We turn back to the TV as I flick through the options, choosing one without really paying attention, too busy watching Gabe’sprofile—his dark, thick lashes, the way his lips part when he’s concentrating.
“Hit Me With Your Best Shot”starts, and I throw myself into it with wild optimism. Gabe, of course, looks stunning. Body moving in time with the beat, arms sweeping, hips rolling.
By the time the song finishes, my scores are even worse this round.
“Tragic,” he says with mock sympathy.
“I hope you’re happy,” I reply.
“I'm trying,” he says honestly, smiling softly. “You make me happy.”
I stare at him, warmth bubbling up. Then he clears his throat and arches an eyebrow.
I push my shorts down slowly, watching his reaction. The fabric slides over my hips, then my thighs, pooling at my feet. I step out of them and kick them aside. I’m left in nothing but my socks. This was probably a silly bet to start up when I’m not wearing underwear. Gabe’s lashes flutter, his gaze skims over me, cataloguing my chest, stomach, and thighs, before landing firmly on my hardening cock.
“Noah…” His breath catches as he stares. I see the outline of his cock pressing against his shorts. His chest rises and falls harshly.
The controller slips from his hands, clattering to the floor. The music continues faintly in the background, forgotten.
I bring my hands to the hem of his top, raising a brow in question. “Wanna join me, baby?”
He doesn’t answer as color floods his face, but he raises his arms. I peel the shirt off him, letting my knuckles brush lightly over his skin as I go. He sucks in a sharp breath. Our bare chests meet, the contact sending a bolt of electricity straight through me.
“This okay?” I ask him quietly. We haven’t done more than kiss this past week, and I don’t want him to feel pressured.
Hooded eyes blink back at me as he nods, moving closer into my space.
“Tell me.” I whisper.
He responds with a hushed, “Yes.”
The second our mouths meet, he melts forward with a tiny, desperate sound, like he’s been holding himself back all week and has finally given in. His hand finds the small of my back, dragging me closer.
I groan into him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other dropping to his hip, thumbs brushing the waistband of his shorts. His lips are so soft, familiar now, but every time it feels like a hit of something I’m already addicted to.
He tastes like sweetness and breathlessness and the echo of laughter. Like a love worth choosing again and again, even on the hard days.
He tastes like the rest of my life.
His fingers press into my skin, nails scraping lightly. When our hips make contact, he shivers, and I feel how hard he is. I walk us backward slowly until the back of his knees hit the sofa. He lets out a surprised sound and breaks the kiss, looking at me, pupils huge, cheeks rosy.
I bring my hands back to the waistband of his shorts, pushing them and his briefs down. He stands there trembling before kicking them away. I guide him down onto the sofa, following him and straddling his lap.
His hands go straight to my waist, fingers spreading like he’s trying to hold on to as much of me as he can. Lustful eyes rake over me before darting back up to my face.
“Hi, baby,” I say softly, even though we were just kissing like we were trying to crawl inside each other.
He expels a breathless laugh, cheeks flushed, hair a mess from dancing. “Hi, Blue.”
Up close like this, there’s nowhere for him to look but at me, and he does. His gaze is heated, dragging over my face, my mouth, down my body, then back up again like he can’t stop himself. Every pass makes heat curl low in my stomach.
“Gabe,” I murmur, rolling my hips, cocks pressing together. “You’re shaking.”
“I know,” he whispers. His fingers move to my thighs, brushing through the fine hairs. “I want you.”
Every time he says that, it does something dangerous to me. I lean down, brushing my nose against his.
“Tell me what you want.”
