“But you won’t?—”
“No buts,” Nicholas interrupts. “I asked you a question, princess. If you were in the mood, if you wanted sex, would you enjoy being touched?”
Andrew’s facial expressions shift rapidly, settling on something surprisingly unsure. “Maybe.”
“I can fucking work with maybe.”
“But—”
“Stop saying but. I’d still want you if you didn’t want to fuck ever, and I know you don’t believe that, so I’ve got to show you. But if you do, the idea of you just laying there is hot.”
“That can’t be hot,” Andrew protests, eyes flaring.
“Hot,” Nicholas repeats, grabbing Andrew’s hands and dragging them up until they rest over his chest. He pushes Andrew’s palms firmly so he can feel Nicholas's heartbeat, feel the proof of what the idea does to him.
“That’s what a princess does, isn’t it? Lies there and feels good. You’d be the prettiest princess for me, spread out in my silk sheets doing nothing, because that’s your job, and my job would be making you feel good. My pretty pillow princess.”
Andrew’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and his mouth forming a little ‘o’ of surprise, like he can’t believe what Nicholas just said. Anyone who wouldn’t think it was the honor of a fucking lifetime to make this man feel good can jump off a fucking cliff.
“You…um, I need a drink of water.”
“Are you thirsty, princess?”
Without sparing him another look, Andrew flips him off before grabbing a bottle of cold water from the fridge. He gulps down, and Nicki doesn’t bother pretending he’s not staring at the long line of Andrew’s throat.
“You still gonna check me out?” Nicholas asks, hopping onto the edge of the kitchen island, spreading his legs wide and arching his back so his body is on display. Yeah, he’s bruised up, and there’s some nasty scratches, but he still looks sexy.
“No, I think you’re fine,” Andrew replies, gulping down the last of his water. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“Will you come with me?”
“I’m not going to fuck you, Nicki.” Despite this protest, he positions himself between the spread of Nicholas’s thighs, tipping that handsome face of his up. “You played hard. Youneed sleep. Especially since you’re leaving for your away games early tomorrow.”
“I guess someone should put me to bed.”
“I’m not your daddy,” Andrew retorts.
“Good thing that’s not what I’m looking for then.”
“And what is it you’re looking for, Nicki?”
The question might be simple, yet somehow it feels loaded, as if it’s about so much more than what he wants right at this moment.
“Someone I can count on. Someone I can trust.” He reaches for Andrew, hand settling at the back of his neck. “I’ve never had that.”
“I can be that man.”
“I know you can.” Nicholas is hit with a wave of affection for this man in front of him. How is it possible that everyone doesn’t see how perfect he is? How is everyone not falling all over themselves to be with him? Nicholas can’t imagine it, but then he was too stupid to see it in the beginning, so maybe everyone else is, too.
“What?” Andrew asks.
“Thinking about how perfect you are.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Mhmm,” Nicholas hums, giving Andrew’s neck a firm squeeze before moving it into his hair. The waves are so thick, but soft too, and Nicholas slides his hand into hair. “Fucking gorgeous and smart.”
“Stop it,” Andrew mumbles.
