Page 129 of Crease Collision

His chest and abs are all sculpted muscle. A thrill shoots up my spine as I run my hands over his shoulders, outlining the knots of muscle that carried him through seven grueling games.

“You are beautiful,” I whisper.

“So are you.” He slowly unbuttons my shirt. “Now it’s my turn.”

He sneaks his hands under the fabric and runs them up my sides before taking the shirt off. His fingertips trace the shape of my pecs and linger there. Our eyes meet, and we get lost in each other.

“Ozzy.” His voice is rough. “I need you.”

“Right here, baby.” I capture his lips in a kiss that deepens as soon as it starts. Our tongues meet and slide together as urgency builds into a living thing between us.

We help each other out of the rest of our clothes, and when we’re naked, I pull him close. It’s impossible not to be overwhelmed. We’re pressed together from chest to knee, his warm skin against mine, our cocks already hard and brushing together.

“Fuck me now.” His voice is muffled against my neck.

I can’t help snickering. “Yes, sir.”

As we turn, he catches himself and stares at the bed. The gold coins I’d arranged there are glittering in the soft light.

He picks one up, inspects it, and turns toward me. “You always know how to make things special.”

“I try,” I say, then urge him onto the mattress.

The sheets are cool against our heat, and we lie facing each other as our hands explore. Touching him this way feels like a privilege since we haven’t had sex for a week. While his fingers roam over my chest, I cup his face in my hands.

“I love you, Kai.”

“Show me,” he whispers, pulling me over him.

The sounds of celebration drift up from below as I focus on him. I love how his heart pounds as I kiss him again, the way his body trembles under my hands.

“Get me ready.” His voice is so urgent it makes me shiver. “Now, Ozzy.”

As I take the lube from the nightstand, my fingers brush against one of his fidget balls. It seems right for a tool that helps him deal with life to be part of this intimate moment after his biggest victory.

His body arches as I open him with my fingers. Soft gasps alternate with desperate moans, driving me wild. Fan. Lucky doesn’t begin to describe me, getting to be the one who unravels him like this.

“Älskling.” The words are little more than breath against his skin. “Jag älskar dig, hjärtat.”

He shudders beneath me. “I love you too. Fuck me now.”

I get into position and push inside as soon as he nods. His face contorts into the mask of pleasure I dream about, his head thrown back against the pillows and his mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy.

We find our rhythm easily, and the familiarity is everything. He wraps his legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I lose myself in the snug, hot perfection of him. As I thrust faster, he moves with me. The light from the window paints patterns across his skin, highlighting the flex of his muscles.

“Harder,” he begs.

“Fuck yes.”

He demands even more. His exhaustion seems to have melted away, replaced by the intense need that has always driven me wild.

I angle my hips, searching for the spot inside him that will make him see stars. When I find it, he cries out.

“There! God, right there.”

Getting closer by the second, I focus on him. He looks amazing as he unravels. One of his hands is digging into my back, and the other is tangled in my hair.

“Fuck yes! Make me come, Ozzy.”