Page 198 of On His Team

I get his hoodie halfway over his head before he has to finish the job himself. Mine follows it to the floor, then my jeans, then his, the whole thing less graceful than it is urgent. I’m laughing when he catches me around the waist and walks me backward toward the bed.

“You’re impatient,” he says.

“I’ve had a very long weekend.”

“You had a successful weekend.”

“Still long.”

My knees hit the mattress, and Rowan follows me down. His mouth finds mine again while I get both hands into his hair. I like that he doesn’t seem worried about impressing me anymore. The first few times we hooked up, there was always some awareness underneath it — of what came next, of whether somebody was going to walk in, of how far we were going to let it go.

Now there’s just us.

I know the weight of him. I know the sound he makes when I drag my nails lightly down his back and the way he slows everything down the second he thinks I’m trying to rush through something.

Which he does now.

I make an annoyed sound against his mouth.

He smiles.

“You’re doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“Rowan.”

His smile gets worse.

I grab his face. “Stop being annoying while you’re naked.”

He kisses me again, and I forget what we were arguing about.

By the time he reaches for the condom, my entire body feels warm and heavy. He slides it on, settles between my legs, and looks at me before he moves.

I nod.

He presses into me slowly enough that my breath catches.

“Fuck.”

Rowan’s eyes stay on mine. “Good?”

“Yes.”

He gives me another second anyway, because he always does, then starts moving. I wrap my legs around him and pull him closer. He laughs softly against my mouth when I try to change his pace.

“There you go again.”

“What?”

“Impatient.”

“I’m not impatient.”

He thrusts harder. The rest of my argument disappears.

Rowan grins. “Better?”