I found Xavier sexy from the start, but the more he came out of his shell, the hotter my desire seemed to grow. I almost groaned just thinking about it.
He rummaged in the backpack for a moment, then nodded to himself and looked up to me. “I’m just going to step into the bathroom for a minute,” he said. “Will you wait here?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded, pulling out the intimidating stare I used when I saw a competitor outside my office. It got just the reaction I wanted, and Xavier’s eyes widened before he hurried into the bathroom.
My cock was aching in my trousers as I waited for him. I was eager to get another peek into his imagination. He was creative and, as I was beginning to realize, surprisingly filthy, too.
After a minute, the door to the bathroom swung open. Xavier stepped out hesitantly, placing one foot slowly in front of the other.
That time, I really did groan, a deep rumble growing from deep in my chest. Xavier wore a pair of tight gray baseball pants. The bottoms clung beneath his knees, and a pair of red socks were pulled up high. The top button of the pants was left undone, and the waistband of his jockstrap was visible. I could see the taut muscles across his bare chest and the pink nubs of his nipples, already hard.
Xavier bit down on his bottom lip, then lifted his hand in the air, showing the two baseball gloves that he held. “You’re the senior on the college team,” he said cautiously. “And I’m the freshman who keeps screwing up?”
I placed my hands on my knees, then rose to my feet. I didn’t say a word. I just crossed the apartment toward him, one slow step at a time.
“Maybe you wouldn’t screw up all the time,” I growled, “if you weren’t always staring at my cock, freshman.”
