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“No, you know how exhausting it was to carry you to your room? Had to walk a long damn time with you passed out over my shoulder, Ace.” He rubs at his mouth. “You’re not big, but I think I blew out my back.”
I try to slap him, but he grins, and in one swift movement, grabs both my hands and turns me so he’s lying on top of me and pinning my hands above my head.
“Get the fuck off me, snowboard guy.”
“Nah, don’t think so, not when you are pressing yourself against me like that.” He pushes his crotch against mine to emphasize his point. I pant and gasp when my clit pulses from the contact.
“I wasn’t—” I begin, but when I look down, the bastard is right. I’m thrusting myself against him, wanting to feel the friction. And I’m wearing my most boring black underwear known to granny kind, no fucking lace in sight. Apparently, he doesn’t mind, judging by his hard on pressing against my stomach.
He traces the line of my jaw and nose with his lips, his breath tickling my skin and giving me goosebumps all over.
“I can smell how wet you are, babe,” he husks out. “I like that smell, and fuck me, I want to taste it even more.”
“Jesse, please,” I groan as he pushes himself into me. I’m getting more drenched already, and the bastard hasn’t done anything yet. I love he’s entirely smooth, no chest hair in sight. My mouth waters thinking about running my tongue over his six-pack and down south to his impressive package.
“Let’s make a deal,” he drawls, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Here we go again,” I murmur.
“You haven’t even heard what I’m proposing,” he says seductively.
“Well, can’t be Scrabble, can it?”
“No.” He chuckles, his lips an inch away from mine.
“Okay, what is it, then?” I ask, getting impatient.
“Fuck, can you be quiet for once, and let a man speak?” he growls, and his expression darkens.
Biting on my lip, I close my eyes for a brief second, loving the sensation of him lying on top of me. He isn’t crushing me with his full weight, but it feels amazing.
“I know I’m an asshole for asking you this, and you’re a pain in the ass ninety-nine percent of the time we are together.”
I open my mouth to protest.
He gives me a look, raising one eyebrow, still holding my hands prisoner above my head.
“You get on my fucking nerves. I messed up my training with you on my mind, so you owe me,” he says, his jaw twitching.
“I don’t owe you, and what do you mean by training?” I ask him, pushing myself against his hard chest. Fuck, that feels better than I thought it would with the way he’s pressing me down.
“I almost smashed my face against the halfpipe because I wasn’t concentrating,” he snarls like some rabid beast.
“Why were you in a halfpipe?” I cock my head.
“Don’t change the subject, Ace,” he says, angling his head and staring at my mouth.
“I wasn’t, you were,” I counter, trying to wiggle my fingers free.
He looks at me, linking our hands tighter together.
“Man, this is nice,” I groan, as he pins me down.
“But about what I was saying before,” he grunts, and I sigh in response. “Let’s fuck,” he says, with not a hint of a doubt in his drawl.
“What?” I gasp, trying to sit up while he pushes me back down against the pillows.
“Let’s,” he draws out slow and deliberate, “fuck.” He dips his chin in my direction, waggling his eyebrows.
