I can’t help but stumble along, even when my instinctive reaction is to protest. I swallow any back talk to avoid making a scene in front of Xander’s teammates, who stare after us.
“Let go!” I hiss as soon as the glass doors shut behind us, but Xander doesn’t even spare me a glance. He’s maneuvering me toward the staircase, then abruptly changes directions when the elevator dings on arrival. Muttering a hurried apology, he pushes past a group of young women, then presses several buttons at the same time.
“Okay,” I laugh, disgusted by how shaky my voice sounds. “I can leave, you don’t have to escort me downstai–”
“Shut the fuck up, Nicholas,” Xander growls. As soon as the elevator doors close, he’s on me, pressing me against the mirror. His broad body cages me in as our lips crash in a hungry kiss. Xander’s tongue is invading my mouth and I let him, getting high on the taste of his strawberry gum and the insane risk we’re taking right now.
Grabbing his hips, I pull him flush against my body, our stomachs bumping together as I moan into his mouth. I’m tempted to reach for the emergency button and get us stuck on purpose, but the elevator comes to a halt and Xander slowly steps away.
The floor in front of us is empty, so I don’t resist when he pulls me along.
Following his lead, I throw a glance back over my shoulder. The imprints of his large hands are clearly visible on the otherwise spotless glass surface, causing a violent shiver to run down my spine. The image haunts me on our way to Xander’sroom, and I think back to when his fingers pressed into me one by one, prying me open and massaging me.
A soft moan leaves my lips, causing Xander to look up from where he’s fumbling for his keycard, an amused grin on his lips.
“Eager much?” he teases and I huff, pushing him into the room as soon as the door opens. My momentum comes to an abrupt halt when I spot a familiar duffel bag on the first bed, half its contents spread out on the duvet.
My heart squeezes, short but uncomfortable, when I recognize a Badgers’ logo on one of the shirts.
“He went to the spa,” Xander explains what I already know. His features soften as soon as he notices my hesitation. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod, clearing my throat when the answer comes out scratchy. “Yes.”
I tear my gaze away from the familiar chaos, focusing on Xander again. For a moment I just take him in with my eyes. His black hair is damp from the workout yet falling smoothly onto his forehead. He’s clean shaven, which compliments his jawline. In my head I’ve brought my fist to it many times; now all I want to do is trail it with my lips, nipping and biting until he curses me.
“Why are you here, Nicko?” he asks again and I snort.
“Who’s eager now?” I taunt, when he’s so desperate for me to repeat my confession. Still my heart picks up its beat, flip-flopping in my chest. He wants to hear it again. Craves it.
“I missed you.”
The words get out easier this time, and the way his eyes flash when I say them makes it worth it.
“And you needed…?” the fucker prompts and I huff.
“Come on, baby. Say it,” he coos, and I narrow my eyes at the pet name, bridging the distance between us with two steps.
“I need…” I start as I place a hand onto his chest, my tongue flicking out to wet my lower lip. My mouth feels dry, as I once more struggle to put my desire into words. Taking a deep breath, I lift my gaze to meet his.
“I need you–” I say, my hand holding him back when he immediately tries to move forward, pleased with getting his way. But I’m not done yet.
“–to fuck me.”
Nicko, March 28th
“What?!”
Okay, not exactly the enthusiastic reaction I was hoping for.
“I need you to fuck me,” I repeat, actually proud of how much smoother the words come out now. Despite his obvious shock, Xander lets out a groan, and I’m very satisfied with how longingly it sounds.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Nicko,” he complains as he presses both his hands against his eyes. “I can’t fuck you.”
“What, why not?!”
It took me weeks to warm up to this thought! I wasn’t put off by the idea before, but I never saw another guy for long enough to build up that trust. Thinking about bottoming feels like handing over control, and I don’t like that. Especially not with my biggest rival.
But I can picture it with Xander. The guy who does horrible dance moves in an arcade to tease a laugh out of me. The one who accompanies me to middle school hockey games just to spend time with me. The Xander that lets himself get bossedaround by a tiny Chihuahua for my amusement. The one that follows me half-naked into the cold to make sure I’m okay. And also the one that catches me on a lie and still lets me get away with it to save my pride.
