“What—?”
I don’t get to finish that sentence either because he’s on me, grabbing my head in his hands and pushing his tongue into my mouth. It’s like the reverse of our kiss in his office, this time with him as the instigator. I’m so stunned it takes me a second to react, but when I do I’m all-in, kissing him back with the fervor of starving man at a banquet.
Or a man who’s just had his number-one spank bank fantasy come true.
Without removing his mouth from mine, Ben somehow maneuvers us to the sofa. He pushes me down onto the cushions then follows me, covering my body with his. My towel slips, hanging on by sheer will. Every inch of him is molded to every inch of me, the friction between us hardening my cock.
I arch my back, needing more of him. “If I had known finishing in the points was such a turn-on for you, I would have done it ages ago.”
“Very funny.” He snakes a hand between us, reaching for my towel.
“Seriously,” I rasp, breathing heavily. “What brought this on?”
The hand on the towel freezes. “Are you complaining?”
“Fuck, no,” I say, a little too enthusiastically. “Just confused.”
His lips brush my ear, and I shiver. “We’re both adults. We can have fun and work together. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you agreed with me.” Why the fuck am I arguing with him when he’s giving me what I want? I must be a special kind of stupid.
“Can’t a guy change his mind?” One finger slips under my towel.
I grab the hem of his team polo and jerk it upward, my mouth watering at the strip of skin that shows above his waistband, taut, tanned, and begging to be touched. Or maybe it’s my fingers begging to do the touching. Either way, I’m done with arguing, done with trying to make sense of what’s happening, done with doing anything but enjoying the fuck out of this moment and this man. “It’s a free country.”
“You were so fucking sexy out there,” he growls.
“How could you tell?” I ask, hissing when he slides another finger under the towel. “I was covered from head to toe in Nomex.”
“Confidence is sexy. Strength is sexy. Passion is sexy. You had all of that on the track today.”
One tug and the towel loosens. Two and it falls open, exposing my aching dick to his hungry gaze. I’m laid bare and on display and he’s still fully clothed and that’s so not fair. I want to see him. Taste him. Feel his skin slip and slide against mine.
I fist his shirt in my hands and inch it higher, the strip of skin now more like a wide-open field than a narrow ribbon. “This has got to go.”
He apparently agrees because he levers himself off me and raises his arms, making it easier for me to yank the shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. As much as I want to haul him back down on top of me, I take a second to study him first.
Holy hell, he’s gorgeous. Where I’m narrow, he’s broad. Where my muscles are more lean, his are thick and beefy. Where I’m smooth and almost hairless, he’s lightly furred, with a smattering of fine, dark hair on his chest and a happy trail starting at his navel and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans.
“Like what you see?” he asks, smirking.
Cocky bastard.
“You know I do.”
Tired of waiting, I pull him down to me, splaying my legs so he fits perfectly between them. Our cocks grind together and our mouths fuse and I anchor my hand in his hair, slipping my tongue between his lips. He moans and returns the favor, our tongues tangling and teeth clacking and our bodies rubbing against each other. The hair on his chest brushes against my skin, making precum drip from my desperate dick, and I make a mental note to add body hair to my list of turn-ons.
Then again, it’s entirely possible that it’s the man and not the hair that’s turning me on.
“Fuck, Ben,” I say when we finally come up for air. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up.”
“If you think that’s good, wait until you see what I have planned next.” He slides down my body, his mouth hovering mere inches above my leaking cock. “I want to suck you off.”
My body is screaming for release. “I’m down with that.”
But he doesn’t get a chance to make good on his promise because some asshole—Kip for real this time, probably—knocks on my door. Ben scrambles off me and reaches for his shirt. I fumble around for the ends of my towel, trapped beneath me, and frantically wrap it around my waist.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
