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“My fraternity brothers know, my teammates know, and my family knows. Who else matters enough for me to hide it? Besides—” Darren pulled their hands up and kissed the back of Isaiah’s. “—I want people to see how lucky I am that I’m with you.”
“No one on campus is going to think you’re the lucky one.”
“I do.” Darren bumped their shoulders. “And I am.”
Isaiah pulled them to a stop. A breeze pushed strands of hair into Isaiah’s face, and Darren tucked them back behind his ear. “Are you okay?”
“I really need to kiss you,” Isaiah murmured. “Right now.”
Darren lit up inside with a grin that ballooned into a full-bodied smile as Isaiah slammed their faces together. A laugh bubbled up, and Darren wrapped his arms tight around Isaiah and kissed him back.
Isaiah crushed against him, and his tongue teased Darren’s lips apart. He tasted subtly of sugared lemon—the bars at the party—and Darren nibbled on Isaiah’s bottom lip before diving into his mouth again.
He vaguely noticed his bag was slipping from his shoulder, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t. He leaned into Isaiah’s warm, fresh scent, wanting, wanting—
“Let’s get to my room,” Isaiah whispered against his wet lips. His eyes held a question, and Darren swallowed a flash of nervousness and nodded. He let Isaiah draw his bag off, and then strong, lean fingers curled tightly around his, tugging him urgently across campus.
Sunny brick campus buildings and neat lawns seemed to blur around them, Darren’s focus one hundred percent on Isaiah’s tied-back hair. The stray lock that had escaped and fluttered in their haste. He wanted to thread his fingers in that hair and feel it knot around his fist as they . . .
Isaiah looked over his shoulder and winked.
Holy shit. This was really happening.
About a million fantasies collided with a thousand insecurities, one begging to be asked. No matter how redundant. He just—he needed to know. . . .
We are together, right?
He opened his mouth to ask, but he couldn’t. “How far is it to your room?”
Isaiah laughed. “Easy, big guy, we’ll be there in a minute.”
Despite his bold words, walking into the dorm holding a guy’s hand had Darren’s nerves hopping. Especially when the security guard’s eye zeroed in on their connection. Not that he cared who knew, but it was something to get used to.
Isaiah jerked him past the elevator. “Stairs. Faster. It’s only one flight.”
Darren laughed, ebbing the spike of tension. He chased Isaiah up the stairs, grabbing a handful of Isaiah’s firm ass on their way up. At the landing, Darren stopped Isaiah from opening the door, crowding him against the wooden surface.
Isaiah twisted and rocked up a brow.
Darren should ask him now. This means, like really means, we’re together, yeah?
But what if it didn’t quite mean that? What if Darren had missed something?
Christ, Isaiah kept eyeing his lips like he wanted them on him. Everywhere.
Darren crushed their lips together, pressing him tight against the door. Isaiah’s thigh was a hot brand against his groin, and Isaiah flexed like he knew just how good it felt. A groan seeped out of him against Isaiah’s lazily sliding tongue.
“So fucking hot for you, Isaiah.”
Isaiah shivered under him. “Then let’s stop . . . kissing . . . here.” He playfully shoved Darren back and pulled him through the door.
There was no need to guess which room was Isaiah’s. An entire tie rack had been looped around a single doorknob halfway down the hall.
Isaiah growled, choking Darren’s fingers in his grip. “I am going to kill him. I messaged him to clear the room. Not his wardrobe.”
Darren laughed and helped Isaiah to remove the satiny ties.
Inside the dorm room, Isaiah tossed the offending clothes to the side—along with Darren’s bag—and before Darren could take in more than two beds and half-open blinds, Isaiah shoved him against the closed door.
His back met cool, hard timber; his front met hot, hard Isaiah.
On impulse, Darren thrust against him, hands sliding up Isaiah’s biceps. Too much material between them.
Isaiah drew back, lips raw, skin red from Darren’s stubble. “God, I want you.”
In all ways? Or just this one?
Darren shoved the thought as deep as he could. He could damn well dwell on that later.
He kicked his shoes off in a rush—Isaiah was already peeling off his socks. A rush of heat met a moment of nervousness, and Darren paused at the sight of the blue-quilted bed.
Isaiah’s gaze shot quizzically to his, and Darren dropped onto the firm mattress and hauled Isaiah on top of him. His heart galloped as Isaiah straddled him, clenching his thighs either side of his hips.
The sun cast chunks of horizontal light through the slatted blinds, and soft shadows fell over Isaiah’s eyes. Light glowed over the lip he was biting as he thrust shallowly against him. More light layered the middle of his chest, his inked bicep, the waist of his pants where a sliver of toned flesh winked at Darren.
