“Itisthat simple. The consequences may not be but the question is. It’s binary. Either you are or you aren’t.”
He was quiet for a long moment, and I could see the war happening behind his eyes. The part of him that wanted to lie, to maintain the professional façade, battling against something else. Something that looked a lot like honesty.
“Yes,” he said finally, so quietly, I almost didn’t hear it.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’m attracted to you. But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t mean?—”
I kissed him.
It wasn’t planned, wasn’t thought through, wasn’t anything but pure impulse. One second, he was talking about why nothing could happen between us, and the next second, I was closing the distance between us and pressing my lips to his.
For a moment, he went completely still, like he was too shocked to respond. Then his hands came up to my shoulders, and for a split second, I thought he was going to push me away. Instead, he kissed me back.
Our lips met, touched, rubbed, and then opened. When my tongue met his, I couldn’t hold back a soft moan in the back of my throat. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, but it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more, needed more.
We tangled, sliding wetly against each other with slow, sensual strokes. His mouth was bitter with coffee and sweet with something like strawberry, and the pressure of his lips was both demanding and restless, like he was starved for contact.
It was nothing like kissing a girl. His lips were firmer, his jaw rougher with stubble that scraped deliciously against my skin. But it felt right in a way that loosened something inside me and that made my heart race and my brain go completely quiet for the first time in days.
I pressed myself against him, every line of his hard body flat against mine. No curves, no softness, nothing but raw male muscles, but god, I loved it. It was everything I’d never known I needed until now.
So I poured every confused feeling into that kiss, every ounce of passion I’d developed for him, and he kissed me right back, meeting me slide by slide, touch by touch, lick by lick.
When we broke apart, we were both panting, and my cock was hard as iron in my pants. That, too, was a first. Kissing had never turned me on this much before.
“I don’t…” Nils seemed lost for words.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
We stood there looking at each other, both of us probably trying to figure out what happened next. The kiss had answered the question I’d come here to ask, but it had also created about a dozen new problems.
“Adan, this can’t happen. You understand that, right? The coaching relationship, the potential consequences?—”
“I don’t care about any of that. Right now, I care that you kissed me back.”
“That was a mistake.”
“Was it? Because it didn’t feel like a mistake.”
He was quiet again, and I could see him struggling with the same thing I was struggling with: the difference between what we should do and what we wanted to do.
“I will go,” I said finally. “But I’m glad I came here. I’m glad I know.”
“Know what?”
“That I’m not crazy. That this thing between us isn’t just in my head.”
I headed toward the door, then turned back. He was still standing in the middle of his living room, looking like he’d been hit by lightning.
I straightened my shoulders. “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret it. Any of it.”
I left him standing there and drove home through the Buffalo streets, my lips still tingling from the kiss and my mind clearer than it had been in days.
Everything had changed. There was no going back to professional distance or pretending I didn’t feel what I felt. But for the first time since Friday night, I wasn’t confused about what I wanted.
I wanted him. And now I knew he wanted me too.
