Page 166 of On His Team

The second time is easier.

The third makes my nails dig into his back.

He laughs once under his breath.

“What?” I breathe.

“Nothing.”

I look at him. “You’re laughing.”

“You’re scratching me.”

I bite his shoulder.

“That’s worse.”

“Good.”

He lifts his head. The look on his face makes my stomach tighten. Then he starts moving properly. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe something more awkward. Maybe some weird moment where the fact that we’re friends and know each other outside of this makes the whole thing too intimate. Instead, it feels like everything else between us. Easy. Fun. Good. Hot enough that I stop caring whether I’m saying his name too loudly.

Rowan is more vocal than I expected. I like that immediately. He tells me when something feels good. He says my name when I tighten around him. He laughs when I get bossy. At some point, I tell him to stop being careful.

He looks down at me. “I’m not being careful.”

“You are.”

“I’m trying not to kill you.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“You’re small.”

“I’m not small.”

“Compared to me?”

I glare at him.

He grins.

I hook my heel behind his thigh and pull him deeper.

His grin disappears. “Fuck.”

I smile. “See?”

“You’re a menace.”

“Rambunctious.”

He laughs against my mouth.

The next few minutes stop being funny. I stop keeping track of anything except him. His hands. His weight. The sound of the bed frame tapping softly against the wall until I realize what it is and start laughing again.

Rowan freezes. “What?”

“The wall.”