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I swatted his ass. “Upstairs. I want you in your bed.”
“I hate shit like that being so hot,” he replied, then didn’t meet my gaze as he took my hand, Patrick threading his fingers between mine. It made my heart thump against my chest in triumph, my way of throwing my arms in the air in victory, like I’d just won some fucking battle or something. That was the shit he did to me.
“Who knew you were so fucking sweet.”
“I’m not sweet,” he argued.
“You are to me.”
He rolled his eyes, but I could have sworn his cheeks pinkened.
I frowned when we got upstairs and Patrick didn’t go to his room. He led me to another, one where it was clear he’d been sleeping. Well, he or someone else had.
The Christmas lights shined through the window, the first thing I had noticed when I’d arrived. He’d kept them up. Weeks later, they were still hanging from his house, twinkling through the night.
It hit me then that the view was the same as the photo he’d sent that night. He’d been sleeping in this room so he could see the lights.
“Jesus, baby.”
“It’s not a big thing. The bed is actually more comfortable in here.”
It was a big thing, and we both knew it. Had so few people done something special, just for him, that it meant this much to him? I sure as hell planned to find a way to keep making Patrick feel cared for.
I cupped his cheek, tilted his head. He was only about an inch shorter than me, but still he looked up at me through the veil of his thick lashes. “I’ve never felt this way before,” I admitted. I was the one who’d said no more games, so I wasn’t going to hold back. “I think about you all the time. I see something funny and I want to tell you about it. When I’m missing my family, I want to hear you say it’ll be okay. You got me feeling some things, baby, and that shit ain’t going away.”
His blue eyes turned stormy, flashes of lightning that struck me in the heart. “You make me feel like I matter…like I’m important. Like I’m more than my last name, more than the son who won’t follow his family legacy or the asshole that people only tolerate because of how I play on the field.”
Was that what he really thought? That he didn’t matter? That he was only those things?
“You’re so much fucking more. I wanted you to know it back then, even if I didn’t understand it—or at least I wanted you to know there was someone who would have your back. That’s why I slipped my number in your contacts after I heard what your dad said that day.”
“That’s how…you did that…? I…” Instead of finishing his sentence, our mouths just snapped together, a swift and magnetic pull. We kissed while we struggled out of our clothes, only separating to pull something off.
The second we were naked, I tackled him to the bed. Patrick laughed and wrestled me before we dissolved into kissing again.
This was so unexpected, so convoluted, and a huge-ass mess, but I wasn’t walking away. He was fucking mine now.
“You gonna let me eat your little hole?” I asked, hand drifting down his body and between his spread thighs. Patrick was on his back, looking up at me, gaze blissed and horny.
“Hell yes.”
I moved off him so he could flip over. Straddling his thighs, I leaned over, pressing my lips to each knob on his spine, going lower and lower. “Have you thought about this? What it would be like to have my tongue in your ass again?”
“Yes…god yes.”
“Do you stick your finger up there sometimes and pretend it’s me?”
“Christ, Malik.”
I grinned against his spine. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I eased down his body, still kissing as I went, then pushed his legs open, fitting myself between them. “I dream about this ass, too—every day. I fuck my fist and wish it was your hole or your mouth. I come saying your name because I don’t want anyone else. I want your taste on my tongue every motherfucking day.”
He pushed his ass back, then thrust forward, fucking the bed. “Do it. Right now.”
I smiled while spreading his cheeks, taking in the tight, pink pucker that had never known another man but me. I lashed my tongue over it and chuckled when he nearly shot off the bed. “Again,” he all but begged.
Gladly. I dove in then, taking what he was offering, taking what was mine. I lashed my tongue over his rim over and over again, softening him up for me.
