“I need to know what your lips feel like on mine,” I say, looping a finger in the collar of her shirt and tugging, coaxing her toward me. She shuffles forward, and my palm glides along her jaw, moving her hair away from the nape of her neck so my thumb can tease her soft skin until she breaks out into goose bumps.
“I need to know they’re how I remember them . . . your lips,” I say, lowering my mouth to her neck and kissing her softly.
Her head tilts to the side, opening to me.
“And I want to know how your skin feels against mine.” My hand glides down her arm as I suckle at her neck, my fingertips flirting with her waist, slowly pulling her tucked shirt free from the band on her black joggers.
A tiny gasp breaks through her lips when my fingers graze against her bare skin, sliding around her oblique to the curve of her lower back.
“Like satin,” I whisper against her ear.
“Jayden,” she hums my name.
“Hmm,” I say, nipping at her ear, praying she turns into me rather than offers a renewed campaign for all the reasons we shouldn’t do this. Any of this.
“Is this real?” Her voice is hoarse, and her eyes search mine before closing, her face inching forward until our noses touch.
“It’s always been real, Colby. You and me? We’ve been real my entire life. It’s always been you.”
My fingertips move to her chin, and I guide her mouth to mine until our lips touch. Everything slows. My breathing. Our pulses. Time.
I make it so. Nothing about this can be rushed. Every move of my lips is intentional. I suck on her upper lip and tease it with my tongue, letting my hold on her break only when a moan emanates from her and I’m forced to smile.
“Nobody can know,” she says, finally on board with my plan, however crazy it might be. It’s the only option I have left. I can’t be around her like this, working so closely and not thinking about all the things we were and should have been.
I have to know.
“Nobody will know,” I affirm before deepening our kiss.
Her hands glide up my neck, sinking into my hair and tossing my hat to the ground. I lift her, and her legs automatically wrap around me, our bodies knowing exactly what to do. I spin until her back is against the metal fencing that separates this tunnel from the next one, and press my swollen cock against her center to ease the growing ache. When her hands drop to my hips and pull me into her even harder, I groan against her lips, droppingmy mouth to her neck so I can catch my breath and will myself not to fucking come in my goddamn baseball pants.
“Take me home. With you. I want to know. I need to know,” she says.
I leave one hand under her thighs, holding her between me and the fence while my other hand smooths away the hair that’s fallen over her face. I look her in her eyes to be sure, because as much as this is the kind of thing that needs consent, for us, this decision carries more risk. And sadly, she will bear the brunt. I can’t be the one to fuck things up for her, but if she asks me to be with her, I also can’t say no. I won’t. I will never say no to being with her again.
“I need to know how you feel,” she says, sliding out of my grip and gliding her palm down my chest, my stomach, to my hard cock.
“How this feels. How all of you feels. Howwefeel.”
I lick my lips and hold her stare for a beat, my cock flexing against the warmth of her palm. If she told me to, I’d rip her clothes off and fuck her right now, in the middle of the Mavericks hitting tunnels. But she seems willing to take her time. To takeourtime. And she’s right. We both deserve to know.
And I intend to show her.
FOURTEEN
COLBY
This is a bad idea.
That sentence is scrolling like a ticker-tape in the back of my mind.
But so are a lot of other ideas.
That kiss.
Our history.
The way his hands feel on my bare skin.
