arms behind his head. “Far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to figure out. We’re together, and that’s it. As I said, we’ll wait until the season is over, and then I’ll make the announcement.” As if sensing I’d have something to say, he put out a hand. “Hear me out. I’d tell everyone right now, but we’re in the middle of a run at the postseason, and I want all the attention on that. Not me and my love life, because you know if I do say something, after that, noone’s going to be interested in anything I do on the field. I think that’s only fair to my teammates.”
“I agree.”
Those generous lips kicked up in a grin. “See? We’re already in sync.”
“About that, at least.” I tied my hair back. “So we’ll go on as we have been and revisit this after the Super Bowl.”
He swung his legs off the sofa bed. “Yeah. Except one thing has to change.” With a pained expression, he rose to his feet and stretched, giving me a chance to admire—okay, ogle—his muscled torso. Damn, he was so incredibly fine. I had to look away before I jumped him. I retreated to the kitchen area to get a cold glass of water.
“What’s that?” I asked, cracking out ice cubes from the tray.
“You can’t live in this shithole anymore. Come stay with me.”
My snort at that sent me into a choking fit of laughter. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about waiting to tell people? If I move into your place, that’s gonna be somewhat conspicuous, don’t you think?”
“You’re my PA. I’m sure it wouldn’t raise any suspicions.”
His nonchalance made me want to bonk him over the head. “Patrick. What the hell excuse would we have to come up with to make that sound plausible? Why would I need to move in with you?”
