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Girard seemed rooted to the floor, and who could blame him—I was just as motionless, outside of my own cock stirring to full mast. It seemed that neither of us knew what to do next, but we sure as hell wanted each other.
“Wonder if Kellan and Donovan ended up finding a club,” Girard said as if needing a change of topic.
“Were you serious when you said you’d want to go?” That part of last night’s conversation had stuck with me. How Girard was way braver than me.
“Yeah, I’m curious.” He arched a brow. “Aren’t you?”
“I…don’t know. Maybe.” I chewed on my lip as I thought it over. “Would you ever…if someone hit on you?”
“Depends if I’m into him or not.”
I found I didn’t like that answer, but at the same time, it turned me way the fuck on.
“Suppose so,” I replied absently, trying to picture what that sort of scenario would look like. Girard in a dark corner of a bar, his hands splayed on either side of a man, hemming him in. But the guy remained faceless, quite possibly because I wanted him to be me.
“Would you want to be a fly on that wall?” His voice had turned husky, and when my gaze met his, I saw desire blazing in his irises. “You know…to watch?”
“Fuck,” I whispered. The idea of it overwhelmed my senses. To be able to watch undetected—and without fear—would be everything. “Y…yeah.”
Girard stalked toward me, and suddenly he was right there, our knees almost brushing. As we stared at each other, and I was mesmerized by the shape of his lips. What would they taste like…maybe his minty toothpaste? And he might’ve had the same thoughts because he kept looking from my eyes to my mouth. But kissing him would be too much—too intimate, too much sensation—and I was risking myself enough already.
“If you were watching us,” Girard said, “what would you see?”
Ah, shit. My fingers were trembling in my lap. I was certain we both knew that the us we were talking about was him and me. Or at least that was my fantasy version.
“I can see the tension rolling off you.” His voice was raspy as his gaze slid lazily to my crotch. “But I also know you’re as turned on as me.”
The outline of his cock was even more defined if that were possible, and as I looked him over, he panted openly.
“I just want you to let go. Like you did in your room.”
I recalled how natural it felt that night when I finally gave in. The sweet relief I got in return.
“Remember, this is just you and me.”
He was creating a fantasy for me, and I didn’t know what to do with that. It scared the shit out of me because I didn’t want us to go too far and kill our chemistry on the field. Or even our newfound…friendship. Yes. Admitting that felt right. I now considered him a friend rather than an acquaintance.
“Would you want me touching him? Jerking him off?” Girard sank down to his knees in front of me. “I only want to make him feel good.”
I failed to stifle a moan, overwhelmed by my blinding need for him. My hands fumbled at my waistband as I pushed my underwear down to my ankles, then kicked out of them. He groaned when my dick sprang free, flushed at the tip and leaking precome.
“God, I love your—his—body. I never thought I’d say that about another dude, but it makes me want to touch him just to get rid of this feeling.”
“What feeling?” I fisted the sheets, trying to regain control of my breathing.
“This buzzing all over my skin,” he said with a shiver.
“I think he knows what you mean.” I swallowed thickly. “And he’s desperate for you to touch him.”
I held my breath as Girard reached out and brushed his palm over my collarbones, the sensation like little pinpricks.
“He likes being touched,” Girard said with wonder in his voice.
“Yes,” I whispered, batting away that small feeling of mortification that he knew me so well.
His fingers feathered carefully over my pecs, and when his thumb circled one of my areolas, I shuddered. Fucking hell, I’d never had anyone touch me there.
Our eyes met as he watched my response to him. “He’s so fucking sexy.”
“Damn it.” Trembling, I leaned forward, feeling more courageous. “Now touch him like you fucking mean it.”
His eyes darkened as he clutched my thigh. “Ooh, I like this bossy side of him.”
Holy fuck, I might not survive this pretending thing we were doing.
Girard grasped my cock and stroked upward. “Like this?”
I swore my eyes nearly crossed. “Fuck yeah.”
Girard watched my reaction, a series of gasps and whimpers, as he stroked me, and his cheeks and chest flushed a rosy color that made him even more attractive.
