“Are you pissed at me?” he asks as we settle on the bed again.
“I should be,” I say. “But no. I’m not. Not about the video or not telling me who you are. I needed to know the truth about McKenna because I couldn’t see what was right in front of me, and I didn’t want to know the truth about you because I needed it to not be real.”
“Why did you need it to not be real?”
“Because then I’d have to deal with the consequences. I’d worry about what you think of me and spend hours obsessing over every word I said and everything I did and end up working myself into a frenzy because one of my frat brothers knows exactly what I look like when I’m spread out and begging for his dick.”
Anthony laughs. “And now that it’s real and I’m the frat brother who knows exactly how you look when you’re spread out and begging for my dick?”
“I feel like a dumbass for not seeing the signs,” I say honestly. “And even more of one for willfully ignoring the signs that I did see, but it’s not like I haven’t embarrassed the fuck out of myself around you for years now, and especially since we started working on the project together.” I let out a sardonic laugh. “If any of my frat bros are gonna get an eyeful of me being a cockslut, then I’m glad it was you.”
“Strike two.”
I look up at him. “Strike two?”
“You called yourself a dumbass and a cockslut. Strike one and strike two.”
“You still haven’t told me what happens if we get to strike three.”
He smiles, and the wicked undertone in it sends a little shiver up my spine. Anthony is an incredibly expressive person when he wants to be, and I kinda love that I’m one of the only people who gets to see him stripped down and raw like this.
“Like I said, you’ll find out when we get there.”
“Cheater.” I shoot him a flat look. “You can’t use your sex voice to distract me like that.”
“Is it cheating, or is it using all the tools available to me to get what I want?”
“Same thing when your toolkit includes a sex voice and the ability to make me melt into a puddle with a few words.”
He grins and presses a quick kiss against my lips. “Sorry, not sorry.”
“You’re lucky you’re so hot. Otherwise you’d be annoying as hell,” I tell him.
“You like it.”
“Maybe,” I admit.
We fall silent for a few moments, and it’s like more pieces of the puzzle fall together as my brain tries to merge Mr. X and Anthony into a single person.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
“What?”
“I was just thinking about last night and just how insanely strong and in shape you are.” I rest my chin on his pec so I can look up at him without straining my neck. “You played your ass off and then did all that in my room when you fucked my brains out? I’d be wobbling all over the place if I tried to walk up the stairs after that kind of leg workout.”
“You watched my game?” he asks with a sly grin.
“No,” I blurt.
He boops my nose, and we both laugh. “Liar.”
“I might have turned it on for a few minutes while I was killing time,” I hedge.
“Right.” His grin is teasing. “Just a few minutes while you were killing time.”
“Maybe it was a period,” I say grudgingly.
“You watched the whole game. Admit it.”
