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“Use me,” I order.
A smile curves her lips.
She settles on top of me and guides my cock inside her. Suddenly I’m surrounded by her tight heat, and my entire world is reduced to the words oh fuck and don’t stop. She rides me, head thrown back in pleasure. It’s the kind of sex that makes you sort of mindless. Her moans are a symphony to my ears. There’s something melodic about them. Low and throaty and so sexy it makes me shake with need.
“I’m going to come,” she chokes out and sinks forward, grinding on my dick.
I can’t remember my name as she milks every ounce of pleasure out of me. She’s breathless from her orgasm when I flip her over and pound into her until I’m lost in oblivion again, this time from scorching release.
And it doesn’t end. We go at it all night. Fucking each other senseless, coming, and then taking a rest, while she lures conversations out of me that I don’t expect to be having.
Eventually, after one last mind-blowing round, our labored breathing quiets and I become aware of voices. Shit. I didn’t realize the guys were back. I don’t remember the sound of the front door opening, or hearing Shane and Beckett in the house when I or Gigi went to use the bathroom. But it’s two in the morning now, and I’ve been so absorbed in Gigi Graham that for all I know, the guys have been home for hours.
“Crap,” she blurts out, noticing the time herself. “I should go.”
“Early practice?”
“No. I have class at ten. But I can’t crash here. Your roommates…” She drifts off. The rest of that sentence is self-explanatory.
I nod. “C’mon. Let’s sneak you out.”
“I need to call an Uber first.”
“You didn’t drive?” I’m confused. She only drank one beer tonight, and that was when the sun was still out. We’ve only had water since then, keeping ourselves hydrated between crazy sex.
“No. I…” She guiltily avoids my questioning gaze. “I didn’t want Case to see my car on your street.”
Something jolts through me. Not quite jealousy. But annoying all the same.
“Right. Because this is our dirty little secret,” I drawl.
Although to be fair, keeping this on the down low is probably a good idea. Our first game is this weekend. Everyone’s heads need to be on it, and that includes Colson.
“No,” she corrects, “because the last time he did, he stormed into your house uninvited.”
“True.”
I shove a pair of boxers up my hips while Gigi quietly gathers her clothes and gets dressed. After she snaps the button of her denim skirt, she turns to me in dismay. “Damn it. I have to pee again.”
In that moment, I silently curse Shane, who won the three-way rock, papers, scissors match this summer to earn himself the master bedroom and its ensuite bath.
I open my door a crack and peer out into the shadow hallway. Beckett and Shane’s bedroom doors are closed.
“The coast is clear,” I tell her.
Gigi ducks into the hall and uses the bathroom. I continue to eye their doors while the toilet flushes and the sink faucet turns on. They remain closed.
Afterward, we sneak downstairs and creep toward the front hall. And just when I think I’ve successfully dodged a bullet, Shane steps out of the kitchen.
Fuck.
His dark eyes take in Gigi’s disheveled hair. My boxers. The scratch marks on my chest.
And his lips twitch in humor.
“Late night?” he inquires.
Her cheeks are visibly red even in the darkness of the hall. “You didn’t see this,” she begs softly. “Please.”
Shane appears as if he’s about to make a joke, but I give him a hard look, and he offers an assurance instead.
“I saw nothing.”
I walk her outside to the waiting Uber. We don’t kiss good night. She’s rattled now from getting caught by Shane and barely glances at me as she slides into the back seat. Red taillights wink in the dark night, the car whisking her away from me.
I return to the house, where Shane, of course, is waiting for me.
“There are so many reasons this is bad idea,” he tells me.
“I know.”
“Colson will murder you.”
“He can try.”
“Beck seemed into her too.”
“Nah. He backed off that.”
“Got it. So you swept right in and scooped her up.” Shane rolls his eyes.
“That’s not how it went down.”
He studies me for long enough to make me shift in discomfort, then sighs. “Ryder. That, right there”—he points toward the front door, indicating the woman who’d just left—“is a girlfriend. And you, right here, aren’t a boyfriend.”
A sigh of my own lodges in my throat. “Just keep this to yourself, all right? Like you said, there’s lots of reasons to keep it quiet. But the most important one is that she asked.”
He studies me for another long beat. Then he nods. “Sure. You got it.”
“Thanks, brother.”
