“Come inside.” She waves us toward the main entrance. “It’s cold out here. And your father could use some help. He’s trying to start a fire in the fireplace. And you know how hopeless he is with matches.”
“Sure,” I agree as we follow her inside. “Just as soon as we dump our bags.”
“You can put your things in your room, and I’ve got the spare room at the opposite end of the hall all ready for Kolby,” she says pointedly, letting me know in no uncertain terms that there will be no hanky-panky on her watch. Maybe I should have pretended we were just friends. Then she might have let us stay in the same room.
Of course my parents are usually in bed by ten. And they’re both pretty sound sleepers. That gives Kolby and me a whole lot of time to do a whole lot of whatever the hell we want, as long as we’re not too loud and we’re in our separate rooms by morning.
Kolby thanks my mother and follows me upstairs.
“This is my room,” I say when I reach my door.
“I never would have guessed,” he drawls sarcastically, nodding his head to the sign on the door. It has a drawing of hockey stick on one side, the silhouette of a hockey player on the other, and “Adam’s Room” written in script in between, a throwback from my childhood that no one’s bothered to remove.
I’m tempted to take it down and stick it in a drawer somewhere, never again to see the light of day. But he’s seen it already, and my mom seems attached to it. So I let it stay and reach for the doorknob.
We’re barely inside before Kolby shuts the door behind us and pushes me against it, wedging his knee between my legs and trapping me there with his body. My duffel bag slips from my fingers and falls to the floor with a dull thud, joining his, which he dropped the second he got in the room.
He braces a hand on the door next to my head, his face inches from mine. He lowers it to leave a line of kisses down my neck to my collarbone. My pulse shoots into the stratosphere and my knees threaten to buckle. Kolby’s not usually this physically aggressive, but when he is, damn it’s hot.
“It’s going to be murder sleeping down the hall from you,” he growls against my throat. “Having you so close, but so far away. If I had known this trip was going to involve torture, I would have stayed at school.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. No one wants to eat institutional food on Thanksgiving.”
He nuzzles the hollow at the base of my neck, and I groan and let my head fall back. It thunks against the door, the sound echoing in the close quarters of my bedroom.
“And don’t worry,” I say. “I have plans for us after my parents are asleep.”
“I have plans for us right now.” He takes my earlobe between his teeth and tugs, and this time my knees really do buckle a bit.
“Don’t you want to see my room? The site of all my favorite S words—sleeping, slumbering, and snoozing?”
I’m grasping at straws to distract him. And trying like hell to Jedi mind trick my disobedient dick into submission. There’s no way I’m walking around in front of my parents sporting a hard-on.
“I’d like it to be the site of one of my favorite S words.” He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, making me shiver. “Sex.”
“Has anyone ever told you you have a one-track mind?”
He lifts his head and looks around. “There. I’ve seen it. Now shut that pretty mouth and let me kiss you.”
“My dad is waiting for me downstairs.”
“One kiss to tide me over until we can be alone tonight. You owe me that much, Puck Boy.”
Not fair. He knows I melt when he calls me that.
“All right, but make it quick. My mother will hunt us down if we’re gone too long.”
He takes me at my word and doesn’t waste any time locking his lips over mine. He snakes his tongue between them and brackets my head with his hands. I moan and kiss him back because it’s not like I have much choice. I’ve got nowhere to go, pinned between him and the door.
Not that there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.
“Adam? Kolby? Are you boys all right up there?”
Shit. It’s my mother. And from the sound of it, she’s halfway up the stairs already.
Shit, shit, shit.
I wrench my mouth from his and flatten my palms against his chest, pushing him away. “We’re fine, Mom. I’m just giving Kolby the grand tour.”
