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“Hey,” I say, stopping him in his tracks as we come to the center of the alley, darkness engulfing us.
When he turns around, I press him to the wall with my body.
“This is familiar,” I say, my eyes once again drifting to his lips now that we’re under the safety of darkness once again. Anyone walking by either mouth of the alley way would have to be looking for us to see us.
“Last time we were like this, you hurt my head.”
I know I shouldn’t mention that last night at the clubhouse, but it feels like one of the wrongs I need to fix.
“I know of only one thing that would fix a headache,” he whispers.
We’re so close I can feel the words leave his mouth on my lips.
“Your mouth on mine?”
He nods, his eyes lifting to mine for a moment. I picture him trying to determine whether the thought of that disgusts me or turns me on.
“Every single kiss of yours cures whatever is troubling me,” I confess, making sure to emphasis every because I need him to know that the first kiss, the one that ripped us apart is included.
“Yeah?”
I nod, my nose brushing his.
Then our lips are touching. It’s soft and sure, not rushed and frantic like they have been in the past. I’m not trying to get it over with in fear of getting caught. I’m not kissing him in an effort to move on to the next part, the way I did with Keira so many times.
Making out has never been my thing because I was goal oriented each time in the past. I wanted to get off. Although I did my best to help my partner reach orgasm, that had more to do with my own egotistical need to know I could rather than for their pleasure.
I want to please Rick. I want to watch his mouth hang open as his body convulses in release. As I pull back a few inches, I realize I want that more than my own pleasure.
I scrape my teeth over my tingling lips.
“You look like you want more.”
“All that you’re willing to give me,” I whisper before pressing my mouth to his again.
He hums his pleasure, the vibration making my stomach dip.
I force myself not to reach lower as I drop the bag with the book and pie to the ground and fist the fabric of his t-shirt at the collar even though it feels like the next natural step to take. I don’t know when or why, but I’ve decided that it has to be different this time.
My body, not fully on board with getting to the best part, presses harder against him, making both of us moan as our hard cocks are trapped between us.
Warm hands press against my bare skin, and suddenly tossing my shirt at Oakleigh becomes the best choice I’ve ever made. Cupping his jaw, I angle my head a little, just needing more of him, aching with the need to have as much skin-on-skin contact as we can manage in the alleyway of a town that would no doubt be scandalized by the thought of two boys kissing in the dark.
“We better stop,” I say, pressing one more kiss to his lips before pulling back. “I don’t want to get lynched.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
I watch, unable to answer when he presses the tips of his fingers to his lips as if they tingle as much as my own.
“This town isn’t like that, Landon.” He presses his palm to my bare chest, eyes still locked on mine. “We’re safe here.”
“I think a false sense of security is dangerous,” I say, taking a couple of steps back, more because if I don’t, I’m going to dive right back in and get another taste of his mouth.
“You really don’t have a very high opinion of anyone, do you?”
Before I can answer, Rick’s phone chimes with a text, and rather than ignoring it and staring me down, he pulls it from his pocket.
“It’s Calhoun wondering where we are,” he mutters before looking down the alleyway. “I think we lost track of time.”
“Not a hard thing to do when making out,” I tease, wanting to add a little levity to the situation because he’s right. I don’t have a high opinion of many people. I’ve heard too many horror stories growing up around the clubhouse of what people are capable of to trust that most people are decent.
Another chime on his phone pulls his eyes from mine.
“Silas and Tyler won.”
“The scavenger hunt is over. We can go back to the dorm.” I reach for him, letting my fingers find the warmth of his side just under his t-shirt. I hope he can read the suggestion in my eyes, but he frowns instead.
“Don’t,” he says, grabbing my hand when I take a step back, the sting of rejection hitting a little harder than I expect it to. “You know how it goes. We celebrate Welcome Night with beers.”
