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I walk closer, catching the bob of his Adam’s apple as I approach. “How long can you stay?”
“My flight leaves first thing tomorrow. I’m heading straight to Berlin for a match.”
I’m expecting the answer. Even before his coach called, I knew there was no way his absence wasn’t being missed. Beck’s not just famous, he’s important. People pay to see him play, not to attend a soccer game.
“First thing tomorrow is…soon.”
He nods. “Best I could do.”
I take another step, then abandon the idea of personal space altogether, climbing right into his lap. The thick span of his thighs spreads mine, tugging the towel so high it’s barely covering any of my legs. Some beads of water fall from my hair and land on him, but Beck doesn’t seem to notice. Or care. His hands land on my waist, tugging me even closer to his chest. His mouth lands on the curve of my shoulder, pressing a warm kiss to my damp skin.
It’s heaven, him touching me like this. Our physical attraction has always been a noticeable presence between us. It’s impossible to ignore right now. It feels like forever since we shared a moment like this. For a while, I was convinced we would never share a moment like this again. That heightens every sensation now.
“Saylor…”
I shiver at the way he says my name, filled with so much longing and lust. Like he’s dying to touch me. Desperate to fuck me. Beck’s looking at me like I’m the important, beloved one. Like I’m the center of his world.
“Have I mentioned how happy I am that you’re here?” I ask, lifting the hem of his T-shirt.
Beck smirks as he helps me pull the fabric over his head. “You’ve yet to mention it, actually.”
He’s teasing, but he’s also right.
“I warned you—I’m bad at this stuff,” I say, running my hands down his pecs and across his abs. Enjoying the feel of hot, firm skin pressed against my palms. “I freak out. I shut down. I run. But…I’m trying. I promise I’m trying.”
Beck kisses me, the towel I’m wearing falling apart following one firm tug. His hands slide up, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, until he reaches my boobs. I moan into his mouth when he cups them, the jolt of pleasure sudden and consuming.
He flips me effortlessly, so that I end up on my back beneath him.
I push my fingers into his soft hair.
Trail my fingers down his neck.
Dig my nails into his back.
I was overwhelmed before; I’m drowning now. Sinking through ecstasy and euphoria. Beck kisses me urgently, fervently, fiercely. His tongue and lips assault my breasts, my neck, my chest. All while rubbing his massive erection against my inner thigh. Teasing me.
“Beck, please.” I let him hear the desperation in my voice. It’s not like he can’t tell I’m a wanton, writhing mess beneath him.
“Do you want me, Scott?” He’s never called me by my last name in bed, and the sound of it falling off his lips is surprisingly erotic.
His fingers trail enticingly down my ribcage, and I arch against him. “What the fuck does it seem like?”
There’s a flash of humor on his face, but it’s quickly overtaken by heat. One hand slides between my thighs, and my hips jerk upward from the additional stimulation. If this were anyone else, I wouldn’t capitulate.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” I tell him, laying myself bare in more ways than one.
Beck unrolls a condom and then thrusts inside of me. I muffle my moans against his shoulder, having no idea when my housemates will be home.
Thoughts flee like dandelion pappuses in the wind. All that remains is sensation.
I’m aware of everything and nothing.
Thoughtless and overstimulated.
There’s the heat of his skin. The ripple of his abdominal muscles pressed against my stomach. The thick hair my hands are tugging at.
I’m close, feeling trickles of ecstasy, when he slows, pumping into me at a leisurely pace. Languidly. I clench my inner muscles and feel the muscles in his back ripple as he responds.
