“Don’t stop.”
“You sure?”
“Reece.” I pull him down. “Shut up and kiss me.”
He does.God, he does. His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, down my neck, finding spots I didn’t know were sensitive. My hands slide under his shirt, mapping the muscles on his back, and he groans against my skin.
“Off,” I demand, tugging at his shirt.
He sits back long enough to pull it over his head, and I take a moment to appreciate the view. He’s all lean muscle and smooth skin, and there’s a scar on his shoulder from surgery years ago. I trace it with my finger.
“Torn rotator cuff,” he explains. “Sophomore year of college.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.”
I lean up, pressing a kiss to the scar.
He shudders, hands tightening on my hips. “You’re killing me,” he mutters.
“Good.”
He pushes me back down, and his hands find the hem of my shirt. He pauses, eyes meeting mine, asking permission without words. I nod, and he pulls it off slowly, reverently, as though he is unwrapping something precious.
“Beautiful,” he breathes out.
“You’re biased.”
“I’m accurate.”
His mouth finds mine again, and everything else fades away. There’s no media, no Coach Bishop, no complications. There’s only this.Us. The way we fit together, the way he touches me with this mix of confidence and wonder, the way I feel completely safe and completely wild at the same time.
His hands map my body, learning every curve, every sensitive spot. When he kisses down my stomach, I thread my fingers through his hair, and he looks up at me with so much heat I forget how to breathe.
“Ava,” he says, voice rough. “I need you to know something.”
“What?”
“This isn’t casual for me. It never was.” His hand splays across my ribs, right over my racing heart. “I’m all in. Completely. And if you’re not there yet, tell me now, because I’m about two seconds away from losing any remaining control I have.”
I could deflect. Make a joke. Keep my walls up even now.
Instead, I say, “I’m all in too.”
The smile that crosses his face is devastating. Then he’s kissing me again, his hands are everywhere, and I’m arching into him, completely surrendering to this. To him. To us.
“Reece,” I gasp.
“I’ve got you.”
And he does.
Heabsolutelydoes.
Reece moves down my body, fingers curl around my shorts and underwear, and he pulls them down my legs as he stands. He drops them to the floor, then kicks off his sweats. His cock is huge and completely erect.
“Your turn.”
