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A low growl emits from the back of his throat, and I grin. “Talk about not playing fair.” He slips a hand underneath my shirt as he cups my breast. My heart beats double-time when his thumb softly brushes across the tip of my nipple. I freeze in my stretching position, allowing him free reign over my body, and close my eyes as I bask in his tender touch. God help me, I want him.
He captures both my wrists with his free hand, and my eyes flutter open. “Travis?”
“Shh, just let me touch you.” I know where he’s headed with this. I know he can never stop with just one touch, and the smoldering look he’s giving me is a dead giveaway. I lose my breath as he rolls my hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re wet for me already, aren’t you?” His deep, husky voice adds to my wetness.
I shift my eyes away from his, blushing, and I notice we’re not in a hotel room anymore. We’re in somebody’s bedroom. “Where are we?”
“We’re at Quinn’s house.”
“Oh? What time is it?” My brows lift as I wonder how long I’ve been asleep. I don’t remember anything. I thought I would’ve at least stirred awake with Travis having to carry me from the van. He lets out a soft sigh, removes his hand from underneath my shirt, and smooths it out before he leans over me to grab the mini alarm clock.
“It’s a little after six. Are you hungry?” he replies. I shrug, not really knowing what I am at the moment. Horny or hungry, either way, it’s a win-win.
“A few of the guys pitched in and cooked dinner for everyone.” I slant my head to the side, studying him a moment. His hair is damp, he’s in a fresh change of clothes, and he smells amazing. “C’mon, it’s been a long day, and I think you need to get up and eat a little something.”
Reluctantly, I sit up in bed, but apparently, I’m not moving fast enough for Travis, as he takes both my hands, pulls me out of bed, and into his arms. “You’ll feel better after you eat a decent dinner, and then you can take a shower.”
Travis has me holding his hand as we head downstairs. The loud, boisterous chatter of the other men’s voices carries throughout the house. They’re all laughing and carrying on in the kitchen, and for some reason, it relaxes me a little bit.
Someone speaks out over the voices, and says, “I don’t know about you guys, but I sure as hell could use a sweet place to park my dick right about now.”
“Well, Stryker, right there’s the freezer,” I hear Quinn respond as he begins to chuckle. “I’ve got a bag of frozen peas to park your dick on this time,” he says, and then breaks out in laughter.
I can’t help but crack a smile at whatever their inside joke is. Travis brings me to a halt in the hallway, pulling me into his side, and then whispers in my ear, “Shh, I wanna hear this one.”
As we stand out of sight, I hear another voice piping in, asking, “I don’t believe I’ve heard this story, Quinn. What crazy shit did Stryker do now?”
“Oh, my God, Chase. I never laughed so hard in my life!” Quinn exclaims.
“Quinn,” Stryker warns, but Quinn simply ignores him and continues on.
“So, we had this huge party about a month ago, and Stryker’s date of the week was a sexy lil’ señorita who decided to make a killer salsa with jalapeño peppers.”
“Oh, geez,” Stryker complains, “I give up.”
“After a couple hours, the party was in full swing, so nobody noticed Stryker had gone missing with his little Mexican beauty.” Quinn falsely clears his throat. “Thought he’d slink off for some private salsa dancing lessons.” Quinn has to get a few more chuckles out before he can speak with any clarity.
“I don’t think he was gone all that long, though. Low music was going on in the background while everyone was enjoying their own conversations, and out of freaking nowhere I hear this God-awful man-scream. I never thought I could hear a man scream like a woman until that night.”
“Fuck off, dude,” Stryker says irritability as the others start to chuckle.
“Anyhow, he comes busting out of the downstairs bathroom with his pants down around his ankles, running down the hall like a penguin on crack. Oh, God, that was a sight watching him stumble over himself, bare in all his glory. He made a beeline for the freezer, hollerin’ out in a panic the entire time that his dick was on fire. The only thing he could find in the freezer to cool his cojones off was a carton of ice cream.” The funny thing is, as animated and hilarious as Stryker is, I can totally picture everything being described.
