He rolls and pulls me in. I find his mouth like a heat-seeking missile.
The kiss I get is slower than I’m expecting. More thorough than urgent. His beard against my neck. His hands in my hair. The heat of his body against mine, and the scent of his skin.
I love it all. I’m hard and happy about it, but I also love these deep, slow kisses. Kisses that make a different kind of promise than I’m used to from Forest.
I lean into him and cling to his wide shoulders. A pair of sexy brown eyes studies me from close range. “You’re exhausted,” he whispers.
“No’m not.”
He smiles, his thumb tracing my upper lip. “Sweetheart, it’s three in the morning, and your eyes are barely open.”
Sweetheart. “I’ll rally.”
“Yeah, you will.” He reaches over and presses the glowing button on the wall. Darkness covers us like a blanket, and strong arms pull me close. “You’ll rally in the morning.”
“But…” I yawn so hard my jaw cracks. “I want you to bang me.”
“Mmm,” he says, stroking my face. “Sometimes the things we say we want aren’t the things we really need. Ask me how I know.”
That’s kind of confusing, and I feel the need to ask a few clarifying questions.
I fall asleep instead.
In the morning, I wake up with my head on his chest, and his fingers combing gently through my hair.
My eyes spring open. I shift my body against his, running a hand down his taut stomach until I encounter the very thing I’m looking for. My fingers brush his erection, and he lets out a horny little sound.
“Oh, it’s on,” I say.
He chuckles and rubs my arm. “Do you need to get up and…”
“Nope.” I kiss his chest. Twice.
“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”
I lick his slightly fuzzy nipple. “Doesn’t matter. I let myself get talked out of sex last night. Not happening again.”
“Okay,” he says. “But just for the record, I was going to ask if you wanted to find your Cougars jersey for me to wear.”
I stop midlick. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
“Beck, there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you. And, yeah, it’s a little silly. But I’m okay with that.”
I roll off the bed instantly.
Twenty minutes later, I’m groaning up at Forest while he fucks me on my back, sweating onto the official Cougars jersey.
If I never get called up again, I’ll still have a multitude of positive memories of this blue piece of polyester.
“You’re gonna have to come soon,” he pants, the muscles straining in his powerful neck. “You look red-faced and properly fucked, and I can’t take much more.”
“Your fault,” I pant back at him. “You tied up my hands, and now I can’t get myself off.” The bed is a four-poster style, and Forest wasted no time using my game-day tie to secure my wrists to one corner.
I fucking love it, but I can’t stroke myself like this.
He stops thrusting and kisses me. “I don’t want this to end.”
“That’s pretty impractical,” I point out. “I thought the plan was that we’re going to do this more often?”
