“People live here?Youlive here? Here?” His arms flail.
“I promised my mom I would live here to be safe.” I can barely restrain my eye roll.
“You’re not safe from obscenely bad taste that… No, I won’t insult your home. I’m sorry.”
I rub the back of my neck. “No, it’s fine. I hate it here.”
“Why don’t you leave?” He drags me over to sit on the antique couch that’s less comfortable than a wooden chair.
“It’s complicated,” I throw his words back at him.
“I deserve that. Tell me anyway.” He’s determined, but I’m stubborn.
“It’s a long, boring story for another day.” A day that will never come, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Jamal agrees with the lift of his chin. “For real, the two of us?” He points between us.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I’m not sure how to be his friend, but I’m not forcing myself on him.
“I’m an overthinker,” he blurts out, and stands to pace. “I worry about what other people think or say. Second-guessing myself is a full-time job. I admire you.”
“What?” All I can think is he hit his head in the game when I wasn’t looking.
“You’re willing to put yourself out there and say what’s on your mind and damn the consequences.”
“Don’t admire that. I have one friend and teammates who tolerate me. People genuinely like you.” I catch his wrist so he stops pacing and faces me. “You see the big picture, long-term outcomes, while I’m impulsive and reckless.”
Jamal leans forward in slow motion, staring at my lips, and I’m mesmerized. I’m not sure if he’s giving me time to say no or working up his courage. I’m immobile, willing myself not to wreck the moment. He smells like his body wash and something uniquely him. It scrambles my brain.
His mouth is centimeters from mine, and he whispers my name. I love the way he says it, like it’s a full sentence or a longing only I can quell. Jamal’s lips brush against mine in the barest of touches. I ache all over.
He says my name again, testing out the sound with our lips touching. I’ve never been kissed gently. Reverently. As if I matter.
I’m squeezing his wrist too hard and move my hands to his hips. I want to touch him all over. Learn the curve of his muscles, trace the veins in his arms to identify where his life’s blood is most precious, most vulnerable.
Jamal groans into my mouth, and it changes everything. He crashes against my chest, kissing me frantically as if he’s trying to prove me wrong. That he can be impulsive and reckless too. That doesn’t bode well for either of us. When his tongue meets mine, I stop caring about why it’s wrong and deepen the kiss. He tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted.
His arms wind around my neck, and his fingers twist in my hair. I’ve got my hands full of his ass as we move together. Jamal circles his hips, and his musclesflex under my grip. The man has an ass. Hockey players are known for great asses, but his is meaty, powerful, and strong.
Jamal’s hard cock grinds on mine, and a strangled gurgling sound escapes my throat. I want to see him—all of him—naked.
Fuck.
I’m going to come at the thought of all his smooth brown skin. I need time. I’m greedy and crave time to explore every inch of him, time where it can be just us, time where nothing else matters.
“Are you okay?” He pulls back and adds, “You said ‘fuck.’”
My mouth starts talking before my brain can stop me. “Well, you got me worked up and on edge.” I sound like a middle schooler who has never gotten his dick wet.
“Me too,” he murmurs, nipping at my lobe. “I’m sort of clueless,” he says shyly.
I let go of him, and he balances on my thighs. The couch groans under our weight.
“Do you want to stop?” he asks softly, biting his lip. “I understand if messin’ with somebody this green doesn’t do it for you.” His unsure gaze drops to the floor.
The impact of his words is like a slap to my face and jolts me back to reality. He’s not saying he regrets this, he’s… I’m not sure what to think.
“I like the way you talk to me.” I kiss his down-turned lips. “You don’t pretend, and I like it.”
