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I walked to the opposite side of the room and slid between the sheets with a grateful groan, then turned on my side to stretch one arm out under the opposite pillow… and encountered warm, firm muscle.
I opened my eyes and squinted through the darkness. From this close, the scent of his faded aftershave was clearer, and I could just make out the outline of his messy, sun-kissed hair and prominent chin.
The breath punched out of me. Reagan.
I stared at him, begging my eyes to do a better job of seeing in the darkness.
“Th-thatcher?” His voice was a sleep-rough whisper, but he managed to lever up on one elbow. “Hey. You want your bed back?”
I sucked in a breath and felt the last barrier crumble. “No,” I breathed, moving closer and reaching out to cup his cheek, feeling the prickle of stubble along my palm. “That’s not what I want.”
He turned his face toward me as I inched closer. I’d had just enough alcohol and sleep deprivation to pretend this one night—like our last one night—wouldn’t count. That I could have him here like this, naked and willing, sleepy and submissive, and we could go back to our easy routine in the morning.
Reagan made a small noise in his throat. A noise of need, of desire, of confusion… I wasn’t sure. I only knew that it carried with it barbed hooks that dug deep into my solar plexus and reeled me inevitably closer to him.
“Let me have you,” I murmured, afraid speaking at full volume might awaken him enough to push me away.
“Yes.” The sound was deep and hoarse. It carried through my chest and down to my balls. I closed the remaining distance between us and finally, finally, took his mouth in mine.
The taste of him brought exquisite relief and immense excitement. The combination made me feel an even stronger buzz than the one I’d entered the bus with. Reagan was sleepy-soft and pliant under my hands. I shoved the covers down and found the hem of his T-shirt before rucking it up to run my hand along his abs and chest.
His skin was warm, and the hair on his chest brushed softly against my fingertips. The skin around his nipples puckered when the air hit it, or maybe it was my touch that set them off. He let out a sound of pleasure, and I swallowed it down, hungry for more of his lips and tongue.
His hands forked into my hair, pulling me closer until I was practically on top of him. As soon as I felt the hard ridge of his erection against my hip, I couldn’t pretend politeness anymore. I was too desperate for him, too frantic with the need to bury myself in his body.
“Clothes off,” I said, pulling away enough to strip my own underwear off and toss them over the side of the bed. Reagan must have done the same because when I leaned back over him, he was blessedly bare, displaying all that tanned skin and the wickedly sexy tattoo I’d been dying to see again. “C’mere.”
I kissed him again, reaching down with a hand to stroke his cock. He was hot and hard against my palm. His hands clasped my shoulders before moving down my back in firm strokes until he grabbed my ass and squeezed. “Fuck me.”
It was a plea. One I was happy to grant. I pulled off his mouth only to clarify his consent. “You sure?”
“Fucking fuck, Thatcher.”
I leaned over to fumble in the bedside drawer for the lube I kept there for solo use. “Do I need a condom, sweetheart?”
He didn’t respond. When I turned back with the lube, I could see his eyes wide and bright in the moonlight cutting through a gap in the shades. “No,” he said softly. “On PrEP. You?”
“Negative. Haven’t been with anyone like that in a long while.”
“Really?” he asked, seemingly incredulous.
“Well,” I drawled, leaning back in to nose his jaw over so I could suck a spot on his neck. “There was this one guy at New Year’s…”
“Was he hot?” he asked while sucking in a breath.
“So fucking hot. He talked back. Sassy little thing. Not polite at all.” I sucked another spot, then another. “But good in bed. You know the type?”
The low vibration of his laugh made me grin against his skin. “Sounds like a brat.”
“Yes. Definitely a brat,” I agreed. “But it seems to work for me.”
This made him laugh more, and I wondered if I would ever hear that sound and not feel a tiny firecracker go off in my gut.
I grabbed his wrists and moved them above his head while I shifted my weight to kneel on either side of him. My mouth moved down to his collarbone. As I settled above him, our cocks pressed together. His laugh turned into a groan, so I pressed even harder.
“Want that cock inside me,” he said before yanking a hand out of my grip and moving it between us to grasp my shaft.
“Fuck,” I hissed, arching up into his fist. “You make me fucking crazy. Don’t stop.”
